(This story is written to the best of my recollection. I share it simply to purge my soul and for the fact that I now find it erotic. The events took place in November of 2004. Any comments are welcome and may encourage me to share subsequent adventures.)
I learned of the professor's interest in my work through an existing client. It was the fall of 2004 and I was between jobs and working at odd projects to make ends meet. When I arrived at the three storied mansion in an older section of the city I was immediately excited at the possibilities. The professor had mentioned several projects that promised both the income and the length of time that I desired with winter fast approaching. I arrived promptly at six p.m. for our scheduled meeting.
The professor, as I have come to know him greeted me at the huge front door and led me into the sitting room off of the main foyer. My first impression of him was that he was rather loud and immediately opinionated, a clients prerogative. He was a few inches shorter than my six foot height, but may have outweighed me with a powerfully built torso and legs. He wore some sort of gym shorts that were popular twenty years ago and a dingy tee shirt, not exactly what I had expected. He took my hand in a strong gripped shake and then promptly led me to the side porch area, the site of his first potential project. I measured and sketched my proposal as we went, climbing to the roof of the ancient porch and discovering further decay. I saw dollar signs in my eyes as we moved inside to view the basement area that he planned to finish. The tour took no more than an hour as we discussed the timing of the work. He offered me refreshments before we would travel to the upstairs to look at windows he planned to replace.
My weakness in the area of self-employment had shown itself over the past few months as I accepted his offer of coffee. I was not a social person making it difficult to interact with clients. I was determined to impress the professor as I seated myself on a divan observing the odd art in gilded frames hanging about the walls and bookshelves teaming with leather covered editions. I began to speak of the art and his large collection of books as he seated himself next to me on the rather small couch. The coffee was strong and I was on my second cup when I noticed the first oddity. Twice, in the midst of relating some appropriate addition to our conversation I went blank, completely losing my train of thought. I laughed the first time, puzzled by my sudden loss of words and again the second tome explaining that I had no idea what was wrong with me and hoping he did not think I was flakey. He seemed unconcerned as he suggested we make our way to the upstairs.
I stood quickly, eager to finish my estimate, the smile from my embarrassing apology still stretched across my face. The room seemed to move, as I caught my balance on my toes and settled back to my heels. These memories are clear and as I continue to relate my experience are the last vivid memories of the night. I walked on my own to the foot of the wide staircase leading to the second floor. The steps seemed to continue out of site. The professor offered his aide, taking my arm as we proceeded upwards. My balance was disappearing quickly and my mind was unable to wrap around the oddity of the entire situation. I found myself leaning heavily onto him as he guided my movements. A second set of stairs, much narrower than the first led to the third floor where the suspect windows existed. He directed me ahead of him as I managed to climb, using both hands and feet to the top floor. I have no recollection of the room or of the windows.
My next memory was of a sharp and loud slap on the bare skin of my right hip. I looked up through a strange fog to see him standing over me. In a booming voice that echoed in my head he said he wanted me awake for this, the words bounced around my mind but did not settle, awake for what I did not know. My tee shirt was gone. There is a vague memory of it being pulled over my head. I was barefoot, my boots and socks missing and as I peered through the fog I could see my legs extended and raised. I watched with a detached wonder as my jeans disappeared leaving me naked. As I reflect on that moment I had no thought of being sexually assaulted. Whatever drug that coursed through my system impaired my ability to discern the reality I found myself in.
He moved my arms with ease fastening leather bands to each wrist then proceeded to do the same to my ankles. The leather was perhaps three to four inches wide and adorned with eyelets that a thick chain grew out of. The links of the chain were thick and cold as the bulk of it rested on my chest. My arms were stretched over my head; the chain encircled my neck and disappeared above me. I was not uncomfortable that I recall. They were not pulled to a taught position, but seemed to rest easily above me. My body was positioned on a mattress that rested on the floor. The entire time that he worked on the restraints he remained silent, intent on his business and I too remained quiet either unable to speak or without a desire to. Perhaps, I thought I was dreaming. I can come up with no better explanation.
I did not witness the professor removing his clothing. I believe that my eyes were often closed and that they were only opened when certain actions drew my attention or sparked my curiosity in some way. I felt the weight of his body moving over me as he straddled my chest. A couple of slaps to my face brought my eyes open. His hand gripped my chin firmly. I could hear his voice commanding me to open my mouth. I didn't know why he wanted it open. I may have tried to resist, but I was very pliable both physically and mentally and even his suggestions did not seem extreme or out of order. The best that I can do is say that I just didn't know why. His erection was inside my mouth before I knew it. I realized what it was. It seemed so odd that I was feeling his penis in my mouth. I knew there had never been one there before. I was measuring it somehow with my lips, comparing it to my own. I could feel it moving over my tongue and bumping into my teeth. I didn't gag as he pushed it to the entrance of my throat and tested my resistance. I don't know how long that went on. It was not uncomfortable or gross. I could taste an odd salty, almost bitter secretion on my tongue. I tried to swallow and could hear him laughing from somewhere above me. I don't think he came, but I could not swear that he didn't. I felt a relief as he pulled free and heard my lips smack as they closed on nothing.
There is a point in my memory that reminds me that I in some capacity realized that I was being sexually abused at a point during or near the end of the forced blow job, but it was fleeting and without conclusion concerning my predicament. I had no ability to rationalize my position. I felt my knees being spread and the sharp slap from his hand smacking the inside of my thighs when I tried to close them. I was compliant after only one or two minor slaps leaving my knees splayed outward where he placed them. I have nearly a year now to think about that first night and his next action. I have come to believe that it was his thumb that first pushed into my sphincter. I do not know if any lubricant was used, but I believe that it is possible, if not probable that he had prepared me in such a way. My eyes shot open. I tried to lift my head and upper body from the mattress, but the chains securing my wrists held me fast. My action brought nothing but a sinister chuckle from his darkened form. He did not stop. The professor worked his digit past my protective muscle and began to slowly widen his target. I was not in great pain and in what seemed like a short time became used to its presence. I felt his hands grip my ankles forcing them higher, pushing my knees to either side of my head and was amazed at the awkward position I was in. My weight was rolled back onto my shoulders and my chin rested on my chest from the pressure as he lowered himself into me. I knew the difference in size immediately and knew without a doubt that he was attempting to fuck me. No other word describes what went through my mind at that moment. He was going to fuck my ass.
I fought it. With every ounce of strength I could muster I tightened my slowly expanding sphincter against his downward pressure. My leg muscles were useless. The pain gave me strength, but even with an increased resolve I was no match for the assault. Inch by painful inch he pushed into my unprotected bowels. He seemed to constantly shift his angle and his pressure first holding my heels together, my body jack knifed beneath him, then forcing my knees to my shoulders and slamming forward. Even when I was sure he was completely inside of me I tensed and fought. His face loomed directly over mine as he launched himself into the attack, a single word, "No' formed on my lips, but it was useless and I am not sure if it ever escaped my mouth. I could shake my head form side to side and did, in disbelief as he worked his fat member fully into my ass.
Time meant nothing in the state I was in. The first assault may have lasted only seconds or may have lingered for much longer. There was no point of reference to focus on, but at some point he simply pulled free and dropped my legs back to the bed. There was immediate relief as he lifted off of me. I may have rested or dozed but soon found myself being moved. The professor positioned me on my hands and knees like a doll. The room was dark or my vision dim. I knew what was coming as I hung my head. Something in me was broken already though I had not yet realized it. My spirit was in jeopardy. The professor moved in behind me and wasted no time in entering me again. The pain was less and my resistance was harder to muster as he rode me from behind. I could feel my entire body rocking away from each plunge while his hands holding my hips firmly struggled to pull me towards him. The doggie style effort did not seem to last very long before he was moving me back to the mattress and refastening my wrists somewhere out of sight, above my head. I was too weak and too drugged to put up any struggle, in fact I don't recall ever trying to fight him or resist him other than to attempt to clamp my sphincter closed. Again, my legs were held high as he re-entered my open hole. Again, he pushed my knees to my shoulders, my back straining form the awkward position and began to pound into me at an ever increasing pace.
I knew the moment I surrendered to him. I remember the thought that was running over and over in my mind like a broken record. "You're a woman," I thought, "a woman". I couldn't break the image of myself lying beneath him, hearing him grunt, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against my upturned ass. I heard him laugh, an evil sound from somewhere above me. "That's it," he said, "give in, relax." From the moment he put my thought into words I had no more power to fight him. My straining legs relaxed, as he easily bent me double and his long powerful strokes met no more resistance. I was defeated, a helpless weak bitch lying beneath the man who had conquered me.
I attempted to focus my blurred vision as I drove my truck through the middle of town trying to make my way home. I was impaired in my driving and gathered myself for the trip of just a few miles. I did not dwell on what had happened; in fact it seemed a million miles away as I concentrated on the blurry stripe in the center of the road. It was almost four in the morning, meaning that I had been there for eight hours. Somehow I managed the drive home and fell into my bed, passing out. The e-mail arrived two days later with several pictures attached. I didn't remember a camera, not even a flash, but there was no doubt as to who it was lying there naked in leather cuffs, brown eyes looking into the lens, my tortured ass hole gaping open and brimming with a milky substance, my own penis engorged with blood and lying against my muscled stomach. The note was short and simple, ordering me to be at his house by six that night or face full exposure. A list of my family members including addresses concluded the note. I didn't have to think about it. I knew what I would do and I knew what I had become.