Strings Ch. 07

1st February 2013

Me: Hi Sylvie, did your day go well? I had your words and images on my mind all night.

Sylvie: Yes a busy day today again and a late one with friends last night. I am not available really for our exchanges Friday to Sunday as this is when my usual life happens. I hope you don't mind. I look forward to continuing our new adventure on Monday.

I worried if she would still be interested after a weekend with her partner. I would have a long wait trying to keep images of her mouth out of my mind. But on Monday morning nothing came through so in the afternoon I emailed her, trying to portray interest rather than anxiety.

I got no reply.

Fuck.

The next day I was visiting a trade show at Earls Court in London when her message arrived.

Sylvie: Hi Jack so sorry for not replying yesterday, a very busy one and exhausted by the end of it! What do you do to relax or have fun when you aren't travelling the world?

Yay! A reply, she's still on board.

Me: Lovely to hear from you, what do I do in my spare time? Apart from imagining tying you up, I go to the gym, (no bodybuilder), I used to run half marathons and 10'Ks - more a jogger these days. I watch sport, particularly football. I like a good curry, I read, I write, (one day I will be on Amazon). I am doing a MOOC - a mass open online course and just started an astronomy course. And you?

That evening she replied:

Sylvie: Sounds like you are quite busy when you relax. What's the book about? I also write creatively, and my other loves are: music, cooking - particularly ethnic food, I swim, I work-out sometimes and am a wannabe avid walker.

I described the basics of my book, and asked if she would like to read the synopsis, and added that it was pleasing that we had a few shared interests. This was great I thought, she is into books, BDSM and bukkake! She is slim but not skinny and possibly pretty. Is there anything not to like about this woman?

We talked about my book and that I have a copyeditor working to improve the flow because a publisher commented that it was a promising storyline but needed polishing, (and reducing). I said I was happy to send it through in its current state, and unlike the little fantasies I liked to write, my novel had no sex in it. I added that a handful of people had read it and had been encouraging to me. I didn't mention that one of those was Jim, the friend whose wife I guiltily liaised with.

Sylvie; Please only send when you are ready I look forward to it, but why would you send your novel to someone you don't know?

Me: It's already copyrighted and I crave feedback but if it makes more sense to you, perhaps we should meet over a coffee and talk it over?

An offer to meet nicely introduced I thought.

Sylvie: Okay that is sensible talk. We could meet but we are both busy. Are you down Bridgebourne way in next few weeks?

Bridgebourne; so it is possibly one of the two Facebook Sylvie's I found. I tried to compare the spunky open mouth photos she had sent with the young student, and she seemed very unlikely. The islander showed so little of her face that I couldn't really compare the mouths.

Me: I like Bridgebourne, I lived there for six years, and still have a business connection in the city. As it happens I will be nearby in Compton on the 12th, and will probably be free by 4pm. It would be ideal for me depending on when you finish work. By the way, I am sure you are not obsessed with sex, it's just been the whole reason for us getting in touch in the first place, but I did compose a fantasy for you. It's about a girl being punished at the convent of the Immaculate Ejaculate.

Sylvie: You are right, I am in no way obsessed with sex. I just like to acknowledge it's a powerful and exciting way of feeling really alive. But I confess I am looking forward to the convent story too - very appropriate as I was once a very naughty convent school girl myself.....it never really leaves one.

Me: I will see what can be done, I have worked the little scenario, and assumed you are not bisexual by the way.

Sylvie: No I am not. . [ pity]

Me: Do you live in Bridgebourne? You don't need tell me your address, just any areas you would like to avoid when we meet. Is the 12th possible?

Pixie: Actually I live on the islands so Bridgebourne is fine. I could certainly meet for a coffee next Tuesday afternoon x

So she had to be the Facebook islander, the close up mouth pictures could belong to anyone, ugly or pretty, but the wrapped up face of the islander hinted at prettiness.

I had a webinar to run and replied nearly two hours later.

Me: I have just finished the webinar with some Germans. (was I trying to show off by saying I was doing international business?) I have two meetings with professional sports clubs in Compton on the 12th, (I was definitely showing off now,) and a wash-up meeting with my colleague afterwards. Where would you prefer to meet?

We discussed pubs and settled on 5.30 at The Navigation by the harbour or if it were too early we would find a decent coffee shop somewhere around the Lighthouse. She would have to leave by 7:30 when she was meeting a friend – her safety net.

The timing was fine, and I would be away by 7pm so she had time between her engagements without risk of compromise. 'Discretion is key' she had said.

I tried again for a full portrait photo, and hoped she was at least average looking, with everything we had in common, I would be happy with that, but what if she was just not attractive at all, and she was really keen on me? However she looked I would find out soon enough as she agreed to send her photo beforehand (Yes!)

Stirred at the prospect of meeting Sylvie and in a high state of arousal, I banged out the suggested story for my convent-educated, sperm and bondage loving, prospective Vault sex buddy Pixie/Sylvie. And banged out was the right word, both the words and eventually my own jism flowed. It then took a couple of hours to work the original words to better prose. Then I re-read it and re-jigged again. I figured I knew her fantasies but it was with a mixture of nervousness (was it too much?) and anticipation (she might love it) that I sent it.

The Convent of the Immaculate Ejaculate

The nun was furious, 'Angela Butcombe,' she shrieked.

A startled young man hurriedly pulled up his trousers, struggled to stuff his erection out of sight and then ran away along the brick wall behind the bicycle sheds.

Angela was left kneeling on the grass when the nun grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet. She dragged her from behind the sheds, across the car park and into the old convent building. Soon they were facing the Abbess in her spartan little office.

'I caught this little pixie, she was engaged in devils play.'

The Abbess arose from her chair and walked slowly up to Angela.

'Your school blouse is wet, and there is something on your chin....' She reeled back in shock with the realisation of what it was. 'You are head girl, eighteen years old and off to University soon, and you do this! What a way to end your time at the convent. What do you think you were doing?'

Angela spoke for the first time. 'I was curious.'

'She had his part in her mouth,' the nun volunteered.

'You have the seed of men on your chin and your uniform is filthy with it. How could you do such a thing?'

All Angela could say was 'I liked it, the smell.... the taste....'

'Hold your tongue girl.' The Abbess was appalled at Angela's admission. She told her to return to her dorm and clean herself up, her punishments would have to be decided.

Later that day the Abbess called a meeting with the senior staff.

'The devil is in Miss Butcombe. We can punish her but she has fallen for the seed of men, which should only be produced for purposes of procreation. Having developed the taste, no man will be safe from her cravings. How can we cure her?'

Several suggestions were offered ranging from denial of privileges and menial chores, to various physical punishments. An idea for a re-education programme was considered leading one nun to suggest, 'She needs aversion therapy.'

The Abbess liked the idea, 'She should learn to be disgusted by her nasty little habit. I will ask the men who work on the estate to help in this unpleasant task.'

The next afternoon Angela was summoned before the Abbess, who stood grimly in her office with the school Caretaker. A mean looking man with a jutting square jaw, he was so weather beaten his age was difficult for Angela to guess at.

'You will be prepared for the therapy. The Caretaker here has reluctantly agreed to sacrifice his time and that of the other men of the estate to try to cure you. It is an unpleasant task, quite painful for them I am told, but these good men have been very generous in offering to help. You will be unable to resist the therapy, and your senses, that so let you down, will be treated. The Caretaker will prepare you now.' She approved of the man's stern expression, missing the momentary glint in his eye as he led Angela to his own office.

The Caretaker's office doubled as a storeroom and once the door was closed behind them he said, 'We cannot ruin school clothes, take them off.'

It was deeply unnerving for her as she slowly undressed in front of the large man leering at her as she revealed her taught, athletic body, her small pale breasts and round, firm buttocks.

She shivered as he walked around behind her and picked something up from the shelves. When he came back into view he said, 'Got to secure you for the therapy, cross your arms behind your back.''

He folded a long piece of rope in half, his breath was unpleasantly close to her face as he draped the rope around her neck and threaded the loose ends through the loop. He separated the ends and wound them around the back of her body. He turned her around by her shoulders and tied each wrist close to the opposite elbow. He then pulled the strands back to her front, shoving her around again, so she faced him.

For several minutes he spun her around as he coiled and tied the rope around her upper body. Double strands tightened above and below her small firm breasts. Soon her tits were squeezed into ellipses, her nipples pushed out and hardened.

'For dog's,' he explained as he fitted a ringed collar around her neck.

He got something made of clear plastic from the shelf. He flexed it in his hand and smirked. 'Dentist equipment, keeps your dirty mouth open.' He said. With one hand he forced her mouth open and with the other fitted the outer grips of the device to her red cherub-like lips. Her mouth was forced wide apart, not only that but her lips were splayed open revealing her perfect teeth and gums.

Then he picked up some string with a double metal hook at one end. He pushed the hooks into her nostrils and lifted the string up, between her eyes and over her head and fastened it to a D ring on the back of her dog collar. The result was the tip of nose was squashed upwards, her nostrils flared and exposed. She winced and wriggled trying to establish some comfort within her bonds but was slapped firmly on her ass by the Caretaker. Despite her nervousness at her predicament she felt a puzzling stirring of excitement between her legs.

He pinched one of her breasts and said, 'Time for your aversion therapy'. He attached a lead to the front of her collar and, tugging the lead harshly, he led her briskly from his office.

As they walked down the hall her skin reacted to a cool breeze with goose bumps, and drool escaped from her gaping mouth to gather on the ropes that squeezed her breasts. Despite her discomfort a red flush bloomed across her chest – was it shame or arousal she wondered. He opened another door into a large room empty except for some cleaning equipment at the far end. The room had a cold tiled floor beneath her feet and a single glaring fluorescent light tube above her head.

A dozen men were inside. She recognised a few of them, the gardener, the night-watchman, a couple of estate workers. One or two were younger men, but thank goodness she didn't know them, and there were others older than the Caretaker.

'Kneel,' he commanded.

'And lift your head up!' he barked as he jerked her face upwards with one of his large calloused hands.

Acutely aware of their eyes and her nude vulnerability she blinked in the cold, harsh fluorescent light and gulped for air through the mouth device. The men circled around her and she saw the tell-tale bulges in their trousers. She closed her eyes, readying herself mentally to endure the ordeal.

Having viewed her from all angles the men eventually assumed positions and with her eyes still closed she noted that she was suddenly surrounded by heavy breathing. Someone by her side unzipped his trousers, the sound of which made her tingle in anticipation. She didn't look but knew what he was doing as she got a faint whiff of his genitals and heard a slight moan as he began to stroke his cock. Then someone else on the opposite side did the same, he let his trousers fall to his ankles and the belt buckle clunked on the hard floor, and from then on all of the men exposed themselves. She heard the movement of watches rattling on wrists, and of hands rubbing on flesh, very firm flesh.

Then a man directly in front of her stepped closer, something warm poked her nose. She opened her eyes to see a long hard cock which was fully erect and pressing against her top lip. She looked up and recognised the Gardener. He adjusted himself and forced it into her salivating mouth. His right hand beat furiously along his shaft, nudging her face, and he pushed himself in and out of her. She kept her back straight and maintained her position and within seconds he gave a single grunt and wet heat exploded inside her mouth.

She felt it hit the back of her throat and tried to pull away but his left hand clasped the back of her head, at the same time pulling the nose hooks tighter. She gasped and gurgled from the effort and slight pain of the hooks. He thrust his cock deep into her mouth, still firing sperm. His pelvic bone pressed against the plastic mouthpiece until he relaxed. His cock softened and he slowly withdrew, stepped back and looked at her.

Sperm pooled in her mouth and dripped over the plastic and her lower lip to mix with her saliva around her breasts.

'Jesus Christ...' it had been too much for one of the young men who leapt forward and shot several long white streaks of sperm diagonally across her face. Inhibitions abandoned, several of the men came in quick succession, depositing globs of spunk into and around her mouth, spraying showers of watery sperm in drops across her cheeks and forehead. Some of it attached to her eyelashes and two or three came on her hair.

Then there was a pause.

There were tastes in her prised apart mouth, aromas that filled her nose and a wet slime coated and dripped from the pale skin of her face. Strangely the challenge of the ordeal imperceptibly switched from her having to endure the humiliation, to the men who had not been able to cum so quickly.

She opened her large, blue eyes framed with the live cum of the other men and through strings of semen saw four of them before her, all furiously masturbating. She looked up at them, almost taunting those remaining to prove themselves.

And she became aware of her own moistening pussy.

Eventually one of them closed his own eyes and beat his cock rapidly, for several minutes, each glimpse she had, it looked increasingly red and sore. Then his legs began to tremble, his breathing became gasps and his stomach seemed to expand. The man stepped up to her, he slowed his rhythm and breathing and opened his eyes. He looked down at her and pushed the eye of his cock into her nostril, nudging the nose hooks and squashing her nose further upwards. As she looked up to him with her beautiful eyes his own eyes glazed over.

'Ahhh' he gasped heavily and spunk surged from him, forcefully up her nose. He rubbed his cock's purple head roughly all around her face as he spasmed. His knees nearly buckled before he staggered backwards.

Angela maintained eye contact with him the whole time, and thick globs of sperm dripped from inside her nasal passage to the back of her throat and onto her tongue. With her mouth so open she couldn't do anything other than roll the sperm with her tongue.

'I need more than my own hand to finish,' said one of the last three, an old man. 'I want to fuck her.' He said.

The Caretaker, who was slowly toying with his own huge phallus said, 'It's supposed to be aversion therapy to put her off the taste and smell of the stuff. The Abbess wouldn't approve of intercourse.'

'Then she needs to work on me.' The old man pulled up a chair and sat down, his long thin manhood weakly erect. The Caretaker pulled the dog lead and made the girl crawl across the floor. Then he stood behind her and removed the mouth opener, shaking the sperm free over her hair and then forced her head down. Instinctively she began to suck the old man's cock, all the time with the Caretakers powerful hands working her head up and down.

It took a long time and was hard work for Angela. When the old man finally came, she deep throated him with the forceful help of the Caretakers hand holding her in position. At the same time more hot white goo flooded her ear as a young farm hand stepped forward and finished himself on her. Then he then reached down and stuck his fingers into her pussy, and was shocked 'She's totally soaked!' he said.

'Is she now, then we might need several of these therapy sessions to cure the poor little thing,' chuckled the Caretaker.

The last two men left, the youngest and oldest of those who had defiled her.

The Caretaker was still behind Angela when he slipped two fingers into her pussy. 'My, you are wet,' he said. 'You're no virgin, you like it, don't you?'

Angela moved her head slightly.

'Answer me, do you like it?' he demanded.

'Yes,' she mumbled.

'Yes what?'

'Yes, Sir!' she gasped as his fingers probed deeper.

'Do you want some more?'

'Yes Sir!'

The Caretaker withdrew his fingers and lifted Angela to her feet, and still tightly bound she struggled to get upright. Sperm dribbled from her chin, nose and hair and a mix of white and colourless fluids pooled on the polished tiled floor so that her bare feet slipped in the slime.

The caretaker steadied her and said, 'You made a mess, clean it up!'

He roughly pushed her back to the floor, shoved her head down and rubbed her soiled face on the slippery surface. He held the back of her head in place or pushed her around the floor using her hair as a mop, and forced her to suck and lick up the drops of semen. When he hauled her to her feet again she was breathing heavily with the effort, sweat on her brow ran around her eyes. Individual strands of her beautiful red hair stuck in the dried cum on her cheeks like miniature lightning bolts across her taught young skin, it channelled beads of sweat to her jawline and the corners of her mouth.

The Caretaker stuffed his own still un-drained genitals inside his trousers, led her by the dog lead out of the room, tugging on her collar as they walked down the corridors to his accommodation. When they arrived he shoved her inside and then pushed her through to his living room where he once again forced her down on her knees. 'Ass up' he ordered.

Her shoulders were pressed onto the rough carpet and her arms still pinned behind her back. She wriggled and twisted to get her backside raised.

'Higher,' he ordered, and slapped her left ass cheek hard. Angela yelped, but was too slow to respond, and so he slapped her right cheek.

''Ow!' she yelped, but she moved quickly, arching her back to get her backside as high as she could.