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                                        **Standard Disclaimer**
WARNING!    This story is  a work of fiction and, as such, is merely presented
here for the discretionary use of adults.   It contains explicit descriptions of sexual
behavior.  The author in no context condones the behavior described herein.   If
you are a minor;  if such material is illegal in the jurisdiction in which you live, or; 
if such subject matter might offer you offense:    READ NO FURTHER.  The
presentation of this article with its Disclaimer denies liability for offenses  received
through the reader's disregard of this WARNING.





Vignettes.... L'Vieil Homme


Prologue

Marion:   The old man seduced me.  It was the first time as a married woman that
I ever allowed a man to make advances.   He invited me out.  He was charming.  
He knew I was married.  It was only supposed to be for a drink after work.  There
was small cocktail lounge near the office.    He was really very nice.  If I only
knew.   Without my knowledge, he put drugs in my drink.  I got all dizzy and
weak.  He took me out to his limo.  I passed out.  

When I woke up I was being fucked by a black man ...and I was fucking him back
....willingly.  God, he was hung.  He was twice the size of my husband and he
knew how to use it on a woman.  On me!  The old man had given me other drugs
while I was out; drugs that make a woman crazy for sex.  I was in another world. 
From the moment I felt that black cock inside of me, I fucked for that big, sweaty
man harder than I ever fucked for my husband.  I fucked for him like a whore,
without modesty or morals; dirty, hole fucking; cumming for him every time he
told
me to cum. 
     The old man let the black man fuck me for hours; until I had done
everything.  In the amber liquid beside the bed was all the drugs to keep me
steaming hot and willing.  The black man had me every way I could be had.  His
was the first cock to fuck me in the ass.  His was the first cum I'd ever swallowed. 
He was the first man to make me come thirty times.  
     At the very end, when I lay there in a floating haze of fucklust, my bruised
and battered body covered in sweat and sperm, the old man came in.  He was
naked from the waist down.  His cock was enormous.  He came to the side of the
bed and looked down at me.  I looked at his huge cock, knowing he had caused
all that happened to me. 




     
Chapter Two

     Old Man:   I had no idea with this one whether the drugs combined
with the black's fucking her had been successful.  When we put her in the
car and sent her home to her husband, I wasn't sure whether in a few days,
the dark hungers, the need in her would become intense enough to
overcome her chastity (as it did in other women like her whom I'd abused). 
On the one hand there was the faithful wife mortally ashamed of what she
had done and, on the other hand, the cock-trained slut.  (The black had
surely trained her!)  Which one would overcome the other, I couldn't hazard
a guess.   If, however, the hot little bitch did call and showed up when I told
her to, I knew I owned myself a new cuntslave.

     As you are aware, she did call.  It took nearly a week, but when she
called, she was at the end of her rope.  She had no self-respect left.  She
was desperate  I taunted her cruelly, not giving her any way to save the
least bit of face.  It was exquisite the way I made her shame and degrade
herself.  It was the beginning of her new education.  She was too far gone. 
It had taken the destruction of all her values to make the call to begin with. 
Having humiliated herself so basely, she couldn't bear the thought that she
might not be allowed to give herself again.  I tortured her.  I denied her.  I
held out hope than withdrew it  -until finally, in tears, she was openly
begging me.   When it suited me, I relented.  You should have heard her;
 ooh thank you!  Thank you!'. 
     "I wish that you lie to your husband, " I told her.  "I intend to use you
at my leisure over an entire week-end.  You will make excuses to him why
you have to go away."  It was not easy for a wife to explain to her husband
that she was going away for a weekend.  There was a purpose in not
making it easy for her.  It is not the way to train a married slave.  Not
surprisingly, she consented with trepidation.  I felt inclined to twist the knife
as it were.  "The whole time your telling him your lies," I said to her,
"remember that you are doing it so that you can defile your marriage or
your body.  That while he is home trusting you, you be willingly engaged in
the most depraved acts of bestial sex."
     Some hours later, she called me and in a small, humiliated voice
confirmed that it was arranged for Friday evening.
     "For the whole weekend?"
     ".......for the whole weekend."





Marion:   I couldn't forget!  Fifty times a day, the memories would flash into
my mind, turning me to wet, throbbing mush between my legs.   At night, I
would lay in the dark next to my husband and silently fingerfuck my pussy
and yes, my asshole too while images of that black cock and the whole
man's cock swam above the bed.  Each day was harder than the last to
deny that I wanted it desperately again: the drugs, the fucking, the
degrading humiliation.   My sterile love for my husband, my honour to my
marriage, my self-esteem, my pride as a woman; finally all of it could not
overpower the dark masochistic hunger that obsessed me.  When I woke
up that day, I knew I would make the call.  I would dial the number from that
scrap of paper I had opened and closed a hundred times and I would
humiliate myself and.... it would excite me violently when I did it.

     That Friday after work, the old man's limo was waiting in front of my
office building.  The chauffeur opened the rear door.  I got in.  He pulled
away from the curb.  Through the intercom, he said quietly, "He instructs
that you drink the contents of the small green vial in front of you."
     "What is it?", I asked.
     The voice said back.  " His instructions are,  What it is not your
concern.  He wishes that you drink it.  If you refuse, I am to stop and
remove you from the car.  Do you understand the instructions?"
     "....Yes."  I reached for the vial.  What did it matter what it was.  I
would have drank it anyway.  I pulled the stopper from the queer little bottle,
put it to my lips and poured.  It was like syrup.  It was very bitter.  It had a
strange, musky order.  I swallowed it.  It reminded me of the old man's
sperm as it slid down my throat.   I noted the chauffeur watching me in the
mirror.
     The drug came over me like heroin must overcome an addict.  An
intense sexual rush exploded in my cunt and my nipples; only it didn't fade
away.  It held me on the edge of orgasm.  My holes ached for cock; to be
fucked.  There was nothing else.  The rest of the world dissolved.  Only my
body existed and my raging desire to surrender myself to anyone who
would take me.  We reached the building.  The chauffeur pulled the car to
the old man's private penthouse entrance.  He opened the door.
     "We are here."
     "Fuck me first," I pleaded.  I leaned back and spread my legs,
exposing myself shamelessly to him.
     "My instructions do not include fucking you."  His eyes took in my
naked sex.  "A shame.  Let's go.  I'm sure you'll get all the fucking you want
if I know the old man."

....To be continued...


I welcome any comments or correspondence from readers either about
 the story or generally.  I enjoy discussing life, love and eroticism. 
 If you do, too, I'd be happy to correspond with you.   ... Janet D.



-- 
- -
Janet Dare
Redfriar@ix.netcom.com