Chapter 1
I was very happy to be home, with the school week over and done with. I was pretty late, as mom called and gave me a fat shopping list. The price of a car for my recent birthday was all the transportation and provisioning errands, which struck me as eminently reasonable, especially as mom pitched in for the fuel and insurance. I was most especially eager to see my girlfriend, in all her glory.
That's exactly what I went to do, after unpacking, a quick shower and change of clothes later. My girlfriend is the girl next door, quite literally, and has always been the girl next door for me, so it wasn't much of a walk. And yes, she's just as cute as the girl next door is supposed to be, with long auburn hair, smoky brown eyes and a body to die for.
Her mother was home, and I waved at her before climbing the stairway. Melanie's mother is pretty cool, which is very fortunate. She works mostly from home as an accountant, and if she hadn't been liberal about things it would have seriously cramped our alone time. Ms. Pherl, or Minnie as she had everyone call her, was also in pretty good shape for her advanced age of thirty plus. More full bodied than overweight, she enjoyed flustering our friends with stories of her the good ol' times. A divorcee living in what she jokingly called "single mom row," a street where you would be hard pressed to find a single husband, she spent a night away often enough for us to speculate about her dating habits.
Their place wasn't very large, with just a pair of bedrooms and the necessary on the second floor. Melanie had often told me how much she missed having a sibling, a sister by preference.
My girlfriend was at her desk doing homework when I came in, without the blare of music for once, and I went over to hug her.
That's when things went wrong.
Rather than hugging me back and throwing on a passionate kiss, she avoided my outstretched arms and looked at me with a frown. "Can't you knock? Like, privacy and that basic courtesy bullshit you're always off ranting about?" she growled at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked plainly. I didn't think presenting her favorite chocolate, which I had ready in the back pocket of my jeans, was the thing to do.
Melanie leaned back against the wall and assumed that mule-stubborn expression, the one which always told me that she'd made some sort of decision from which she would not be moved come hell or high water.
"I'm going to the dance with Mark Preston."
"So you're switching Marks. At least you're not changing Johns," was all I could say in response. I was on automatic, in such a shock that I couldn't really think.
"Mark Philip Darby! You don't own me. And it's not as if you asked me, now did you?" she glared at me, theatrically pointing a finger in accusation. Melanie fancied herself a thespian.
"No, I don't and no I didn't," I answered and took out the bar of chocolate, tore the wrapping and took a bite. It was sweetness that failed to quench the bitterness spreading through my body, an icy feeling of failure. "I came by to ask you now, as a matter of fact, but I suppose it's a bit late. I'll make sure to correct my other mistake next time." The words felt like frozen acid drops falling from my lips, but sounded awfully normal. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me the real reason, would you? I'd really like to know."
"You do know who he is, right? Even you aren't that oblivious," Melanie rolled her eyes in scorn. "Like, the biggest catch in school. And I do get tired of all my friends laughing at me for being with you. I'm just taking a step up. Several steps. What'd you mean," her tongue peeked between those luscious lips, "by other mistake?"
"Ownership," I replied and turned to leave, hurt and anger welling up. "Trust. Love. That sort of thing."
"Oh come on, it's just a dance. Leave the chocolate!" her voice rose as I reached the door.
"Not, it's just several steps. Up, I think you said. As for the chocolate," I took another bite, "Well, I don't think I want to give you anything at the moment. Not even rat poison." I didn't look back, not wanting her to see my eyes tearing up.
"Right, go off and sulk. Like that's gonna be uuuseful," she threw that last word at me.
Off I went, walking slowly, trying not to think. I've never been with anyone else, never been interested in anyone else, never done anything or even really thought of doing anything with anyone else. Perhaps the fact that she refused to give me her virginity should have told me something, clued me in. The pain was debilitating. I was actually crying.
Minnie wasn't the sort to miss the obvious. She came over too fast for me to avoid, and hugged me, if not quite to her bountiful breasts. I'm a head and a half taller, but not too tall to cry over her shoulder.
I backed away after a minute, fetching tissues to wipe my nose and eyes. A thunder of music began beating from Melanie's room.
"Is there anything I can do?" Minnie sounded distressed.
"Well, the way she was shouting, you probably know that there's nothing you can do for me, nothing I can think of," I stopped to cough. "But you might want to keep a closer eye on your daughter. She's trying to make it into the fast crowd, which is likely to end up with her getting badly hurt."
Minnie moved back and her mouth opening to say something, but I cut her off, "Really, it's a bad crowd and they'll use her up. She'll need you, really need you, because she won't have any real friends left, not if she spreads that attitude around. Serious," I used my old swear-it's-true word and ventured a weak smile. "Was I taking her for granted?" I asked plaintively.
"I really don't think so," Minnie shrugged helplessly.
"Sorry, but I think it'll be a while before I visit again," I shook my head and took my leave.
The walk home and to my room was short, so short that I didn't really notice it at all. The first thing I did was send the message to everyone, SMS and email. A brief message, telling them that Melanie had dumped me and for whom. We had our own little gossip network and I really didn't want them hearing things from someone else.
Then I lay down, face down in a pillow. It was quite a while later when I came back, the maelstrom of emotions subsiding when my energy ran out. I took a quick shower to feel clean and changed clothes again, then went down to fix dinner. My mother is another of the single moms on the street, and owns a confectionary cum bread shop, or vice versa, working long hours. It afforded us a decent living even before we got the insurance money from my father's death, not to mention lots of sweets, which kept me on the fat side when I was younger. Mom grew a bit distant when I finished my last growth spurt, lost my fat and muscled out, and it took me almost half a year to figure that I now looked a lot like the lowlife father, or rather, male progenitor, who left her to fend for herself as a pregnant teen. It sort of soured her on men.
Since there were just the two of us and we had decent fridge space, we generally had a couple of pots or woks with leftovers and side-dishes at all times. Time management was something very important mother taught me, how to do everything necessary in an exemplary fashion in the least amount of time, and for as much bang for my buck as I could get. Exemplary fashion, as I enjoyed clean non-ragged clothing and good food. I didn't really care about keeping things clean and orderly, but mother was a complete neat freak, so there wasn't much choice. Well, not if I cared about her, which I did.
I hadn't answered my phone, so with a sigh, I went through all the messages as I forced myself to eat. I hated the whole in and out process of eating, the entire mechanism was a cosmic joke of Sisyphean proportions. The whole slew of condolence messages was utterly depressing and I literally slammed my forehead against the wall to shake myself out of it.
'Going off and sulking' was not going to cut it. What I needed was something positive and the only positive thing I could think of was a new girlfriend. Not to mention finally getting more sex than oral. Of course, there was all that rebound issue, but seeing as everyone would scatter at the end of Senior year, it wasn't that much of an issue. No, the real trouble was, who could I go after that would be a step up and that I actually wanted?
I looked at the large standup mirror in the living room and quickly went to wash my face and dry off the tears. Then I smiled, as the answer was obvious.
Most parents leave education to school or TV, letting their children pick things up on their own. This leaves the vast majority of high school graduates confused about their futures, lacking a family business. The rich, I think, use tutors, which works a whole lot better, and already mostly have a path mapped out for their errant offspring — who frequently rebel. It's sort of classic and accepted.
While my mother didn't really have a lot of spare time, she'd spent a good chunk of it making sure I wouldn't be confused about what I wanted to be and how I was going to get there. We went over career choices and what the work involved was actually like, as well as the rewards and problems inherent in each path, even going so far as to set up meetings for me with people she knew and having me do a few days' work here and there for no monetary compensation, mostly as a gofer, just for the experience. It was something of a surprise, how many people of different professions mom knew.
She had me read quite a few articles and advice slash self help books, like that Monk and Ferrari thing, and I came to the conclusion that if you wanted to make money, what you needed was to work money rather than actually work. While the idea of a career in science was attractive, I just didn't believe I had it in me to come up with a great invention. The only problem was getting my hands on the initial stake, which actually wasn't much of a problem, not with my former father's disgustingly generous insurance policy.
What I settled on was familiarity with the money markets, which required math. I'm not talking about the fairly superficial math involved with studying a bachelor's degree in economics, but the more complicated math involved in economic modeling and algorithms for expert programs, a real understanding of the option markets and hedge funds. I took math and economics classes in the local community college, and was seriously struggling at the moment with a class on partial differential equations. It would take a few years before I was anywhere near competent.
Of course, struggling means tutors, and I was very fortunate to find a capable one. Most of my school's math teachers were only barely capable of teaching advanced math, but we had a couple of really good math and physics teachers. I'd thought one of them would be willing to help me, but to my utter astonishment, they directed me to Alice Mueller for help.
Alice was our school's untouchable. Her father and mother were the president of the largest bank in town and a senior partner of the largest local legal firm respectively, and she was a certified Mensa genius. She made some of the teachers uncomfortable, so much so that some of them simply excused her from class or just ignored her when she was present. Alice was so intimidating that, well, I actually sweated having to talk to her. Melanie had to psych me up to it, but it was still excruciatingly embarrassing. I actually stammered and blushed.
Alice was amused, which only made it worse, but her cool, collected front helped me settle down and actually communicate. And yes, everyone referred to her as the Ice Queen. Which she wasn't, not really.
One or two weekly sessions for the past eight months, always in that gigantic mansion she called home, showed her to be fairly normal, if somewhat closed off. She didn't show off, she was very good at helping me understand the subject matter, she was nice and polite, but everything about her, from clothing to body language, screamed "Don't touch!" and "Back off!"
I got her involved in helping me run investment simulations and later real investments, and I was pretty surprised at how well I did, even with the help of the data-mining and sorting programs I ran. Reading the financial news and some specific blogs regularly was also enormously helpful, and Alice's insightful and penetrating questions helped me prepare complete and rational arguments in answer to her eternal "why" when entering or leaving a position. She also gave me a list of books to read, including one of Warren Buffet's. Two months of work and I was up 37% on a 100k investment, after taxes. Alice actually smiled at me last week.
I suppose it was the memory of that smile that set the target, but it wasn't that alone. I'd gotten a sense of how lonely and unhappy she was, and wanted her to smile more than once a month. Alice was nowhere near as beautiful as Melanie. Truthfully, she first struck me as rather plain, with an undistinguished figure and an unremarkable chest, though she was much taller than the average, closer to my height. Smiling, however, made her lovely. I remember her having some serious zits last year, but her skin had cleared up beautifully. On the other hand, I could only really think of two girls in school who, to my taste, looked better than Melanie, and both were cheerleaders with noses way up there. I wanted someone I'd enjoy spending time with and they sure didn't qualify.
With the target set, I started working on my plan. To make sure nobody interrupted, I sent another general message, asking everyone to let me wallow in misery, at least until Monday. That gave me some breathing space.
I started assembling the tools, flash-ordering what I didn't have on the Internet. Then I called her.
"Mueller residence, how may I help you?" Natasha's affected accent made me smile. The maid and cook was third generation Russian, and didn't even speak the language beyond pidgin.
"Hello Natasha, this is Mark. May I speak with Alice, please?" I'd gotten something of a shock dealing with the Muellers — they sort of insisted on what they called 'proper' English. Alice's explanation, that as the clothes supposedly made the man, so did language betray education or lack thereof, made a mort of sense. A crash course on proper speech had me sounding almost like a gentleman or a preppy or, yuck, educated.
"Of course, Mark," her tone changed from formal to friendly, "but don't tell me you're calling to cancel Monday?"
"Naturally not. I'm addicted to those marvelous cookies you bake. I'd wither and die were I to go more than a week without a taste of heaven. Only death would keep me away."
"Right. Your drama queen girlfriend in the room?"
"Ah... ," I stumbled on my tongue, "No and no longer girlfriend." Even to me, I didn't sound good.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Here's Alice," Natasha made her escape.
I had to wait for nearly a minute, which gave me time to collect myself. My stomach was roiling, but I was back in control.
"Hey, Mark. Sorry to hear about your ex," Alice's tone was as business-like as ever.
"Ya. Anyway, I wanted to know if I could come over and use your pool tomorrow afternoon. I need to burn off some energy and if I run, I might never make it back," I semi-joked.
"I ... I don't know, I'll have to check with..."
"Alice, don't bother lying. I know your parents trust you. Hell, I venture to guess that you are in fact more trustworthy than they are. A banker and lawyer? Be serious. I'll teach you how to really swim and throw in a massage, gratis. So what do you say?"
I could feel her hesitating. I knew that she was usually alone during weekends and afternoons, as her parents were rarely home and Natasha usually left after preparing lunch and never spent the weekend.
"Fine then, I'll see you tomorrow at three. But I'm already quite capable of swimming."
"You may have some of the basics, but there are tricks to every trade. I'm not on the swim team because I look pretty, sweets."
"Sweets?" Alice sounded dumbfounded. "Did you just call me sweets?"
"Well, it complemented the sentence. And I'm not in my right mind. Really, Alice, I just had my heart ripped out by the girl I thought I loved for the last four years. I spent the last two hours crying into my pillow. Cut me some slack."
The silence was deafening.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive. I just..."
"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't be laying into you. I'm just out of balance. I understand that you don't care and are being polite. Just expect me to be weird for a while."
"Hey! What do you mean by saying that I don't care? I'm not heartless, or..."
"Please, Alice, I'm not accusing you of anything. There's no reason for you to care. I appreciate you telling me exactly what you think, it's really nice to have someone you don't have to trade polite social fictions with. I'm a guy, remember. I won't crucify you for not caring. No need for two bleeding hearts."
"Hmmmf," she snorted over the phone, "I didn't think you of all people would call me Ice Queen, and in such a gracious fashion. Do you really believe I'm like that?"
"No. Come on, be serious. I've spent enough time with you to know better. I can't know what's it like for you, but I have some idea."
"Ah, amateur psychologist time," her voice turned icy.
"No, not really. Remember me, before Melanie. Remember what I looked like, then?"
"Oh," the line stayed silent for a moment.
"Yes, I'm sure you see. The worst thing was, I blamed my mother for it."
"What?!" I could almost sense her confusion. "Why would you do that?"
"What does my mother do?" I smiled.
"Oh, right! Those lovely ... and fattening confections. Did you really gorge yourself?"
It was strange to hear her actually interested. "Nope, which only made it worse. It was a hormonal-growing-up thing. Remember how I grew UP?"
"Actually, no. We weren't moving in the same circles, it was a couple of years before I made the connection. I was busy with," the warmth faded from her voice, "Oh, never mind. So I'll see you tomorrow?" Alice blatantly telling me to go and annoy someone else.
"Sure, and thanks. I'll come over at three or so. If I start moping, feel free to hit me."
"It will be my pleasure, see you," she said sarcastically and slammed the phone down.
I looked at my watch and ran down to fix dinner, since it was my turn. Mom, the cheat, ordered or brought something in about half the time — and she was the one who finessed me into really learning how to cook. First, she tried cooking all sorts of exotic stuff, trying to interest me in lists of ingredients and all those pretty, mouth-watering pictures. When that didn't work, she went hardcore, explaining how vital the skill was to any man. Pressed to the limits, she went nuclear and used the old "way to a woman's heart". At the time, I was naןve enough to swallow that line. Of course, since I never really had a chance to try it out, I might just be besmirching her motives without evidence.
Since I'd sent mom notice of my being dumped and not wanting to talk about it, dinner was pretty quiet. I could see her struggling to restrain the solicitous maternal instinct, but other than a long hug when she arrived home and a "If you need anything, let me know," she managed it.
I looked at my homework, but didn't feel like actually doing anything, so I simply went to sleep, utterly exhausted.
I woke up late, much later than usual. It wasn't surprising, considering the roller-coaster of yesterday. What was unusual was how good I felt. Looking at the clock, I saw that I had less than three hours before I needed to go over to Alice, and swimming doesn't go well with recently eaten food.
I was also famished, as my appetite last night wasn't the best. Mom was working, of course, so I heated up a lot of leftovers and planned her seduction. It wasn't much of a plan, but it should work out just fine.
With some time left over, I starting looking at my class assignments more thoroughly, checking to see if there was anything I needed help on. Which is to say, I did what homework I had, marking up anything I had doubts about. I tended to do a bit more work than my classmates, not just quoting Wikipedia for history and English, which was all the homework I had other than the math and economics classes I was taking at the community college. My only extracurricular activity at school was the swim team, which allowed me to finish most of the homework in class or during the breaks. Ordinarily, it would have made me a hermit or a complete outsider at school, but my willingness to help people with homework, sometimes bordering on tutoring, turned many acquaintanceships into a few friendships. If I were smarter, I could have finished all the work faster, but you work with what you have. My class load left me with little free time.
It meant starting college at seventeen and, according to my plan, finishing at twenty, hopefully retiring at thirty, and not later than thirty four. I had earmarked a figure that would keep me in comfortable retirement and put it in Excel with a formula for update, according to the purchasing power of the currency.
Not that I was going to bother Alice with my math or any other homework, not this weekend. With twenty minutes to go, I put on jeans and a t-shirt, picked up my swimming bag and drove over. They had a hedge-bound parking lot outside their house and it was a short walk over. Alice buzzed me through the gate, telling me through the intercom to "Come on in."
She opened the door for me, leaning on the jamb, giving me her usual formal greeting smile. In a swim suit, albeit a one piece model. "Hey, I'm working on something, I'll join you in the pool later."
"Lovely," I murmured, taking in the sight of her. Alice is far from the picture of classic beauty, but seeing her with new eyes, I couldn't really call her plain. A tall brunette with flawlessly pale skin, perky mid-sized breasts, an oval face and pouty lips that beg for a kiss and nibble, Alice is cute and quite attractive. It was her severe expression and what even I could tell was a complete lack of makeup that made her seem forbidding. She stands nearly a head shorter than I am, perhaps five ten, considerably taller than Melanie.
"What?" She quirked a brow. How do people manage to raise just one eyebrow? I never could manage it.
"I said, 'Lovely, ' you're lovely," I replied absently, stepping closer and taking her hand. "Surely whatever it is can wait. Come on, keep me company. Are you all right?" I asked in concern, looking at her more closely. "You seem tense. Is anything wrong?"
"No, nothing," Alice said and took a step back, jerking her hand out of my grasp. "I really have to..."
"No you don't. Come on, I promised you a massage. It'll do wonders for all that tension. Look," I lifted my arms and wiggled my fingers, "Magic hands. They'll take your worries away."
She looked conflicted for a moment, then asked, "Are you certified?"
"Nope, just a few years of experience and reading up. I brought some oil, too."
"Well," she bit her lower lip fetchingly, "why not. Won't the oil damage the suit?" Alice pinched the fabric below her right breast.
"Frankly, I don't know. You can take it off if you wish, you have my word that I won't talk or hurt you. But it's your choice. You remember that old James Bond movie? You put a towel to cover your lovely butt and lie face down, so I won't even see anything. Do you have someplace you can lie down like that? A tanning bed or something?"
Her non-reaction was a trifle weird, not the surprise or outrage I might have expected. "Tanning bed? Very funny, I mean really, just look at me," she raised a pale arm.
"Well, not you, but your place looks like it has everything," I said apologetically.
"Well, almost everything," Alice conceded. "Anyway," she said after a moment of thought, "follow me."
The only scenery I looked at, following her, was the smooth undulations of her rear end. The swell of her hips wasn't exactly spectacular, but her butt looked tight and taut. I retained just enough awareness not to run into her when she stopped and pointed at a padded armless bench, "Will this do?"
I looked around, seeing that we were near the pool, amidst a cluster of chairs and benches, in a large tent-like structure enclosed by glass shading us from the sun. It was even air conditioned. "Excellent!" I told her enthusiastically, my head almost exploding when I turned to look at her. Alice was standing with her back to me and she was taking her suit off. I just stood there, dumbstruck, looking appreciatively at her bare behind and back. Her complexion was even, without any tan lines, and I could see that her pussy was shaved. The glimpse I got of her lower lips almost made me explode in my pants.
Not wanting to look like a complete dork, I put my bag down and rummaged inside, taking out a small towel and the promised massage oil, lavender scented of course. When I rose, she was lying down, breasts crushed against the leather. I came closer and covered her behind with a towel, swallowing the disappointment, then squirted oil on my hands, warming the viscous liquid before I put my hands on her smooth skin. I started with her neck, continuing down to the broad expanse of her back, kneading and massaging with a will. I was mesmerized by the smells, the sensual touch of her, and worked almost without thinking, ignoring the contented noises and occasional gasps she uttered when I worked through areas of particular tension. From her back I continued to her arms and then her legs, starting with her dainty feet, massaging the oil between her toes, holding her down as she wriggled at the sensation.
I don't know how long it went on, probably at least an hour, but I was finally done. My hands didn't hurt at all, nor had I touched anything inappropriate.
"Alice? How are you feeling?" I asked softly, not entirely certain that she was awake.
"Ohhhh," she moaned, then turned and slowly rose to a sitting position, fully displaying her charms. Her orange-sized, perfectly shaped breasts were capped by small darkish areolae and sharp little nipples. I jerked my head up sharply, looking into her coolly amused eyes. I stuck my tongue out at her and wiggled my eyebrows.
"That was wonderful, you're very talented," Alice stretched expansively, tits jiggling. "So, how did you intend to seduce me?"
I swallowed my shock and reached out to capture her hands, leaned down to quickly snatch the padded cuffs out of my bag and locked them with a sharp metallic click around her wrists.
Alice tried to jerk back, eyes wide, but I kept my grip on her hand and kept her close. I looked down at her with my own amused smile and cupped her chin, raising her head so that she looked into my eyes.
Alice was breathing audibly, trembling, her lashes fluttering. "You planned to rape me?" she tried to sound cool and collected, but didn't quite manage it.
"What do you think?"
"I ... I don't know. I would have said never yesterday, but now," she applied force toward freeing her wrist from my grip, but failed to move me.
"Well, I'll tell you right here and now that I have no intention of raping you," I tried to project how serious I was, and could feel her calming down a bit.
"So what are you going to do?" Alice sounded pissed.
"I'm going to seduce you, of course," I kissed her upturned nose lightly.
"And just how are you going to do that?" she waxed sarcastic.
"Let me show you," I lifted her and swallowed her gasp with a dry kiss, then laid her down on the massage table, tits up this time around. I left her there for a moment, then returned with some more gear, closing a black leather collar around her neck and fitting her cuffed hands behind her neck, fastening them to one of the rings on the collar. Without pause, I inserted a gag into her mouth, then blindfolded her.
I looked down at her nude, bound body, elated at the ease with which things had gone. The difficult part was over, now came the hard part.
Attaching a leash to her collar, I lifted her to her feet and began to lead her back to the house, my bag of tricks in my other hand. Alice walked hesitantly, her feet feeling for the ground.
"Don't worry, sweet, I won't let you fall. Walk confidently."
She made some moaning sounds through the gag, presumably attempting to speak.
"You want to know what I'm going to do?" I asked. More mumbled moans.
"Well, first of all, I'm going to wash and clean you up. The oil, you know. Then, well, we'll go to your bed. I don't think you're going to be disappointed." Yet more garbled words.
"No," I forced patience, "I'm not going to rape you. Or even fuck you, today. Well, not unless you manage to persuade me that you really want me to, which I rather doubt you'll manage. I'm not really looking for a girlfriend, you see, not after Melanie," I rambled as we walked slowly on, "what I really want is a sex slave." I had to jerk on the leash to break her freeze, "No, don't worry, I'm not going to force you into anything or hurt you. Today is all about you and your pleasure. Tomorrow morning you'll either tell me that you want us to have fun together for the rest of the school year, on my terms, or to go to hell. Your virginity, assuming you are a virgin, will be entirely intact. I'll try not to touch you with my dick, even."
Alice was sufficiently awkward blind, inside the house, that I threw the bag on the floor and picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and into her suite. She wasn't terribly heavy, but it was quite a ways to carry someone, leaving me breathing hard with effort. My bag made it especially awkward, but I needed it with me. I was also rock hard, what with the touch of her soft, bare skin. Being erect for so long, probably since she started undressing, was getting to be painful.
I took a short rest, leaving her lying on the carpet of her bedroom, checking out her spacious shower and all her soaps, lotions, shampoos and conditioners. In something of a hurry, I stripped and jerked off in the shower, painting the wall with my pent up lust. It was probably my fastest cum ever.
I picked her up, took off the leash, freed her hands from the collar and removed the blindfold, not wanting to wet it, and couldn't help but notice how hard her nipples seemed. Looking in her eyes was strange, because I couldn't read her at all. I kissed her nose again and told her, "I'm going to clean you up with a nice shower."
It was far from my first shower with a naked girl, so there was no hesitation. Reverently, I stood behind her and rinsed her with warm water, then soaped her with a light touch all over, deliberately avoiding her nipples, the crack of her ass and her pussy. "You're magnificent," I whispered in her ear. "I believe conditioner comes first, then shampoo. Point your hands to which brand you want me to use."
Alice just shook her head, so I picked one at random, then massaged her scalp and impregnated her silky-soft hair with the liquid. Alice's hair was a rich shade of dark brown with a natural wave to it, or on second thought, perhaps not so natural a wave. She wore it long, in fact, she usually came to school with it in a ponytail. Washing, conditioning and shampooing her long hair was a quite a bit of work, but also quite a bit of pleasure, a sensuous experience. Alice must have felt the same, for she leaned back and rubbed against me, skin to skin. If she were a cat, I bet she'd be purring.
I finished the shower with a thorough cleaning of her breasts and nipples, then used the liquid soap to clean her privates, ignoring the murmured protests when my soapy pinky slipped into the tightness of her brown rosette. Alice's ass is a work of art.
I used her large fluffy pink towel to dry her, then used a blow dryer on her hair. It was incredibly intimate, taking care of every little thing, directing her nude body hither and yon, like a living doll in my hands, touching, caressing, running my hands through her luxuriant hair. It was almost too much.
I left her sitting and went back to the shower, rubbing myself energetically, looking back to see her eyes focused on my ass. I shifted sideways to give her a better view, my hand sliding back and forth on my cock, "This is what you do to me, Alice, you're so much more than I dreamed, so beautiful, so perfect, so sexy, can't do you, oh god, yes, Alice!!!"
The momentary exhaustion that accompanies a climax was much stronger than usual, forcing me to lean back against the marble tiled wall and breathe harshly, never taking my eyes off her. Was it my imagination, or was her skin flushing with arousal? Or was it just the hot water?
Pushing myself off the wall, I blindfolded her again and with a surge of strength, lifted Alice and carried her to the bed, dropping her gently on the bedcovers. I threaded her handcuffs through the bed's headboard, lifted her legs, cuffing each to one side of the headboard, then moved back, on my knees on the bed. Looking down at her, nude, bound and utterly exposed and vulnerable, I licked my lips and felt my cock beginning to stir again. I had a feeling that I was going to break a personal record for jerking off, a mere six times in a single day, then grimaced at the memory. That was after the first time Melanie let me see and play with her tits. Then I smiled, knowing that Alice was definitely a step up. I don't think Melanie had ever made my blood boil quite this much.
Laying my tools on the bed and a soft blanket beneath her to avoid staining the mattress, I started working. It was a long, exhausting five hours, with four pauses for jerking off. I also stopped twice to let Alice drink some water and stretch her limbs out.
What did I do to her?
I timed everything. I started with a feather, a full fifteen minutes of tracing her curves with a feather, tracing abstract patterns all over her skin, from the soles of her feet to her neck and everything in between. Except, of course, her pussy or her nipples. I also avoided touching her asshole, though I wasn't certain if that was an erogenous zone for her. According to my reading, it wasn't one for every woman — certainly, Melanie always got upset when I tried to go back there.
I wasn't very good at reading people, notice my girlfriend leaving me for greener pastures, but eventually I learned what and where excited her. The backs of her knees, her inner thighs, the slopes of her breasts and their undersides, the soft skin around her navel, just about anywhere on her ass and so on and so forth. I also learned where she was ticklish and avoided those delightful stretches of skin. Oh, fifteen minutes with a feather weren't enough for such a broad study subject. After the feather came the kisses, then the licks, my tongue lapping almost everywhere, then the ice cubes. By then she was almost convulsing, struggling against her bonds and making awful sounds. Holding my tongue against the exposed little nub of her clitoris and pressing an oiled finger into the tightness of her ass, with fingers closing tightly on her left nipple, proved more than enough. She fainted.
I was almost worried for her safety, so I did away with the gag. Besides, I was interested in what she wanted to say. That was the first hour.
The next two hours went faster, rougher, louder. Alice screamed and begged, as I wrung multiple, seemingly never-ending, strings of orgasms from her sweating, almost broiled-looking body. Her words were mostly incoherent and I never quite managed to figure out if she wanted more or was asking me to stop.
A brief halt for a quick shower, then a slow, gentle hour of caresses and kisses, teaching her fumbling tongue how to French-kiss, nibbling and touching all over without urgency. I closed the hour with a ten minute cuntlapping session that left me with a sore tongue and brought her to yet another massive orgasm. Alice was a true joy, but she was obviously growing tired. I told her that I had an hour more planned before dinner and asked her if she needed a break.
"I'm not asking if you want a break, but if you really need one," I told her, looking into her dreamy eyes, and was pleased when she shook her head. Even without the gag, Alice never really tried to talk to me.
The fifth hour was vibrator time. I used small vibrators, not wanting to stretch her or hurt her. Before, I mostly avoided her clitoris, so while it was reddened, it was not abused. This last hour, I abused it with a will, and also inserted a thin vibrating rod into her butthole. She didn't last the full hour, begging me to stop after forty minutes. I spent the last twenty minutes breathing on her abused sex and anus as she shuddered against the streams of air, then finished with another massage, this time without oil.
I wasn't surprised when she fell asleep, and left her with cuffed hands and blindfold on, lying peacefully in her bed.
I was exhausted, mentally and physically, but wildly jubilant. It was the most daring, incredible thing I had ever done, probably would ever do, and even if Alice chose never to have anything to do with me again, the memory of these last hours would be cherished forever, burned into my memory. After yet another quick shower, I went down to the enormous kitchen and ate like a starved man. No, make that a starved teenager. I left a phone message for mom, telling her I was spending the night with a friend. Feeling bloated, I prepared a large meal of bite-sized goodies, added carafes of water and orange juice, then went to serve Alice a supper in bed.
I woke her up gently and lifted her drowsy form, sitting in her luxurious armchair with her on my lap, her delightful bottom wriggling against my boxers. Feeding her by hand, stopping every now and then to fondle a bare breast or trace a line against her stomach or thigh with a fingernail, was easily as erotic, if not more so, than our first shower session. Alice always licked my fingers clean.
Needless to say, she was soon sitting against a throbbing erection. As soon as she told me that she couldn't eat another bite, I ran to the shower, letting her see me jerk off again. I tossed the blindfold away.
"I'm sorry, you're just too impossibly hot," I sighed at her. The urge to pick her up and carry her back to bed was strong, but my arms were tired.
I led her back to the chair, seating her in reverse cowboy position, her breasts pressing against my chest, her head cradled against my chin, soft hairs tickling my nose.
"Alice?"
"Mmmmnh?"
"Can we talk?"
"I suppose," she sighed tiredly. I cupped her chin and turned her to face me, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, perhaps for the last time.
"I'm pretty tired, too. I just wanted to tell you that you were better than I dreamed, better than I had any right to expect. I will never do anything against your will again. Tomorrow, you'll let me know what you want."
"I," she started. I kissed her into silence.
"No, please let me finish. I don't want you to choose anything now, drunk on sex and food. Decide tomorrow. What I wanted to know, if you're willing to tell me, is why? Why strip for me? I know how hard that must have been for you. What happened?"
Alice struggled free of my hold and I let her go. She laid her head back against my chin and I could feel her shuddering. Was she crying?
"I," her voice broke for a moment, "I got a rejection letter from Harvard. It was what I spent so long working towards, they rejected me for insufficient extras. You know, the community service and extracurricular bullshit. So, well, I wanted to do something wild. I knew you wanted me, so I decided to have sex. But we didn't, really," she half-sobbed half-laughed. "I'm still a virgin!" Alice giggled, vibrating against my body.
She cried herself and laughed herself out against me as I rocked her, until she was spent.
"Let's go to sleep. Shhh, my sweet, it's Harvard's loss. At least they won't get the chance to take the best and make them into something less," I kissed and munched on her earlobe.
"Sleep, yes," Alice whispered against my neck.
I didn't have the energy to take the dishes downstairs. I settled for washing some of them in the sink, then collapsed by her side. I was out like a light.