Kathy & Me 

The days flew by and I didn’t see Kathy again except to wave to her
from the front door as our paths crossed ever so briefly in the going
and coming of our lives. Even though she was my best friend, I was
reluctant to get too close to the trouble brewing next door. Two weeks
had gone by before I finally sat with her in my kitchen again.

“Come on girl give with the dirt,” I said. I’m dying to know how this
slave thing is going down.”

“I’m not sure I know,” was Kathy’s response. “I’ve never been
submissive to a man before. There are times..., times when I am
ashamed to be so horny and hungry for his cock..., times when he
humiliates me by making me crawl naked to him on all fours, my pussy
wet and swollen, my breasts swaying under me..., those are times when
I wonder why I let him do this to me. Then there are the times right
after those when he fucks me, and my God..., the orgasms I do have.
Then I think how silly it was for me to resent what he does to me. You
see, doesn’t really abuse me, Marge, at least not the same way my
husband did. Everything Steve does to me has a purpose. He is always
pushing the envelope, raising the level of sexual intensity.”

“Has he beaten you again?” I asked remembering Kathy had told me that
he had done so on the first night he had fucked her.

“Yes, but not often,” Kath answered. “Actually he’s pretty lenient
with me. I’m resistive and misbehave sometimes, but I’ve been tied to
the staircase banister and caned only twice since I was punished on
our first night together.”

Kathy shuddered a little, apparently from the thought of that
banister. Then she continued. “Everything he does to humble me, even
being caned, turns me on. Surrender and submission I’ve found do that
to me..., its like BANG, and I’m in heat. Begging for a cock is a very
sexy thing to do. You should try it sometime. I promise you, it will
make your pussy wet.”

“Oh, sometimes its seems too much, too far out, especially when he
makes me really grovel, but the shame passes, and after all, surrender
is such a small price to pay for the pleasure he gives me. Am I
willing pay that price? You bet I am! He has made his point. The price
and the payoff are two sides of the same coin. Submission and orgasm
are the ying and yang of being female.”

“Don’t you ever have to act, pretend, in order to play the game he
wants?” I asked Kathy.

“Once in a while,” Kathy admitted. “I was reluctant when he fucked my
bottom for the first time. I had never taken a man there, and I wasn’t
too sure I wanted to, especially a man with a dick the size of
Steve’s. It was something new, something I was afraid of, and I
resisted him. He refused to relent. He took me to the staircase and he
caned me. Then he laid me over an arm of the sofa, and made me hold
the burning cheeks of my ass apart with my hands. I could see he was
going to stick his cock up my rear no matter what I did, so I gritted
my teeth, and pretended, faking the passion with which I begged to
fuck my ass.”

“Actually, once he got the damn thing in me, it felt pretty good. I
even got my rocks off. That may not prove much, tho. Steve keeps me so
sexed up all the time that I orgasm now for almost no reason at all.
Anyhow, since then he has butt fucked me pretty regularly, and when I
beg him to take my ass, I’m not pretending anymore. Like I have been
telling you, submission is inherently sexy, and a woman is never more
submissive when she is on her hands and knees being ass fucked.. One
thing feeds the other. Steve knows that and uses it to push me into
being a horny bitch always obsessed with his cock.”

I was full of questions, and I interrupted, “Has he given you to a
stranger to fuck? And what about his other women? Have you met any of
them?”

Kathy grimaced before she began her answer, “No Steve hasn’t made me
fuck another man yet. He mentions it once and a while, and once we had
a kind of mini-orgy with one of his other slaves and her husband. All
Steve allowed the husband, however, was to lick my pussy. That has
been as far as I have had to go with another man up to now.”

“Steve has been careful not to push me into anything I might not be
able to handle yet. So far he seems satisfied to indoctrinate me with
little erotic gestures. Like, he makes me do my housework naked with a
leash on my dog collar. The damn thing hangs down between my tits, and
its handle bumps against my pussy with every step I take. I get so
horny I can hardly finish vacuuming. Then there’s that ring he punched
into my pussy lip. He really enjoys attaching his leash there and
leading me off to his bed by my cunt. Can you imagine a more
humiliatingly erotic symbol of female sexual servitude than that?
Certainly it certifies what I am and who my little ass belongs to.”

“And his other slave women?” I asked again,

Kathy frowned but continued, “Yes I have met them both.” Kathy paused
here, plainly torn with whether she should say anything more on this
subject. Finally she must have decided that I was trustworthy. “The
first was Sheila, also known as Mrs. Malcolm Porter III.”

“That can’t be,” I exclaimed. “Her husband is one of the richest most
prominent men in town, and she’s is a pillar of local society.
Besides, she must be at least ten years older than Steve.”

“All that is true,” Kathy replied, but she is also Steve Hamilton’s
sex slave, and a very horny one at that I might add. You ought to see
her on her back with her lily white patrician legs spread wide,
pleading for Steve to stick her with his cock. She licks a mean pussy
too. I can tell you that from personal experience, Her favorite thing
though is a big dick up her ass! She likes it there best of all when
Steve makes her kneel with her head and shoulders on the floor, her
ass in the air, and her hands tied behind her back.”

“She is really very nice though, and she has been kind to me. I don’t
think Steve wants us to be friends, but we have become so anyway. We
sometimes have a chance to talk after Steve is asleep. She told me
that when she was a senior in high school, a college boy she had a
crush on dated her for New Year’s eve. Instead of welcoming the new
year, her date tied her hands behind her back, fucked her and made her
suck him off. Even though she had been a virgin before that attack,
she had several orgasms from the abuse she took. After that experience
she wanted more of the same, and she still can’t enjoy sex unless the
man dominates her.”

“Her husband is twenty two years older than she, and is himself
sexually submissive. There was no way he could satisfy Sheila, or cope
with what she needed done to her in bed. He had already paid off two
unsatisfied wives in expensive divorces, however, and he needed to
keep this one happy. Mr. Porter somehow heard about Steve’s talents,
and he negotiated for Steve to take her on and give her the kind of
sex she craves. It was a good deal for Steve. A gorgeous mature blond
was not only handed to him ready and willing to be his sex slave, and
she brought with her a handsome dowry for his services.

“I assume,” I interjected, “that the rules for her are different...,
that she doesn’t have to screw other men for example.”

“Oh no,” Kathy replied, “Steve would never agree to anything like
than, no matter what the fee. She herself told me that she gets fucked
and abused by strangers just like we all do..., or will’” Kathy
frowned at the amendment she had to add to the end of her last
sentence.

“You mean that the big shot Mr. Porter allows his wife to be a whore
for strange men, and even pays somebody pimp for her?” My voice must
have sounded as incredulous I found the very idea of it to be.

“Not only that, Marge, but he also participates,” Kathy told me.
“Steve and his friends fuck her and abuse her right in front of him.
They make fun of him and call him names while doing so. After they
have all screwed her, they make her crawl on her hands and knees over
to her husband so he can clean her cum filled cunt with his tongue.”

“Have you seen that happen,” I asked.

“No, but I know it does because Sheila told me. Besides, remember the
mini-orgy I mentioned earlier, well that was with Sheila and Malcolm.
I saw for myself Malcolm Porter III naked and wearing a slave collar.
I sat on his face while he licked my slit and Steve was fucking his
wife in the same bed with us. After Steve dropped his load in Sheila’s
cunt, Steve made Malcolm clean her pussy out with his tongue. Both
Porters then had to wait on their knees at our bedside listening to
Steve fuck me in their bed, and after we finished poor Malcolm had
another pussy to clean, only mine this time. As a grand finale, Steve
made each of them hold a vibrator up the other’s ass while they sucked
each other in the 69 position. Mr. Porter III and his good looking
blond wife may be big shots in this town, but in the bedroom, they do
whatever Steve Hamilton tells them to.”

“But Kathy, what about Bob’s other female slave? You said you had met
two of them.” I was so into Kathy’s story by now I could hardly
contain myself.

“Yeah, that would be Victoria Winthrope,” Kathy answered me. “You know
the little blond that’s always being mentioned in the newspaper
society columns as having attended such and such a big deal rich bitch
function, usually in the company of one Steve Hamilton.”

A frown came across Kathy’s face at the mention of the name Victoria
Winthrope. It was clear she didn’t care much for Victoria, perhaps
even a little jealous. “She may be a debutante but she’s also only
another one Steve Hamilton’s cunt slaves just like I am. She is such a
first class bitch though. The night Steve wanted to fuck Vicky and I
together for the first time she became so bitchy that she disobeyed
him. I didn’t like Vicky even then, but Sheila had already shown me
how to lick a pussy, and I was ready to do what I had to. Steve sent
me up to bat first, and I brought Vicky off with my mouth like a good
little slave girl. Vicky, however, decided my pussy wasn’t good enough
for her.”

“Her refusal to eat me angered Steve and he really lit into her. Vicky
never had a chance. Steve hung Vicky up by her ankles from a pair of
ceiling eye hooks. Her head and shoulders were on the floor but her
legs were up in the air and spread. Steve opened a dresser drawer and
took out an evil looking thing with a handle at one end and half dozen
of so short nylon thongs at the other. Steve called it his pussy whip,
and used it to beat the little society bitch directly on her cunt. You
can’t believe how quickly Victoria changed her mind about sucking my
cunt, even begging to do so.”

“Steve had other ideas. He left her hanging there while he fucked my
ass. When we were finished, he had me sit on Victoria’s face so that
his jism oozing out of my bottom dripped into her mouth. Then he made
her use her tongue to probe my ass hole and make sure it was clean.”

“Victoria spent the rest of the night with her hands cuffed behind
her, kneeling on the floor at the end of Steve’s bed with a vibrators
strapped into her cunt and ass. Every time Steve finished fucking me,
she had to crawl into my crotch and tongue me to orgasm. With his cum
dripping from my pussy, Steve would laugh and tell her, ‘Give her
another one, Vicky, one for the road.’ Then Steve would have her suck
him hard again, and I know she could taste me all over his cock.
Little Vicky never did get fucked and she didn’t have a fun evening.
She blames me for that and she hates me for it. It’s O.K. though, I
don’t like her much either.”

I still had a big question for Kathy. “What about Stan?” I asked.
“What are you going to do about him, and does he know what is going
on?”

“God, I wish I knew,” Kathy answered me. “He has begun to call me a
couple of times a day so I know he is suspicious. I keep warning Steve
about him, but Steve won’t even be discrete about sleeping with me at
my house. Anyone can see him coming and going at all hours. Steve says
not to worry, that he will take care of Stan when the time comes.”

“Jesus,” I told Kathy, “you mean to tell me that Stan has just been
left a loose cannon to roll around the deck? He’s one very big mean
dude, and he’s likely to kill somebody when he finds out you have a
lover.”

“Yes, I know all that, Marge,” Kathy replied, “but what can I do. I
can’t call him up and say, ‘guess what Stan, I have found someone who
screws me better than you did, and I want a divorce.’ I don’t know
what to do, but I’m going to have to trust Steve when he says he will
take care of the problem.”

My husband Tim came into the Kitchen right then, and Kathy and I had
to cut our talk short. It was the last time I had an opportunity to
discuss things with Kathy before my phone rang at about 9 p.m. four
days later. It was Kathy, and she was sobbing and almost hysterical.

“Hello..., Marge..., this is Kathy,” she began. “Please..., please
come over right away. Stan is downstairs and he knows about Steve. I
don’t know whether Steve will come by tonight or not, and I can’t
reach him to warn him to stay away. I need your help. If you’re here
maybe Stan won’t hurt me, and if Steve does show up, maybe Stan won’t
dare kill him in front of a witness. My God, Stan is twice Steve’s
size. He might beat him to death if someone isn’t here to stop him.”

“No Kathy,” I told her, “let me call the police. We’ll get you out of
there and let the cops take care of whatever happens next.”

“No, Marge..., Please no police,” she begged me, “You know how dirt
travels around here. If the police come, this whole thing will be all
over town by morning. I know what they will all be saying too: ‘That
slut Kathy had to call the cops to keep her husband from killing her
lover. Hot little piece of ass that Kathy..., always knew she was.’ My
folks will find out, and it will break their hearts. And, the
office..., the girls there will make my life hell after what I said
about the way they were fawning over Steve. Anyway Kate's and Cramer
is very sensitive about scandal. I’ll probably lose my job.”

“O.K. Kathy, no police,” I promised, ‘but I’m not sure that me being
there will do anything but add one more body bag to take away in the
morning. What good will I be, really? Why don’t you just leave, and
let the two men do their thing?”

“Because, Stan won’t let me out the door, that’s why,” she screamed
her answer at me. “He has me stripped down to my panties and bra, and
he says that after he’s finished with Steve, he’s going to tie me to
the bed and rape my ass hole. Please come Marge, you’re my only hope.
With you here there’s at least a chance. Otherwise for sure Steve or
I, or maybe both of us, are going to be dead.”

“Alright Kathy, I’m on my way,” I finally relented. “I wouldn’t do
this for anyone in the world but you. Maybe we will get lucky and
Steve won’t come by.”

I slipped away without saying anything to Tim. Tim is no fighter. No
reason to have him in this, and there was no time to explain things.
Within a minute or two of the phone call I was at Kathy’s front door
ringing the bell. Stan opened it. Behind him stood a terrified Kathy
in her bra and panties like she said. Stan was surprised to see me.
Obviously he thought it would be Steve at the door.

“Hi, Stan,” I said brightly, trying to bluff my way by pretending that
I didn’t know what was going on. “Is Kathy home?”

“Hell, yes,” Stan answered, “and you ought to be too. Go home, I’ve
got some business to do with Kathy’s God damned boyfriend, and you’re
going to be in the way.”

“Well, I’m not going home,” I told him as bravely as I could muster,
“and, if I do go home I’m going to call the police and we’ll see what
they say about the ‘business’ you have planned.” This time my bluff
worked. I could see in his face that he didn’t want the police, and he
started to back down a little.

“Come in then God damn it,” he told me, slamming the door behind me.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you are doing here, but stay out
of my way. I’m going to teach that son of a bitch he can’t come into
my house a fuck my wife in my bed, and you are not going to stop me.”

I rushed by him to give Kathy a reassuring hug, although, in truth, I
needed a hug and something more for my own morale. There was no time
to say or do anything more because just then a car pulled into the
Konichech driveway. We heard the car door slam and seconds later the
door bell rang. When Stan yanked it open, there stood Steve. He didn’t
even look startled by the hulking figure that blocked his entrance.”

“Well hello, I assume you’re Stanley Konichech,” Steve said calmly.
May I come in, or shall we fight out here in the yard and entertain
the neighbors?”

“Yeah, come in you son of a bitch. I don’t care whether I bust your
ass out there or in here. You are dead meat anywhere, mister.” Stan
was almost foaming at the mouth as he stood there threatening the icy
cool Steve Hamilton.

Steve brushed by him and went over to the trembling Kathy, and kissed
her lovingly on the cheek. “Its O.K. sweet thing,” he told her,
“everything will be just fine.” With that he turned back to face Stan,
and said, “and you were saying...?”

That insolence did it for Stan. With a bellow of obscenities he
charged, his face flushed and his fists raised. Steve braced for the
attack in the classic stance of a professional prize fighter, weight
on the balls of his feet, crouching on bent knees, with forearms
raised in front of his face.

Stan threw a sweeping right as he bore down on what he was sure was a
walk over. Steve stepped straight forward inside Stan’s flailing arm,
and threw a piston straight left jab..., except that this was no mere
jab. Solidly behind it was Steve’s left shoulder, and it caught Stan
coming toward the punch at full bore. Steve’s fist landed flush on the
tip of Stan’s little pug Polish nose. Bone and cartilage gave way with
a soft crunch. Stan screamed with pain, and blood gushed from smashed
flesh that only an instant previously had been a recognizable part of
his face.

The stream of blood had not yet reached Stan’s chin when Steve’s
second punch followed his first one like a rattlesnake strike. That
straight right landed square on Stan’s mouth, split open both his
lips, and loosened his front teeth in the bargain. Stan staggered
backward shaking his head trying to clear the cobwebs from those two
savage punches. Blood was pouring from his nose and mouth, and he sent
it splattering everywhere like rain water shaken from the soaked coat
of a wet dog.

Stopping to think was never Stan’s thing. He was hurt, hurt bad, but
all he knew to do was to come on again, still flailing, trying as best
he knew how to strike back. His lunges were clumsy and futile. Steve
side stepped every charge and snapped quick hard lefts and rights into
the bloody mess that was now Stan’s face. Tim and I had seen a bull
fight in Mexico City when we were there on our honeymoon. This was
just like that. Helpless before the agile and graceful toreador, the
strength of the bull was bled away.

The rushes of the bull were weaker now, and finally Kathy’s personal
matador stepped inside for the kill. A savage right uppercut landed
just below Stan’s heart. Stan sagged, and as his hands dropped from
the body blow, Steve threw a crushing left hook that almost took off
Stan’s lantern jaw.

Stan went to his knees like he had been hit with a two by four. Before
he could slump farther, however, Steve stepped back and swung his leg
in a sweeping kick. His instep landed squarely across Stan’s brow and
drove him suddenly upwards and back. Stan’s head hit the floor with a
solid thump, and he lay still, out cold on his back, or maybe he was
dead from all I could tell.