Admissions

I closed my eyes. I knew what I wanted to say, but was unsure I could get the words out. The silence on the other end of the phone began to become chilling. Finally, incredibly patronizing, "You wanted to make another tape of me dominating the hell out of you, didn't you Steven!"

"Well, I..." my face grew red, my pride pretty much shot, dying to give in to relinquish any sense of self I had left, longing to get what I needed - the chance for full release, to admit all.

"Steven, we've become pretty good friends..."

"I know, that is what makes it more awkward."

"Why? You don't want your friend to fuck you up the ass."

"No, I do. It's just that I...it seems odd, almost a betrayal to you."

"What if I told you, I still wanted to fuck you and use you for the slut I know you would be for me."

"I..." I could not breath, my cock was pushing hard against me denim jeans, straining upward.

"Tell me!" Michelle whispered, "You know you want to. You cannot help yourself, can you?" She paused; as usual, she was right on in continuing, "That is what galls you isn't it? You feel the need to be taken. It makes you feel weak or wrong, but in the end you cannot escape the feelings that I helped grow in you, the desires I let build. You need me to want to use you, don't you."

I was not afraid, even then. I knew she was a good person, but part of me wanted her to be bad, not so much to possess me...well maybe...but more to...to absolve me? I wanted not to care what she thought of me, not to care about what I thought. The reality was that I had thought about giving myself over to someone before her. Even the thought of being used or fucked, even humiliated, by another, had been arousing before Michelle, but discussions with her had made those sentiments conscious, had honed them to the point of need.

I was losing control. I knew that I wanted Michelle to follow one of our scripts, to make me admit all of the intimate desires that I had accumulated.