Wicked, Deep Down

Erotica

Wicked, Deep Down

By Reed Manning

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

Fictionwise www.Fictionwise.com

Copyright ©1993 Dave Smeds First published in shorter form as "Hell of a Deal" in Club International, January, 1993 NOTICE: This ebook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This book cannot be legally lent or given to others. This ebook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

Tina was having coffee alone at a sidewalk café when a car stopped in the No Parking zone just on the other side of the planter boxes. Leaving his engine idling, the driver leaned over the petunias and said, “Hey, lady, wanna fuck?” Lord! Right there in public, with no shame. “Eat shit and die,” she said crisply, pretending that the papers she was grading were absorbing her full attention. “You sure you're not interested?” She couldn't believe it. The asshole was still there, even with the meter maid ticketing vehicles just up the street. “Why the hell would I be?” she demanded. And then, for emphasis only and not because she wanted to encourage him, she turned and looked him straight in the eyes. Inexplicably, the annoyance of being hit upon faded. His eyes were deep brown, pupils widely dilated even in the sunshine, though the glare didn't seem to bother him. She felt as if she could fall inside them. “You're actually quite wicked, deep down,” he told her. “And I know how to bring it out in you.” He smiled at her as if she were an old friend. “You'll cave in by tomorrow. Then you'll meet me here same time, same place.” “Dream on,” she replied, though not as loudly as she meant to. Her eyes tracked him as he drove off down the street. That had been weird. But, of course, he was totally bonkers. Now she would have to go out of her way to do exactly the opposite of what he had suggested. Too bad. She liked this café. Sighing, she resumed grading her papers. 3

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

It was only after she had sketched a picture of the man's eyes on one of her student's essays that she realized she was still thinking of him. She shook her head. What was she doing? The guy had been nothing special. Fairly good-looking, yes, but no movie star. He'd worn jeans, a tee shirt, and an old pair of running shoes. He'd been driving an ancient Toyota Tercel. Both clothes and car had been clean, but he was hardly a suitable match for a woman with a doctorate in Psychology, a tenuretrack position at the university, and an incurable predilection for fine jewelry, trend-setting attire, and opera. She was the last person to be taken in by a line like his. But then there was the line about wickedness. As if he'd known. But he couldn't. She kept it too well under wraps. However, there was only one way to be sure how much he knew or didn't. She would have to meet him the next day. **** The next day Tina was at the café, telling herself to go to the pay phone and call up a friend for support, as she should have done long since. She hadn't because she had been certain she wasn't actually going to be here. Yet here she was. She checked her make-up in her compact mirror and picked lint off her hem. She'd dressed up—dressed up!—for this bozo, as if on a major date. “Hi,” said a voice. “All set?” The man slid into the chair across the table. He grinned. He wore shorts and a tanktop, with sandals—not much of a fashion statement. She raised an eyebrow. 4

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

“All set for what?” she asked. “To fuck,” he said. “No, I'm not,” she said flatly. “I must be crazy to be here. I'd better leave.” She put a dollar on the table for the coffee. “Take a ride with me,” he said. She snapped her purse closed and stood up. She meant to walk away. Instead she answered, “All right. I'll get in your car. But it doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you.” “Oh, you'll fuck me,” he said, leading her to the parking lot. “You'll see.” Tina had the distinct impression that she had become two people—one who did what he asked, the other her normal self, except trapped, powerless, in the body of the first. Her high-heeled shoes seemed to carry her to the man's Toyota. Her hand moved quickly to open the car door, as if eager to get inside. Sweat slicked her fingers. Increasingly insistent beats of her heart massaged the inner surface of her ribs. She felt like a nervous teenager on prom night. Maybe he'll take me to a bar, try to get me drunk, she speculated. Other scenarios drifted through her imagination— being wined-and-dined at a fancy restaurant, possibly a stroll on the beach while they became better acquainted. Less than a mile from the café, he pulled into a cheap motel. “You think I'm going in there with you?” she asked. “I'll wait for you inside,” he said cheerfully. Getting out a motel key, he unlocked and entered a room, leaving the door ajar. 5

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

I'm not doing this. I'm not doing this, she thought as she followed him. “You're not getting me to put out,” she said as she sank into a chair. “We're just going to talk.” “Of course you're going to put out. In whatever way I ask.” He immediately began to strip. Tina rose, prepared to leave, but her shoes wouldn't rise off the carpet. The man was on the far side of the room, making no move to approach. She was ready to bolt the moment he did—she'd easily beat him to the door. But he wasn't threatening her. That was just it. He was making straightforward, undisguised requests—which she was granting! Maybe it wouldn't be so awful to stay until he was naked. What was wrong with a little beefcake? He did have a nice, broad chest, with just the right amount of hair. She could always leave after a look. The sandals bounced on the carpet. The shorts dropped on top of them. All he wore now were his briefs, and those were going down, down, down. This was getting ridiculous, Tina told herself for the thousandth time. Here she was like a God-damned voyeuse, watching a strange man undress. This would never do. She'd worked to hard to keep her image clean. Ever since ... well, never mind that. He straightened up, bringing his wang out of shadow. Tina peeked between the fingers she'd raised to her face. It was a nice one. Not too large, not too small. Yet something about it 6

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

fascinated her. He lifted it up and stroked. It expanded, first outward, then rising. Tina crossed her legs. “Oh, my,” she said. Her nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric of her bra. “Take off your dress,” he said. He flipped on the light. Tina gnawed her lip. She didn't even walk around unclothed in front of her female roommate. “Could you turn that back off?” she asked. “No, I want to be able to see you.” She zipped herself down in back, loosened the garment at her shoulders, and paused. God, why was she still here? “Can I at least know your name?” she pleaded. “Sure. It's Anthony.” His acquiescence melted the last weak strand of her reluctance. “I'm Tina,” she whispered. As he yanked nonchalantly at his hard-on, she wriggled her body and her dress fell to the carpet. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “Now would a nice girl run around town like that?” She blushed, but compelled by his gesture, she squared her body to the light and stood with legs slightly parted, presenting herself. Having no panties, nothing concealed his view of her crotch. “The clit ring is a nice touch,” he said. She blushed. “Thank you.” Though to her, the little gold circlet was basic equipment, just a plain earring she'd shoplifted from a jewelry store. She had done the piercing herself at home. Much as she enjoyed the way tugging on it intensified her orgasms, she was far more proud of her 7

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tattoo: A little dragon, rendered as if emerging from her cunt to breathe fire onto her clitoris. She never let her pubic hair grow anymore, because it would obscure the artwork. It was, she had to admit, a naughty-looking crotch. But that naughtiness was supposed to be a secret. The light, she now decided, was good. She was glad he had insisted on the brightness. “Lose the bra, too. But leave the rest.” She obeyed. “Come and look at your reflection,” he commanded. “See yourself as you are.” The body in the full-length mirror was slim and tawny. Her pale pink nipples rode high on pert, round breasts. Her thighs ran smoothly to the floor, so athletically contoured that they remained nearly two inches apart at the top, just below her generous pudendum. Not bad at all for a twenty-nine-year-old assistant college professor. Her nineteen-year-old coed students would lick their lips with envy, if they could see her like this. Assuming they recognized her. They had certainly never seen Tina in heels, garter belt, and fishnet stockings, mouth parted, a hungry gleam sprouting in her eyes. “You see how wicked you are,” Anthony said. “Am I really?” She'd spent so much time trying not to be. “Reach between your legs and touch yourself.” Intently observing her own actions, Tina let her hand glide downward from her navel. Her middle fingers surrounded her clitoris on either side, puffing the bright rosy button into view. Then the fingers were inside her. 8

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

“Wet,” she gasped. “I've never been so wet.” Anthony lay back on the bed. “C'mere, you dirty girl. Suck my dick.” Hearing the words, Tina's exploring hand was covered with another flood of pussy juice. She did so love to suck cock. She'd always remember her prude of a mother lecturing about the abominableness of oral copulation—"My God, men use those things to urinate with!"—that even now, so many well-sucked dicks later, she always got a special thrill from going down on a guy. Her hesitancy was a thing of the past. She climbed onto the bed, she settled her mouth over this stranger's meat and didn't stop until her lips met his pubic bone and the wrinkled flesh of his upper scrotum. “Ghmmmmm,” Tina growled. All that hardness in her mouth made her want to be filled right down to her knees. “Mmmmm. Aaahmmm.” “Yeah,” said Anthony. “Now up and down.” Tina raised and lowered her face slowly, languorously, as if sucking Anthony's cock were her ultimate goal in life. She closed her lips into a kiss on the upstrokes, keeping light contact with the fat, blunt bulb crowning his erection. Each time she glided down, she engulfed him to the root. A salty drop bubbled out of him. The taste of it sent a shiver down her spine, right to her perineum. “I want to eat your load,” she begged. “We just got started.” “Before we do anything else, I want to swallow your cum.” 9

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

He looked at his watch. “Okay. Sure. Why not? We'll fuck later.” She grinned and stuffed her mouth with cock once more. She settled into a rhythm that her last two boyfriends had highly approved of, using her hand as an extension of her mouth. When she needed to take a breath or swallow saliva, her hand kept moving, maintaining the stimulation. Her palm and lips rode over bulging veins. Tina loved the contours. The hardness, the engorgement, confirmed how effective her technique was. Warm vibrations laid claim to her cunt. She ground her snatch against his shin. “Aaaaaahhh!” moaned Anthony. A fountain of hot semen struck her palate. She gulped, surprised, but kept milking. His hips rose completely off the mattress as the major part of his wad surged up. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed again. She'd seldom had a man so copious. Realizing she could handle him nearly made her giggle, but she stifled the laughter, knowing it would make her choke. Anthony's hips flopped to the bed. “Damn good cocksucking,” he declared when he could speak. “A good girl couldn't do it like that.” She squeezed out a last drop of jism and wiped it on her tongue, grinning impishly. “Ready for more?” He chuckled. “This from a woman who wasn't going to fuck me.” “You convinced me,” she said. “Give me twenty minutes. While we're waiting, we'll start the bondage stuff.” “Oh, very funny,” she scoffed. “I'm not into that.” 10

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

“Yes, you are,” he said. Yes. She was. But she'd kept that secret even from her tattooist. After all, she hadn't done more than dabble—in spite of the delicious temptation to do more. “Wh-what did you have in mind?” “I made some advance preparations.” He opened the closet, pulled out a strange contraption, and set it in the middle of the floor. He grunted from the weight of it as he set it down on the largest expanse of the floor. It had a thick wooden stock at one end, with openings to fit a head and both wrists, and then a series of straps along a pallet extension. “I—I—I don't know about this,” Tina stammered. “Down on your hands and knees. Stick your head and hands through the holes.” Inch by inch, she clambered onto the contraption and did as he ordered. He lowered the top of the stock down and locked it, trapping her by the neck and wrists. Then he directed her to pull her knees up under herself as far as they would go, and he strapped her legs in place. When he was done, her face was lying low on a section of padded vinyl, her tits were mashed beneath her chest, her back was arched, and her ass was high in the air, cheeks spread. She couldn't get out of the position. “What have we here?” he asked. She knew he'd seen the string protruding from her asshole. He tugged, and her set of anal beads slipped out one by one. “Oh!” she exclaimed as each one popped free. 11

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“So big,” he said. Only ping-pong ball size, she remembered. She hadn't been in the mood for either of the larger sets. “How very wicked,” he said with approval. “Please. Put them back in,” she said. “Slowly.” “Maybe later,” he replied. “What a great little flower you have here.” He caressed her vulva. She relaxed in the stock and sighed as he stroked the soft, rubbery flesh. He kneaded her until her pelvis began to quiver, then he lowered his face between her cheeks and began to lick her asshole. “Oh, yes!” His tongue was fiery hot, and it seemed to be a foot long. The insertion did the trick in an instant. She came, breath heaving against the vinyl. He wriggled his tongue, massaging her sphincters throughout her climax, while his fingers nurtured each spasm of her clit. Then he stopped and withdrew. He stood up behind her. She couldn't see him, but she knew what was going to happen next. “You're going to fuck me back there, aren't you?” “Do you want me to?” “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” He placed his feet on either side of her legs and squatted. His prick slid into her ass, its passage primed by the lathering of saliva. He grasped her by the hips and pumped. Her second orgasm took longer, because her clit was not getting any direct stimulation, but that was fine with her. Anthony was reaming her with a steady enthusiasm that did not appear to be going to flag any time soon. 12

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

“Oh, this feels soooo gooood!” she cried. As she reached ignition, she thrashed and spent herself so freely she couldn't even keep her tongue in her mouth. It lolled out on the vinyl in a puddle of drool. He was still pounding away when she came back to her senses. Her first conscious perception was of the tickle deep in her rectum, like the afterglow from a really good shit, only many times more instense. “Yeah,” she moaned. “Fuck my hiney!” His grunts and gasps took on a new purposefulness. His pace slowed, so that now each stroke was deep and full— savored. God, he felt hot in there. Hotter than his tongue had been. How could a dick be that hot? Did he have a fever? Never mind. Hot, cold—it was still the right fit. After what seemed like moments, but what must have been many minutes, Tina heard Anthony's breath deepen and sharpen. He resumed pounding her furiously. “Fill me up!” she cried. He did. A huge pulse ran down the length of his shaft, sending a quiver through her clenching butt muscles. Liquid fire invaded her rectum like some sort of fabulous enema. Air exploding from his lungs, Anthony erupted into her a second time, a third. An unmistakable tingle began in her crotch. Instinctively she tried to reach down to press a couple of fingers to her clitoris, but her bonds thwarted her. But no matter. She came anyway, peaking as the last spasm travelled the length of Anthony's cock. 13

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He kept fucking her until her climax died away. Then, huffing and puffing, he settled limply atop her. She welcomed his weight. “That was fuck of my life,” Tina murmured. Eventually his well-worked member slid out of her hole, but he left it in the crevice of her cheeks, using it to nudge and tease the rim of her opening while it was recalling how to pull itself closed. “That was incredible,” she said. She was repeating herself, but she didn't care. “You found the real me.” “You're welcome.” “How did you do it? How could you be so confident that I'd fuck you?” “I have access to special sources of information. And I have certain ... powers.” “Tell me.” “You'll find out soon enough,” Anthony said. He unlocked and unbuckled the fastenings of the apparatus. Freed, she unfolded and stood up. “No, I want to know now,” she declared. She was not going to take no for an answer. He'd had his turn. Now she was going to call the shots. She reached into her purse and fetched out her flail. She licked the black leather handle, rubbed the resulting slick spot against her still-engorged nipples, and then waved the instrument of discipline meaningfully at Anthony. “I'm sorry,” Anthony said. “I'd love to stay and play. Really. But you've confirmed that you qualify for our program, and you're wanted Down Below. The Master is expecting you. 14

Wicked, Deep Down by Reed Manning

And his orders are that I head off in search of the next recruit. I never, never disobey the Master's wishes.” Tina patted the flail against her palm. This wouldn't do. Clearly, she was looking at a boy who needed to play bottom more often, who had inhibitions of his own to work out. She would just have to re-educate him. But as she stepped over the bondage rack to get at him, a large section of the floor simply vanished, leaving a gaping, rectangular aperture. Below, all she could see were flames. Hot blasts dried the sex-sweat and panic-sweat right off her skin, crisping her eyelashes. Up came a rumble of maniacal laughter. “Oh, shit,” she squeaked, and as she and the contraption plummeted downward, a gigantic, demonic hand reached out to catch her. As it did so, the aperture above shut tight, and she knew she had been sent to a place her mother had always warned her she might end up in. **** Back in the motel room, Anthony sprayed air freshener to mask the stench of brimstone. He picked up Tina's dress, bra, and purse off the floor and tucked them into his duffel bag for later disposal. Tina wouldn't be needing those anymore. By the time she returned to realm of mortals—assuming she lived up to expectations and the Master released her from the Dungeons of Refinement and Indoctrination—she would be provided with a suitable wardrobe and accessories. Meanwhile, no use leaving traces to mark her disappearance. Damn. That had been all too brief. Anthony preferred to investigate prospects who didn't make it so obvious where 15

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they belonged. Ones teetering on the brink, requiring more of a nudge to tip them into irredeemable wickedness. More fun that way. More chance to play before shipping them off. But he wasn't surprised. Tina had, after all, been a redhead. Maybe next time would require more evaluation. More ... persuasion. He threw his belongings in the car, turned in the room key, and headed down the highway. He kept his eyes peeled for beautiful women. Especially brunettes and blondes.

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