The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

A short story, for adults





It was late summer and, I when I entered the cottage, just down a small path of the lay-by on New Chester road.



I’d gone into the middle cubicle, noting that now there was a glory-hole wither side of the dirt smeared white porcelain throne I sat upon.



It had been early evening when I’d walked in, never really expecting to encounter what I had.



I had sat awhile, lighting one cigarette after another, my trousers around my ankles with the pirple panties with lace trim and sides.



And though I’d realised that anyone looking beneath the partition could see what I’d chosen to wear, I didn’t mind: quite the contrary.



I’d sat there staring at the scrawl on the wall, my right hand round my circumcised cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum.



But, let me describe myself: five eleven, sic foot, slim with straight fair hair and blue eyes: and, I’d guess you’d say I’m a bit of a slut for hard cock, particularly on a domineering man. And, I’m seventeen, so it is legal, after all, they made it so just a few months back – and, about time to, I say.



And I had been there for about twenty minutes, when a shadow passed across the hole to my left, which left me wondering how I missed it.



Then a collar had been pushed under the partition. I’d picked it up curiously: and, as I did do, I’d heard a voice hiss, “Put it on, slut.”



Peering through the hole quickly, I noticed the peak cap, tousled brown hair and prominent cheek-bones, as well as the evident bulge in his blue overalls and, rubber-sole boots: it had been the janitor, cleaning the floors, brush in hand.



“I told you, put it on,” I hissed again, his mouth close to the hole.



I looked at the collar briefly: ‘black and, sturdily built.’ I’d mused briefly, before slipping it around my neck and fastening the buckle at the front, the one with a small ‘D’ loop on it.



“Put it on,” he hissed; and an inner-voice told me, ‘do it you slut, you want to.’



And thought I hesitated, that little voice was right, I wanted to put it on, for this assertive stranger, on the other side of the wall: and as I fastened the buckle with the ‘D’ loop at the front, I knew he would be watching and, my erection got even harder.



And, I was well aware I was being watched, from that hole: then another voice, from the other side, another voice, a different one: “I want to see those panties on you.”



“Yes sir,” I answered on automatic, pulling them up over my freshly shaven legs.



“Now, remove your shoes and socks, undo the door and come out, on your hands and knees, panty boy!” Said the voice I’d first heard, the commanding one, which had triggered my submissive side so easily.



“You hear me, panty-boy?” He snarled at me, which had my slim frame quaking with a strange mixture of fear and, desire.



“Yes sir,” I answered, as I removed my shoes and socks, then knelt on the cold wet tiles and reaching up, undid the bolt on the door.



Grasping the edge of the door, I opened it and walked out the cubicle feeling very scared, yet filled with the weirdest need to submit to anything that was asked of me.



It was a compulsion that I’d not felt for many years, not since my fiancée had taught me how she liked me to dress for her, before she’d take me, with either fingers or a dildo that she so-enjoyed using, on me.



I crawled forward a couple of feet, then that strong voice that had taken ownership of my psyche said softly, “Stop, I have to attach this.”



And briefly I felt hands working on the collar, before I heard a satisfied, “There!”

He had attached a leash to the collar, which he held loosely.



Then I felt the tug on the collar that encircled my neck. I was pulled roughly forward, by a leash into the dim light, which permeated through the two windows high up on the wall.

.

“What shall I do with its clothes?” Said the other man, as he emerged from the cubicle next to the one I’d been waiting inside.



There was a pause, as I looked at the feet of both men, scared that they might decide to do something with my clothing: and, leave me without them.



And sure, I’d been waiting, for some action, some cottage-fun, but I hadn’t expected to find myself wearing my panties, before two strangers, in a public toilet on all-fours, a collar round my neck. It was terrifying, yet thrilling, at the same time.



“Come on panty-boy, time to go,” My Master instructed. Yes, ‘Master’, for that’s how I already thought of the man whose collar I wore.



Then another tug on the leash and I followed my Masters Timberline boots, as he led me toward the entrance to the cottage’s entrance.



And, he did not pause again at the door way, just led me out and down the short tree-lined path to the lay-by, on the main-road, where several cars were parked.



“Your car, or mine?” The other fellow asked, following behind us with a view of my panty-clad buttocks.



“I’ll take it and you remember not to throw his clothes out of the window, like you did that girl that time, alright?” I heard what he said and boy, was I suddenly very scared.



I had no idea of what I’d got myself into here, not idea at all: and yet, I was aroused.

COMMENTS

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RaineyLustfulBites
03:27 Feb 02 2010

lovely

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POST COMMENT

‘Dance me, dance me, Dance me till the end of Love…’ sang Madeleine Peyroux, her haunting voice filling the room and Lona turned the radio off.



Till that moment she had been vacuuming. Now she stood and gazed out of the window at a fine blue day, her heart open to receive, if her words had been read and understood, as she had wanted.



She was feeling almost giddy with expectation, whilst open to the possibility that having laid herself open as she had, that she might just be disappointed yet again.



‘But,’ she mused, ‘isn’t that the risk one runs when you decide to try?’



After Dionne, she had almost thought there would not be another. And after Dionne she had told herself that such as she had known would not be so again: musing yet again, albeit briefly why that had ended as it had.



‘Was it her height? Did she intimidate those she sought to attract? Was she too intense? Was she too open, too romantic? Perhaps too much of a dreamer?’

So many questions to ask, so much doubt.



And Now? Now she hoped the phone might ring. Now she hoped that this feeling of weightlessness would never end. Now she wondered if those butterflies would continue to flutter; or would they fall and die, with her expectations of something more, somewhat beautiful.



‘Of course there was that chance,’ she reminded herself: ‘but I tried.’



Lona turned her head and finding the yellow cloth she began to dust, thinking all the while of Josephina and her lustrous blonde hair, that just needed long fingers running through it: and, her heartbeat got that little bit faster.



She swept the cloth along the edge of a bookshelf, thinking, still thinking.



Lona had been in the library stamping the front of a book, and looked up as she had entered, as if in slow motion, the Swedish archetype a moment of Spring given human form that caused the changes that the day wrought to be ignored.



Then, with her eyes surreptitiously glancing up every now and then, Lona following the young woman’s movements as she walked up one aisle, then another.



She had bent forward, to look at a lower shelf and as Lona thought as she had, she momentarily averted her eyes, deeming her carnal thoughts a little too much, when in just a moment, she would be talking, talking to the object of her yearning need.



Finally the blonde had stood and walked toward the desk, behind which Lona stood, warm with desire, the heat centred between her thighs and, she hoped that she wouldn’t blush. She didn’t want to betray how she felt, not yet.



And, as they had spoken, of music and things, as they had several times before; Lona had found herself readily agreeing to her teaching piano, when she had been asked if she would do so.



So it was that Josephina had called one sunny, slightly chilly afternoon, to attend another lesson, with Lona awaiting the opportunity to enjoy her presence once more, with the chance to smell her hair, as she leant over her, to illustrate how to place her fingers on the ivory.



And, although she had known the risks that she had run, by exposing herself, Lona had still done as she had planned.



She had stood and told the blonde, “I need the toilet” and then, left the room, with her journal left on view. And, she had stood on the other side of the door, left ajar a little, to peek into the room, to see if Josephina would look at the words she had left there, to share with her, if she chose to look. And, she had.



Then when Lona had returned to the room, where her companion sat, she had looked for a sign, any sign that her feelings might be reciprocated. There had been none discernable, and further, the blonde had not intimated when she might return.



And now Lona continued to dust, thinking; thinking of the words she had written so carefully, to describe how she felt for Josephina, for her to see. And, she blushed.