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From: "The Foxbat" <the_foxbat@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP:  The Subordinate (mf nc bond)  Part 2 by Foxbat
Date: Tue, 18 Jun 2002 02:10:05 -0400
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   <1st attachment, "subord2.txt" begin>

   Subordinate Part II (m/f bond) by Foxbat


   Disclaimer: The characters in this story are completely fictional, and
bear no intended resemblance to characters in real life.  This story
contains graphic sex, in some cases non-consensual, and should not be read
if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

   Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

   Feedback is welcome and appreciated: the_foxbat@hotmail.com

   Thanks to all who have responded - more stories should be fortcoming as
soon as I finish some of this silly stuff called work all these strange
people seem to want from me.


   Subordinate by Foxbat Part II:

   As per my instructions, Katie didn't show up in class the next day.  I
found myself hoping that she didn't do anything stupid, either to herself
or to me.  My fears were put aside though the next day when she was back,
sitting in the front row, just as composed and assertive (and fuckable) as
ever.  The only difference, if there was any, was that she was even more
assertive than usual.  If anyone dared to disagree with her stance on an
issue, she verbally tore them to shreds, and, although its not as if she'd
ever had any mercy, she seemed even more vicious.

   Maybe I was too absorbed in examining her, or maybe I had let my
thoughts get ahead of reality, but either way, I wasn't paying enough
attention at the end of class.  I had hoped to get her into my office so I
could get back into her "office," but she slipped out of the room before I
could say anything.  The rest of the day slid by, classes, meetings, none
of which were animated by Katie's fantastic spirit.

   I had retired to my house at the end of the day to do grading of the
mindless and repetitive papers produced by my freshman seminar which the
college insisted that I teach.  That was the bad part of being a big-name
prof.  The house was the good part.

   In the mid 80's, when the economy was good and the future looked sunny,
the college had embarked on an ambitious plan for renovation.  Large parts
of the campus had been torn up, moved around and rebuilt.  In the process,
the humble cottage I had spent the last 25 years living in was slated for
demolition; the ground was needed for the new student center.  In
compensation, and as the benefit of my rank, I had one of the first picks
for new housing.  My new house (really one of the oldest houses on campus)
was on the far and quiet end of campus, with enough trees around it to
provide me with privacy, or at least the illusion of it.  For being a
bachelor, I had an excellent house, bigger than most new professors with
families have.  Most of the first floor was taken up by the kitchen/dining
room and my library and study, and the second floor was mainly bedrooms and
guest rooms.  The renovating contractors, however, had not touched the
basement, which was still in its original condition.  The walls were rock,
as was the floor, and the place felt like a dungeon out of the middle ages.

   I have always believed that there's nothing you can't learn or do if you
put your mind to it, and my project with Katie was going to be the proof. I
had started planning this as a hypothetical mind exercise when I first saw
her, and as the exercise grew more elaborate, I began wondering why I
couldn't actually implement it.  So I did.

   Learning how to fake the records showing her little act of plagiarism
was just the tip of the iceberg.  I had redone the basement in preparation
for her too.  The first step, namely moving out all the old shit that my
predecessors had kept there was probably the hardest part.  I had had a tag
sale to get rid of it, and cleaning the place, although unpleasant, wasn't
difficult.  With the addition of a few worn old oriental rugs and a
dehumifier, the place actually began lose the damp and cold quality.  It
still felt like a dungeon, though, and that was a feeling I didn't want to
lose.

   I next immersed myself in the literature and world of BDSM, and began to
build the toys I needed, often working in the theatre's wood shop late at
night, under the guise of building a few bookshelves for myself.  What I
couldn't build, I bought, and by the time of my first real experience with
Katie, everything was in place.

   ***

   I was standing in the basement that night, admiring my work, when I
heard the doorbell faintly.  It was odd, because I rarely had visitors,
save the occasional student who wanted to discuss his paper, or the rare
colleague who was interested in my opinion on some or another matter.  With
a sigh of reluctance, I went back up the wooden staircase to see who was at
the door.  I consider myself a very articulate and verbose man, but what I
saw took my breath away.  It was Katie, wearing a tight black top, black
short skirt, and stylish boots ending just under the knee.  Her dark hair
was up, and her blue eyes shown like something evil.  I was beginning to
wonder if this was a hallucination, when she asked if she could come in. 
Words found me again, and I said of course.  I led her to my study, which
is probably what most people would expect - floor to ceiling built in
bookshelves, and big cushy high-backed chairs.  She sat in one, and I in
another, facing each other.  She appeared just as calm and possessed as
could be, but I suspected that was partially because she had rehearsed the
speech she was about to deliver.

   She had just opened her mouth to start when I preempted her by asking if
she would like something to drink.  Caught off guard, she said yes, as I
got up and poured her a Manhattan on the rocks.  I could see her facade
beginning to crumble, as I returned.  "Now, what were you going to say?" I
asked.  "Mr.  Whethersfield," she began, "I've thought about your little
proposal, and I'm sure we can work this out.  I know you well enough to
realize that I doubt you will be willing to just forget about this whole
thing, but we can at least be civilized about it.  I understand your
desires, and I can come over on Sunday nights-"

   She had begun to speed up and I cut her off here.  "Why did I pick you?"
I asked in my best professorly voice, as if I was asking her why Napoleon
lost at Waterloo.  She stopped, and before she realized it, her mind had
reacted to my tone and she was analyzing it.

   "Because I'm pretty?" she tentatively asked.

   "There are a million hot dumb girls I could have picked from, and any
one of them would have been easier and less of a risk than you."

   "Because you wanted the risk?"

   I remained silent, and she corrected herself, "You're not the
risk-taking type." I smiled.

   "Why?" I asked again.

   "I don't know," she said.

   "Not true," I immediately responded, "you know exactly why.  Now stop
being self-conscious and say it." We both knew it was true, and she cast
her eyes down, still modest.

   "Because you wanted someone who would be challenging, who wouldn't give
up easily."

   "Good.  So what's my answer to your proposal of a once-a-week little
fling?"

   "No..." she said, disappointed.

   "Good.  Lets take a walk." I said, standing up.  Looking unsure, she
followed me to the basement steps and then down them.

   What greeted her eyes must have been a sight indeed.  All manner of
bondage equipment lay about, whips hung neatly on the wall, a rack against
another wall.  A horse-type structure in the middle of the room, next to
the modified table.  Leather restraints hung from the ceiling, and D-ring
anchors were scatter across the floor.  I walked to the table, pulling two
chairs up.  I sat down in mine, while she gawked at the 7 inch dildo which
was bolted to the middle of the seat of hers.

   "It won't bite you." Faced with a number of unpleasant choices, she
opted for wedging herself between the dildo and the back of the chair, and
from my seat it made her look like she had an obscene erection of her own
sticking up from between her legs.  I could tell that the entire place
threw her off - she must have been expecting our relationship to be a few
quick fucks, mostly in the office or the bed.  Her eyes were wide, as she
looked around, a perverse imitation of a child's first time at Toys'R'Us.
"What's that for?" she asked, as curiosity overwhelmed her, pointing at a
small shelf where some nipple and clit clamps were set out.  I told her,
adding, "Would you like to try some?" but my question was lost to her as
she continued to look around the room.

   I waited patiently for her eyes to return to me.  They were really wide
when they did.  From class discussion, I got the impression that she had
had a fairly conservative upbringing, and not much of a social life in her
all-girls private high school.  I was willing to bet that she had no clue
what half of the stuff in the room was for, but that probably only
magnified her fear.  She squirmed in the seat, obviously uncomfortable
being wedged between the dildo and the seatback.

   "A lot of this stuff can be really fun once you get used to it." I gave
her the grandfather smile.  "Don't sweat it.  You'll be fine, once you get
things down, and knowing your ability to learn, that shouldn't take long."
I stood up, and she extricated herself from the chair to follow my up the
stairs.  I showed her to the door and sent her on her way telling her to
come back for dinner the next night, sans panties.

   -

   At exactly 6:30 I heard the doorbell ring.  I had spent the previous day
looking forward to the activities I had planned for tonight, and wondering
if this was all really true.  I walked to the door, and opened it, watching
her nearly jump out of her skin.  I think after her tour of the dungeon,
she half expected me to have her right there on the door-stoop.  Mental
note to self to try that some time.

   Anyway, I had prepared a nice dinner, for her, and so, when she came in,
I directed her to the dining room where everything was all laid out for us.
She once again looked surprised as all hell, and looked to me for an
explanation.  "Lets eat like civilized people first and then fuck like
savages later," was all I said by way of explanation.

   Dinner was good, and I engaged her in a discussion of the sort most
students and professors would share, putting her at ease.  It almost seemed
like by the end of dinner, she had forgotten what would be happening to her
later.  She helped me clear the dishes, and had followed me to the basement
stairs when I think the realization came back to her.  She kept it together
though, and walked down the stairs, to where I was standing in the center
of our playroom.

   For a minute, she just looked at me, and I looked at her.

   "Strip," I said quietly.  She did, slowly pulling her dress over her
head, and dropping it on the floor.  As per my instructions, she was naked
as the day she was born underneath.  I walked slowly around her, admiring
all the features which had been the reasons I embarked on my plan in the
first place.  Despite the added heaters and dehumidifier, the dungeon
retained something of its cool and damp aura, and I could watch her nipples
reacting.

   I could see her determination not to lose her calm, and I walked back to
my chair, motioning her to hers.  She was beginning to maneuver herself
behind the dildo again, so I shook my head.  She reluctantly scooched back
up, and began appraising the tool which stuck out from the center of her
seat.

   "You're probably dry as a desert," I said to her, and she looked at me
blankly for a second before nodding.  I reached into my pocket and produced
a nice tube of KY which I flipped to her.  Again, she gave me a blank look
before she squeezed a dollop onto the tip of the dildo, and gingerly
lowered herself onto it over the course of about a minute.  We would
definitely have to work on that technique.

   After getting herself settled, I explained a few things to her.  First,
she was to do whatever I said, without hesitation.  There would be no
strikes, and failure to comply would result in "punishment." Similarly,
compliance would garner her "rewards," which I guaranteed her she would
grow to love.  If anyone found out about this place, our deal or anything
else, her career and possibly her life would come to a screeching halt. 
Lastly, as a bonus for her and challenge for me, I told her that I would
not fuck her in any way tonight if she didn't want.  I could see her take
the bait, thinking this would be an easy experience.  With all that agreed
upon, I got up, and walked to a big old stand-alone wardrobe that I had
brought down here to hold "costumes." I wanted to start things off on the
right foot, get some resistance going, so I searched for the most
outrageous thing I could find.  I settled for a nice double-dong combo (one
for the pussy, one for the ass), and fitted it into a pair of chain-link
panties, which provided enough cover to keep the dongs in, but not enough
to hide anything else.  I tossed these to her, and ignored her questioning
look, as I searched for a suitable top.  I settled on a leather bra with
nipple cut outs, and I tossed this to her.  She just stood there holding.
"Put it on," I ordered, though in a gentle voice.  "Where do these go," she
said holding up the mass of metal and leather.  "Figure out, and quickly."
I guess the bra must have been the easiest thing to recognize, and she
managed to put it on and was trying to adjust it to cover everything when
she realized it was designed not to.  Now, there was no longer any way to
avoid the dongs and chain panties.  I could see her eyeing the dongs,
warily.  "You can use the KY again, but you have 30 seconds to get
everything in and on, respectively," I told her by way of encouragement.

   Thirty seconds later, the pussy-dildo was in mostly, and the ass one was
just being lined up.  I announced time, walked over behind her, and stuffed
the posterior plug into place, eliciting a gasp from her.  It wasn't very
big, but I doubt she'd ever had a hunk of silicon stuffed up there before.
I snapped the panties in place, and told her that I would go easy on her
for the first punishment.  I strapped a ballgag into place, handcuffed her
hands behind her back, and led her over to one of the sawhorses that I'd
fixed to the floor.  I produced two of the so-called clover clips, the kind
that bite more tightly with increased tension, and applied them to her
proud nipples.  I bent her over the sawhorse, strapping her down in the
process.  I measured out a length of chain, clipping one end to her
nipple-clamps, and clipping the other end to the lever of the remote which
controlled the vibrators built into her double-dong.  A small spring which
attached the bottom of the lever to a floor D-ring completed the setup. 
The way I measured the chain made it so that by just sitting there, the
vibrators would be on a very low setting, not enough to really get her
anywhere.  However, by pulling up, the chain connecting her nipples to the
remote would move the lever upwards against the spring, increasing the
level of stimulation, while the clover clamps would tighten on her nipples.
As soon as she released the pressure, the spring would draw the lever (and
her tits) back downwards, letting the lever fall, and reducing the
vibrators to a slow setting again.  Satisfied with the arrangement, I left
her to experiment and stew while I got a nice warm cup of coffee.

   -

   The cup of coffee was good.  Very good.  So I had a second.  It was also
good.  I made a mental note to invest in some video monitoring equipment,
so I could observe without her knowing.  I let this thought float around in
my head for a little while, and then I stopped trying to think of other
things.

   Katie had been in her current predicament for maybe 15 minutes - I
didn't expect much, other than maybe a really resentful stare.  The sight
that greeted my eyes as I walked down the stairs was beyond words.

   Katie was howling like a banshee behind the gag, soaked in sweat, her
tits stretched into tight cones as she strained upwards against the
bondage. Her ass was bucking against the restraints as much as it could on
the sawhorse, and she was in the midst of one of the most powerful orgasms
I had ever witnessed.  I stood, utterly transfixed by the sight, until she
slumped back down over the sawhorse, exhausted.

   I walked over to her limp form, unclipping the chains, and unstrapping
her from the sawhorse.  She was limp in my arms, as I carried her over to
an old futon I had put in the corner.  There, I unstrapped her ballgag and
uncuffed her.  Her eyes fluttered, and she began to return to the land of
the living.

   I held her stroking her gently, waiting.  When I judged she was with it
enough, I unclipped her nipples.

   To an outsider, this might have seemed like a relief for her at first,
and, indeed, she thought it was too.  Then the blood started rushing back
into them, they turned from death white to bright red, and I watched as she
clutched herself with a gasp.

   Now that I had her full attention, I told her not to talk, as I led her
over to the table.  I situated her so she was sitting right on the edge,
and strapped her down.  In this position, her crotch was at the perfect
height, and right over the edge.  I left her momentarily to get some hot
water and a towel.

   I don't know what she thought when she first saw the straight-razor but
it wasn't something she wanted.  I simply ignored her and lathered up her
mound.  I don't know about most folks, but I am a great fan of the shaved
look, and I intended to share that appreciation with Katie.  I can't
imagine why, but all her squirming and bucking stopped the instant the
straight razor came within an inch of her twat.  It only took a minute, and
I was very careful, but she didn't even dare to take a breath the whole
time.

   After a little rinse, I was staring at a downright delectable pussy. 
And, after all, there is only one thing which can be done with downright
delectable pussies.

   I started slowly, just letting my tongue run along the outside of her
labia, then darting inside for little stabs.  I took my time, enjoying the
feel, before I reached up to hold her open for more serious work.  I danced
around her clit with my tongue, still teasing her before going lower.  I
could tell she was beginning to get back into by the way her hips were
scooching around on the table.  I delivered a few directed jabs at her nub,
moving her to the extreme edge of orgasm, as I could tell by the way her
clit retracted under its hood.

   And it was time for a coffee break again.  And a piss break.  I watched
her fires die, as she moaned and thrust her hips invitingly towards me. 
After about 5 minutes, I went back at it again, bringing her right to the
edge of orgasm, only to leave her hanging, and moaning in frustration.

   "I told you I wouldn't take you if you didn't want it...." I could hear
muffled screaming behind the gag.  "Do you want it?" More frantic attempts
to say something.  "Well, that's too bad....  I was kid of hoping that you
might be interested." She slumped back down in defeat, as I walked slowly
away.

   I rinsed my coffee cup out in the sink upstairs, retuning shortly
thereafter.  Katie was making muffled talk noises behind the gag as I bent
down sample her pleasures again.  When she started to flush and was once
again on the edge of orgasm, I stood up.  Wiping my face off, I looked down
at her as her fleeting arousal once again dwindled.

   "Its such a bummer you're not interested in a good fuck tonight."
Muffled screams erupted from behind the gag, as she wiggled her hips around
on the table as much as her bounds allowed.  "All you have to do is ask -
its really quite simple you know." I smiled down at her as I began to walk
away.

   "Maybe you couldn't ask me because of the gag," I said thoughtfully, as
if this were an interesting discovery, turning around.  "Here, let me take
that off." I bent over her, and removed the gag from her sweat covered
face, and stood back.  There was silence.

   I moved forward again to put it back on, since apparently there was
nothing she wanted to say.  As I was moving towards her though, in a very
soft quiet voice, she said simply, "please."

   "Was there something you wanted to say?" I asked.

   "Please," she said, this time more loudly.

   "Please isn't a request." Again, there was a pause until the gag moved
back towards hermouth.

   With her eyes downcast, in a very small voice, she said, "please take
me."

   I pretended to consider for a moment.  "One, be explicit in your
request. Two, if you mean it, say it like you mean it.  Otherwise, I will
undo you and you can leave now.  Three, look me in the eye when you say
it."

   I could read the conflict on her face, but with a small sigh, she looked
up at me, and said "Please fuck me like no tomorrow."

   That I could be satisfied with.  And besides, who could turn such a
request from a beautiful girl, the fact that she was strapped to my table
not withstanding.

   I dropped my pants, and aimed my dick in to her.  She was definitely
ready physically, if not mentally.  As I entered, she stopped staring at
our juncture with a look of concern, and let her head rest back with eyes
closed.

   I've had a few in my day, but never like this.  She was soft, warm and
wet, and my dick was trying to get as much of her around me as possible. 
If there was such a thing as heaven on earth, this had to be it.  I looked
down at her, a vision of bondage and sexual passion, and everything was
right in the world for a moment, however fucked up that is.

   I was sliding slowly in and out of her, occasionally using my thumb to
circle her clit and keep her interested, although it was not as if that
were a problem.  She was arching her back to improve the angle, and kept
trying to move with the rhythm, which obviously wasn't working too well.

   However, it was not like any moving on her part was necessary, since I
had slowly sped up and was now drilling like an Arab looking for oil.  I
shifted my hands to her hips for better leverage, and started slamming into
her in a serious way, all awareness of my surroundings gone.

   She had started babbling inchoherently, between gulps of air and her
moaning of course, and I could tell when she exploded into an orgasm by the
way her cunt was spasming.  It felt like someone was administering shock
therapy to her, and it probably looked like I was getting it too.  I came
hard, still pounding her for all she was worth, and dumped my load in her
just as she was beginning to come off her orgasm.  When I stopped moving, I
looked down.  She was lying there, just as I had tied her, with her head
looking off the side, eyes closed, still breathing hard.  I let my limp
dick slide out of her, and sat down, absolutely pooped.

   After a few seconds of rest, I picked myself up, and began undoing her.
She just lay there limply while I loosened the bonds, still savoring
post-tremors.  I unsnapped the fetish bra; the panties had long since been
discarded, and scooped her up to carry upstairs.  I lay her on my bed,
where she curled into a fetal ball for a few minutes before opening her
eyes and looking at me sitting on the bed beside her.

   There was yet another awkward silence of the sort that was beginning to
characterize our relationship, before she reached for the light.  I quickly
shed the rest of my clothes, and snuggled under the cover next to her.

   = = = = = = = = =


   to be continued?

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