Before she could move he was on top of her, one hand holding her wrists out of the way, the other pushing her jacket aside and pulling her sweater up over her tits. She tried to break free but his hand closed on her breast and squeezed hard, making her cry out. He grabbed her bra and pulled it up so that her tits fell free, then he sucked one into his mouth as she arched off the couch, trying to throw him off.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried out, but he held her down and his free hand scrabbled at her jeans, trying to get them open. She tossed her hips, trying to get away from him but she felt his strong fingers open her pants, then the zipper, then his hand was sliding inside her panties.

When his finger touched her they both froze. She let out a sob of shame as he touched her pussy. She was aroused and wet and she knew it, and now he knew it too. Everything he'd said had been true. She couldn't deny it now. Her body wouldn't let her. His finger slid easily along her soaking crease, then he pulled his hand out and showed his glistening finger to her.

"Look at that," he said as she turned her head away. "You're already hot. Suck it!"

"Mr. Taylor, no…"

He pushed his finger against her mouth. "Suck it, Vanessa. I want you to taste you own slut juice. Suck it!"

She opened her mouth, shame wracking her body, and she let him put his sticky finger in her mouth. She tasted her own musk, the undeniable proof of all he had said about her.

"So you're a hot little cunt, Vanessa," he said as he slid his finger back into her panties and began to rub her slit again. "That's not so bad. I know you can't help it, can you baby? Your body just won't behave. See? You're already fucking that little pussy against my hand, aren’t you?"

She gasped. He was right; she'd been humping her hips against his hand as if fucking it. She hadn't realized that she'd been doing that. It was like her body had a mind of its own. She made herself stop.

"It just feels so good, doesn't it, Vanessa? It feels so good to have someone touch your pussy and suck your tits." he said as he continued to kiss her breasts and finger her cunt. "You can't help it if that's what you are. You're just highly sexed. It's not your fault. You need someone who knows what you want, that's all."

She still had her head turned to the side, trying to hide her face from him. She didn't believe him. It wasn't true. She was a straight A student, a good girl who'd never been in trouble in her life. Not that she was a prude, it was just that she was so busy studying. She dated when she had time, and she'd made love before. It’s not like she wasn’t aware of her sexuality. So why would he say what he was saying? How could he accuse of that? He didn't even know her.

But his fingers and his mouth felt so good, and she loved the way he held her down, her arms tied and held out of the way. There was no way she could fight him as he kissed her breasts and belly and played with her excited pussy. None of the guys she’d dated had never treated her this way. They didn't have a beard that scraped on her tender skin, and none of them had a mouth that was so hot and demanding for her, a mouth that had already known so many women's bodies and now wanted hers. Her lovers never forced her down and told her what she was right to her face, shaming her and making her wild with excitement. Her dates were just boys; Mr. Taylor was a man. It made all the difference.

He was pushing her back into the cushions of the sofa and her little moans of protest were taking on a different meaning as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and lashing it lightly with his tongue. His finger was teasing at her pussy, rimming her hole and she wanted him to stick it inside her: he was driving her crazy.

He caught her nipple between her teeth and bit down on it, not too hard, but hard enough to send a spear of pain shooting through her body and igniting a sudden gush of masochistic pleasure.

"Oh God!" she cried out as she thrust her hips up against his hand. Her own body was betraying her, humiliating her. Her body wanted more. Her body loved being treated like this, no matter what she herself might want.

Suddenly he got off her and stood up, leaving her lying there panting with her sweater pulled up over her boobs and her pants gaping open. He pulled her up into a sitting position and untied her wrists.

Vanessa was confused, groggy, her head reeling from her sensual excitement as she tried to understand what was happening to her. Was he done? Why had he stopped? He pushed her to her feet and, with her wrists free, she ran a hand through her tousled hair, trying to get her bearings.

"Take your coat off." he said, and she realized that she was still wearing her leather jacket. She slipped it off and just dropped it on the floor, something she would never do ordinarily. But she was dizzy and not herself.

"Now take your clothes off." he said as he sat back down on the sofa.

She looked at him in surprise. Her clothes? Her pants were hanging open, her panties showing, and her breasts were still naked, her bra was twisted and pushed out of the way. Her nipple still ached where he had bitten it and she could feel his saliva cooling on her skin. She couldn't undress in front of him. That was too much.

The blinds were closed tight. She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time: the television, the sofa, tables, all the usual accoutrements of middle class life. She couldn't believe this was happening.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." he said mildly. "And you will, right now. I want to show you what a slut you are."

She made the mistake of looking him in the eye, and she was caught by the force of his gaze.

Keeping her head down and burning with shame, she pushed her jeans down over her hips, down her legs, and stepped out of them. She lifted her sweater over her head and let it fall as well. He bra wasn't doing her any good, so she started to unfasten that too when he said, "Okay. Stop there. Now look at yourself."

She was already looking down, but she didn't understand what she was supposed to see.

He said, "You knew you were coming over here, didn't you, Vanessa? Of course you did. And look at the underwear you wore."

She looked down. She was wearing one of her favorite pair of sheer black panties, very tiny and very sexy, and her bra matched, just a whisper of thin black fabric that made her breasts look great. Why on earth had she worn these? She hardly remembered getting dressed that morning. Had she subconsciously wanted to look nice for him?

"You wear stuff like that every day?" he asked her with a laugh.

Her face went red, and her embarrassment made her suddenly conscious that she was standing there mostly naked. She grabbed her bra and twisted it around to cover her breasts. Mr. Taylor got up and quickly picked up her jeans and sweater and tucked them under his arm. "Your clothes are in there." he said, pointing to the den. I laid them all out for you. Bought them special."



Her wits were returning to her now. She had to get out of there. She thought about putting her coat on and she stood there, frozen with indecision for a moment.

That was all it took for him to lose his temper. He threw her clothes in a wad against the wall, strode over to her and grabbed her arms.

"Listen, bitch, we're done screwing around! You're not fooling anyone with that innocence act so why don't you just drop it? I'm getting really sick of it. Face it, baby: I know what you are and I know what you fucking want!"

She tried to struggle away from him but he twisted her arms behind her back. He gathered both her wrists into one massive hand and kept her arms pinned behind her as he pulled her to him and reached down to shove his hand into her crotch again.

She groaned in anger and frustration as she felt him touch her but he held her hands immobile. He was too strong, and he handled her effortlessly, as if she were a child. His hand ran along her body, cupping her breasts and finally pulling her face around to face him and he kissed her hard.

It was no use. The struggling just seemed to make them both hotter. The feel of his strength and his obvious desire for her made her weak, and the more she tried to hide it the more urgently she wanted to feel him against her, holding her, not letting her go. She wanted him to force her to do everything for him. She wanted him to push her down and fuck her mouth, treat her like a slut, do every filthy thing to her she'd ever dared dream of.

He broke the kiss but held her face in his hand. "You're going to go in there and you're going to put on those fucking clothes so I can see what a cheap whore you are, Vanessa. It's just like your dress-up game, but this time I'm playing too. Then you're going to come out here and show me your hot little ass, and you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. If I tell you to suck my cock, you'll get down on your knees and suck my fucking cock. If I tell you to play with yourself you're going to play with yourself. If I tell you to spread your legs and show me your little pussy, you're going to spread your legs and show me your pussy. And you know what else? You're going to love it! You're going to just fucking love it! So quit acting like you’re too good for this, and let’s move on."

His words cut into her like daggers, each one dripping with his hot need. At the end of his speech he pulled her to him and kissed her again, slipping his hand beneath her panties to cup her ass. One finger dipped low and poked against her tiny asshole, and the lewdness of touch made her pussy throb with desire for him.

He propelled her to the den and pushed her in, her head reeling. The clothes were laid out on the sofa there, and even as she looked at them with horror her pulse began to race. There were a pair of sandals with enormous spiked heels, a tiny miniskirt of some sheer gold metallic fabric, and a skimpy red stretch tank top. Just the same kind of things that she always wore when she played by herself.

"And take off your underwear," he called. "No bra, no panties."