Confessions of Depravity Ch. 06

October-November 1989 (Jackie, intermission #1.)

Jackie's aunt Ginny travelled on business on a fairly regular basis and left her alone at home about two days and at least one night every two weeks. Of course we used those days to fuck and experiment with all kinds of depraved sexual behaviour. For our second meeting I had found a small shop located in a narrow alley behind and down the stairs to a windowless underground storage unit that sold all kinds of sex toys, blow up dolls, dildos, hand cuffs, quite a bit of leather clothing. I bought a pair of handcuffs and a butt-plug tail with money I'd taken out of Mom's purse. Jackie looked so beautiful and happy as she crawled around on the floor wagging it proudly, woofing happily when I gave it to her. It was the first thing larger than my fingers she had put up her ass and it had taken quite a bit of an effort and a whole lot of lube to push it past her sphincter. She had yelped a bit from the pain as the plug invaded her anal cavity and I had smiled at the thought of fucking her ass later that same evening which I did until she was crying into her aunt's pillow, biting down on her clenched fist to keep from screaming out her pain. I think it might be the first time she truly did not enjoy what I did to her but she took all I gave her and when I was finally done she wiped away the tears smiled at me and then woofed.

We also experimented some more with food and there is one such experiment I feel I must share with you my dear readers. She had cooked us a real fancy dinner, a pot roast with roasted veggies, mashed potatoes and thick brown gravy. I had promised to supply the dessert and I had although I am fairly certain that Jackie had expected something a lot more traditional than the assorted berries I had picked at the allotments just outside of town, Raspberries, Blackberries even a few Strawberries. I know that doesn't sound all too untraditional as such but the preparation was.

One by one I pushed those berries into her cunt making sure to push them deep mashing them up against the walls of her vaginal cavity and when she was about two thirds full I filled the rest up with light whipped cream and placed a paper plate under her. Then I fucked her hard on the kitchen floor. She screamed a bit and I can imagine it would have hurt at first until the crushed berries started to drip out of her and unto the paper plate. Once I had shot my load inside her I took a platic teaspoon and scooped out as much of what was left inside her unto the plate and told her that dessert was served. She woofed happily and ate it all up. She did make a face at the combined taste of semen, berries and cream but she licked the plate clean like a good little bitch.

Now, I wouldn't go as far as to call it love but ever since the first time we fucked the two of us had been sharing a somewhat deeper mental connection than anything I had ever had with anyone before. As if the very fact that I hadn't tired of her, or made any serious attempts to seek out a new victim for my depravity -- yet. We even begun to hang out without fucking, just listening to music, talking, even reading aloud to each other, mostly regular books but on occasion we read from a copy of Anaïs Nin's Delta of Venus that I'd made her steal from the local library. We shared a lot of favourites in music as well as in literature. I suppose what we had could be called "friends with benefits" even though I've never liked that term.

Then came the inevitable moment I think we both knew would come eventually. About halfway through October I began to tire of her seemingly endless compliance, her unwavering submission and eagerness to please. I began to feel a need to bring tears of real pain and fear to her eyes, the way I had with Miranda. While the sex was still great it was no longer enough to satisfy my dark desires. The initial wow-factor of her consenting submission was gone. Miranda may have been strangely eager to please in her own inexplicably devoted way which was probably mostly a patient hope that I would eventually accept her as my girlfriend. It had still been a very different kind of willingness. While Miranda's willingness to suffer through my abuse it was still exactly that, she was suffering through it in the vain hope that I did what I did to her because deep down I loved her and would eventually let up if only she showed me all the love she felt for me and believed I felt for her too.

Jackie's submission was rooted in a much more conscious awareness of not only my sexual desires but also of her own. While I doubt Miranda ever drew any form of sexual pleasure from any of the things I did to her, I knew that Jackie did. She wasn't playing the submissive role out of a desperate need for any kind of attention, the way Miranda had. She assumed the role because it turned her on and got her off. And while that in itself had been a huge turn on for me as we began to play together it was as I already said now no longer enough to satisfy my dark misogynist desires.

The fifth or maybe the sixth time we met for a two day session of fucking I let Jackie start it off the way she had the two previous times, by giving me a long slow blowjob in the hallway. I shot my load deep into her throat, as per usual but this time while she was on her hands and knees coughing up my semen I grabbed her hair, lifted her up and punched her hard in the gut which caused her to spit semen all over my face. I pushed her up against the wall and kneed her in the cunt. There was real pain on her face. I punched her in the gut once more and told her to clean up the mess she made on my face.

She looked at me with tears of pain flowing down her face and a confused look in her eyes but she said nothing. She just licked me clean. I banged her head against the wall and threw her down to the floor not bothering one bit about her hitting her head against the stool by the phone. Her nose was bleeding and her lips were bruised. At the moment I didn't care whether or not it would give rise to questions she might not lie to avoid.

Instead I was on top of her before she could blink or even cry out, grabbed her throat with my left hand and pinned her to the floor while I spread her legs open with my knees. My cock was rock hard and I rammed it deep into her cunt and started to fuck her hard and deep. I could hear her gasp for air and see the desperation in her eyes. She was clawing at my arm and my hand on her throat. I spat in her open mouth and slapped her face.

"Keep still you fucking useless whore or I'll hurt you for real."

I punched her in the ribs just to show her I meant it.

When her eyes were starting to roll back into her head I had a brief moment of clarity. If I didn't let go of her throat soon I'd end up killing her. And as much as that thought aroused me I wasn't quite prepared to go that far just yet. I let go, pulled out and grabbed her by the hair. I dragged her upstairs and into the bathroom. I pushed her head into the toilet and flushed as I aimed my cock at her asshole. I could hear her sobbing and when I thrust my cock balls-deep into her ass she screamed into the toilet. I flushed again and started to fuck her in long hard strokes. Each time I bottomed out inside her anal cavity I punched her in the ribs. Up until that morning I had been far too entranced with her blow job skills and general willingness to submit to whatever I had wanted to do to her. I had let her submission dominate me and that was not something I was willing to do anymore. I needed my violent fix. I needed her fear and pain. I needed her submission to be forced upon her and not willingly given.

I flushed the toilet again and pulled my cock out of her ass, her head out of the toilet and slapped her hard across the face. Her hair was soaked in water and clung to her face.

"Open up your fucking cum dump hole whore!"

She parted her trembling bruised lips and I thrust my cock into her mouth and shot my second load of the day into her throat.

I kept her impaled on my cock until it went limp and my bladder had filled up as it always does. I held her head tight and pissed down her throat. I could feel her throat cramping against my cockhead and the hard stream of piss flowing down her gullet. It wasn't long before she threw up all over my jeans and her breasts.

I let her go and she dropped to the floor like a ragdoll coughing up puke and piss all over the place. I left her crying hysterically on the bathroom floor and went downstairs for a beer and a smoke.

As I sat on her aunt's back porch smoking, sipping a beer I felt like an ancient warlord having just enjoyed my spoils of war, as if I had just defiled a virgin princess in from of her court. I was so pumped up on adrenaline and testosterone I was quite literally high. It was the first time I had felt that level of mental and physical satisfaction from a sexual situation since the first time I raped Miranda by the pond a few months earlier. My cock was rock hard again and had been almost since the moment I had emptied my bladder down Jackie's throat. It was so hard it was throbbing against my jeans. It was so hard it actually hurt. It hurt so much I almost pulled it out right there and then and jerked off but there were too many neighbours around. It was bad enough that they might hear Jackie screaming. I didn't have to give them cause to call the cops by exposing myself in broad day light.

I put the cigarette out and grabbed another beer from the fridge before heading back upstairs. Jackie had curled up in a foetal position between the toilet and the bathtub. She was still crying but by now it had subsided from a hysterical wailing to a gentle sobbing. I sat down on the bathtub and looked at her. The left side of her torso was black and blue where I had punched her. The sight of which almost made me shoot a load over her without even touching myself. She was aware of my presence but too scared to acknowledge it so I kicked her in the stomach to get her attention.

"Get up you filthy whore and suck my cock!"

She sobbed and the sight of dried blood on her upper lip sent me over the edge within seconds of her bruised lips wrapping themselves around my cock with a sob. I pushed myself balls deep and held her head firmly in place as I emptied my balls again savouring the gargling gagging noises she made as my cum hit the back of her mouth point blank with full force.

I pushed her away and she hit her head against the bathtub. She looked up at me with dim eyes overflowing with even more tears, fear and confusion. I stood up and walked over to her and lit a cigarette She was about to ask me something but I cut her off with a hard slap across her face.

"Alright you fucking whore, here's what's what!"

I poured some beer into her open mouth smeared with coughed-up cum and piss. She actually woofed and wagged her ass in response. Her eyes lit up with a shade of hope. She swallowed down the mixture of fluids and smiled as I watched, my cock growing hard again. I spat on her smile and continued.

"From now on we're not playing any silly games anymore! From now on there is no more you and me fucking. It's just me and a toy that serve no other purpose whatsoever than to do whatever I demand of it, whatever I require to find my release. Is that clear cunt?"

She looked up at me and our eyes met for a long time. I could see both fear and a trembling desire to tell me to go fuck myself in her eyes. A desire I was dead certain would subside. Everything I knew about her and the dynamic born between us when first we me told me so. I held her gaze and little by little the defiance faded into submission. Her tear-filled eyes turned away from mine and she nodded.

"What's that whore?"

"It is crystal clear." She sobbed.

"What is Cunt?"

"I am no more than a thing for you to use as you see fit for your sexual pleasure."

Her voice was barely audible, hesitant and interrupted by loud sobs as it was. She was giving up a large part of herself and handing control of it over to me even though she had to understand that I would from that moment on treat her the same way I had treated Miranda whenever I wanted sex, with no consideration of mutual pleasure. Even though deep down I suspected she would still enjoy it, that despite

I'm not sure but I do believe that the reason she did agree to the new premises was that even through the haze of pain, fear and humiliation of the increased level of physical abuse I had rained down on her that morning she had actually enjoyed most of it. I was certain that somewhere in between the tears and sobs she had had at least one orgasm.

I also believe that she knew that despite the new premises I would still treat her as the closest thing to a friend either of us had when we weren't having sex. She would of course be right about that. I enjoyed her wit and conversation far too much not to keep her hanging around as the closest thing to a friend I had ever had.