Life in a small town could be pretty dull. As a native Californian, Tom was completely out of synch with his new environment. His parents had shipped him off to a small "bible belt" college in the middle of a cow pasture, hoping against hope that the conservative atmosphere would reform his wild and wicked ways. What were those wild and wicked ways? Many and varied. By 18, he'd saved a tidy sum of money from mowing lawns, running weird errands for a local porn shop, and even putting in a short yet highly enjoyable time as "pool boy" for a horny rich bitch in the hills who dug getting fucked in the ass. With his nest egg, he was able to rent a storage unit in a grimy forgotten suburb of Los Angeles. It was the the perfect place to shelter his unusual personal collection, away from prying eyes.
In this separate world of his own invention, he painstakingly gathered all the accoutrements of torture necessary to outfit a very realistic sadomasochistic dungeon. Accoutrements: a fancy word meaning: GREAT SHIT! He'd managed to acquire a gyno exam table that he picked up cheap at a failed abortion clinic, (the doc had been arrested for raping one of his illegal alien "patients"), a leg spreader, manacles and chains of all lengths and sizes, dog collars, sex chairs, whips, giant dildos, enema bags, rope and many other tittillating toys. Yes, a nice little collection, one that any dungeonmaster in training would be proud of. Truly impressive for one so young. Only 18, but Tom was far ahead of his peers with his knowledge of the psychological and physical methods of pain and domination.
To fully step into the role of a "dominant", he had started thinking of himself as "Master Tom." Master Tom believed in the concept of visualization. A person must strongly picture and visualize themselves attaining a goal before it can happen. Think it, and it shall be. Say it, and it shall happen. He could teach a course in the power of positive thinking for Doms-in-Training. That is, if the college offered such a course. Which it didn't. While striding confidently past other students at school, he'd consciously make a point to look down on these pygmies, as he called them... these mental midgets... these weaklings. That's the way he saw them. He was a giant among men. They just needed to know it, and he'd make sure they did.
Even as a handsome young boy, he had begun acting out his natural dominant personality. In high school, he'd pinned his beautiful girlfriend, Brooke, to the bed, hands high above her head, her bra pushed up and titties barely showing, before she managed to wriggle free. He loved the rush he felt as she struggled like a delicate fluttering butterfly beneath him. He also recalled that Brooke hadn't really fought very hard to get away. There was something phony in her attitude... a "yes yes, no no" type of thing. That always made him laugh. These slutty women... they all want it. He liked to relive and replay incessantly in his mind her whimpering cries, her pleas. "Tom! stop it! What's the matter with you? Don't you respect me AT ALL? Please don't put your hands there! I'm a virgin, Tom!" This sweet and stimulating memory always put a smile on his face. With time, he was certain he could break lovely Brooke's defenses and introduce her to HIS way of "making love". Time was all anybody needed to break another human being. Sometimes it could be accomplished in 30 seconds if you knew which buttons to push. And Tom was good at pushing the right buttons.
Even though he had strong positive thoughts, that didn't prevent his money from running out, and the precious objects in his storage space were put on the auction block to pay the back rent. He had no choice but to stand by helplessly while his beloved instruments of torture were sold to the highest bidder. A severe setback. Even Masters have setbacks.
It was at this fateful juncture, as his secret double life spewed forth its strange contents into the relentless California sun, that his horrified parents decided "enough is enough!" and booked him on a one way flight to Bible Thump, USA. It felt like the end of the world. He'd had so many wonderful plans and now they were going down in flames, dashed forever. But were they? He was determined not to let go of his ideal dream: the dream of being Master Tom and showing a woman how to really experience sex, in the depths of her pussy. He was going to OWN and BRAND a pussy at that fuckin tight-ass bible school, come hell or high water.
The day dawned gray, flat and ugly. Tom trudged to the school library, head down, thoughts of California Dreamin' deep in his mind. As he entered the library, a girl caught his eye. She gave the impression of being brown from head to foot. Brown hair, brown glasses, brown shirt, brown pants... everything brown. Something in all that brownness yelled CHALLENGE to Master Tom. Upon further inspection of her physical attributes, he realized that she was utterly plain. No beauty, no redeeming features. Small, squinty eyes. Large, square ass. Clearly overweight, and flat chested. He decided then and there: this is the one. She symbolized everything that he had come to hate about this conservative, disgusting, rathole of a place. Yes, she was the one. He pictured her tied up, her squarely built bible belt ass squirming against tight leather restraints, The thought pleased him tremendously. His cock grew hard in his pants and cum oozed...
He was certain that this brown, plain girl had a huge slut lurking under the surface. All girls of that sort did. The hot chicks, the beauties, they were not good material for his particular uses. Their very beauty usually kept them from focusing on anything other than their own reflection in a mirror. The plain ones, the overweight ones, the flat chested ones with little titties, he had found that they were more likely to be freaks in bed. Hadn't his father always advised him, "Son, never marry a big breasted woman. They're lazy and expect you to please them. The ones with little tits are the best. They're grateful! " Yes, the Plain Janes were much better raw material for his goals.
The next day, he headed straight for the library after his last class. There she was, his target. Apparently she was an assistant to the head librarian. He sat down and watched her carefully, looking for any kinky clues about her that might aid him in his mission. Oh? What's this? He saw her disappear with another girl down an aisle. Was Miss Plain a lezzie? That would certainly be a bigger, juicier challenge for Master Tom. He'd whip her damn lesbian ass into shape. Nothing naughtier and hotter than a bible belt lesbo.
He crept carefully, cat burglar style, to the dark secluded area where the two girls were huddled. hmmmmmm, yes. Miss Plain had her hands down the other girl's pants, moaning gently, her glasses askew, her square ass grinding and squirrming against the other chick's crotch. They made little grunting sounds of pleasure as they groped each other desperately.
It was time to let her know he was there. A book "accidentally" fell off the shelf and crashed to the ground. THUMP! The startled girls looked up in terror, their eyes wide, their bodies quivering. They knew they'd been seen. CAUGHT IN THE ACT! "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Miss... er, Misses... I'm so clumsy. Gosh, I really shouldn't be let out in public!" The girls hastily rearranged their clothes and one of them split in a flash, for parts unknown. Miss Plain was left standing all alone. Deer in the headlights. Nowhere to run.
She folded her arms across her flat chest and glared. "So, you think you're pretty smart, huh? You gonna tell?" She certainly didn't mince words. He wasn't expecting such an aggressive attitude. He thought she'd be more contrite, more guilty. In an instant, Master Tom decided to rise to the occasion and take the bull by the horns. He figured this sassy lezz would appreciate his straightforward approach. "Yes, ma'am... I'm gonna tell. I will fuckin ruin your sorry ass and your hoity toity library career for the rest of your goddamn life. But that won't happen if you cooperate with me." She rolled her eyes and put one hand on her substantial hip. "Cooperate with you? Fuck off, Big Man. Get your ass out of here before I call security."
Oh, she was a wild buckin bronco. This was better than anything Master Tom could have imagined. He slowly and menacingly walked towards her. She backed up a few steps. Good, bitch. Be afraid. Be very afraid. He walked until he was almost nose to nose with her. He saw her picture I.D. on her flat ugly chest. "Liz". "Your name is Liz, huh? Lezzie Liz... how amusingly perfect." She seemed less aggressive now. "Your little girlfriend didn't stick around long did she? I don't think she's very loyal to you, Liz. I thought you types were "loud and proud"... marching in the streets and all that?" He sensed she was breaking, falling apart under his relentless hypnotic sexual intimidation tactics. He looked deeply into her eyes, challenging her dykehood. Somewhere inside her, a slutty STRAIGHT woman lurked and he was going to fuck it out of her or torment it out of her, one way or another. This cunt needed to be punished badly for her antics in the library. And Tom was just the man to do it.
"What do you want from me? What are you going to do to me?" Her pleading tone turned him on big time.
"Liz, Liz, Liz... lesbian Liz... don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm not a criminal. I'm a man. A good, kind, loving man. I want you to call me Master Tom, okay Liz?" She hesitated but knew the jig was up.
"What Liz? I can't hear you? MASTER TOM is my name. Say it NOW!"
She finally caved. Her voice wavered just a bit. "Master Tom".
"Ahhhh, good, now we're getting somewhere. What time do you get off work?"
"At 5 o'clock."
.... There is more of this story ...