***This is a fictional erotic story written by me, about me and from my point of view. You should not be reading this if you’re not of legal age, 18 in America, 21 in some other countries. I never explain in my CNC stories how consent was garnered. I have a post named “How I approach stories about CNC/R**p*ay” pinned on my page explaining why. CNC relationships come in all forms, including scenes that may seem/feel too real. I can assure you that since the stories are always starring me as the prey, I consent. This is my fantasy, not yours. You are not being forced to read this, so if you choose to then be nice and enjoy. ☺️***
It had been near impossible for me to get any sleep since the night he so kindly paid me a visit. It had already been a week but I still lay awake and afraid. Every time a gust of wind hits the window, I jump up in fear that he’s back. I will be on parole for 3 years. I am beginning to worry I will spend the entirety of it as a sex slave to Logan. I have a meeting at the actual office for the first time this afternoon. If it is anything like his initial home visit, people being around will prevent him from trying anything but I’m realizing to expect the unexpected with him.
He would occasionally text to torment me, sending me pictures he had taken while using me or asking me if I’m enjoying myself at whatever location I’m at when he decides to play his mind games. Since he is my parole officer, I am required to respond and my cell phone must always be charged so I am never unavailable. He is very controlling, giving me time frames to respond or consequences may ensue. This morning, he texted me and TOLD me what I would be wearing to todays meeting. He had a lot of audacity but unfortunately for me he had all the control as well. Something people forget to really make clear to you when you’re leaving prison is that nothing that a felon says is trusted. I knew that to be the case in prison but didn’t realize how much it would carry out into the real world.
Prison guards could and did get away with most transgressions. Man-handling, random searches, and solitary confinement were all sure fire ways that a prison guard could cop a feel or “accidentally” cross the line with an inmate. I remember only one inmate brave enough to report a prison guard. She became a target of bullying to the guards and was often left unsupervised. This may sound alike a reward but bad things happen to prisoners when guards aren’t around & they knew this. She ended up just being the example to the rest of us for what not to do.
The outfit that he chose for me to wear was a red mid-leg skirt with no panties underneath. For my shirt, he chose a black and white horizontally striped bodysuit tank top. He already knew I wouldn’t be wearing a bra, as I never did so no mention of this. He had gone through my closet at the home visit the previous week and now I knew why. Then just to add insult to injury, he texted “oh and I think you have a hair curler, no? Curl your hair as well.” He knew damn well I had a curling iron, considering where he put it the night he broke in. I got ready, slipping into the clothing requested and curling my hair.
I got in my car and drove to the office, extremely nervous. I got out of the car, beginning to walk towards the building when my phone went off. Dinggg. I looked down to read the notification, seeing it was from Logan. “You’re here just on time. Walk inside and to the left is a hallway with elevators. Take that to the second floor. Exit the elevator and make another left to go down the long hallway. My room is 201-A.” I rolled my eyes, annoyed that I never seemed to be alone. He was always watching, waiting. You would think he helped The Police write their 1983 hit. This being his job, he was able to feed his temptations without missing work. Genius really.
I exited the elevator, walking down the hallway and entering his office. The big window behind the desk showed the parking lot but I knew having just come from there that no one could see in. The reflective surface of the windows masked as mirrors. “Shut the door.” Upon doing so, I sat down in the chair across from him. His desk acting as a barrier. He stood up and walked around the desk, my heart pounding unbelievably hard. I felt my fight or flight kicking in, knowing that neither were an option here. He walked past me and to the blinds on the window conjoining the door. I remained facing the window, trying to freeze in place. I heard the plastic valance twisting the blinds shut and then foot steps making there way back towards me.
I could feel him standing behind me, his hands snaking around the front of my body and lightly holding my neck. He begin to slowly close his grip, the blood in my veins being trapped in place. I begin to feel the effects quickly, my vision greying as I begin to lose consciousness. I woke up, likely just as quickly. I was dizzy, trying to regulate back to normal while he reached under my skirt and unbuttoned my body suit revealing my pussy. He pushed my legs apart, my skirt slipping up my thighs as he did and placed his hands around my neck again. Beginning to pass out again, I tried to struggle out of his grip. He pulled me back in place, watching me pass out again.
I woke up to him pushing the top part of body back into the chair. My head fell backwards, now unable to hold it up. He dragged my chair around, standing over me with a cynical smile on his face. He lifted my head with one hand, holding it up until I was able to on my own. He stood there, assessing and analyzing my dazed expressions. “Look up at me, bitch.” I did, my eyes feeling heavier than expected. “Ask me to slap you.” I just looked at him, confused “what?” I responded. “I said, ask me to slap you” he said back. “I don’t want you to slap me though” I bravely said. Maybe he was just a bully. Maybe if I stood up to him, he would back off realizing I wasn’t just easy prey.
He crouched down, now face to face with me “what makes you think that what you want is relevant in any way?” My eyes begin to fill with tears. Not sad tears. Not even fear tears. Anger tears. I was helpless and angry. I didn’t respond, only glaring back at him and trying to not cry. “I like when you cry, now either answer the question or do as I say.” I pondered, trying to decided my options. I took a deep breath, swallowing and choking back tears. I finally mustered up the confidence to say “What I want is relevant because you’re supposed to be helping me. You’re not supposed to act like this. I may be an ex-con but I still have rights.” He laughed, maniacally. His roaring laughter likely seeping into the hallways of the building. Once he seemed to gain his composure, he said “no, you don’t have rights. You have nothing but me. I decide if and when your curfew changes. I approve if you’re released from parole. I approve your drug and alcohol testing. I am the key to everything you hold dear to you right now. So I suggest that you do as your told and save us both the time.”
I knew he was right but I wasn’t any less embarrassed or angry about the thought of having to ask to be slapped out loud. He stood back up, “so what will it be, go back to prison from a failed drug test or be a good slut and beg me to hurt you.” I looked down, feeling defeated and angry. “Slap me” I whispered. He lifted my chin with his hand making me look at him. “Louder” he firmly stated. “Slap me” I said in a monotone but audible voice. He swung back, returning an open palm slap to the left side of my face. I felt my body shift to the right as I tried to absorb it. Once I was able, I returned to my up right position and looked up at him.
“Mmm” he said, clearly finding enjoyment in my pain. “Spread your legs open and leave them there. Put your hands on the chair arm rests. I don’t want you moving from that position. Do you understand me?” I didn’t respond, just took the requested position and returned my glare to him. “Good girl. Now keep asking me until I tell you to stop” I did, the slap coming down quicker this time. The sting sending waves through my body. “Slap me” I repeated, a third slap landing on my cheek. Requesting to be slapped again, he changed sides, now slapping my right side. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore, they streamed down my face.
I reached up, wiping the tears from my face. He grabbed my hand and put it back on the chair and slapped me again “I didn’t tell you that you could move.” I begin to full on cry now, my nose scrunched and eyes overflowing with tears. “Let’s go, ask me again.” I looked at him, very clearly not wanting to have to continue. “Please Logan stop, my face hurts so bad.” He just kept his gaze, not wavering or responding. “LOGAN, come on please” I whimpered. His hand wandered down, finding my spread pussy and assessing my body’s response to the terror. As expected, my body disagreed with the rest of me. I was wet, my pussy swollen and ready. He fingered me, “this doesn’t feel like a pussy that wants what you’re saying you want.” He removed his fingers and brought them up to my face, pressing them into my lips. I opened my mouth, letting his fingers in and sucked off my own juices hoping that by being compliant he wouldn’t return to slapping me.
Instead, he pulled his fingers out of my mouth and wiped it all over my face. He held my hair by the base of my neck, slapping repeatedly. It had to be at least 10 more slaps. They weren’t as hard as the first five but that didn’t prevent the repeated assault from inflicting pain anyway. He stopped, releasing my head and walked over to his chair. Before sitting, he removed his clothing.
The worst part about this entire experience was that he wasn’t unattractive. He may have been evil and mean but he was handsome. If I had met him in different circumstances, I may have considered dating him even. He’s knows he is attractive and intelligent, so no one around him suspects him or questions him. His broad chest flowed into strong muscular arms. His long legs strong and stable. His face met all of societies beauty standards, falling into the “white man” commonalities. His beard well trimmed and nice eyes. His teeth healthy and smile charming.
His cock now out and standing at attention didn’t disappoint either. Up to this point, I had only been fucked by it in the dark. Now in a well-lit office, nothing was left to the imagination. He sat, rubbing his cock up and down “crawl to me” he growled. I got off the chair, getting on my hands and knees and crawling to him. Kneeling at his feet, he pulled my head towards his cock indicating for me to put it in my mouth. I wanted to resist but my face was burning and I just wanted to go home. I opened my mouth and felt the intrusion hit the back of my throat. Using my hair, he begin to force my head up and down. My spit beginning to seep down his shaft, onto his balls and the seat below. He pushed my head down on him, holding me in place to suffocate on his dick.
When he released, I immediately took my mouth off him trying to catch my breath. Coughing and slobbering through the attempts. He looked at me “I want you to give me the most excited and enthusiastic blow job you’ve ever fucking given anyone. If I think for one second you don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself, I will punish you. Don’t forget my balls. Say yes sir if you understand me.” I was so embarrassed, I could feel the signs appearing on my skin. The intimacy of an excited blowjob wasn’t easy to fake even when it was consensual. Now it was compounded by the lack of consent. “Yes sir” I said excitedly trying to get into character. He grinned, knowing exactly what I just did.
I pulled my hair back and removed my shirt, leaving my breasts exposed. My skirt remaining on. I grabbed his dick, stroking it as I bent down and squished my spit covered mouth into his balls, flicking my tongue back and forth between the two. I opened my mouth and sucked in both balls, holding them there while I let his cock rest on my cheek. I released his balls and returned to sucking his cock, one hand caressing his balls and the other assisting my mouth at the shaft. He moaned, seeming to enjoy himself. Good, I thought to myself. I didn’t need any more “punishment.” I sat up, bringing my breasts to meet the head of his penis and jacking him off against them. I used my erect nipples to trace along him, knowing the textural differences would increase stimulation. I put my mouth back over him, increasing my speed.
I sat up, kneeling back and giving him a hand job once again. Looking at him, I said “I love your cock, thank you for letting me suck it.” I could immediately see the incredibly surprised but seemingly pleased expression cross his face. His dick throbbed as he moaned again, grabbing my head and shoving it back down onto him. He pushed his cock all the way in and held my head there while standing up. Our eyes met as he straddled my face and fucked my mouth. I was still on my knees, now in a partial back bend trying to accommodate his positioning choice. He continued to thrust, coming close to a climax. My face definitely a mess, spit running down it and getting in my hair.
Grunting, he rested the tip on my tongue. His cock begin to twitch as cum shot onto my tongue and into the back of my throat. I hated cum, never had a good reason. It just always makes me gag. Not wanting to get in trouble, I closed my eyes tight and tried to pretend I was any where else. “Swallow it” he ordered, bringing me back to reality. I gagged, unable to control it now as the slimy texture slid around in my mouth. He laughed, forcing my mouth closed and covering it while I squirmed around trying to complete the requested task.
Once I swallowed, he allowed me to get up and get dressed. He did the same, taking a seat back in his chair “well that was very very good Kaylee. You followed direction so well. Your a mess though, I would go to a bathroom.” He silenced, watching my face for any evidence of expression. I couldn’t let it slip that I definitely had a praise kink. I didn’t know it until this moment, but something inside me tingled at the thought of being told I was good. Maybe it was the fact that I spent years in prison being told the opposite of because his manipulation and brainwashing was working but I kept my face stoic. “Okay, well I will send in your clean drug and alcohol screenings to the parole board. I will also make sure to green flag your activities, putting you in compliance with all your court ordered requirements.”
He stopped speaking again, waiting for my response. When it didn’t come he said “you know, most people are thankful when someone does something nice for them.” He wanted me to THANK HIM?! For what?! Telling the board the truth?! I have been clean my whole parole period and haven’t broken any of my court ordered limitations. So he wants me to say thank you for not lying. I have to take the abuse and manipulations, and then say thank you. “And if you had done anything special or nice, I would have said thank you. You’re just telling the parole board the truth” I snapped at him. His face fell, anger taking over. He opened his desk drawer, pulling out a binder clip. He stomped towards me, quickly and efficiently pulling me out of the chair and onto the ground. I hit the ground with a hard thud. The wind being slightly knocked out of me. He pulled up my squirt, forced my legs back open and placed the binder clip on my clit. I begin to scream, him quickly covering my mouth and telling me to “shut the fuck up. When will you get it through your thick head that you are not in control here. You will leave that binder clip on until you get home. When you get home, you’re going to make a video of you sitting on the floor and removing it-“ I whimpered through his hand, it throbbing. “-shut the fuck up” he said firmly again pushing the hand covering my face down harder. “-Then when you manage through the pain enough to speak, you will properly thank me. Then maybe next time you’ll do it the first time.” He glared into my eyes, making himself very clear. I shook my head up and down indicating that I understood. He released his hand and got up. “Get out of my office, clean yourself up and go straight home.” I stood up, finding it difficult to walk.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wbkz80/released_from_prison_part_3_ncrapereluctance_all