My Crush’s Wine Cellar Part 3

What’s worse than having a 9-inch strap-on pounding your helpless pussy for few hours by a sadistic dominatrix that enjoys seeing you suffer? That would be having to move in to the house of an even more sadistic dominant with way too much money to spend on sex toys and torture devices.

It isn’t such a bad idea at first. He has a villa to himself and I have no place to stay. Well, I have one place to stay and that would be with my parents. And it’s hard to live in there when my parents are constantly stalking me to see if I’ve been up to something. Fortunately, I was able to explain all those late nights and unwarranted exhaustion with legitimate reasons, such as choir practices and late night elective tuition. But that won’t last. As the saying goes, a piece of paper cannot cover fire. A lie would eventually be seen through.

If my parents were to know that instead of choir practices and elective tuition, and that I’ve been hanging out, sometimes quite literally, with a sadistic dominant, my dad’s probably going to run his 70’s corvette over Richard. I can imagine his corpse beneath the well-polished Dunlop tire and it makes me cringe every time. I don’t want Richard to take the punishment for my horny indulgence. Though I wouldn’t say that he isn’t entirely innocent for my sudden exquisite taste.

Anyway, when I  made the proposal to him, he was shocked at first and wondered if he had damaged me so much that I couldn’t have a day without kinky sex. But when I told him about my parents’ suspicions and that I don’t want my dad convicted for first degree murder, or attempting murder, he agreed with the arrangement. So, here I am, sitting on his white couch in his enormous loft, wondering if I should unpack my suitcase first or take a shower.

I think calling my mum first would be the best course of action. What mother wouldn’t worry about her daughter moving out to stay with friends? Yes, friends. Plural. You think I would be stupid enough to tell my mom that I’ll be staying with a friend, and particularly a male friend with too much testosterone in his system? Impossible.

The call starts with the usual greetings and the sharing of boring details of my journey, which isn’t much because his villa’s only a few miles away from my house. But I can’t tell her that now, can I? She would beg for a visit. No. The last thing I want is her finding out that I’m with a super rich guy with authority complex that owns a stash of adult toys ranging from a myriad of shapes and sizes. After assuring her that I’m not in a van with my hands and legs tied and heading to Mexico, she air kisses me and tells me to contact her more.

Okay, I’m beginning to regret my choice now. I mean, I am practically lying to my mom because of sex. That’s what teens do. And I’m not a teen anymore. I’m a university senior for fuck sake. But nevertheless, I would rather kill myself then telling her I’ve been tied up and fucked dozens of times, by several individuals at certain times, for the past few months. Nope. Not going to happen. She isn’t the kind of mother that believes in purity-of-virgin bullshit, but she is definitely not the kind that can accept flagellating one’s pussy during the course of intimacy.

Richard comes to me and hugs me from behind. I can smell his cologne from a mile away and it stirs something inside me. Nevertheless, I subdue the rising libido as I’ve something to discuss.

“I’m so glad you are here.” he breaths while nuzzling my neck.

“I’m glad to be here to but…” I turn around and faces him. “I love kinky sex, but I’m not a sex maniac that can’t enjoy a normal healthy lifestyle. So…”

He cocks an eye, patiently waiting my words.

“I will only have kinky sex with you twice a week. You can choose the days.”

He grimaces. I kind of have an epiphany that this is what he’ll look like if I told him I’ve AIDS instead, which fortunately enough, I don’t. I must have ruin some of his plans by the looks of it. I mean, I’m right at his house, for most of the time, indefinitely. Anyone who owns a couple of businesses would surely come up with several plans to make most of the time out of it. And I know he would.

“Define kinky sex.” he moves around the couch and plops onto the seat next to mine.

“Sex that involves ropes, whips, cat-o-nine tails. Buttplug’s one of them. And…asking a woman to fuck me, that’s definitely kinky. And…”

“I’m sure we can do something else other than those…” he nuzzles me once more, which I push him away and look him in the eye.

“I’m serious. I want to have some normal sex life. I mean, what if my mom visits one day and sees you and another woman taking me simultaneously.”

“Hmm.” he nods. “That would cause a big problem.”

“Exactly. And those dildos are fucking enormous. She would definitely freak the hell out. Couldn’t really say we are having yoga practice now, could we?” I try to joke it off.

“But she isn’t going to be visiting so soon, right?”

“No, she won’t. But that doesn’t me we shouldn’t start some normal semblance of sex life, right?”

“So, by this, you mean that any other day other than kinky sex day is normal sex day, that I can make love to you.”

“Yes. Make love. Rough fuckery is allowed too, just not with ropes and spandex.”


“Cloth. No leather.”

“Agreed. Velcro?”

“What for?”

“Tying your hands.”

“No kinky sex, remember.

“Well, you say no ropes, but Velcro wouldn’t be as daunting.”

I think for a moment. Well, make love is nice, but sometimes I love being helplessly tied while being fucked. “I guess Velcro should be fine. Just not too much like last time.”

Richard smiles. He remembers the time when he had me covered in Velcro like a mummy. “I’m sure vibrators are allowed?”

“Not those big ones. Those small ones are acceptable. And no gyrating dildos, or large humongous dildos…in fact, no dildos are allowed on love making day.”

“Okay. So only authentic cocks. Understood.”

“Cock. Singular. I can’t believe I actually agree on having someone else to fuck me.”

“You’ve seemed to enjoy it a lot.” he whispers sultrily, his hand rubs my belly.

“It’s because you were watching.”

“Oh, we have a little exhibitionist here.” he jokes. I bite his arm as a warning that I don’t like those jokes. Because they aren’t funny. They are arousing. Fuck! I miss kinky sex already.

“So…” I mutter.

“So?” he mimics with a questioning tone.

“When will it be kinky sex day?” I ask shyly and my face is probably like an open book now because he seems to be able to read my desperation for something exotic. And as a sadist, he knows the exact reply to have me mentally tortured.

“Hmm…you will know when I tell you.”

Oh shit! He’s playing me now. Damn that sick bastard!

He moves away and whistle a cheery tune before disappearing into his in house office, leaving me shivering with anticipation.





About robsam1991

Even though my stories depicts rapes and violence on women(mostly), i never once condone the action. Not even the slightest. In fact, i despise men who rape women. I never agreed on that women who wear provocative clothing were to be blame on for the rape; though they should take precautions when necessary to avoid risk. As a man, i think it's our responsibility to control ourselves and never let our urge out on innocent people. If you feel like raping someone, then treat a girl nicely so that she would opt for a role play where you can play out a 'rape' on her satisfyingly. Please use safe word.
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