Diana’s story continiues.
Diana held out for as long as she could – which turned out to be not very long. Even as she hurried back to her room that night her footsteps unconsciously slowed as her mind returned, over and over, to what had just happened. She would shake it off and pick up the pace again, only to find herself drifting like a sleepwalker once more, her hand having crept under her shirt to touch the still sticky semen James had left on her abdomen.
Ohhh…his cock in her hand, in her mouth!
She came to a dead halt on the sidewalk, her breath heavy in her mouth. It was late and the campus was mostly deserted. She looked around and then stepped behind a nearby hedge. Remembering, she whispered, “Take off your clothes.”
She stripped in the moonlight, remembering his eyes on her, and knelt, completely naked, on the grass. She whispered to the imaginary James, “Please fuck my mouth again,” before shoving two, then three fingers between her lips, rubbing her clit furiously with her free hand as the scenario played out in her imagination. Oh, the little slave-girl on her knees in front of him, his cock thrusting in and out of her mouth! The taste of him, the sudden hot spurting against the back of her throat!
Her orgasm came quickly and was so intense that she doubled over, her glasses tumbling off and her face nearly touching the ground as she gasped for breath. Oh! What was happening to her? A few days ago she had hardly ever touched herself, even in the privacy of her own bed, and now here she was, naked and masturbating right out on the campus lawn like a little slut! What if someone had seen her?
Deeply ashamed, Diana wiped her wet, sticky hands on the grass and dressed hurriedly. She forced herself to walk back to her dorm at a normal pace even though what she wanted to do was run: to reach her room, dive under the covers of her bed and maybe have a little cry before going to sleep.
Her natural fastidiousness won out, however. She smelled of sweat and sex and she knew it. So when she reached her room she fumbled around in the dark for the oversize t-shirt she wore as her nightgown, being careful not to wake her roommate, and ducked into the communal shower room down the hall. She took a quick shower, looking down a little wistfully at her torso as James’ semen was washed away, then dried herself, put on her big t-shirt and padded barefoot back to her room, stuffing her clothing deep into her laundry bag before finally slipping under the covers.
Her dreams were full of anxiety: walking into a classroom and everyone turning to stare at her as she made her way to her seat, their accusing eyes full of the knowledge of what she had done. Standing in front of them, trying to explain, “But it’s not my fault! I had to, I’m his slave!”, but unable to force the words past her lips. Realizing, with horror, that she was dressed only in her t-shirt; that she was holding it up and that everyone could see that her other hand was between her legs.
Diana woke with a start and discovered that it was true: her shirt was rucked up around her hips and her hand was, in fact, between her legs. Thank god she was still under the covers, particularly as her roommate, still in bed herself, was leaning on one elbow and looking at her.
“Nightmare?” she asked. “You were mumbling and moaning in your sleep.”
Diana whipped her hand from between her legs and tried to look puzzled. “Was I? I don’t remember. But maybe you’re right. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.”
Get a grip, Diana, she told herself, and the phrase became her mantra all through the next several days. James had offered to teach her some things about sex, and he had, and now it was over.
Diana did her best to return to her previous life, repeating her mantra whenever memories and fantasies threatened to overrun her imagination. The hardest part was at night, alone in her bed. There she had much less control over her thoughts and even though she would bunch her hands into fists at her sides and literally clench her teeth as she repeated, Get a grip, Diana, over and over, she was unable to stop the cascade of images. She resolutely refused to touch herself, no matter how great the temptation, but more than once she woke up in the morning with her t-shirt up around her hips and a large wet spot on the sheet, and her roommate complaining about the moans and mutterings coming from Diana in the night.
But after a while things did begin to settle down again, and although the memories and fantasies would still appear in her mind at odd times – she had to give up eating bananas and ice cream for a while – they seemed to have less potency and she was usually able to simply observe them dispassionately. It helped that James almost never showed up at the dining hall and always took his food to go when he did. On the few occasions when Diana had spotted him she had simply averted her eyes and focussed her attention elsewhere – though she did mutter, Get a grip, Diana, to herself each time.
Diana found herself thinking instead about one of the last things James had said to her: “You are a gift, Diana.” It was true that since her time with James she had felt more self-confident: she had been with a man; she had pleased him and he had appreciated her and made her feel good about herself.
She began trying to take his words to heart. She joined in conversations at meals, offering her own thoughts and opinions and sometimes even making little jokes, which to her surprise were generally well received. She hung out or walked with people sometimes instead of scuttling back to her room or to the library after classes. Eventually she even plucked up the courage to ask a stylish woman friend to help her shop for some new, more flattering clothing and teach her a little bit about make-up. If she’d been able to afford it, Diana would have gotten contact lenses but had to settle for removing her glasses when not in class.
She even…went out on a date. Then another. These were very casual affairs, certainly more friendly than romantic, but still. However, the semester was winding down and James wasn’t the only one with papers to write and exams to prepare for. Diana was an excellent student and her parents always expected her to achieve top grades, so she hunkered down and focussed, giving little thought to anything else.
Thoroughly prepared as always, she sailed through her exams and her violin performance evaluation and then semester was over for her, though other students had later exams over the next few days. She could have left immediately, as she had done the previous year, but all that was waiting for her at home, other than her parents, was a mindless summer job answering the phone and logging orders for her father’s office supply company. Besides, she had actually been invited to an end-of-school-year party and was, to her own surprise, looking forward, somewhat nervously, to attending.
She fretted over what to wear, of course. She wanted to look nice but didn’t want to be overdressed either. She finally settled on a pair of black pants – a recent acquisition that showed off her slim figure – and a silky, bright-colored top – basically a fancy t-shirt – accessorized with a thin gold necklace and small gold earrings. She paid extra attention to her make-up as well, still not completely confident in her skill. But finally she was satisfied.
“You are a gift, Diana,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. Then she headed out the door.
The party was being held in a nearby dormitory. Never having attended a campus party before, Diana was unprepared for the assault of noise as she entered the common room in the basement. The music was wall-shakingly loud and the room, dimly lit with old strings of Christmas lights, was crammed to capacity and beyond with people, all of whom appeared to be shouting to be heard over the music.
Diana almost turned and fled. In fact, she had begun to do just that when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned back. Sitting in a beat-up old armchair in a corner of the room, barely visible through the crowd, was James. His head was tilted back and he appeared to be asleep, although Diana couldn’t for the life of her imagine how anyone could sleep in the middle of all this chaos.
Making her way across the room involved more squirming than walking, and a couple of times she found that the only way to make any progress was to allow herself to be propelled in another direction entirely and work her way around. Somewhere along the way someone shoved a huge plastic cup of beer into her hand and as there was no place to put it down she continued on with the cup held high over her head.
At long last she arrived, out of breath and feeling as though she’d been squeezed from a tube of toothpaste. James was still asleep – or possibly drunk, Diana thought, noting the half-empty cup of beer held loosely in his hand and in serious danger of spilling onto the rug. Lowering her own cup, with her free hand she reached down and removed his, placing it on the floor beside the chair. He didn’t seem to notice.
Okay, now what? What was she even doing here?
Well, I’m not turning back now, she thought.
Her family had wine with dinner at times, but she had never imbibed more than a decorous amount and she had certainly never had beer. She raised her cup to her nose and sniffed it. Ugh. Then she placed it to her lips and slugged down nearly half the cup in one go.
Grimacing at the taste, she squatted down and placed her cup next to his. Then, feeling a little wobbly, she knelt in front of him, resting her hands lightly on his knees. He was dressed in his perennial uniform of jeans and a polo shirt. Diana looked up at him. His head was still tilted back and from that angle she couldn’t see much more than his chin and the underside of his jaw. Should she try to wake him?
She jostled his knees slightly with her hands and said tentatively, “James?”, though of course there was no way he could have heard her. She jostled his knees again, a little more vigorously, but only succeeded in making his legs fall open against the arms of the chair.
Oh. There she was, kneeling at his feet and staring directly at his crotch. She felt her pussy throb and suddenly her somewhat beer-befogged brain filled with all the images she had successfully hidden away as a wave of heat rippled through her. She quickly looked over her shoulder as if somehow everything she was thinking and feeling might have become visible.
But no one was paying attention or even looking their way. In fact, just at that moment someone in the crowd, apparently a little the worse for wear, stumbled and fell over, creating a domino effect of falling bodies reaching all the way across the room. Hysterical laughter ensued.
“Do I dare?” thought Diana, turning quickly back to face James. Then, fueled by desire and made reckless by alcohol, she leaned down and lightly kissed the bulge in the front of his pants, quickly leaning back again. She glanced up at James’ face, or what she could see of it. No reaction. She glanced back over her shoulder. The crowd was still distracted and uproarious with people trying to stand up and stumbling over others who were still on the ground.
She turned back and lowered her head once more. Another kiss, longer and more forceful. Another, her lips parting and her tongue darting out. Then, throwing caution to the winds, she licked the bulge in his pants all over – and was gratified to feel it stir and begin to harden.
She pulled back once more and looked around. The party-goers were still laughing hysterically as they tried to untangle themselves. And James was…
Looking directly at her.
Oh god. Had he seen? Diana attempted to look casual as she dropped her hands from his knees to her lap…and was mortified to notice the wet places her tongue had left on the front of his pants. Thank god the lighting was so dim. She tried to smile up at him: just a casual acquaintance on her knees in front of him.
He blinked a couple of times, stifled a yawn and finally said, “Hi, Diana. Sorry, I must have zoned out for a while. I just finished…” He covered his mouth as another yawn escaped. “…my exams after pulling two all-nighters in a row. I have no idea why I showed up for this, really – I’m completely dead. I just wanted to celebrate a little.”
He suddenly seemed to focus on her. “Hey, you look really nice,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the din. “Haven’t seen you in forever. How are you doing? Done with your exams and everything?”
James apparently hadn’t noticed anything, Diana thought, and didn’t seem particularly surprised to find her kneeling in front of him. But she felt more than a little awkward and rose, perching herself on the arm of his chair and leaning down in order to be heard as she replied. She felt silly talking about exams and papers to him when what she really wanted to talk about was the changes she had been going through since their last encounter. But there really didn’t seem any way to bring the conversation around to something like, “You know, I’ve really been feeling better about myself since you taught me how to suck your cock.”
And besides, she could see that although he was trying to be polite and listen to what she was telling him, his eyes were slowly closing again. So she interrupted herself and said, “I think you need to get home and go to bed, mister. Unless you want to spend the night here.”
James nodded, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”
Diana stood again as he heaved himself out of the chair. And then, without thinking about what she was doing, she followed him as he threaded his way through the crowd, out the door and up the stairs to the main floor. When they were outside she fell in beside him, not daring to speak as they made their way back to his dorm. And besides, she was still feeling a little wobbly from the beer and had to focus on her steps a little bit.
James said nothing when she followed him into his dorm…and then into the elevator…and then accompanied him down the hall and finally to the door of his room. He opened it and switched on the light. Then he turned to her, and Diana could see he was getting ready to tell her good night and send her on her way. “Thanks for seeing me home, Di-”
Diana stepped up to him and threw her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. Caught off guard, James stood stiffly for a moment then wrapped his arms around her shoulders and allowed her to rest her head on his chest.
They stood there like that for a long moment. Diana knew that that should be all; she should give him a kiss on the cheek, say goodnight and go.
Instead she leaned back and looked into his eyes as if seeking permission there. Then, standing on her toes in order to reach his ear, she whispered, “T-tell me to…take off my clothes.” And when, startled, he started to pull back she held him there and added, her voice shaking, “Pre-…” She stopped, unable to go on for a moment, then forced herself to continue, “Pretend I’m…y-your…slave.” And then: “Please.”
She let him go then, and stood back, waiting, terrified, for his reaction.
Her heart sank as he turned and walked into his room without a word. She waited for him to slam the door behind him.
Instead, he turned back to her. He looked at her for a long moment…and then snapped his fingers at her and pointed to a place on the floor directly in front of him. Diana hurried to stand where he had indicated, not daring to breathe. James walked around her to shut and lock the door, then returned to stand directly in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her, his expression neutral.
“Strip,” was all he said.
Diana’s response was instantaneous and automatic:
In some strange way Diana found it easier to strip for James this time, despite the fact, or perhaps because of it, that this time he was standing almost face-to-face with her. Diana allowed herself to be held in his gaze as she pulled her shirt over her head, relieved that she hadn’t worn her glasses to the party. But this time instead of tossing it onto the bed or dropping it to the floor, she quickly folded it and offered it to him with both hands. James nodded his approval as he took it from her, turning to place it on the bed himself.
Next came the shoes, which Diana toed off and then bent down to retrieve before offering them to James in the same ceremonial fashion. Then the pants, unfastened and unzipped in the back and then quickly pushed down to her ankles and stepped out of before being picked up, folded neatly and held out for him to accept.
Diana was momentarily grateful that she had splurged on some new underwear; it wasn’t anything fancy but at least the bra and panties matched and were pink and just a little bit girly. After giving James her pants she stood for a moment, giving him a chance to enjoy the sight of her in just her underwear, hoping it would please him. But his eyes never left hers and Diana had the sudden realization that what was pleasing to him was not the sight of her body, which he had seen before, but her obedience to him: the fact that she was taking off her clothes simply because he had told her to do so.
She darted a glance down at the front of his pants, noting the huge bulge there before quickly returning her gaze to his. Oh! She had done that! It excited him to treat her like a slave! Diana felt moisture gushing into the crotch of her panties. Ohhh…
She quickly unfastened and removed her bra, finding it a little awkward to fold neatly but doing her best before offering it to James. She thought briefly about doing a slow tease with her panties, pulling them down very, very slowly while keeping her eyes on his. But no: little slave-girls simply did as they were told. So she quickly slipped them off and picked them up. But this time instead of folding them she gave in to an impulse and simply held them out with both hands, offering him her last piece of clothing and at the same time allowing him to see that the crotch of her panties was soaking wet.
He took them from her, as he had taken everything else, without comment or change of expression, and placed them on the bed before turning back to her. To Diana it suddenly felt as though none of the clothing belonged to her anymore; she had given it all to James and it was now his property. She was a naked little slave-girl, wearing nothing but a gold chain around her neck and a pair of earrings.
They stood motionless for a long while, looking into each other’s eyes, their breathing heavy. Then James said, “Well, here’s a pretty little slave for sale. I wonder how much they want for it?”
He stood back from her somewhat and made a point of slowly looking her over, from the top of her head to her toes, as if he was considering making a purchase.
“Hmmm…” he mused. He strode behind her and seized her wrists, causing Diana to gasp, as he brought them up and together, indicating to Diana that she should clasp her hands behind her, which she did. Then he inserted one foot between hers and roughly nudged them farther and farther apart until her legs were spread wide.
He returned to stand in front of her and slowly looked her over once more, his gaze lingering on her breasts and between her legs, eventually nodding to himself and saying, “Better.” Then with one hand he took her by the chin, raising her face to his. “Is it a good little slave?” he asked, staring into her eyes. “Is it obedient?”
Diana was paralyzed, though she couldn’t for the life of her have said whether it was with fear or arousal or some delicious combination of the two. But after a moment she managed to whisper, with some difficulty as he was still holding her by the chin, “Yes, Sir.”
James added his other hand to the back of Diana’s head, holding it firmly as he pulled her chin down with the other, forcing her mouth open. “Hmm…” he said again, peering into it.
Diana felt a jolt between her legs. Being required to stand in this position, naked, in front of James, and now being examined as if she were nothing more than an object of interest to a potential buyer, was making her quiver all over.
James released her chin but maintained his hold on the back of her head as he began to probe her mouth with two fingers. He toyed with her tongue for a little while and then began sliding his fingers in and out of her mouth, saying softly, as if to himself, “Is it a good little cock-sucker, I wonder?”
Diana was unable to respond as James continued to slide his fingers in and out of her mouth, his pace gradually increasing, for another minute or so. Then he suddenly withdrew them and, seizing her by the chin once more, leaned close and asked, “Well, is it?”
Diana, gasping, was frozen in his gaze, unable to speak. What should she say, what could she say? Finally she managed, “N-n-no, Sir, not very good. B-but I’ll… I’ll t-try to be one for you, Sir.”
James just continued to look at her, and after a moment Diana tried again, “I- I’ll try to be a…” Oh god, she couldn’t say it. But she had to. “I’ll try to b-be a…a good, a good little…” She forced herself to go on, “A g-good little c-c-cock-sucker for you, Sir.”
James nodded his approval and said softly, “Good girl,” and Diana found herself flushing with pleasure at having pleased him. He released her head and stepped back slightly to look her over once more. He murmured, “Well now, what have we here?”
Diana, following his gaze, looked down and saw her fully-erect nipples, just before he seized them between his thumbs and forefingers and pinched them.
“Oh!”, she cried out, as a bolt of pain and pleasure shot from her breasts straight down between her legs. Her hands involuntarily started to rise, but she forced them back and grasped them tightly behind her back again. Her mouth fell open and she was unable to think or to be aware of anything but the pressure of his fingers on her nipples. As he began to roll them between his fingers her eyes began to close of their own accord but James snapped, “Eyes on me, slave.”
Diana forced her eyes back open and stared mindlessly into his eyes as he continued to pinch and play with her nipples. “Oh yes,” James said, “It’s a horny little slave, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes, Sir, I’m a…a horny little slave, Sir,” she quavered.
James gave her nipples a final hard pinch, making her gasp, and then released her. He began casually running his hands over her body as if still considering, murmuring, as if to himself, “Hmm… Do I want to buy this slave?” as he walked around her, cupping her breasts in his hands as if weighing them, running his fingers lightly through her pubic hair, fondling her behind and her thighs as if testing them for firmness.
Diana was on fire as the examination continued, biting her lip in an attempt to control her shaking. But when James, standing behind her, placed one hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck, and bent her forward from the waist, saying brusquely, “Grab your ankles, slave,” she groaned out loud as an orgasm began to overtake her.
Sensing what was happening, James grabbed her by her hair and jerked her upright again, saying, “No! Slaves do not come without permission!”
Diana groaned again as she fought down her orgasm, managing to gasp, “Yes, Sir,” as she gradually regained control, a few tears running down her cheeks from the effort. James released his hold on her and without waiting for further instructions Diana bent over and wrapped her hands around her ankles, whispering, “I’m very sorry, Sir.”
Oh my god, Diana thought, look at me: naked, bent over with my legs spread and a man behind me staring right at my…
The thought was left unfinished as Diana felt James’ hands on her behind, grabbing her ass-cheeks and spreading them apart as he crouched down to continue his inspection.
“Yes,” he mused, “it has a tight, wet little pussy, doesn’t it?”
Diana tried to answer but she was unable to get her voice to work at first. Not until James released one hand long enough to slap her hard on the ass and demand, “Doesn’t it, slave?”
“OW! Owww…” Diana hissed through her teeth. “Yes, Sir, I have a t-tight, wet little…little p-pussy, Sir!”
“Better.” James used the tip of his middle finger to trace her pussy lips, stroking them delicately, then gradually separating them and finding her clitoris. From her upside-down position Diana could see exactly what he was doing and she had to close her eyes and bite her lip once more to fight down the orgasm that was beginning to ripple through her. But she was unable to stop the little whimpering noises that escaped from her as James continued to torment her with his fingertip.
But her mouth fell open once more, and she cried out, “Oh!”, as James took his now juice-soaked middle finger and began to worm it between her ass cheeks. “Such a cute little ass as well,” he said softly. “I might just have a use for that.”
He pushed his finger slowly in and out of her passage for a little while as Diana grunted, “Uh!…Uh!…Uh!” and tried desperately not to squirm. Then he stopped and walked around to stand in front of her once more. Seizing her by the hair, he pulled her upright again – although Diana felt as though her knees might give out beneath her at any moment – and looked into her eyes.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked, giving her head a gentle shake, “Do you think I should buy you, slave? How much do you think I should pay for you?”
The fantasy of actually being bought and becoming his property was too much for Diana, and she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around his legs for support. She looked up at him, her eyes tearful, and stammered, “P-please, Sir. You…you don’t have to b-buy me.” She forced herself to sit upright and looked as directly into his eyes as she could. “I’m… I’m a gift, Sir. You said so yourself.”
James’ gaze softened and he reached down to stroke her hair. “You’re absolutely right, Diana, you are a gift. A lovely gift. Thank you.” They smiled at each other as James continued to stroke her hair. After a moment he raised his eyebrows as he asked, “Now, what should I do with such a lovely gift?”
Diana looked down and then forced herself to meet his gaze again. “You should…m-make love to me, Sir.”
James, shaking his head slowly, started to reply, “Now, we talked about th-”, but Diana cut him off. “I know what you said. And you’re probably right. But I don’t care!” She stood up again, the better to look him directly in the eye. “I want you to make love to me, right now. Please, Sir, make…”
She stopped, hesitated and then said, softly but very deliberately, “Please fuck me, Sir.” Then she dropped to her knees once more, upright and with her hands locked behind her back as before, her eyes never leaving his for an instant.
“Please fuck your little slave-girl, Sir.”