“You see,” she explained to Tyler casually one afternoon when he was pleading his case to be allowed to worship her pussy, “My ass is something that is more your speed. You have to work up to my pussy. No dumb jock gets to eat me out just because he’s hard. You can eat my ass, and when I am good and ready, then you will be worshipping my pussy. And not a moment sooner. So chow down!”
Part One
His name was Tyler Hall, and he was the most popular man on campus.
It was a small campus, granted, but he was seen as the most masculine, handsome catch by far; the sorority girls all wanted him, the undergrads wanted him. Hell, even some of the professors wanted him. But the star athlete was decidedly out of reach, to most women.
Until he met Bree Chandler. Then his life was altered forever. Tyler Hall, completely shaved from the waist down, wearing a fitting tight pink thong Tyler Hall – sometimes locked in an unforgiving metal chastity device. Tyler hall – formerly rumored to be the campus Don Juan, with the ability to bring any lady to orgasm again and again with the use of his tongue – now relegated to mere ass kisser. Literally.
Bree had chosen Tyler when she was a mere freshman at Arizona State University, and at that time, poor Tyler had never found a challenge he couldn’t overcome. Already well built at well over 225 pounds, all muscle, an all-star in three sports, Tyler found success came to him pretty easily.
Bree chose him because like Tyler, things came easily to her. And she wanted to take a man and turn him into more than that. Specifically for her.
**
On their third date, Bree had Tyler on all fours begging to sniff her panties.
“Come on,” she teased coyly, spreading her legs a little so her red panties caught his eye under the short skirt. “You know it’s worth it. For a little humiliation, just to get a sniff. You know you want it.”
It was logic that was difficult for Tyler to argue. It had been some time that a woman held out on him so long, and he was intoxicated by her beauty, and by the few beers, she’d fed him while she just sipped at wine.
Uncomfortable and embarrassed, he squirmed and shrugged it off and pretended to be more interested in sports on the television in her small dorm room. Soon her roommates would be back from the library, and he knew she’d probably buckle before he did.
And, besides, he found begging for anything to be degrading.
But Bree just remained there, across the way, smiling, her legs opening again a little to flash him, her fingers pressed on her inner thigh. There was a simple giggle. “I see you’re hard. I can see it in your shorts. How funny.”
Tyler wanted to just shut off the TV and go over and pin her down and reach between her legs and get the panties off her himself, but the gentleman in him wouldn’t let it go that far. Instead, he played it cool, and just said, “That’s ok. I will just imagine it.”
Then Bree started to tease herself. With her fingers, under the panties. He was trying not to look, trying to act disinterested. But he was so obviously like a hungry puppy with a dog biscuit balancing on his nose, trying not to look at it. In fact, his body was shaking – she could tell, but he was unaware. Or maybe in denial.
Bree had him, and she knew it.
She just smiled and enjoyed the feel of her pussy, and then started to lick and taste until he cracked under the pressure. And when he crawled to her, finally, and begged to sniff, she made him use the words. The most embarrassing words she could come up with.
“Let me sniff your panties because I am not worthy of anything else,” “Let me sniff your panties but just the ass part because pussy is too good for me,” “Let me sniff your panties because my dick is so pathetic I know it will never be close to your pussy.”
Tyler was soon barking them all out because it seemed to excite her. No, it clearly excited her – she was bucking her hips and moaning and playing with her clit, right through the panties.
Then finally, as if she was climaxing, her body twisted and she groaned heavily and the panties came off. They were gripped in her fist in no time, then with no warning, she pressed them hard against his face and whispered, “Go ahead, you little panty sniffing cunt! I bet you have stolen panties before just to take a whiff. No one knows this but me….For now!”
As he inhaled, intoxicated, Tyler was not sure which was more unsettling. The truly ruthless manner that Bree pressed and forced the silky material over his face, or the undeniable truth behind what she said.
**
It was just a matter of time before Bree had Tyler eating out of the palm of her hand. Or off her feet, for that matter.
At times like that – when Tyler found himself humiliated because he was licking food off of her toes while she made fun of him and simultaneously talked to her girlfriends on her pink cell phone – it was always a mystery that left him wondering, “How did I get here?”
Bree was absolutely intoxicating when she was aroused. Arousal filled her with a sort of mischievous, unpredictable cruelty that was spontaneous and diabolical. Somehow, Tyler found himself fearing this side of her but being strangely attracted to it at the same time.
When she wiggled her toes, for example, just to shove food around the corner of his mouth, and it made her laugh.
“Please” he whispered, but she shoved several toes into his mouth and then squealed in delight. “Just don’t tell your friends.”
His words came out in a muffled mess, but Bree nodded and then seemed off in her own world, talking about the latest films and music with her friend Cindy, and then occasionally shoving her foot hard into his aching mouth.
The whole time, whenever he peered up, he saw that she was absentmindedly sliding her fingers in little circles around the crotch of her panties, her legs open just enough for him to catch a glimpse.
She was soaking wet.
**
What Bree loved most about Tyler was that he was brilliant, yet predictably stupid like most men. He was charming and bright, but the moment his cock was hard, he was likely to make promises he could not keep or compromise anything – his ego, his integrity, even (in good time) his reputation.
His fall was delicious.
Humping his face one night, his wrists tied “playfully” to the bed, Bree pondered out loud that she wanted a puppy.
It was not uncommon for Bree to ramble when she sat on his face, but this time, she went on for quite awhile about the puppy.
Tyler was concentrating hard on his task. Having his wrists tied to the bed didn’t have much of an impact, but she never let him eat her out directly, he was forced to do it through her panties only, and use his tongue as best as he could. For Tyler this was especially frustrating.
But what was more emasculating is that she’d often – at the brink of orgasm, pull down her panties in the back, turn around on his face, and then press her ass cheeks down hard and say, “Clean up crew!” – which meant that he had to lick her ass.
“You see,” she explained to Tyler casually one afternoon when he was pleading his case to be allowed to worship her pussy, “My ass is something that is more your speed. You have to work up to my pussy. No dumb jock gets to eat me out just because he’s hard. You can eat my ass, and when I am good and ready, then you will be worshipping my pussy. And not a moment sooner. So chow down!”
So Tyler licked and worshipped with enthusiasm, usually while tied to her bed. He worshipped her ass lovingly and became so accustomed to the taste and feel of her crack that he actually found himself not longing for her pussy like he used to. It was as if he knew his place.
“I want to get a puppy,” she was saying, casually pressing down harder to cut off his breathing. “But I can’t have a puppy in the dorm room. And it’s a shame because I already got the puppy supplies…”
He knew where this was going.
“I think I will make YOU my puppy. My asslicking obedient puppy!”
**
The puppy thing he had a hard time swallowing..
But what really pushed him over the edge was when he learned, as she modeled new black lingerie before him and before the mirror, that she was allowing other men to eat her out – her pussy, that is – and he was still just licking her ass. Sometimes. When she was “bored,” she confessed.
She was admiring her ass in the mirror – and he admired it, too – when she continued quite bluntly with him. “Tyler I don’t see you as like – fucking material. I see you more like – well, like my dog. Obedient, not too bright. Loyal, with a nice body for me to watch and groom. A hyperactive tongue – but not good for much more than lapping at my asshole.”
He was crushed. But he could not take his eyes off her. She was absolutely stunning, standing there in thigh high stockings, garters and bra. Her legs were toned from dancing, her breasts were spilling out of the bra. Her makeup was on, she had her hair straightened and it was halfway down her back. Golden blonde. Simply gorgeous. Her ass was perfection. He gazed.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Tyler couldn’t stop staring. He realized, at that moment, that it didn’t matter if another man was eating her out (hell, maybe she just made it up to make him jealous), he just wanted the privilege of staring at her while she got dressed, which was starting to be pretty often; she was some sort of exhibitionist, he realized.
“Do I look hot?” she smiled, turning and showing him her ass. She placed her palms flat on her toned ass cheeks and shook them a little.
“You look incredibly hot and so sexy,” was his response. As soon as he said it, he realized he sounded stupid and pathetic, like an asskisser (Which, he realized, was true).
“Good,” she beamed. “Because I have a hot date tonight.”
He was hoping – against hope – that she was referring to him. But he knew it was not the case. And only a moment later she was tossing a bag to him, the bag that included a dog collar, dog bowl and dog biscuits, and one soiled pair of her panties.
“Be a good dog and don’t chew up my thong,” she warned with a finger. “And if you are good, I may let you lick a little more tonight.”
