Mail is much apreciated. Coments to; storyace@hotmail.com
It's hard to write with no feedback.
The rest of my are free on my website;
http://www.asstr.org/~aceinthe_hole/ and;
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/aceinthe_hole/ [in plain text]
It is absolutly non comercial.
Experiments in bondage; the making of a pervert, by Ace, 2001
Are perverts born, or are they made? In other words, is there some
kind of innate genetic misprint that causes some people to into
perverts, or is it environmental factors, like whether your molested you and such?
I suppose I should define "Perversion". One who perverts, turns aside
a thing from its intended purpose; sexual gratification that has
little or nothing to do with procreation.
In my case, I was seduced into perversion. But then, perhaps I have
some type of genetic misprint that left me susceptible to such
seduction.
I am Tracy Lu, and I am an American of Korean extraction. I was not
always like I am now. When I was young, I was an academic.
I was working on my Ph.D. in astronomy. A Ph.D. in astronomy is a
pretty useless qualification, since there is hardly any work for
astronomers. But at that time, I took it very seriously.
Our university had the possibility to send a PhD. student to a remote
observatory in northern Greenland, near the artic circle, for the
winter season. It was exactly what I needed; it was all expenses
paid, and the observations that it was possible to make there in the
extreme cold were essential for my thesis.
It boiled down to my professor and supervisor; Dr. Johnson. I wasn't
the type of to leave these things to blind luck. I checked
around, I checked into what kind of referrals Dr. Johnson had made in
the past. Finally, I asked him straight out.
"Dr. Johnson, you know a season at the northern observatory is exactly
what I need to complete my thesis."
"Yes, I am aware of that, Tracy."
"And are you going to send me?"
"No. It's not a place for a woman, Tracy. I'm sorry, but conditions
at the northern observatory are extremely harsh. It is completely
inaccessible for months at a time. It's staffed by a small crew of
eight or ten scientists, and couple of maintenance men. I know you
think it's what you want to do, but it's my responsibility, and I'm
afraid I can't recommend you to the post."
Shit, exactly what I was afraid of. Sexist bullshit. His lecture was
about to start, and it was time for plan "B".
"Professor, I need to talk you about this at length. If I can't go
there myself, perhaps we can arrange for whoever does go to make some
observations for me. Can we get together later?"
"Well, yes, very well."
"Could you come by my apartment later? I could make dinner."
He raised an eyebrow at me quizzically. I had asked for an
appointment, and proposed a date. Students, even postgraduate
students, dating professors was completely uncool.
But as I said, I had checked into things a little bit. Dr. Johnson's
wife had died two years previously. As far as anyone knew, he had no
current romantic interests. If there was a battle of the sexes going
on, it was my intention to use what assets I had to win it.
A little flirtation, some wine. I wasn't averse to fucking him. I
didn't have any current romantic interests either, not serious ones.
There were couple of jocks I used to get together with at that time,
just for little relaxation. Let them buy me dinner, have some nice
sex. Back to work on Monday, that kind of thing.
I was into clean-cut boys, with nice big muscles to grab hold of. But
this appointment was important. If letting Dr. Johnson have his
pleasure was what it took, then the price was well within my budget.
University professors are not known for being idiots. He could be 95
percent sure that the reason I wanted him to come to my place, as
opposed to meeting him in his office, was to allow for the opportunity
of a little hankie panky. Nonetheless, his eyes went a little bit
wider when I opened the door and he saw me.
I almost never went out my hair down, and I'm sure he'd never seen it.
I'd brushed it out, and it was down to my hips, shiny and black. I
was wearing a skimpy green cocktail dress, dangerously low cut. I've
never had huge tits, but what I had wasn't too bad, and he couldn't
help but glance down into the warm valley between them. I had on
these really high heels, so we were almost the same height.
Okay, I'm going to skip all the blah blah and wordplay. I flirted
with him outrageously, and left him in no doubt as to what it was that
I wanted.
He was a cagey bastard. He didn't say no, but he didn't say yes
either. He wanted the goodies, but he didn't want to give anything in
return.
I decided on a goodwill gesture; I'd screw him first, get him hooked.
I was an arrogant little bitch, and I was completely confident that
once he'd had me, he'd want me again so bad, he'd give me what I
wanted.
By the time I'd made the decision, we had eaten, and were still
sitting at the dinner table. He had taken my hand, and was playing
with my fingers. I didn't find it unpleasant.
I gave him "the look". That stare into a man's eyes that let him know
that he's a winner.
He smiled broadly, then stood, and lifting my hands up, brought me to
my feet as well. He put his arms around me, and brought my body to
his. I had been afraid that I would feel some revulsion at this stage,
but it was all right. I wasn't gushing moisture at my groin or
anything, but it was all right.
We were undressed, and in the bedroom in short order. After the
standard foreplay period, he climbed on top of me and pushed it in.
But he couldn't come.
Well, this sure fucked up my plans. If he didn't come, he wasn't
hooked. If he wasn't hooked, I had no bargaining position. In fact,
I could be in a worse position than I was before. I pretended to come
myself, thinking it might do the trick. No dice. I pretended to come
really hard, moaning and clawing at him. That seemed to get him a
little bit excited, but didn't do it.
"Oh Tom, what are you trying to do to me?" I crooned in his ear.
"Call me 'professor', it turns me on."
I rolled him over, and gave him head. Didn't do it.
"What is it professor? Is it too soon? Is there something I should
do?"
"Oh, my dear, you're such a pretty thing. I really thought you
would do it for me just like this. But I was wrong, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean? Tell me; tell me what I should do. I want to make
you happy!"
I wanted him to make me happy, of course. But I figured to do that, I
needed to get him to ejaculate some of that white sticky bodily fluid
that secrete.
"Let's go back to my place."
So we put our clothes back on, and went to his place.
It was a nice house in the suburbs, too big for a single man. The
kids had grown and moved out, and as I said, his had died.
"Come on up to the bedroom." He said.
Why beat around the bush? He'd already had his cock in me.
Inside the ordinary, neat bedroom, he unlocked a door. There was
another room.
Any SM freak would feel mighty happy inside that inner room. There
was a rack on the wall with handcuffs dangling from it. Various
benches, and hanging from the walls, all kinds of weird outfits and
toys. I was flabbergasted.
I thought I could blow straight Dr. Johnson's mind with a little
sweet pussy. I could see now that things were going to be a
little bit tougher than I'd thought.
He was looking at me, gauging my expression. I guess I was giving a
lot away.
"You looked shocked, Tracy."
"Well, I guess I am."
"Don't worry, it's all just good fun."
He put his hand at the small of my back, and gently pushed me inside.
"Put this on for me." He said, handing me some strange black latex
thing. I really wasn't sure which end of me it belonged on.
He looked as excited as a kid at Christmas as I stripped off my
clothes, and pulled the black latex thing up my legs. It was a kind
of coverall, but it left my crotch and naked. It came right up
to my neck, under my chin. It didn't fit very well, it was made for a
heavier woman.
I felt a chill run up my spine when he took two pairs of handcuffs off
the wall. I needn't have worried. They were for him to wear.
Following his instructions, I handcuffed him to a wooden chair; naked,
backwards, so his cock hung out between the wooden slats of the
backrest. His ankles were cuffed to the legs, and his hands cuffed
behind his back. He had a hard on.
"Beat me." He said.
"With what?" There were a lot of choices.
"Just beat me! Choose something, and do it!"
I started whacking him across the back with a short whip like thing.
It didn't break the skin or anything, it wasn't a real whip. He
groaned in pleasure.
"Now," he said suddenly, "grab my dick. Grab my dick!"
I reached around from behind him, and grabbed his hard dick with both
my hands, pushing my bare nipples into his sensitized back.
There was sticky lubricating fluid oozing from its tip, and I started
to jerk him off. He started to shudder, and then he came.
He wanted me to stay. But I had to get out of there, I wanted to go
home and have a nice long bath. I took his car. He said he would get
the bus in the morning.
But as I drove home, I realized something that I found disturbing. I
was horny. Was it possible that I had been turned on by that weird
scene?
I stopped at a gas station, and used the payphone to call Eric, a
basketball scholarship who had screwed me pleasantly the week before.
"It's Tracy. Tracy Lu. Are you alone?"
"Jesus Tracy, it's one in the morning."
"I know that Eric. Are you alone?"
"Yes, I'm alone. What's the matter?"
"Can I come over?"
"What for?"
"I'll be there in 15 minutes." I hung up.
I was in a wild mood, a wild sexual mood that was unfamiliar to me.
Eric's big dick was barely in me before I was coming.
Eric was a little confused about what had caused me to be in his bed
like that. I wasn't the Tracy he knew, but he wasn't complaining.
Eric is a tall [or just long, if horizontal], very fit and
handsome. He was a good lover, too. Shouldn't that be enough? Why did
I come when I fantasized about restraining him and causing him pain?
He was on his back, and I was riding his hard dick, imagining he
was helplessly tied. I pinched his nipples, and bit his ears, and
tried not to notice that his big hands were gently caressing me, as a
good man's hands should.
I made two happy that night, but I was left confused by the
events. Satiated, but confused.
Monday morning, I was working in the computer lab. There was no one
else there, until professor Johnson entered the room.
"Tracy," he said, putting his hand on the back of my bare neck, "how
are you this morning?"
"Why, just fine, professor. How are you?"
"Better than I've been for a long time, thanks to you."
He took my left hand, and lifted it to his lips. I stood. He put his
arms around my hips, hugging me to himself.
I had been dreading this. I had been left feeling quite disturbed
about what had gone on between Dr. Johnson and myself. Although I had
decided in advance to let him fuck me the other night, the perverted
scene over at his place had left me confused. I was not sure how far
I was willing to go to advance my academic career.
Surprisingly, however, I felt no revulsion in the professor's arms.
Although I now knew that he was completely perverted in his sexual
desires, I was not disgusted by him. I can't say I was exactly turned
on, but after what had gone on between us, I felt we both needed a
friendly hug. We had exposed ourselves to each other. His sexual
perversions, my perverted ambition.
"God, you're so sexy." He whispered in my ear.
In fact, I was dressed down as I always was for school. My hair was
tied up in a bun, and I was wearing sneakers, jeans, and a sweatshirt.
I had on no makeup, and I was wearing the glasses that I need for
close work.
"Will you come home with me tonight?"
"I'm not sure, professor." It wasn't just a ploy. I really wasn't
sure if I wanted to participate in Johnson's perversions.
"Come on, Tracy. I haven't gotten off like that in years, come by my
place tonight. I promise I'll make you happy."
Happy. Did that mean a recommendation to the Northern Observatory?
"Okay." I said, immediately regretting that I hadn't gotten a more
specific promise from him.
He picked me up my place, and was virtually quivering with excitement
by the time we got to his.
There was a bag on his kitchen table. He opened it up; and started
removing, well, I guess they were clothes. I don't know what other
word you can use to describe what you wear on your body.
6 inch stiletto heels. Black Net stockings. Matching Suspender belt.
A strange latex vest with laces that crisscrossed up my belly, and
opened at my breasts, lifting them, but failing to cover them.
I would've expected to feel embarrassed, self-conscious, or just plain
disgusted, to don such an outfit. Instead, I felt a strange elation.
Instead of feeling compromised, I felt empowered. With these strange
garments on my body, I knew that professor Johnson was putty in my
hands. He might have the upper hand back at the University, but right
here, right now, he was mine.
"Take your clothes off." I told him. Or perhaps it was even an order;
my first.
He was visibly shaking as he complied. His body wasn't ugly, I
noticed for the first time. He couldn't compare with someone like
Eric of course, only someone like Eric could compare with someone like
Eric. But the professor had a long lean body. His cock was rock
hard, and right now, he worshiped me as a goddess. I found that
stimulating.
"Get upstairs." I told him.
I wanted him to wait for me for a few minutes. Just to make him
nervous. I walked around on his ground floor, checking out his place
and getting used to those kinky shoes. Then I went on up.
He was just standing there, waiting for me. Good boy. I didn't say
it out loud, not that first time.
I let him stand there, naked, in the middle of the room, while I
walked around the perimeter, checking out the paraphernalia hanging
from the walls.
I chose a set of chains with wrist and ankle cuffs. I tossed them to
him.
"But those on." I told him, and when he had attached them to his
ankles, I ordered him to his knees, and attached the wrist cuffs,
binding his hands to his ankles behind his back.
It wasn't just the overt physical power that was turning me on; it was
a psychological power, the total power over the who was my mentor
in the real world.
I slapped him in the face. I saw that it wasn't hard enough, it
didn't have much effect on either one of us. I hit him harder. It
was good. I grabbed him by the hair. I was new at this, I wanted to
go farther but I didn't know how.
"Lick my you fuck." I told him, pushing my hairy crotch
into his face. He moaned in ecstasy, and went at me with enthusiasm.
I didn't really care much at that moment about having my licked.
Oh, I love having my licked. But I wanted at this moment was
domination. Not for my own sexual satisfaction. For Dr. Johnson's
sexual satisfaction. At this point, I was still in it as a career
move. Or so I thought.
He was good. He had some talent with his tongue; practice I guess. I
was surprised to find that I was really enjoying it, the actual
licking that is.
I even thought that I would be able to come. I didn't really want to
at first. To have an orgasm at the tongue of Dr. Johnson would be
tantamount to finding him attractive. How could I find someone like
Dr. Johnson attractive? This sniveling pervert whimpering on the
floor between my legs.
Nonetheless, his attentions to my clitoris began to get to me, and I
thought what the hell, why shouldn't I have an orgasm? Nothing wrong
with a little orgasm. I twisted on his ears, tore at his hair. He
loved it, but it wasn't enough to make me come. I was rarely able to
come from cunnilingus alone.
I shoved him over onto his back. His wrists and ankles were still
chained together, and were now under the middle of his back. His
penis stuck straight up into the air. I lowered myself onto it, and
he thrashed around, moaning with pain and pleasure.
As I pushed my pelvis back and forth against his cock, about half my
weight on those stiletto heels, and the other half crushing his limbs
into the floor below us, I realized that I was really enjoying this,
that I was sexually stimulated by this perverse situation.
It didn't make sense to me. I should be turned on by someone like
Eric; a physically perfect specimen, with the brains to know that he
probably wouldn't make it at pro basketball, and so was working at his
degree. Eric would be reliable, a perfect provider, a that any
woman would wish to have as a husband and lover, as the of her
children. Eric had wanted to get more serious with me; but I had kept
him at arms length. Why? Was I expecting to find better? Or was the
truth that I didn't want a good man, that I wanted dominance first?
That I preferred to torture dr. Johnson than to make love with
young Eric?
I felt the heat traveling up through my body, starting from my groin
and flowing up through my torso until it impacted with my brain. I
came hard, reveling in the pain I was causing to my ecstatic victim,
writhing below me.
I had obtained true sexual satisfaction from this perverted situation;
therefore, I was a pervert. As an academic, I find that interesting,
and neither good nor bad. Personally, I found it fairly disconcerting.
I was very unsure if this was a healthy condition. But was I born like
this, or did I become this way due to cultural and environmental
influences? The question remains.
Dr. Johnson recommended me for the appointment to the observatory.
But the appointment came with a surprise; he was coming along.
"I need a break from the University, and I can lease my house out for
the winter. A little sabbatical, some nice observations, perhaps a
paper or two. And a lot of spare time for you and I to enjoy each
other my dear." He told me.
Well, there was nothing to do but get into it. For the next six
months, Dr. Johnson and I did nothing except science and sex. We got
pretty good at both; we published a joint paper [on the astronomy, not
the sex]. My Ph.D. virtually couldn't be refused after that.
I got very good at tormenting him. We tried to keep our relationship
secret from the others at the observatory, but that didn't work. In a
close environment like that, there are few secrets.
Since everyone basically knew, I didn't feel there was any harm in
tying Dr. Johnson up and gagging him, and then screwing the handsome
young maintenance while he watched. That was really nice, since I
got to torture the professor while having fun with a lover. Oh,
we went pretty far in those few months.
We started out very mild, doing things similar to what we did the
first night in the professor's secret little room at home. But as the
dark months passed, we kept increasing the intensity. It reached a
peak a few days before we were scheduled to return home, on the
professor's birthday.
We had reached the point where I didn't know how to cause him greater
pain without doing him actual injury. I would strap him into the
restraints we had brought with us, or get inventive with some cotton
cord; and then slap him around, abuse him verbally, squeeze his balls
or whatever. That would make us both really horny, so I would either
screw him in his restraints, or let him loose so he could fuck me.
And of course, there was no chance of buying any new outfits for
myself. I used to change my hair around, though. Sometimes I tied it
up on my head, sometimes I wore it down.
So I put together a little kit for applying electric shocks. It was a
simple job for me down in the electronics lab. I didn't show it to the
professor until I had him well restrained.
"What you think this is, professor?" I asked him, showing him a
polished piece of copper rod. "This goes in your ass." I told him.
"And this." I showed him a micro clip; it didn't have sharp teeth or
anything. The point was pain without injury. "This one goes on your
balls."
His eyes were bulging out of his head as I greased the rod and
inserted it into his rectum. I put a little conducting grease onto
the jaws of the micro clip, and clamped it to his balls. For the next
two hours, I alternately applied electricity, causing him to buck and
writhe in his restraints; and his cock, stroking the insides of
his thighs and brushing his belly with my hair. By the time I let him
come, he had a bucket of the stuff.
The others gave us a hard time the next day about all the screaming,
but they knew us by then, and they knew it was the professor's
birthday, so they gave us a break.
I enjoyed myself so much, that I decided to go pro. By the time my
Ph.D. was granted, I had a string of paying me to abuse them. I
do miss science sometimes, but this does pay much better.
Now shut the fuck up, get on your knees, and put your hands behind
your back. No electricity for you. Maybe next time, if you're very
obedient.
Ace 2000
Mail is much apreciated. Coments to; storyace@hotmail.com
It's hard to write with no feedback.
The rest of my are free on my website;
http://www.asstr.org/~aceinthe_hole/ and;
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/aceinthe_hole/ [in plain text]
It is absolutly non comercial.
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