Free Carrie's Story: An Erotic S/M Novel by Molly Weatherfield Page A

old black Garrison
belt and played around with it. I doubled it, slapping my palm
lightly. He looked at it in my hands, and quickly and rather
fearfully took off the rest of his clothes.
    "Shoes and socks, too," I said. And there he was-blond
and blue-eyed and pink-cheeked with a small sweet round
butt, golden hair dusting his big arms, and one of those monstrous boyish vertical erections. I looked at it hungrily and he
looked at me as though he wanted to die.
    "It's not that bad, is it?" I asked. (Jeez, you couldn't
relax for a second, could you? I mean, you had to keep the
scene moving along. I'd never realized.) He shook his head,
mutely.
    "My name," I said, "is Carrie. You know that. You can talk
to me if you want. I'm going to call you, uh...Lucky."

    He didn't seem to get it, and I wondered why I'd thrown
in that gratuitous bit of snobby cruelty. Some day, I thought, a
wife or girlfriend would drag him to a performance of Waiting
fa° Godbt and his whole evening, his whole week, would be
ruined. Probably I was cruel because I was so nervous, so
scared of making a botch of this.
    "Kneel down in front of me, Lucky," I said. When he
had, I looped his belt around his neck like a leash. I held his
back hair in my other hand and angled his head upward so I
could kiss him. He tasted sweet. Partly it was the wine we'd
had and partly it was him.
    I unlooped the belt from around his neck, but I held his
head still, staring at him. He looked hypnotized.
    "Unbutton my dress," I said. The dress had two dozen
little antique pewter buttons running down the front. He
reached for the top buttons and I smacked him on the ass
with the belt.
    "With your teeth," I said.
    It's not easy, you know, unbuttoning buttons with your
teeth. But Kevin did remarkably well, getting down to my
waist, while I stroked his hair and gave his ass teeny little
slaps. And then I thought he might really beat me up in complete frustration, so I quickly undid a few more of them myself.
    "Take off my underpants," I continued. "And I'll let you
use your hands for that. But thank me, first."
    Talking's the hardest part, I think. It brings your mind,
your consciousness, into play, makes you admit to yourself
that it's you who's bearing all this humiliation, not just your
dumb animal body. Kevin gave me a look of pure misery,
opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally mut tered "thank you," so unhappily that I didn't have the heart to
make him add "Carrie."

    He pulled off my underpants quickly, and I pushed his
face into my cunt. He started licking and nibbling and was
doing just wonderfully, I thought. I started to relax, to rest
up from all the stage managing I'd been doing. Oh, yum yum
yum, I thought, this is more like it. But no it wasn't, it seems,
because he evidently felt really ripped off by this-or, more
likely, my asking him to talk had simply humiliated him past
his limit and he wanted a reward, now.
    So he raised his head and scowled at me in a menacing
way. And I suddenly realized that he really was a very strong
boy and that I didn't think I wanted to keep pushing my luck.
And also, or perhaps mostly, I've got to admit that it was hard
work keeping this thing going and my invention had just
about run out.
    "Okay, Kevin," I said agreeably, "something for you
now," and slid down between his legs. I gulped down his
cock, which was, if anything, standing up even straighter
than before. I don't think I could have dealt with it all if
Jonathan hadn't been such a stickler for getting deep into
my throat. And I don't actually think Kevin meant to come
in my mouth -I don't think he was the kind of boy who did
that on a first date. But he hadn't had a date like this before,
and he was really out of control; he came and came and came,
messily, his come drooling down my chin. All in all, though,
I thought that he deserved it, and I was actually quite happy
to oblige.
    He was pretty exhausted afterward