Chapter 1

Day 1

August 2006

Not that it mattered, but her name was Melinda.

He found her when she was eighteen, sitting in a coffee shop. It was in a run-down area in Adams Morgan, near the end of one of his running routes. He liked to stop in a variety of different places on his runs, just to see what he could find.

She was a cute little redhead sitting alone, with two large bags at her feet. As he passed her, he made a joke about the dog-eared teen magazine she was reading. She looked up and responded in the predictable way. She had the stringy hair and shiny face of a couch surfer, and he played the conversation well, beginning with light and humorous topics before steering the conversation in a more personal direction.

In less than a half hour, she was telling him her innermost thoughts.

He’d made some calculated guesses about her, and she proved one of his guesses right when she dropped the hint that she currently didn’t have a place to stay. She’d been staying with a friend, but that hadn’t worked out.

“I have a guest room you could use for a couple of days,” he said. “Do you have anything you need to pick up from your friend’s place?”

She blinked at him, uncertain.

“Look,” he said. “I’m not saying that you’re going to stay at my place for a couple of weeks, but at least you’ll have that option if you need it.”

It was the first time during the conversation that he used that little trick on her. It was called priming. The intonation of what he’d just said was just slightly off; he used more volume and a lower inflection in a certain part of the sentence; the command part.

“I don’t have much stuff,” she said. “Most of my things are at my ex-boyfriend’s place, but he’s a total psycho, and my phone was on his plan. The girl I was staying with until two days ago is a total bitch, so I couldn’t…”

Knowing that he’d snared her now, he tuned her out. After just a few minutes of discussion, the exchange was already clear, even though the little hamster wheel in her mind still required plausible deniability. She needed a place to stay, no questions asked, and was willing to make a trade.

He looked her over, more closely now that he knew she’d be coming home with him. She had the pudgy, cute face that only young women ever had, with prominent eyes that were slightly too far apart. Facially she was a 7, but her body was an 8. As she leaned low across his table, telling her pathetic story, she displayed some modest cleavage in a cheap and low-cut neon orange top. Her tits looked to be about a B cup, but she might have padded her bra. She had the pale complexion of a redhead, and she flushed easily.

She was checking him out too. For his running outfit, he wore a pair of Versace sweatpants and a Polo t-shirt. After noticing his Burberry watch and thick biceps, she overtly flirted with him, touching his leg periodically as she talked. He just gave her an amused grin. Her life story was predictable; a series of poor choices in friends and lovers, and abusive caretakers. It quickly came out that she was adopted as well. When he first saw her, he’d guessed an absent father figure, but not the adoption part.

This bitch is a total fucking train wreck, he thought. He smiled to himself.

She’s perfect.

She claimed to be twenty one, of course, but he knew it was a lie. Besides her smallish tits, she looked to have a fairly flat ass, and otherwise had a nice, slender figure.

She was not so attractive that most men would call her beautiful, but she was cute enough that she’d have no shortage of offers, especially if she came on strong. It was obvious that she’d already learned to use sex as a tool to get what she wanted.

This was too good of an opportunity to miss. At thirty six, he’d been able to explore his sexuality quite thoroughly. And yet, despite his extensive sexual escapades, he still had unfulfilled sexual fantasies and desires, most of which were quite unlikely to be fulfilled under normal circumstances.

Luckily for him, he hadn’t been born into normal circumstances. His family was quite wealthy, having made their money the old fashioned way; by inheriting it. His mother was from an old and wealthy east coast family. Realizing that his trust fund wouldn’t be enough to afford him the freedom he desired, he parlayed his inheritance into the stock market. He was a natural. His analytical mind, school connections, and nose for important data allowed him to double his fortune, and then do it again.

After talking with her for no more than an hour, she was back at his apartment; a three floor townhouse in Georgetown. He kept the place for situations just like this, and would often spend weekends in the city, away from his primary home in the idyllic, and sometimes boring, Arlington suburbs.

After gaping at the place for a while, she quickly made herself at home, dropping her bags in the guest room, squealing at the big tub in the adjoining bathroom, and then going into the den and turning on the TV. He gave her a joint and the remote control, and said he had to work for a couple of hours.

He left the den and walked past the guest room, going in to find her purse. He pulled out her I.D. and scanned a photo of it, and quickly checked her bags for drugs. Besides a small wooden pot pipe and a bag of Adderall, she was clean. Her I.D. said that she was eighteen. So far, so good.

That first night, he went easy on her. He gave her a hot meal and a shower, and asked her if she wanted to watch a movie. Sleeping with her for the first time was pathetically easy; he fucked her right there on the couch.

He paused the movie about halfway through and started kissing her. She dully responded, darting her pink little tongue into his mouth. There was no resistance at all. Her top came off easily, exposing her little tits. He sucked and bit at her nipples, drawing soft moans. He kissed down her belly, noticing the lack of tone in her body. She didn’t take care of herself or exercise in any way; her slim figure was just the luck of youth. In a few years she’d balloon up from the typical junk American diet.

Unless someone intervened, of course.

He kissed down her belly, to the base of her ragged khaki capris. He took those off too, and she lazily helped him push the pants over her hips, smiling at him with droopy, stoned eyes as she did. Her pussy was pink and shaved. It was so smooth, in fact, that he wondered if she’d had a Brazilian wax.

No, that’s always the way with redheads, he reminded himself. Their body hair is normally so fine, they don’t need to shave often… armpits, legs, or otherwise.

A couple of probes with his fingers told him it was still fairly tight. She was clearly no virgin, however. With her background, it was likely that she’d jumped on the cock carousel fairly young.

He caressed and massaged her tits, and fingered her with one hand while he took off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants with the other. Her responses were dull and sluggish; she was high on the weed and wasn’t getting that wet. He’d slept with women like this many times. Normally it was the younger ones; they’d never had to try that hard before. All they had to do was lay there while some teenage boy humped away, and afterwards they felt like they deserved a medal.

He pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, hard. She gasped and her eyes flew open all the way. He twisted it, and she yelped loudly. She didn’t try to stop him, though. In fact, she opened her legs wider. He gave her other nipple the same treatment, and then moved on to squeeze her tits. He increasing the pressure on her tits until she was moaning loudly and he could feel them pulsing under his hands.

He looked at her naked body from above, confirming what he’d seen through her clothes before. Her tits were small, definitely B cups, and her ass was fairly flat. She had wide hips but without the large tits and full ass, she didn’t have a true hourglass figure. That would change soon enough.

With an internal sigh, he put on a condom and began fucking her. The pain in the nipples had gotten her wet enough, but that first night was boring. After about twenty minutes he faked an orgasm, which was much easier with the condom. She moaned some while he was fucking her, but it was obvious it was mostly for show. She didn't come either. He didn't take that as a blow to his ego at all. He hadn't been trying to make her come, really, but to establish their arrangement. It was clear to him that she was already on her way to being a bit of a pro. This wasn't the first time she'd fucked a guy to get what she wanted.

During the next day, he left her to herself. She spent most of the day watching TV, sometimes reading the occasional magazine. She seemed content to spend her life on someone else's couch, watching daytime TV. He had other plans, though.

He worked from the office in his apartment for the next several days, deciding to stay in the city for a while. He called the caretaker for his house in Arlington, and all was well there. He could stay here for the whole summer if he decided to; the house in Arlington might be intimidating and confusing for her at first.

He didn't want to leave her unattended, but he also wanted her to see him at work. He spent time researching stocks, and on the phone with brokers giving orders. She was starting to realize he was rich, but he also wanted her to perceive him as powerful and above her. She couldn't understand most of the conversations she overheard. She only knew that they involved more money than she ever had any realistic hope of seeing in her life.

He didn't have to work many hours per day to maintain his wealth, but he faked working more than he actually needed to, to give her the impression of his being busy. It was easy to look busy while sitting behind a computer or texting on a cell phone. He often closed the door to his office, turned on the news, or read something from his extensive library.

Each night he became rougher with her, fucking her harder, tossing her into different positions, slapping her ass and tits. The rougher he got, the more she responded with honest lust. On the second night he could tell she was surprised. On the third night she had her first orgasm. She was slick with sweat, breathing hard, and her eyes were dilated. Even with the deadening condom on, he’d felt her cunt contracting on his cock like a vice.

This was exactly the response he’d hoped for. She thought she was a tough and streetwise girl, which was hilarious to him, considering her young age. She knew she could use sex to get what she wanted, but she was more of a slut than she realized. She liked to be fucked hard and used as a sex object. She hadn’t yet realized that sex could be turned the other way, and used to control her as well.

Every night after sex, he used subtle hypnosis techniques on her. His bag of tricks was extensive, going beyond his use of priming when they first met. He’d used that one several times, and he also used fractionation, interruption, and some good old fashioned pickup techniques as well.

One of his favorite techniques was fractionation, which involved touching her while she recounted pleasant experiences, and then removing his touch when she told him about unpleasant ones. It worked as intended; she began to associate his touch with feelings of pleasure and safety, and craved it like a drug after just a few days. He meted out very little physical affection throughout the day, and only kissed and touched her after she had pleased him sexually.

On the fifth night, it was time to increase the stakes. He approached her, his body language intentionally aggressive. The work he’d done so far had made her very compliant already, and she started to pull off her shirt for him. Before she could even get the shirt over her head, he grabbed her, spun her around, and flung her across the coffee table. She gasped in surprise. He quickly and harshly twisted her arms behind her, eliciting a hiss of discomfort. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and locked her wrists together behind her back, all in one swift motion.

“Oooooh, kinky!” she said as he pinned her down. He then produced a knife and started to cut off her clothes. She started to squirm and protest, but he simply pressed the knife firmly in between two ribs and whispered, “Be still.” She stopped struggling. She only had three changes of clothes, so he knew that getting one set cut to ribbons was stunning to her.

Once she was naked, he grabbed her by the hair and tossed her backwards onto the couch. He pulled out his cock and shoved it roughly into her. She was slicker and wetter than she’d ever been. He slapped her tits and face periodically as he fucked her. She got wetter and wetter, as he knew she would. Just like all whores did.

This was by far the roughest he'd been with her, and the first time he'd put her in any kind of bondage. Her response was perfect. Part of her seemed to rebel when he smacked her, but it drove her to grind herself harder against him each time. In the end, he brought her to a screaming orgasm which left her sweaty and breathless. When he pulled out, she collapsed on the floor. She shuddered and whimpered for some minutes, arms still cuffed behind her back.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “I’ve never come like that in my life.” He un-cuffed her and gathered her up, carrying her to the guest bedroom. She snuggled against him and was almost asleep by the time they got there. As he laid her down, he kissed her briefly on the lips. She smiled at him in a new way; almost dreamily.

So far so good, he thought wryly. Tomorrow will be the real test though.

He smiled to himself and took a deep breath.

Ah well. If she says no, I can always find another.

Tip ChadTCocker for their post.

Chapter 1

Day 1

August 2006

Not that it mattered, but her name was Melinda.

He found her when she was eighteen, sitting in a coffee shop. It was in a run-down area in Adams Morgan, near the end of one of his running routes. He liked to stop in a variety of different places on his runs, just to see what he could find.

She was a cute little redhead sitting alone, with two large bags at her feet. As he passed her, he made a joke about the dog-eared teen magazine she was reading. She looked up and responded in the predictable way. She had the stringy hair and shiny face of a couch surfer, and he played the conversation well, beginning with light and humorous topics before steering the conversation in a more personal direction.

In less than a half hour, she was telling him her innermost thoughts.

He’d made some calculated guesses about her, and she proved one of his guesses right when she dropped the hint that she currently didn’t have a place to stay. She’d been staying with a friend, but that hadn’t worked out.

“I have a guest room you could use for a couple of days,” he said. “Do you have anything you need to pick up from your friend’s place?”

She blinked at him, uncertain.

“Look,” he said. “I’m not saying that you’re going to stay at my place for a couple of weeks, but at least you’ll have that option if you need it.”

It was the first time during the conversation that he used that little trick on her. It was called priming. The intonation of what he’d just said was just slightly off; he used more volume and a lower inflection in a certain part of the sentence; the command part.

“I don’t have much stuff,” she said. “Most of my things are at my ex-boyfriend’s place, but he’s a total psycho, and my phone was on his plan. The girl I was staying with until two days ago is a total bitch, so I couldn’t…”

Knowing that he’d snared her now, he tuned her out. After just a few minutes of discussion, the exchange was already clear, even though the little hamster wheel in her mind still required plausible deniability. She needed a place to stay, no questions asked, and was willing to make a trade.

He looked her over, more closely now that he knew she’d be coming home with him. She had the pudgy, cute face that only young women ever had, with prominent eyes that were slightly too far apart. Facially she was a 7, but her body was an 8. As she leaned low across his table, telling her pathetic story, she displayed some modest cleavage in a cheap and low-cut neon orange top. Her tits looked to be about a B cup, but she might have padded her bra. She had the pale complexion of a redhead, and she flushed easily.

She was checking him out too. For his running outfit, he wore a pair of Versace sweatpants and a Polo t-shirt. After noticing his Burberry watch and thick biceps, she overtly flirted with him, touching his leg periodically as she talked. He just gave her an amused grin. Her life story was predictable; a series of poor choices in friends and lovers, and abusive caretakers. It quickly came out that she was adopted as well. When he first saw her, he’d guessed an absent father figure, but not the adoption part.

This bitch is a total fucking train wreck, he thought. He smiled to himself.

She’s perfect.

She claimed to be twenty one, of course, but he knew it was a lie. Besides her smallish tits, she looked to have a fairly flat ass, and otherwise had a nice, slender figure.

She was not so attractive that most men would call her beautiful, but she was cute enough that she’d have no shortage of offers, especially if she came on strong. It was obvious that she’d already learned to use sex as a tool to get what she wanted.

This was too good of an opportunity to miss. At thirty six, he’d been able to explore his sexuality quite thoroughly. And yet, despite his extensive sexual escapades, he still had unfulfilled sexual fantasies and desires, most of which were quite unlikely to be fulfilled under normal circumstances.

Luckily for him, he hadn’t been born into normal circumstances. His family was quite wealthy, having made their money the old fashioned way; by inheriting it. His mother was from an old and wealthy east coast family. Realizing that his trust fund wouldn’t be enough to afford him the freedom he desired, he parlayed his inheritance into the stock market. He was a natural. His analytical mind, school connections, and nose for important data allowed him to double his fortune, and then do it again.

After talking with her for no more than an hour, she was back at his apartment; a three floor townhouse in Georgetown. He kept the place for situations just like this, and would often spend weekends in the city, away from his primary home in the idyllic, and sometimes boring, Arlington suburbs.

After gaping at the place for a while, she quickly made herself at home, dropping her bags in the guest room, squealing at the big tub in the adjoining bathroom, and then going into the den and turning on the TV. He gave her a joint and the remote control, and said he had to work for a couple of hours.

He left the den and walked past the guest room, going in to find her purse. He pulled out her I.D. and scanned a photo of it, and quickly checked her bags for drugs. Besides a small wooden pot pipe and a bag of Adderall, she was clean. Her I.D. said that she was eighteen. So far, so good.

That first night, he went easy on her. He gave her a hot meal and a shower, and asked her if she wanted to watch a movie. Sleeping with her for the first time was pathetically easy; he fucked her right there on the couch.

He paused the movie about halfway through and started kissing her. She dully responded, darting her pink little tongue into his mouth. There was no resistance at all. Her top came off easily, exposing her little tits. He sucked and bit at her nipples, drawing soft moans. He kissed down her belly, noticing the lack of tone in her body. She didn’t take care of herself or exercise in any way; her slim figure was just the luck of youth. In a few years she’d balloon up from the typical junk American diet.

Unless someone intervened, of course.

He kissed down her belly, to the base of her ragged khaki capris. He took those off too, and she lazily helped him push the pants over her hips, smiling at him with droopy, stoned eyes as she did. Her pussy was pink and shaved. It was so smooth, in fact, that he wondered if she’d had a Brazilian wax.

No, that’s always the way with redheads, he reminded himself. Their body hair is normally so fine, they don’t need to shave often… armpits, legs, or otherwise.

A couple of probes with his fingers told him it was still fairly tight. She was clearly no virgin, however. With her background, it was likely that she’d jumped on the cock carousel fairly young.

He caressed and massaged her tits, and fingered her with one hand while he took off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants with the other. Her responses were dull and sluggish; she was high on the weed and wasn’t getting that wet. He’d slept with women like this many times. Normally it was the younger ones; they’d never had to try that hard before. All they had to do was lay there while some teenage boy humped away, and afterwards they felt like they deserved a medal.

He pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, hard. She gasped and her eyes flew open all the way. He twisted it, and she yelped loudly. She didn’t try to stop him, though. In fact, she opened her legs wider. He gave her other nipple the same treatment, and then moved on to squeeze her tits. He increasing the pressure on her tits until she was moaning loudly and he could feel them pulsing under his hands.

He looked at her naked body from above, confirming what he’d seen through her clothes before. Her tits were small, definitely B cups, and her ass was fairly flat. She had wide hips but without the large tits and full ass, she didn’t have a true hourglass figure. That would change soon enough.

With an internal sigh, he put on a condom and began fucking her. The pain in the nipples had gotten her wet enough, but that first night was boring. After about twenty minutes he faked an orgasm, which was much easier with the condom. She moaned some while he was fucking her, but it was obvious it was mostly for show. She didn't come either. He didn't take that as a blow to his ego at all. He hadn't been trying to make her come, really, but to establish their arrangement. It was clear to him that she was already on her way to being a bit of a pro. This wasn't the first time she'd fucked a guy to get what she wanted.

During the next day, he left her to herself. She spent most of the day watching TV, sometimes reading the occasional magazine. She seemed content to spend her life on someone else's couch, watching daytime TV. He had other plans, though.

He worked from the office in his apartment for the next several days, deciding to stay in the city for a while. He called the caretaker for his house in Arlington, and all was well there. He could stay here for the whole summer if he decided to; the house in Arlington might be intimidating and confusing for her at first.

He didn't want to leave her unattended, but he also wanted her to see him at work. He spent time researching stocks, and on the phone with brokers giving orders. She was starting to realize he was rich, but he also wanted her to perceive him as powerful and above her. She couldn't understand most of the conversations she overheard. She only knew that they involved more money than she ever had any realistic hope of seeing in her life.

He didn't have to work many hours per day to maintain his wealth, but he faked working more than he actually needed to, to give her the impression of his being busy. It was easy to look busy while sitting behind a computer or texting on a cell phone. He often closed the door to his office, turned on the news, or read something from his extensive library.

Each night he became rougher with her, fucking her harder, tossing her into different positions, slapping her ass and tits. The rougher he got, the more she responded with honest lust. On the second night he could tell she was surprised. On the third night she had her first orgasm. She was slick with sweat, breathing hard, and her eyes were dilated. Even with the deadening condom on, he’d felt her cunt contracting on his cock like a vice.

This was exactly the response he’d hoped for. She thought she was a tough and streetwise girl, which was hilarious to him, considering her young age. She knew she could use sex to get what she wanted, but she was more of a slut than she realized. She liked to be fucked hard and used as a sex object. She hadn’t yet realized that sex could be turned the other way, and used to control her as well.

Every night after sex, he used subtle hypnosis techniques on her. His bag of tricks was extensive, going beyond his use of priming when they first met. He’d used that one several times, and he also used fractionation, interruption, and some good old fashioned pickup techniques as well.

One of his favorite techniques was fractionation, which involved touching her while she recounted pleasant experiences, and then removing his touch when she told him about unpleasant ones. It worked as intended; she began to associate his touch with feelings of pleasure and safety, and craved it like a drug after just a few days. He meted out very little physical affection throughout the day, and only kissed and touched her after she had pleased him sexually.

On the fifth night, it was time to increase the stakes. He approached her, his body language intentionally aggressive. The work he’d done so far had made her very compliant already, and she started to pull off her shirt for him. Before she could even get the shirt over her head, he grabbed her, spun her around, and flung her across the coffee table. She gasped in surprise. He quickly and harshly twisted her arms behind her, eliciting a hiss of discomfort. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and locked her wrists together behind her back, all in one swift motion.

“Oooooh, kinky!” she said as he pinned her down. He then produced a knife and started to cut off her clothes. She started to squirm and protest, but he simply pressed the knife firmly in between two ribs and whispered, “Be still.” She stopped struggling. She only had three changes of clothes, so he knew that getting one set cut to ribbons was stunning to her.

Once she was naked, he grabbed her by the hair and tossed her backwards onto the couch. He pulled out his cock and shoved it roughly into her. She was slicker and wetter than she’d ever been. He slapped her tits and face periodically as he fucked her. She got wetter and wetter, as he knew she would. Just like all whores did.

This was by far the roughest he'd been with her, and the first time he'd put her in any kind of bondage. Her response was perfect. Part of her seemed to rebel when he smacked her, but it drove her to grind herself harder against him each time. In the end, he brought her to a screaming orgasm which left her sweaty and breathless. When he pulled out, she collapsed on the floor. She shuddered and whimpered for some minutes, arms still cuffed behind her back.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “I’ve never come like that in my life.” He un-cuffed her and gathered her up, carrying her to the guest bedroom. She snuggled against him and was almost asleep by the time they got there. As he laid her down, he kissed her briefly on the lips. She smiled at him in a new way; almost dreamily.

So far so good, he thought wryly. Tomorrow will be the real test though.

He smiled to himself and took a deep breath.

Ah well. If she says no, I can always find another.

Tip ChadTCocker for their post.