textfiles/sex/EROTICA/W/watrstop.txt

                          The Water Stop

                  by A. Boychik, October, 1995

Synopsis: A community leader out for a run has his leering ways
"interactively corrected" by a vindictive neighbor.


     It was very hot that day -- the temperature was humid and in
the 90's. I had never expected it to get that hot.

     I was running my loops in the neighborhood because most of
the roads were shaded by trees, and also because I enjoyed waving
at -- and being noticed by -- my neighbors. I was president of
the community's civic association and I was toying with the idea
of trying for a political office. My wife and I and our three
children had lived in the neighborhood for almost 15 years.

     Anyway, three long loops and three short loops would add up
to about seven miles of running. Since it was so hot, I was
running with just a pair of shorts -- and shoes and socks, of
course -- but with no shirt -- not even a singlet. Even though
other runners insisted on wearing shirts, I couldn't seem to
breathe when I started sweating so much.

     I especially liked running past one particular house. If I
was lucky, SHE would be outside. She was an electrologist,
according to the discrete brass plate on her front door. At the
times that I passed her house, I often saw her returning from
what must have been dance or workout sessions, since she often
wore brightly-colored tights or leotards, and sometimes, a thong
covering them. Needless to say, I slowed down to watch her sashay
up the walk, and, occasionally, I said, "Hello" or "You're
looking really good." Sometimes, she smiled back, but other
times, she looked confused or taken aback.

     On this very hot day, from several houses away, I saw her
watering her flower beds. I noticed that she was wearing very
skimpy shorts and a sleeveless halter top. I slowed down and
smiled at her, and then she called out to me, "Hey, you look like
you need something to drink. C'mon over here."

     I didn't need any prodding. I walked over to her and reached
out for the hose. "Wait a minute," she said as she held her hand
up to me, "you can't drink that...it's not city water. Come on
inside and I'll get you something better."

     She turned off her sprinkler and I followed her to the
house. Next to the front step, she bent over and turned off the
spigot. I could see her visible panty line through the shorts,
which had been pulled tightly over her butt. She turned to me, as
she got up; I didn't look away quickly enough, and she caught me
staring. She smiled and then, ever so subtly, nodded to herself.

     She opened the front door and led me inside. Just as I got
inside, she quickly said, "Wait right here. You're dripping wet."
I stood on the mat inside the door. Thankfully, the house was air
conditioned.

     She disappeared for a minute and then came back, holding up
a pair of pink satiny running shorts. She came over to me and
said, "Take your wet shorts off and put these on. They're all
that I could find." She smiled at me, with a look that promised
some action, and I couldn't resist. She turned her back and said,
"Go ahead...I won't peek." I quickly pulled my shorts down over
my sneakers, careful not to tear the elastic around the leg
holes, and then pulled up the pink shorts. They were a little bit
tight, but they felt really nice against my skin and my penis. 

     "Okay, now take off your shoes and socks and put them all
outside on the front stoop to dry in the sun." I opened the door,
carefully looked around to see if anyone was looking, tossed out
my shoes and socks and quickly flattened my shorts against the
hot slates. I closed the door and she then turned back around
towards me.

     "I always notice you looking at me when you run by, and I
want to get to know you better." She stepped up to me and started
to run her hand slowly and lightly over my shorts. My penis was
starting to become hard. She stroked me a few more times and then
said, "Let me go get a towel. I don't want you messing up the
furniture."

     She was back quickly with a large pink beach towel. She also
had a silky plum-colored bra in her hand. She led me over to the
couch, carefully laid the towel over the cushions, and told me to
lie down on it. She knelt down on the floor and started to rub me
through the satiny pink shorts ever so softly. I was feeling
really good. Abruptly, she stopped. "Now, before we do anything
else, I want you to know that I have one rule. I don't want you
to touch me. Do you understand?"

     At that point, I would agree to almost anything...I was
almost ready to cum. Sensing that, she stopped and said, "Well?"

     "Yeah...okay...I agree. I won't touch you." I answered.

     "Good." She then rubbed me a few more times, and then
reached into my shorts, circled my cock just under the head with
her finger and thumb and tightly squeezed, until I felt my cock
losing the premonitory sensation. "I don't want you to get there
just yet."

     She continued to fondle me through my shorts. Sometimes she
reached between my legs to lightly squeeze my balls. Other times
she roughly grabbed my cock through the silk. As she was doing
this, she moved her other hand inside her shorts, and then
quickly reached up and stuck a finger into each of my nostrils.

     I immediately smelled -- HER. And she smiled. "I want you to
associate MY odor with this pleasure. Sniff deeply." And I did.

     She then started stroking my nipples. She squeezed them a
few times. She bent over and nibbled each one. I had to do
everything I could to stop from grabbing at the back of her
head...from running my fingers through her hair.

     Then she looked up at me. "I'd love to stroke those cute
nipples through some silky material."

     "What d'ya mean? You want me to put on a bra?" I asked
incredulously.

     "Exactly. C'mon, this won't hurt you," she said coquettishly,
as she reached over for the silky, plum-colored bra. "Sit up." I
did. "Now reach your hands out." Again, I couldn't resist.

     She slid the bra up over my arms and I turned my body so
that she could fasten the hooks. "There," she said as she started
to caress my nipples through the smooth material. I groaned as
she started to pinch my nipples. "Now lie back down again and
close you eyes."

     A moment later, she said, "Open your eyes." As I did, a
flash of light momentarily blinded me. Damn! She must have taken
a picture. I heard her laugh. "This is for OUR scrapbook." She
stressed the word "our."

     Before I could say a word, she quickly came over to me,
knelt down on the floor, and started stroking both my cock and my
nipples. I couldn't fight her. I was powerless to her touch.
"Don't say a word," she warned. "Just enjoy this."

     Slowly, she fondled me. She rubbed my cock through my
shorts. She nibbled at my nipples. She even told me to turn my
head sideways and I could feel her sucking at my neck, very
obviously giving me a large hicky. And I couldn't resist her. And
when she felt me getting too close, she reached into my shorts to
tightly grasp my cock. This excitation-slowing down cycle
continued several times until I couldn't take it any more. I
grabbed her head and tried to move her teasing mouth down to my
cock.

     She slapped my hands away and quickly slapped my face. She
got up and angrily said, "You forgot! Get up and get out of
here!"

     "Please," I heard myself saying. "Please let me stay. I
promise I won't try to touch you again."

     "Okay, but I'm going to have to make sure." She opened a
drawer in the side table and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Sit
up and reach out your hands...now!" I didn't know what I was
getting into. I did know that I was horny as hell and wanted to
"get off." So I slowly stuck my wrists out to her. Quickly, she
cuffed one wrist, and then the other. She then reached over and
pulled out a large black leather dog collar.

     "You're just a dog and you need to have a dog's collar. She
walked around the back of the couch, pulled back my head, and
fastened the collar around my neck. I guess I could have stopped
her, but I was becoming even more aroused. "Now give me those
hands." She reached over me. I could feel her breasts rubbing
against the back of my head. She grabbed the handcuffs and pulled
them up to the collar. I heard a metallic click, and my handcuffs
were locked to the collar! "There. That'll keep your hands out of
any more trouble."

     She picked up her purse and pulled out some lipstick. Before
I could object, she painted my mouth with bright red lipstick.
Then she applied some blue eye shadow and eye liner. And some
blush. "We don't want you to look too much like a filthy whore,"
she said, snickering.

     She smiled wickedly at me and nodded approvingly. She
stepped back, picked up the camera and said, laughingly, "Say
'cheese'!" followed by the inevitable flash.

     She walked slowly and ominously closer to me and quickly
slapped my face twice. My eyes started to tear. She then picked
my head up and told me to look directly at her. "This is the
situation. You're in a strange woman's house and you're wearing
silky pink and plum-colored woman's clothing which is barely
hiding your bulging cock. Your hands are fastened together and
locked to your dog collar. And you're wearing the makeup of a
whore. AND I have pictures to prove it. What would your neighbors
say if they got copies? What would your wife say?" And then she
laughed and left me there, sitting with my fears, as she walked
out of the living room.

     Shortly, she was back. "Stand up," she ordered. I stood up,
and she promptly pulled the shorts down. I picked up each foot so
that she could get the shorts off. I want you to wear something a
bit more 'you'." Here, let me get this on you. She bent down, and
I helped by lifting each leg, as she slowly pulled a short,
flared, silky, plum-colored miniskirt up my legs. "This cute
skirt will match your bra. And it also highlights your eyes.
You'll look better in the pictures!" And then she pulled on 
matching silky panties, with lace around the leg openings and
waist. "You're so much prettier now."

     "It's picture time, again. Later, we'll put on some make up,
but right now, let's record this. Now smile!" Another flash.
Another indictment.



                          The Water Stop

                  by A. Boychik, October, 1995

Synopsis: A community leader out for a run has his leering ways
"interactively corrected" by a vindictive neighbor.


So far -- A thirsty and hot runner is offered something to drink
   by a woman whom the runner has previously leered at. By manipulating
   and fondling him through his silky clothing, she has gotten him
   to be wearing a silky plum-colored bra, a matching, flared
   miniskirt and matching panties. He is also wearing makeup. He is
   presently handcuffed, and the cuffs and locked to a large, black
   dog collar.


And now, the story continues:

     "Now come with me." She led me to the back of the house, and
into what looked liked an examination room. In the middle of the
room was a large examining table.

     "A gynecologist lived here before he died. I bought the
house and furnishings from his estate. The table is one of the
sturdiest one money could possibly buy. Plus, it's fastened to
the floor."

     She led me over and made me stand at the midpoint of the
long side of the table. "Spread your legs apart and stand still!"
she ordered.

     I looked down and saw her fastening leather restraints to
each ankle. Sensing my fear, she warned, "Don't you dare move."
Once both restraints were tight, she attached a chain to a steel
loop on the right ankle restraint and pulled my right leg, with
surprising strength, towards the right leg of the table. I heard
a metallic click and my right leg was secured.

     "Now for the good part," she said, as she grabbed the chain
connected to the left ankle and vigorously pulled it in the
opposite direction until I couldn't bear it anymore. After one
more huge tug, I heard the inevitable locking sound, and my legs
were spread so wide apart that I thought that I would tear apart.

     "You're not going any place soon." She walked around to the
other side of the table, grabbed my collar and pulled my head
downwards towards the floor. The table was at waist height, so I
was forced to bend over. I could hear her fastening another chain
to my collar, and then the locking sound, and I was totally
immobilized, bent over the examining table with my legs spread
wide apart.

     She walked out of the room, and returned with the camera.
And then, another flash.

     Then, she began: "The reason I am doing this to you is that
I am sick of being watched by you. You want to get into a public
office and you haven't even learned to be more subtle. You have a
wife and family and you leer at ME. I hate the way you say
'hello' to me, while extending the 'lo' part. I hate the way you
say 'you're looking good' while suggestively stretching out the
word 'good'. All you are is a dog, and that's why you're wearing a
dog collar. And the reason you're wearing your silky plum-colored
outfit is so I can know what color your permanent skin panties
will be. When I get done with you, your ass will be the same
color as those sikly panties."

     "Now it's time to learn some manners." She came over to me
head side and showed me something that was made from a double
strand of wicker and was shaped like a heart, about 8 inches
across, on one end. The tip of the heart was extended into a
handle about two feet long.

     "This is a carpet beater," she explained. "When properly
applied, it very quickly creates severe welts and bruises." She
then stopped to reach into her shorts. Again, she placed a finger
into each of my nostrils. Yet again, her smell quickly hit me. "I
want you smell me as you're punished. I want you to remember me
well."

     As she walked around behind me, she swished the carpet
beater rapidly in the air. I heard its threatening whistle.

     "This is going to be very painful. You're going to scream,
because you won't be able to help yourself. You are going to beg
me to stop." And she laughed. "But I won't, until I think you've
learned your lesson -- and some manners."

     "First, lets fold up your pretty skirt so that it doesn't
get ruined." She lifted up the hem and tucked it into the
waistband. She pulled up my panties to make sure they were tight.

     I heard her step back. And I heard a crack and suddenly felt
burning pain on my ass.

     "Thank me."

     "What?" I said.

     "Thank me. Say  thank you' after each loving stroke."

     "Thank you," I quickly said.

     About ten seconds later, my other buttocks cheek exploded in
pain. "Thank you," I said, once again.

     Another ten or seconds passed. My right cheek erupted.
"Thank you," I screamed out.

     "This loud screaming will just not do. What will the
neighbors say?" She laughed. She stopped hitting me and then went
around to the head side. "Open your mouth," she ordered. I
refused, and she slapped me on my face. And then again.

     I couldn't stop her. I opened my mouth and she pushed in a
large rubber object and strapped it around my head. She then
stepped back and started to inflate a hand pump. "This is an
inflatable gag." Once it is blown up, you'll still be able to
scream -- and scream you will -- but your screams will be nicely
muffled amd our neighbors won't have to be disturbed."

     As she blew up the gag, my cheeks became distended until
they couldn't stretch anymore. "Just one more, and then we'll
continue."

     And continue she did. First one butt cheek, and then the
other. Slowly and inexorably. I could feel my silky plum panties
tattering as the wicker tore through them. I screamed. I moaned.
I tried to get away but the table wouldn't budge. I cried. I
sobbed. The blows just wouldn't stop. There'd never be an end to
this.

     And it went on and on. And then finally, much later, it was
over. My ass was on fire. I could feel the pain through my entire
body.

     After minutes that seemed like hours, she said, "There's one
more thing. Since you're so nicely bent over, wearing a pretty
silky flared skirt, I'm going to fuck you in the ass."

     "Oh no," I said to myself. "I'm not going to be able to take
this." And I moaned again into the gag.

     She came around to my head side and undid my gag. I could
hear the hiss of the air escaping as she roughly pulled it from
my mouth. And she slapped me twice more for "making her have to
gag me," as she put it.

     She showed me a huge black dildo. It had to be almost two
inches in diameter and twelve inches long. "This is MY dick. And
you're going to feel it all the way up inside of you!"

     With that, she ordered me to open my mouth and pushed it in.
"You'd better make it nice and wet. It's all the lubrication that
you're going to get."

     I slurped on it. She moved it in and out of my mouth as
though she was fucking my mouth. I tried to make it as wet as I
could.

     She then walked to the other side and said, with a giggle,
"Open wide."

     And with that, she started to move the dildo up into me. It
wouldn't go in at first, so she reached over and pushed it into
my mouth. "Make it wetter!" I was forced to taste my own ass
juices!

     She pulled it out of my mouth and tried again to push it
into my ass. This time, it went in a little bit. "Obviously, it's
not wet enough," she noted, and again pushed it into my mouth.

     And again and again. She pushed it further into my ass, and
then made me suck on it. Up and down, in and out. From ass to
mouth and back again. My ass felt like it was being torn apart by
the huge dildo. She wouldn't stop!

     As the dildo was at its deepest, and she was still moving it
back and forth, she reached between my legs and grabbed my cock
through what remained of my silky panties. As she was fucking me
in the ass, she started stroking my cock. Her smell was in my
nostrils, my own smell and taste was inside my mouth and she was
hurting me and pleasuring me at the same time.

     I couldn't resist. Pleasure and pain mixed together! Smells
and tastes comingled. And I came explosively in her hand as she
quickened the pace of the dildo.

     Finally, it was over. Finally, she stopped, and withdrew the
dildo. "Clean it off with your mouth!" she ordered as she pushed
it against my lips. And I did.

     Then she allowed me to rest.

     Soon, she started to removed my collar chain and ankle
restraints.

     "Get up on the table," she ordered. I complied as quickly as
I could.

     She locked my collar to another chain at the head of the
table and placed my legs in the stirrups. She fastened them down
with leather belts.

     "So that you won't forget me, I'm going to pierce your
scrotum. I'm going to fasten an internally locking ring through
the piercing." She held up one inch diameter ring for me to see.
"This ring is made from very hard tempered steel and can't be
easily cut. And you're not going to want to remove it if you know
what's good for you." I couldn't understand how I was going to
hide that from my wife.

     She placed a wooden block under my scrotum and manipulated
it. She squeezed my testicles several times, and I moaned from
the pain. "I could very easily ruin you for life, if I wanted." 

     She showed me a three inch long needle. "This is the needle
that I'm going to use. It has a sharp thin point but the top is
somewhat wider, as you can see." She then spread the testicles
apart with one hand and quickly pressed the needle through the
skin and then into the block. I almost passed out. 

     Leaving the needle in the wood, she slowly pulled my scrotum
up and away from the block. I felt even more pain as the wider
end of the needle caused the hole to expand. She then quickly
placed the open steel ring through the newly created hole and
allowed it to snap shut. And she picked up the camera and took
two more pictures, one of which was a closeup.

     She picked up a wet towel and washed off my face. She
roughly dried it with another towel. She took out the makeup.
"We're going to have to freshen up your face before you go." And
she applied even more red lipstick, blue eye shadow and blush.

     "Oh...we forgot one thing. You never did get that drink you
came in for. You must be so thirsty!" She pulled down her shorts
and panties, got up onto the table and straddled my chest. I'm
going to give you that drink right now. Make sure you swallow
every last drop, or else." I could only imagine what the "or
else" might be.

     She moved up on the table so that her vagina was right above
my mouth. She lifted up and ordered, "Open your mouth wide and
make sure to keep it open."

     She placed her vagina tightly over my mouth and then moved
slightly forward. She grasped my head tightly with her legs. I
felt several drops of warm liquid in my mouth, and then a gush. I
swallowed quickly. And then even more...a torrent. She was
pissing in my mouth! I swallowed again and again. I could hardly
breathe. "That's about it," she said when she was done.

     I lay there, panting. She took another picture of me and
allowed it to develop. She gathered up all the pictures and
tacked them, in order onto a cork board. "Look at these nice
pictures. See how pretty you look in your silky plum clothing!
Look at your pretty makeup!" Her unspoken threat was obvious.

     She unfastened me from the table and helped me get up. As
she escorted me out of the examining room and towards the front
door, she said, "You have an appointment with your electrologist
here next week at the same time. Make sure to be on time."

     She opened the door, reached up and unfastened the dog
collar, unlocked my handcuffs and pushed me out the door, which
quickly slammed behind me.

     Hurriedly, I bent over to gather up my shorts, shoes and
socks, and then jumped behind the evergreens so I could change
before anyone saw me.

     I wasn't going to finish my seven miles that day.

                           FIN