Counselling and the brown wings

Introduction:
I already knew why Erika didn’t participate in anal sex with me; at least not on the receiving end anyway. I knew, because she’d previously told me exactly why that was, and my heart went out to her when she did. Her introduction to it had been vastly different to mine; at the hands of two big bullies; brutal, humiliating and very, very painful. All I’ll say on the subject was that she was just a few weeks ‘old’ at the time, and with virtually no idea of how to please a man, sexually.
By the time Erika chose to talk about her bad experiences at the hands of many human males; I refuse, point-blank, to call them ‘men;’ we’d been together for the best part of three years. It began on an evening on which I’d commented on her nightmares, (that was a Friday) and it continued for the following two evenings, and despite what I had suffered in my time living in the Cold Zone, those bad experiences gave even me nightmares afterwards, and all I’d done was listen to Erika’s experiences.
I didn’t ask Erika why she told me all of it, because I really knew the answer. She’d never told anyone about those nights, and I figured that it was something she needed to do. She needed to talk about such a harrowing experience to someone; anyone; to share the feelings and thoughts, to move on and to begin the process of healing and forgetting. Those are the basics of counseling I suppose, and for obvious reasons, Erika picked me to talk to, because at the end of the day, I was the only person she trusted at that time. A trained counselor couldn’t be trusted with all of the facts, and if Erika had to hold back on facts, the effects of the counseling sessions would be reduced. Unfortunately for both of us, I was the only realistic choice. I say ‘unfortunate’ because experiences like those Erika had gone through, would not have been pleasant for me to hear, and I didn’t really have any idea of what to do or say, in my role as counselor.
When Erika admitted to us both that she couldn’t go on denying her past, and trying to hide from it within her own mind, and then told me that she wanted to ‘confess’ that past to me, I instinctively knew that she was going to go into details that she’d previously only glossed over; details that I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear, but couldn’t refuse to listen to. If Erika wanted to talk about what had been done to her in the past, no matter how I felt about it, I just couldn’t tell her that I didn’t want to know.
I filled a large thermos flask with hot water and took the flask, two cups and a jar of herbal and fruity tea bags, of various flavors, into the living room. After which I filled the second flask, and took that in as well. I figured that we’d need lots of cups of tea for what was going to follow. I was going to hear about things I didn’t really want to know about. I was going to hear descriptions of what had been done to my little angel by despicable creatures that were under the illusion that despite the disgusting acts they had perpetrated against a helpless teenage girl, for their own enjoyment, they were still entitled to call themselves ‘men.’ We knew otherwise of course, and we knew that very few of the Earth’s population would have disagreed with us on that score! We knew what they were. I know I haven’t exactly been ladylike in my words in parts of my autobiography; but the description of those despicable creatures is beyond any words known to womankind!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There are not words in any language to describe such vile creatures!!!!!!!!
We moved the furniture around a little and Erika lay on her right side, on the couch, facing me as I sat on a chair that we had positioned so close to the couch that Erika could reach out to touch me if she felt the need for moral support. Then, when we each had a hot cup of tea in her hand, slowly, haltingly, Erika began to talk to me about the life she had led before she met me. I had little idea of just how bad the stories were going to be, so I did my best to steel my nerves against what I figured were going to be horror stories. Whilst I knew that the beautiful woman opposite me; the woman I loved more than life itself, and would have laid down my life for, had been abused, both physically and sexually, I had no idea about what sort of disgusting events I was going to learn of!!! I couldn’t have even begun to imagine half of what Erika described to me.
No wonder Erika’s entire body stiffened at the moment of tongue to pussy contact, the first time I permitted her to sit on my face. While she knew I wasn’t capable of hurting her, her instinct must still have been to expect that I would. No one, aside from Erika, had touched Erika in a sexual manner for her pleasure; just for their own, the filthy bastards, before the first time that I demonstrated to her just what sort of pleasure she could take from the attentions of another person. No wonder she looked at me with an expression of almost wonder after that first climax hit her. It was the first that anyone had given her. That was why she’d been mine from the first day!
If I had known even a fraction of what I learned that weekend, at the time I had first offered to permit Erika to sit on my face, I might not have been brave enough to offer in the first place, and then where would we have ended up? Would we have still become an item if I hadn’t shown her such pleasure on a night-time after ‘work’? I don’t know, but I would like to think that Erika would have seen me for what I genuinely was; a caring young woman with a desire to make her happy, even if I hadn’t been brave enough to offer free pussy eatings on a daily basis right from the start of our friendship.
Erika recounted tales of some of the abuses that those bastards had perpetrated against her. Although they pretended it was simply that they had little choice, and to be fair, at the beginning, they did have little choice, (the first one to refuse was immediately dismissed from his post,) it was clear that all too many of the bastards enjoyed what they were doing, and once they realized that they could do basically whatever they wanted, the abuse just got steadily worse. As I listened to those stories, I did my level best not to cry at the descriptions of some of the more disgusting experiences she’d undergone. I could give you details of some of what I heard that night, but it would sicken you, in the same way as it sickened me, and I don’t want to think about what Erika said to me about those months. Let’s just say that it was very, very bad, and leave it at that!
I figured that it was essential I kept a straight face and dry eyes, and I struggled considerably with my feelings as I attempted to do that. I was almost successful; just shedding the odd tear, here and there, at descriptions of some of the fouler things that Erika described having forced upon her. I will not go into any details, but Erika described acts of abuse, both physical and sexual, that chilled the very marrow in my bones. How could any man do such despicable things to a helpless little teenage girl? In Erika’s place, I’d have opened my wrists long before I was able to make good my escape, if I had been subject to the abuses that she had been subjected to, but mentally, Erika was far stronger than I ever was, and ever will be.
I would not have been surprised to hear stories like that from Cold Zone girls; one story here and one story there, just not in that sort of quantity from any one woman. They were the sort of brutal acts of violence that would not have surprised me from bullies from the lawless place I had called ‘home’ up until recently; but not from educated men, and certainly not under the instructions of a woman. Head of the facility, apparently, was a woman, and the orders to treat their creation so badly came from her. Whether she was just passing on the orders of other, more senior, people, or whether they were her own, Erika didn’t know. Nor did she really want to know, either.
That day was the very first time I’d ever seen the Ice Maiden openly cry. She’d tried to suppress her tears, but she’d been unable to do so. So she did the next best thing; she sat on my lap, facing me, wrapped her arms around me, and cried on my shoulder while I ran my fingers through her hair and down her spine, as I felt her tears soaking into the shoulder of my blouse. I continued nibbling on the lobe of her left ear, and whispering into it; telling her that everything was going to be all right; not that I could make it all right, though; she was the only one who could ever do that, and it would take time. Erika was very strong, mentally, and I knew that in time, she would be fine.
The first tears came at the end of her recitation of the very first time she was raped. She kept her eyes dry all the way through her account of what the two bastards did to her, and it wasn’t until she described the way the bigger of the two, just after he’d closed the door, opened it and stuck his head back around the frame, to thank her for a memorable night, and promising to return when he could, for more of the same kind of fun, that the waterworks began. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of thoughts going through Erika’s head; at the moment she was told that the abuses she had suffered that night were not going to be a one off. I saw her eyes blinking rapidly, and watched her lower lip begin to tremble, and my first thought was, ludicrous though it seemed to me at the time, that Erika was going to start crying.
I thought that it was ludicrous because I didn’t think that Little Miss. Kick Ass And Chew Bubblegum was the sort to do something as girlie as shed tears. She put down her tea cup, spilling most of it onto the carpet in the process, and then the tears began to flow. She buried her head into her hands in embarrassment, so I immediately got off the chair, and hugged her to me, allowing her to rest her chin onto my shoulder, where I wouldn’t be able to see her face, although I’d be able to feel her tears as they trickled down her face and onto the shoulder of my blouse. It was awkward due to the way Erika was situated on the couch, but she quickly moved so that she could push me back onto the chair I had been sitting on, and sit on my lap.
As I embraced Erika, despite being the best part of a foot taller than she was, I felt small and useless. The woman I loved was in pain; more so than I’d known her to suffer at any time in the past, and yet I could do Jack and shit to change that fact, and Jack had just left town. Much as though I wanted to, I couldn’t take away her pain, and because of that, I felt a little inadequate. I knew it wasn’t my fault that I could do so little; I just wished that I could have done more to help and soothe the object of my affections. I wished that I could do something to help take away her pain. While I had been subjected to similar abuses, both physical and sexual, it wasn’t in the same league; it wasn’t even close! I didn’t truly understand what Erika had gone through. Even with my bad experiences when I was a little younger, I could never really understand. I didn’t want to understand, but it might have made it easier for me to comfort Erika if I did understand. I didn’t have the first idea of what to say to Erika, so I racked my brains for some ideas, but unfortunately I drew a blank on any useful things to say, short of sweet nothings and encouragement, so I did what I could.
I could help Erika recover her composure, and put her bad experiences firmly where they belonged; more by being there, listening to her, holding her hands, stroking her hair, kissing her lips. I’m referring to the red-glossed horizontal pair; that pair nestled between her chin and her nose; not the vertical pair; that pair nestled between her thighs, although I’d just as happily have kissed that pair of lips if she wanted me to, in any way she wanted me to.
Point of interest; it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d left red lip-gloss smears on that pair of lips as well as the other pair on a night time, and lip-gloss smears there just looked sooooooo dirty! I could do that while also being generally being attentive to any needs I thought she might have had around the house. I could make cups of tea or coffee, placing them into her hands when I thought she needed them most. I could wait on her, hand and foot; supplying all her meals on trays, or presenting them to her at the kitchen table. My shoulders would always be there for her cry on if she felt the need for a few tears, although I didn’t expect that she would. (I was wrong!)
I would be there for her, in a non-sexual way, at least as much as, if not more than, a sexual way, that weekend; touching her skin lightly; rubbing a couple of fingertips over the skin of the cheeks on her face, or over the skin on the back of her hands; massaging her feet, her neck, or her back, although no matter how much I enjoyed touching them, I would keep my fingers well clear of those lovely firm, pert breasts and those equally lovely taut, firm, plump buttocks, unless I was asked to touch them, or unless we were making love, when I knew that Erika would want my hands enveloping her breasts, because she enjoyed having them fondled.
(Despite her own opinion, I always told Erika that she had a gorgeous bottom, and she did; it was perfectly rounded, and just the right shape to be very attractive in a tight skirt or pair of pants; ‘a perfect little peach’, was what I had always called my little angel’s bottom. She often claimed that she’d have liked a slightly thinner bottom, with less meat on her buttocks, but if I liked them so much, then she’d leave them the way they were, just for me. In fact, she even offered to go under the plastic surgeon’s knife, and have them ‘plumped up a bit more,’ just for me! If I wanted her to do so, then all I had to do was say so. I never said so; despite the non-existent flaws that she found with her own body, Erika was absolute physical perfection anyway. She needed no further alterations made by a plastic surgeon to be gorgeous; she was easily that already.)
I could be encouraging, sympathetic and caring, and that would have to do. Erika was strong-willed and resilient, and she would put the memories of such treatment where they belonged; in a mental compartment labeled, ‘Do not open, EVER!!!!!!!!’
I have quite an active imagination, so it didn’t take me much thought to imagine just what Erika had gone through. While I already knew that she had been badly mistreated, I had no real idea of just how bad it had really been; I had absolutely no idea of what sort of treatment had been meted out to my lovely, gentle little angel. Just talking to me about it had been painful for her, yet I had felt a twisted sense of pride that I had been the one listening as she bared her deepest, darkest secrets, and shared her humiliating memories. In my own, rather warped, perverted, way, I was proud that Erika had chosen my shoulder to cry on. While I had been mistreated somewhat in my own past, it was nothing like that sort of sadistic, calculated, brutality. Just listening to Erika telling me those stories, turned my stomach, and made me feel physically sick. No wonder Erika truly HATED men when I first met her.
For the next hour to an hour and a half, Erika alternated between lying on the couch, talking, and crying on my shoulder when the memories grew too painful; eventually giving up on the couch, and settling permanently on my lap; shuddering and sobbing in a way that I could never have imagined merely one day previously. After that, the stories stopped, and there were just the tears, accompanied by my attempts to be soothing, with kind words, kisses and sweet, tender touches. It felt just so wrong for me to be holding the Ice Maiden, as she shed tears onto my shoulder, the way I had shed them onto her shoulder in the past. I wondered whether Erika had felt the same way, when I shed tears onto her shoulder, as I was feeling when the tears were hers, being shed onto my shoulder. Had she felt as useless as I was feeling, because she couldn’t stop my tears?
There was one decent man known to Erika in all that time, but only one, out of she didn’t know how many.
The young technician that she saved when she escaped was the only employee to go to her cell on the night he was told to, and refuse to rape her, simply because he was married and didn’t want to! He began with the team part of the way through the project, to replace an older technician who had retired. He’d arrived in her little apartment one night and Erika had started to strip off, knowing what always came next if she didn’t. He let her get her blouse halfway open, then he stopped her and fastened the buttons on it again, himself. After that, he handed Erika the remote control for her upgrades because he didn’t have any use for it that night, saying, “I’ll need that back before I leave.”
(There was an ‘off switch’ built into Erika’s combat upgrades; the weaponry and the mechanical endoskeleton. Once those were switched off, she had little to fight back with, short of her teeth and fingernails. Clearly she hadn’t the physical strength to fight off two or more adult males, although she tried the first few times, before giving it up as a wasted effort; hurting many of them in the process. One of the creatures lost an eye to one of her fingernails, and although Erika paid the price for that when the bastards beat her senseless at the end of the night, she decided it was well worth the cost! What I remembered most about that was the way she said it; “They weren’t allowed to do me any real harm, and I knew I’d heal the bruises within a few days, but that bastard wasn’t going to grow a new eyeball anytime soon!”)
Erika didn’t understand why the young technician didn’t want to have sex with her, so she asked. She’d never met a man who walked into her little apartment/cell like that, and didn’t want to abuse her in one form or another. She always remembered his reply. “You misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, because you are stunning. It is in fact extremely simple. It’s not what you want. I can not rape you on your bed, because there is no doubt that it would be rape, and then go to my own and face my wife. I can not go to her with no desire left and tell her that I don’t want to make love to her because I’ve just spent two hours raping our creation, she’d cut my cock off with a butcher’s knife as soon as look at me; assuming that she didn’t slit my throat instead!
Even if I was single I couldn’t do it, because it’s not how a real man behaves. I’ve seen the effect that such vile actions can have on a woman; it happened to my sister when I was still in my early teens. If you were willing to sleep with me, I would happily make love to you, all night if you wanted, but you’re not willing. Those things that you’ve been bullied, beaten and raped by are not men. I am, and I will not treat you like that, because you simply don’t deserve it. Don’t let on though, because it’ll get me into trouble, and I’d almost certainly loose my job for it, but I just can’t do it. Someone has to show you what men are supposed to behave like.”
Erika was amazed at the guy, because he was being nice. No one had ever been nice to her before. He stayed with her for three or four hours, and all he did was talk while they listened to some music, or watched television. He told her where she was, even though he himself should not have known. Only the project manageress, the bitch, was supposed to know their location. All staff came and went in blacked out vehicles, so that the workers couldn’t divulge the location of the facility if ‘questioned’ by a competitor or a representative of any law enforcement agency, if something went wrong. He answered any questions she had, about anything he understood. He made her cups of tea in the grotty little kitchenette in her gilded cage, and generally acted like a gentleman. He was the only one who touched her in a platonic fashion; massaging her feet and calves, sometimes her back and shoulders, and she liked that. Erika grew to look forward to his visits, because they were the only really pleasant times in her captive life. All he ever asked for on any visit was a kiss, which she gave him, quite willingly, because she was fully aware that with the little black box in his pocket, he could do anything he wanted to her, and she knew that she’d have found it difficult to stop him. After the first night, Erika didn’t even take the control box from him when he offered it to her. She closed his hand around it and said, “I don’t need to take it from you. I know you won’t use it on me.” Much to her surprise, she realized that she trusted that married man; she realized that unlike the other men she’d met, that one wasn’t going to hurt her, even though he knew that he could, if he wanted to.
One night, close to the time she escaped, he visited her in her cell and he asked, politely if he could see her body, and look at what he was supposed to be enjoying the use of. He told her that she was welcome to refuse the request if she wanted to, but he would like to see her body. She stripped off for him without a qualm, to let him have a look. Letting men see her fantastic teenage body without its covering of clothing wasn’t exactly anything new to Erika, and she recognized the fact that she didn’t have to, if she didn’t want to. The man had asked politely, and she was certain that he wouldn’t force her to remove even minor things such as her shoes, or wristwatch, if she told him that she didn’t want to. She said to me, “He’d been nice to me, when he didn’t have to be; when he knew he could do anything he liked, so I thought I’d do it as my way of showing my appreciation for that.” He wouldn’t touch, even though he was invited to, if he wanted to, just looked at her body and complimented her on her physical perfection, even though he knew compliments probably meant nothing to her. Much to his surprise, and considerable embarrassment; he actually blushed; Erika offered to let him have what the others had acquired by beating her. To thank him for his kindness she told him that she would consent to let him have sex with her there and then, as long as he promised to be gentle with her.
He wouldn’t accept, just insisted that she get dressed, because that wasn’t why he was there, reminding her that if he wanted to have sex with her he would have done so a while ago. He also told her that he was doing so as much to show her that not all men were rapists and bullies, intent on using her body for their own enjoyment, as to test his own willpower, and his ability to ignore what he could do if he chose. That was something else that Erika found surprising. Many men had beaten her to make her do what she’d just offered freely, and the man she’d offered herself to, of her own free will, didn’t want what she’d offered to him.
It was incomprehensible to a victim of such violence, that a kind man would refuse free sex from a beautiful teenage girl. Just before he left that night, he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a bar of chocolate, something Erika was forbidden because it was fattening. What sort of bitch denies a fit, energetic young woman a bar of chocolate because of the calorie content? With the amount of exercise Erika was getting, she could have worked off the additional calories easily enough.
That was her first ever bar of chocolate, a relatively large, one hundred and fifty gram bar, and she ate it in one go, almost as soon as he left, washing it down with last cup of tea he made for her, while it was still warm.
I could understand that sort of behavior from thugs down in the Cold Zone, but those were supposed to be intelligent, educated, civilized men. Perhaps they were civilized, but they certainly didn’t act like it.
Erika got her revenge on the two animals who ‘introduced’ her to the concept of anal sex, so roughly and painfully, on the night that she acquired her freedom. She wasn’t going to kill them herself; that might have given away the fact that she was the target, to the mercenaries who she hoped were going to free her in the very near future, so she did it another way.
Two of the team of invaders were women, so Erika walked up to one of them and asked to borrow a gun. When asked why she wanted to borrow a gun she pointed out the two thugs and said that she wanted to shoot them dead, and told her why. What sort of response would you expect from a combat professional, when a seventeen year old girl asked for a gun in order to shoot two rapists? She got the gun with instructions on how it worked, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to pull the trigger on either of them; it was all part of the act.
Neither of the bullies was willing to tell their captors that the cute little thing they’d just armed was the target, because that would almost certainly have carried a death sentence from their employer. So they waited while she was instructed on how to work the gun, no doubt puzzled as what sort of game she was playing.
Anyway, she faked not having the willpower to pull the trigger, trembling with fake nerves, just as the enemy team leader returned, complete with rifle, and wanted to know what was going on, asking, “Why have you given that girl a gun?” His subordinate pointed out the two offenders. “Those two… animals raped the lady.”
“Oh, did they now?” He replied, before shooting them both with his rifle, before turning to Erika, and telling her, “They won’t hurt you ever again.”
It was all that Erika could do not to burst out laughing. That night was without doubt the best acting she ever did. At that point there were three of the hostile mercenaries in the room that Erika was in, and she had a gun in her hand. She could probably have taken all three out, without them getting off even a single return shot, donned a set of body armor, taken a set of weapons, and left. However, she wasn’t planning on taking any unnecessary risks, and figured that she could just walk away if she played her cards right.
As it would turn out, we discovered that the raiding party left no other survivors than Erika, the young technician and his wife. When that young technician was instructed by the raiders to collect his sister, and get his wife ready to leave, I am sure he must have been very surprised, but he covered it well enough that he, his wife and his ‘sister’ got out, when no one else did. Erika never explained how the three of them got out alive, while everyone else was killed, and I didn’t ask. I just assumed that she didn’t know, because if she had known, I was sure she’d have told me. The other two went their separate way at the emergency exit to the facility and that was the last Erika ever saw of the pair of them, but I know that she would have liked to have seen them again if it was ever possible. We tried, in later years, to track them down, but we were never able to do so.
When I saw the expression on Erika’s face as she explained to me that she simply didn’t care if every other human being in the building was going to be killed, just as long as she wasn’t amongst them, I realized that she was ashamed of what she’d done, but that was before she’d understood that she could do anything other than hate. It was before she knew any emotion other than hate. As she said to me many times over the years, “What is done is done, and it cannot be undone. All you can do is live with the memory of what you have done,” and that was all she could ever do. In her own way, Erika was asking me to forgive her for what she had done that night. She’d never have actually said so, though, she was too proud for that; so I didn’t respond to the unasked question in words, just in gestures; making it as clear as I could, that I did forgive her. Could I really have done any other? Could I have loved her so much, and not forgiven?
When the tears stopped, and Erika took her chin off my shoulders, I kissed her on her lips, and, lacking anything else to say, I whispered, “I had no idea.” Erika didn’t say anything in response, and I wondered whether that was good or bad. We sat for what seemed like a long time, even though it was probably no more than twenty or thirty seconds, just staring into each other’s eyes, perhaps coming to terms with the events and the revelations, before I leaned forward once again to initiate another kiss, and that seemed to break the spell.
Crying the way she had, Erika’s make-up had run and smudged, and generally looked a horrible mess, so I suggested that she go into the shower and wash her face, and then re-apply her make-up again, before we went out. She could have simply washed her face, but showering would take longer. I needed her go in the shower rather than just wash her face, because I had a plan, and I needed those extra minutes to carry out the plan! The moment Erika stepped into the bathroom, I grabbed a coat and literally ran to my car; heading for the nearest shop I thought would be open. Once there I bought the biggest bar of chocolate that I could find and dashed home. If there had been any cop cars in the vicinity, I’d have gotten a speeding ticket!
I cut it very close even so. I made it, slightly out of breath, with only a handful of seconds to spare, but when Erika stepped out of the bathroom, the first thing she saw was me, leaning on the wall, facing the door, holding a king-sized, one kilogram bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, arm outstretched to her, offering her the bar. She’d changed the outfit she’d been wearing before showering, and the new one was just so hot. Despite the fact that I had spent the previous two hours listening to Erika describe what a large number of filthy creatures had done to her, as I looked at the young beautiful woman in front of me, I only had one thing on my mind; I wanted my little angel naked and on the bed on top of me. The last place that I wanted to be, that night, was on top during our lovemaking. I wanted Erika to make love to me, missionary position, with her ample endowment cupped in the palms of my hands and rubbed between my fingertips. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and looked even more lustrous than usual. When wet, Erika’s hair took on a new sheen, and made her look even more beautiful; difficult though it was to imagine that anything could do that to the complete physical perfection that she already was!
She took the bar in her left hand, wrapping the arm around me, pulling me into her embrace. The right hand went up my skirt to my pussy, which she gently touched and caressed with a couple of fingertips, but didn’t try to penetrate, while she pushed her tongue, quite forcefully, into my mouth. There was a lot of passion and lust in that simple kiss. I’d have parted my thighs if she’d pressed me against the hallway wall, to make it easy for myself to accommodate her fingers. She’d have been welcome to nail me in that hallway any way she wanted to. If she’d turned me around and pressed me up against the wall, Erika wouldn’t have gotten one word of complaint, and I suspect that she knew she wouldn’t.
Erika broke the kiss and whispered into my ear, “Don’t take me out tonight babe, please. Take me to bed and make love to me instead.” Saying that, she took me by one hand and gently led me into the bedroom, and then, taking me completely by surprise, Erika offered me two sets of her silk stockings, telling me that I was welcome to tie her up if I wanted to.
I didn’t want to do that! I knew that they were only silk stockings, and I knew that with her mechanical musculature, Erika could tear through them like they were nothing more than a few strands of spider silk, but I just couldn’t tie her wrists or ankles, and told her that I couldn’t; not after a story like the one that she’d just told me. If she’d offered me the stockings the previous night, I could have done it then, but not when the stockings were offered.
When Erika asked me to take her to bed, I could tell that she wanted something from me. The sex, which she already knew she was going to enjoy, was secondary. In fact the sex was completely irrelevant. What she wanted was a demonstration from me; a demonstration that despite what I’d heard, earlier in the evening, nothing had changed between us. How she could have expected anything to have changed, I do not know, but I was fairly certain that she did.
I thought that she was worried that I was going to leave her, or at least that there was a chance that I would have. No way in hell was that ever going to happen. I did not believe that there was anything at all that Erika could have told me about her past that would, or could, have made a difference to the way that I felt about her, and I thought that she knew that fact as well as I did. Could I have left her, because in her past, she had been a victim of violent, bullying men? Of course not! The only reason I could ever have thought of leaving Erika would have been if she had changed from being the victim, to being the victimizer, and I was as sure, as I ever could be about anything, that Erika would never have become a victimizer!
Back in earlier times, rich men could buy attractive young women; often no more than teenage girls, at slave markets, purely as mistresses, or more commonly as sex slaves. The lucky ones were well treated by their owners, in exchange for the use of their bodies. They were well-kept, well looked after, fed on the best foods, and dressed in the finest of clothes. It was often difficult to tell the difference between a bought and paid-for concubine, and a willing wife. The unlucky ones were not so well looked after. They were badly treated and forced to have sex whenever their owners wanted it, often being brutalized, beaten, sometimes even whipped until they submitted to the rapes. At least as long as their looks lasted anyway, after which they would be assigned as kitchen drudges or common servants.
I was the former of the two; the well-treated concubine; not that I would ever have used the term where Erika could hear it; she wouldn’t have approved. By that time, Erika owned me as effectively as if she had paid money for me at one of those markets, and taken me home in chains. Effectively, I was her property, but I would never have said that to her; especially not in such a simple way. She had been company property, a while earlier, and she knew what that meant, both to the company and to her. I would never have insulted her by comparing their ownership of her to her ownership of my affections; the two of which were very, very different. I could have left, but why would I have wanted to? I loved my mistress, after all.
I was sure that Erika knew my feelings as well as her own. I couldn’t have imagined anything that she could have told me that would have been so bad I would have wanted to have left her! I thought that she knew that too. I loved her; I loved her more than life itself! I loved her enough to kill for her, and if necessary, to die for her!
Erika was meek in bed that evening, permitting me to really dominate her for the very first time, although I didn’t dare do anywhere near as much to her as I frequently permitted her to do to me, or that I had fantasized about doing to her; with her permission of course! That would be years down the line, if ever, and expected it to be never. I laid Erika down on the bed, face up, unzipped and took off her high heeled thigh-boots. I began with a gentle foot massage of the sort she liked so much. Within sixty minutes, my lovely little angel was in no doubt that nothing had changed between us. I could hardly have held that part of her life against her, could I? What sort of bitch would I have had to have been to have done that?
It has been said that anticipation is the best kind of aphrodisiac, and I could see from Erika’s face that she was anticipating what she knew I was building up to. I didn’t know if she was wearing panties or not, although I suspected that she wouldn’t be. However, I wasn’t planning on finding out the truth for a considerable while. Instead, straddling her waist and hips, allowing Erika to comfortably keep her legs closed, I made for her lovely breasts, opening the top half of her tight little mini-gown, and tenderly popping the pair of them out of the peek-a-boo bra that I really didn’t expected to find under such a tight gown. Normally tight gowns meant no bras, because they simply weren’t needed. At the age she was then, those breasts were magnificent; rock hard, full and firm. If ever any woman had a pair of breasts that could be classified as ‘ripe,’ Erika did, and I never tired of the sight, the feel, and the taste of them. I teased those rock hard breasts until the nipples were sticking up like little bullets, the way they did when their owner was turned on, and she was squirming around under me, moaning softly. I didn’t have to reach for her pussy to know just how wet it was going to be.
I’d gotten it into my head to be a tease; to do to Erika, what she used to do to me. I intended to tease her, sexually, until she looked up from her position on the bed, into my eyes and she begged to be mounted, the way I’d begged so often in the past. I suppose I should have known better though! After about thirty minutes of being licked and nibbled, and having her nipples pinched, rolled and tweaked, she grabbed my head and tilted it so that she could look into my eyes, and said, “I can tell what you want from me, princess, but you know I’m too proud for that. If it makes you feel better, then…I want to do it. I can tell just how much you would like it if I begged. I’ll humiliate myself if you really want to make me beg for it, but I would rather not.”
I wasn’t about to make Erika do something that she really didn’t want to do, especially after hearing the horror story she had just told me, wondering if perhaps some male ‘thing’ had made her do so in the past, before forcing himself onto her, so I freed my head from her grasp and said, “Shame babes, it would have made my day, but if you don’t want to do it, then don’t do it. You know I’ll never ask you to do something you don’t want to do, but I know what you do want to do!”
I’d have liked it if she had, but I would not push her for it; I would not demand it. The fact that she’d admitted that she wanted to, and would if I insisted on it, was enough for me, but I would not insist on it.
Then I reached for the big strap-on dildo that I’d been introduced to after having a plastic surgeon modify the outside of my body, intending to use it on Erika, knowing that she enjoyed taking that enormous thing right up to the hilt inside her, feeling it stretch her pussy wide open, and loving the feeling every bit as much as I do.
When Erika saw what I was positioning on myself, she objected to it, knowing that I was going to get less pleasure than she was, even with the clit-pad on the blunt end. I just smiled, and placed a finger to her lips.
When Erika was silent, I said, “I’m going to steal a line from a lover of mine a couple of years ago. ‘This is your moment of pleasure.’ Lie still and allow me to give you that moment, my little angel, please, you’ve earned it a hundred times over by now, for the way you make me feel.
I know you very well by now, and today was the first time I’ve ever seen you cry. You’ve hidden pain from me before, because of your pride. You’ve never wanted to show feelings to anyone because you have this macho idea that it makes you look weak. I’d have expected that if you’d been an Erik, but you’re not. It does not make you look weak. It is accepted in the modern world that a woman can respond to certain situations by crying, and telling the woman you love about the first time you were raped by two big bullies, when you were still a sweet little sixteen year old virgin, would most certainly count.
Your tears don’t embarrass me, you know. If anything it reminds me of the fact that the Ice Maiden is just a creation of yours for battle.”
There was a whole lot more that I could have said, but that simply wasn’t the time for it. Erika looked up into my eyes, smiled and said, “Ok then babes, if you want to give me ‘my moment of pleasure’, you know I’ll accept.” Then she parted her legs for me, saying, “You’ve got me where we both know I want to be, babes. Fuck me, studess; I’ll do what you want me to do tonight, but be gentle with me, please.”
One sexual taste that the pair of us shared, by then, was a liking for a little rough in the sack. We both liked our sex hard and vigorous, but if what Erika wanted was soft and gentle, then soft and gentle it would be, that night. I could only agree to her terms, kneeling down on the floor by the side of the bed that Erika was on, and whispering, “Promise!” into her left ear; putting a hand up the lower part of the gown she was wearing, and gently rubbing a fingertip across her clitoris, covered though it was by her silk panties; feeling the unmistakable warmth and wetness of her arousal soaking through the material. Erika knew what she wanted; she wanted a long, slow session, and that was exactly what she was going to get! I can still remember the way I lifted the lower part of her gown, and just looked at the silk panties soaked in Erika’s pussy cream for a few seconds, before gently easing them down her legs and throwing them onto the floor. Then, smiling, I just as gently eased my tongue between those lovely little lips, slicked as they were with her lovely sweet-tasting juices.
As my tongue parted the little lips at the top and bottom of that sweet honeypot, I placed my thumbs onto each of Erika’s nipples and tried to rub her clit with my nose, the way I had the very first time that sweet little pussy was placed above my face. I heard the little gasps and whimpers, and the soft voice saying, “Please princess?” That was the closest to what I wanted, that I figured I would expect to ever get, so I did what I knew my angel liked and wanted; I settled down between those lovely smooth thighs, and very gently, inch by inch, eased the big strap-on where it was designed to go. As the large fake prick gradually occupied my little angel’s pussy, and my pussy got closer to hers, I began to concentrate my efforts onto her nipples and then I planted a soft kiss onto Erika’s mouth, gently pushing my tongue beyond that pair of lips, too; enabling her to taste the juices from her own sweet pussy.
That was just the beginning.
Despite the way the evening had started out, the sex was fantastic, and I was very surprised when Erika told me that I was welcome to be more domineering in future. She would be submissive to me, doing what I told her she had to do, when I wanted her to be submissive to me, if I would give her pleasure like that as a reward. A reward!! I didn’t see it as me rewarding Erika for anything. I was simply giving her the sexual pleasure that was her right as my lover to expect from me. She’d told me before, that I was a good lover, and I always made sure to please Erika whenever I got her panties off for the purpose of lovemaking. She had begun to see why I enjoyed being so treated in bed, and wanted to experience it more often.
For that sort of submissive response in bed, you could have been forgiven for thinking that I was her rich, older lover, and I had bought her an apartment, a flash sports car and a diamond ring, not simply given her a bar of Dairy Milk, and allowed her to cry on my shoulder. Yes, Erika cried on my shoulder, literally; something I could hardly have imagined even a week earlier. The Ice Maiden simply did not cry. Crying was for weak women, or so Erika liked to think, or perhaps liked to convince others of. She wasn’t weak; she’d never have survived her incarceration and abuse if she had been. She had plenty of strength, both mental and physical, yet there she was, crying like little Miss Average with a horror story of abuse to tell the woman who loved her.
It wasn’t about what I had bought though, but about the fact that I had bought it, and the fact that it was a spontaneous buy, simply because I thought it might make her feel better. I hadn’t planned it weeks in advance, with an ulterior motive in mind; perhaps to try to get what I hadn’t previously been allowed to have; I had simply done it on the spur of the moment. It was also about the fact that despite what I had just learned about her, I wanted to stay with her, and continue the life we had together.
To be fair, I struggled to keep my own eyes dry at the time, but for a very different reason. Erika wanted to hold back her tears for pride and for ego, whereas I had a very different agenda. I wanted to keep my eyes dry so that I could try to convince Erika that her memory was playing tricks on her; it was telling her that the experiences she remembered were worse than they really were. She had become accustomed to a very different lifestyle than the one she knew back then, and I wanted to convince her that, to a degree, it was warping her memories of the bad things that happened to her. I think that it worked, to a degree, as well.
I got to pretend to be an abuse/rape counselor the next night, and the night after that too. Three nights I listened to the bad stories, dried Erika’s eyes, and allowed her to shed tears on my shoulders, before letting her lead me to the bedroom and making love to her. Each night, Erika insisted on me being the one on top, during the lovemaking, and I couldn’t refuse her what she wanted. I’d have been a hell of a lot happier if it had been the other way around, but I knew it was what she wanted of me, as my way of showing my feelings, and Erika got what she wanted, as she always did. Perhaps it was a way of showing our feelings for, and our trust in, each other. I was showing her that despite what she told me had happened to her, I loved her no less. She was showing that despite what had happened, she trusted me as much, if not more, than she did before. Her feelings for me were every bit as strong as they had been before, because I hadn’t reacted with anything other than sympathy and kindness, when I had learned about her early years.
Back to the bedroom again.
I watched as Erika rolled off me and lay down on the bed, on her front, looking back at me with a smile on her face. I reached out a hand to just gently touch the skin on her back, and said, “Are you sure you want to do this, babes? You hate anal.”
“You don’t! When I do it to you, you enjoy it. When the gorgeous blonde gigolette did it to her customers, they enjoyed it, so why should I not enjoy it? Given what had happened to me, yes I hated it, but times have changed, and so have I.
You’ve shown me so much in just a few years, princess. You gave me orgasms when no one else could be bothered to do so. You showed me that I could take pleasure from being made love to; from taking a cock deep in my pussy, even if it was made of latex rubber. I’d only had the real things forced into me before, after their owners hit me or paid me, and I didn’t enjoy that. If you believe that being done up the ass is enjoyable, and want your ass filled, why should I not enjoy it the way you do? Why should I not take pleasure from what I’ve given you so much pleasure from?
I’ve even managed to take pleasure from having a real cock inside me, and you saw that. At first, I was as surprised by that as you were, but I realized that it was due to the attitude of the owner; he wanted to please me the way no man had ever wanted to before!
When you pushed the spoon handle up my ass a couple of years ago, I didn’t hate it then, did I? I was quite enjoying that; I just didn’t find the courage to ask you to do the same again until now.”
“You, not having enough courage?” I laughed. “You’ve got bigger balls than most men I’ve ever slept with.”
That got me a smile, a playful slap across the face, and this question, “Do you know what the definition of being brave really is Princess?”
“Not really, my little angel. What is the definition of being brave?”
“Being brave is the sure and certain knowledge that you are the only one who knows that you’re so scared that you’re only a couple of heartbeats away from pissing in your lovely, soft, silk knickers; yet you still do whatever it is that is scaring you so much, because you’re too proud to admit, in front of your friends, that you’re afraid. That is courage. Either that, or I’m just a stupid bitch, unable to tell the difference between being brave and being dumb!”
I just had to laugh at that one. Erika was neither a coward nor a fool.
It had been a while since I’d given Erika’s bottom any attention, and that was after our only threesome, so I was going to have to make quite an effort to make sure that she was ready for what was about to happen. Having my hands exploring her bottom had to feel as natural to Erika as putting a skirt on when she got out of bed on a morning. (She wore a skirt nine days out of ten, at the very least, and with her legs, I couldn’t say that I blamed her. I rather liked the sight of Erika in mini-skirts and tight, tall, kinky, ‘fuck me,’ boots, and I also liked doing what the boots invited me to do. I liked taking my beautiful little angel to bed wearing just the boots, and then hearing the sound of the heels ripping the bed sheet she was lying on, into shreds, as she writhed and thrashed about underneath me, moaning, whimpering and squealing. I long since lost count of the amount of ready-fitted sheets we destroyed like that!)
The thoughts going through her head, at the time she felt my fingers on that lovely, perfect, peachy little bottom, absolutely had to be of the pleasure I was going to give her, rather than of the bad experiences from her past; anticipation of good things, rather than memories of bad things that happened to her, when other sets of hands; male hands I might add; ran around her beautiful plump buttocks, and rubbed artificial lubricant into the crevasse between them, and then probed even deeper into the crevasse, past the surface of her body, via an orifice that was never designed to have anything inserted into it. For a moment there, I shuddered with the memory of what Erika had said about her first time, and silently, I swore an oath to both of us; an oath that it would be unimaginably different this time. Our first time would not be like that. I would pleasure my little angel and I wouldn’t hurt her in the slightest.
I generally gave Erika anything she reasonably wanted; in or out of the bedroom, and what she had just asked for would be no exception, but it would be different. While Erika would get what she wanted, it would not be the way she wanted; well, not the first time anyway. (The second time would be the way she wanted, if there was a second time.) It would begin the way I began a couple of years earlier; with toys, and only with toys. Her first climax would precede the sort of sex that she’d asked for. I didn’t want her having flashbacks in bed that night as she felt the contours of my body matching the contours of her own, pushing a large piece of latex rubber deep into her body, through an orifice never intended to have anything inserted into it.
I didn’t want to die at Erika’s hands if something went wrong, yet it was a risk I was willing to take. That was the second time I had taken that risk, with one difference. The second time, I knew the risk I was taking, but it would not stop me from taking that risk. As I said, half jokingly, to Erika, later on that night, if I was going to die, then I would die happy, and with a full pussy. Erika knew what risk she was asking me to take, and that was a demonstration I could give no other way. I was willing to demonstrate that I trusted her with my life; that I was confident in the fact that she had changed.
I settled down, off to one side of Erika’s thighs, caressing, stroking and cupping those lovely firm young buttocks in my hands, while making sure that Erika could hear my voice quietly. As my fingers explored the crevice in between her buttocks, she lifted her hips up off the bed, and I quickly pushed all six of our pillows underneath her belly to support her shapely body. As I lowered my head and began to run my tongue over her buttocks, she responded by reaching around with her hands and parting them to make it easier for me.
That was what told me that it was going to work. That was what told me that there were going to be no problems; that there were going to be no complaints from my partner. She was as ready for what she had asked me for, as she thought she was; as ready as I figured she could be, considering her memories.
She had the most delectable little bumhole imaginable, and I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss it. Nor could I resist the urge to rim that lovely little anus, while slipping a couple of fingers into her pussy at the same time.
When I did that, she let out a little, low groan, of pure pleasure, and that just encouraged me to go a little further. I put my mouth to that tight ring and started to probe it with my tongue. After a couple of minutes, I reached into the drawer in the bedside cabinet, for my tube of KY and for the only item in my little collection of toys that I used on my own bumhole on rare occasions back in Marseilles.
I applied the lubricant to her ring, smiling in pleasure at the low moan that the sensation elicited. She cried out as my fingertip slipped into her rear entrance, and she gave little gasps as I moved that finger around, probing and stretching her ringpiece, quickly adding a second finger, and then a third. Once the third finger was sliding in and out without a problem, it was time to go a step further. I lifted my one and only anal dildo from where I had put it on the pillow next to my little angel’s head, and very gently, I eased the tip of it into her bumhole.
Erika moaned as I moved the dildo in and out of her rectum, clearly enjoying what I was doing. I started to move it faster, in and out, and she thrust her hips up in time to my thrusts. After a while I stopped using the anal dildo, pulled it out of Erika’s bum, and reached back into the bedside drawer for a conventional, vaginal, vibrator. I squeezed lube onto that, rubbed it in, and switched it on, before seeing if it would fit up my little angel’s bum. I didn’t force it in; I didn’t dare try to do that. It had to go in without too much pressure; without reminding Erika of the last time some big bully of a bloke forced the real thing into her back passage, after beating her, to get her to kneel on her own bed, stick her bottom up in the air, and allow him to do what he wanted.
As I was gently trying to insert the large vibrator into Erika’s tight little bumhole, I asked her to, “Try and relax your ass babes; this is quite large, but I’ll be gentle, I promise I will.”
“I’ll try,” she whispered back, and slowly the vibrator disappeared into her bum. Erika groaned loudly as I started to push the vibrator up her adorable little bum. I began pushing it in harder, and she started gasping and panting, fingering her pussy as I did so. Erika moved in time with my thrusts, pushing backwards and upwards with her pelvis, as I pushed down with the big vibrator, moaning, as the obscenely large piece of vibrating plastic disappeared within her slender little body, and the sight was just so beautiful.
I could tell that Erika was just about ready to climax as I reached underneath her, pushing her hand away from her pussy, to tickle her clit. The resulting climax was just wonderful to behold. I’d heard her squeal in orgasm before, but that time, she simply screamed, as the climax overtook her, and seemed to go on for an inordinate amount of time.
Gasping for breath, her breasts still heaving, she rolled over to look up at me, face flushed red with her exertions, and looked up into my eyes. She said just three words to me, “Fucking wonderful babe,” and those simple words made my entire day. I’ll admit that I’d been worried about her response to me sticking a dildo up her bum, but I needn’t have. That climax said it all.
Erika took me by surprise, yet again that night, by pointing at the double-ender we normally used and saying, “Use that on me next time, princess, that way you’ll get some pleasure as well.”
“When’s ‘next time’,” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too long; the next night perhaps, or at least that same week.
“Right about now, babes,” was the answer, before Erika rolled back over and positioned herself on all fours, pointing that delectable little bottom right at me; both of her holes still glistening with different types of lubricant. What could a girl do at a moment like that, except what her partner asked?
I knelt there for a few seconds, just looking at her bottom, before she began to get impatient. She took me by surprise by turning very serious and looking right into my eyes. “Sparks”, she said, in her most stern voice, “when I tell you to vigorously nail me up the bum like a proper little slut, I don’t mean kneel there and drool like a baby at the prospect. You and I both know that you’ve wanted to bugger me witless since the first time you pushed a large piece of latex rubber up my pussy, and now is your chance. I mean grab the dildo and do what I demand; and I am demanding to be buggered witless.
I’ve done it to you so many times, and I’ll admit that I enjoy buggering you, so tonight, I’ll take it the same way if you’d like me to. You’ve earned it so many times over by now, and it’s overdue that I repay the pleasure. How could I love you so much, and not give you the odd little thing that I know would make you so happy? You will be gentle with me though, won’t you?” Despite the words, it wasn’t a question!
“I’ll be as gentle as you like, baby, I swear I will be. You already know that I will, or you wouldn’t have offered me this gorgeous little peach.”
“In that case my big princess, now’s your one chance to convert me to your way of thinking; on the all-important subject of bum sex, anyway. I feel brave enough to let you shove your rubber cock up mine, tonight; the way you’ve wanted to do for a while; but if you don’t do it now, you may not get another chance. If I don’t get my pleasure now, I may not find the nerve to ask again, and you’ll have blown your chance.” She changed her position ever so slightly, pointed at her bum with one finger and said, “Bum… fuck… right now…you beautiful, dirty blonde cow!”
Generally she kept that pet-name for more serious subjects. I’d stopped using my old handle, and Erika had stopped using the diminutive of it, except when being quite serious about something. I grabbed our double-ended dildo and said, “Yes Mistress Erika, whatever you demand!”
I did what she demanded of me, and I was still a little nervous as I knelt behind her and placed the tip of the double-ender at her rectum before very slowly, and very gently, pushing it in, all the way to where my pubes would have been, as Erika encouraged me. “That’s it babes, shove it in nice and deep. Bugger your randy little bitch rigid, the way you’ve been dreaming about since the first day you pulled my knickers off me and got an eye-full of my plump, succulent bum. I can take it all the way, just like you can; I’ve taken it before, all the way in.
I know you’ve wanted to, all this time, right from the day you tried to slip your finger up there. You took the hint then, and didn’t bother again. No coercion, persuading, or anything. You’re not like those bastards that forced me into it, I know that. You love me; you don’t want to hurt me, and you won’t. If it hurts I’ll ask you to stop, and I know that you’ll stop as soon as I ask; even in mid-thrust, so you go ahead and bash my beaver while you give me my first right good buggering.”
The feeling of pushing the double-ender up my little angel’s bum was wonderful; her bum was even tighter than her pussy, and when I had the toy as deep as it would go, and was pressing the front of my thighs against the back of her own, I held still, and reached forward to gently touch Erika’s face. Then I asked her if she felt alright with what was happening. “It’s not like I remember it, Princess, which means you must be doing something right! Take it easy on my virgin bum, but start working the rubber cock in and out, and make me cum.
Following the very clear instruction I had received, I began working the dildo back and forth slowly, in short thrusts, and gradually extending the length of the thrusts, while keeping them soft and gentle. I knew, right from the start, that Erika was enjoying anal sex for the very first time in her life, and I was quite proud of myself, for giving the woman I loved, the pleasure she wanted, without dredging up old, bad, and sometimes downright painful memories. I was gentle with her, as I should be; only becoming vigorous when asked to be, or more accurately when it was demanded of me that I be more vigorous, and that I thrust a little harder.
A while earlier, we had decided to classify anything sexual that Erika had been forced to do, as things she hadn’t actually done, unless they’d been done with me, later on, for her enjoyment, rather than for the enjoyment of some bully. So therefore, if you’ll pardon my not exactly elegant choice of words, my little angel was earning her ‘brown wings,’ and losing her anal cherry that night.
It was just another way for me to make love to her, and seeing as I hadn’t made love to her that way, and no one else had ever made love to her, clearly she was still an anal virgin; despite the fact that we both knew she was nothing of the sort; she’d been forced into it so many times in her past, after all! I know it sounds silly but it was what we decided was the best way to approach the situations that arose, when we wanted to try something that Erika had bad memories of, and there were times when it wasn’t easy for either of us, even though we both wanted to do whatever it was we were going to do.
Erika knew that I loved her though, and I would do my utmost to change her attitudes to anything that some bully or other had forced her to do because it was what he wanted to do to her. I’d have given her anything she asked for, for the simple experience I’d just had, and for the clear love and trust she’d just shown me, bad memories notwithstanding.
I was informed that one thing I couldn’t do to her, at least not yet, was pull her hair while I had the double-ended dildo buried clit-deep up her bum; she’d had that done to her the very first, very painful, time, and it would take her a while to overcome that bad memory. She told me that I’d have to settle for a good grip on another part of her body; her hips, thighs, shoulders or waist; preferably her nice big boobs, and I could firmly grip any of those if I liked; even to the point where I would leave bruises on her skin from the pressure of my fingers, but only if they were on parts of her body that she could hide with clothes.
At some point, after lots of good memories of intense climaxes with that big piece of latex rubber planted firmly between the halves of that plump little peach, she would probably allow me to wrap her hair round my hands, but that would have to wait. I promised never to grab her hair during anal sex, especially if she would react badly. I would be quite content with grabbing Erika’s hips or her magnificent breasts as I made love to her, but I wouldn’t mark her skin when I did it.

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