Naked Asian Teen

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Walking down the poorly-lit, shadowy streets of TriBeCa with Richard, I felt distinctly foolish. As I've mentioned earlier, the area is populated primarily by artists who have lived there for years. Black is the universal color for clothing, in all seasons. For that reason, my white dress and shoes - particularly because of their style - stood out like a sore thumb. Whenever we passed someone, their stares told me that they thought I looked foolish. Also, it was clear that a number of the women thought that I was politically in the stone ages to be wearing clothing so blatantly designed with men in mind. The longer we walked (and he kept leading me aimlessly up and down streets I could no longer even identify) the more uncomfortable I got.

For some time, his conversation rambled as much as we did. He spoke of nothing in particular - surely nothing sexual at all - and I began to feel like Alice. This stroll with an attractive man, talking about life in New York, in the hippest part of town, wearing a dress that cried "FUCK ME" to anyone who'd look - and with the lips of my pussy being stroked with each step by the movement of a dildo - had a distinctly "Wonderlandish" quality about it.

Suddenly, Richard stopped me, grasping my arm tightly just above the elbow. Drawing me into a small, dark alley off the street, he held me very close to him.

"You feel very uncomfortable, don't you? Tell me the truth," he asked, his hand tight around my upper arm. I admitted that I did. "Why?" he asked. "I want you to be specific - tell me exactly what you're feeling now."

"Well, to tell you the truth, Master, I feel like an ASS dressed like this down here in this neighborhood. It was sexy at first. In your apartment uptown, I really enjoyed wearing this clothing. But down here, the style is totally WRONG! I feel very uncomfortable, as out of fashion as possible. And I feel as if everyone knows that I'm your, your POSSESSION or something tonight! It's almost as if they could see the dildo under my dress!" I was shaking, nervous about telling him the truth, but afraid not to - and angry at the truth, also. It was beginning to hit me how foolish it was for me to allow him to treat me like this.

"Perfect, my dear - just perfect!" he said, smiling broadly at me. "Don't you realize that a large part of enjoying the pleasure of dominating someone comes from the knowledge that others know what is happening? You probably think that I know nothing about fashion, that my choice of clothing for you was based only on what turns me on, on what I like to see a woman wear. It's not like that at all. I chose this outfit partially for that reason, of course - seeing your long lovely legs and the upper part of your breasts exposed is exciting to me. But no one who looks at you can possibly miss the fact that you're dressed for a MAN'S pleasure - not for fashion! And THAT is trully delightful! Feel my cock."

The last was tossed out as if it were an afterthought. Hesitantly, I put the flat of my palm against the front of his pants, feeling the fully-extended erection under the cloth of his suit.

"I'm not a 16-year-old anymore, my dear - thank god! I don't get hard like that simply from glancing at a pretty woman. It takes a bit more stimulus than that - and knowing that you've given yourself to me, that you're confused and wondering what's going on, and that you're probably NOT enjoying things right now turns me on wonderfully. Would you like to play with my cock again, like you did in the restaurant?"

Suddenly, I was back in the game again. All the anger about letting him treat me like this evaporated. The butterflies that had gone away during our walk came back in full force. THIS was what I had looked for when I agreed to the weekend, and suddenly the irritation of the dildo in my pussy turned to a sexy, wonderful PRESENCE like nothing I'd ever felt.

"Yes, please, I would love that, Master!" I said, my breath catching in my throat.

"Lift your skirt and show me your dildo, please," he said, his face very serious.

Nervously looking up the alley toward the street, I raised the skirt and petticoat up past my waist and spread my knees apart to give him as clear a view of my pussy as I could.

"You're very wet - I can see that from here. You'll have to clean up when we get back to the apartment. The lips of your pussy are red and slightly swollen. I hope the dildo isn't hurting you?"

"No, Master - in fact, it feels very nice right now," I said, my voice quivering as I stood in the alley, exposed in the dim light of a streetlamp.

"Alright, you may lower your dress, now," he said, and I hurried to comply. "Now, we're going to go back to the apartment. You'll have plenty of opportunity to play with my cock again, my dear - beginning with the cab ride uptown. Once we're settled in the taxi, I want you to unzip my pants, take out my cock and stroke it. You'll continue until I tell you to stop. Understand?"

My heart jumped back into my mouth, but although I was nervous at the prospect of playing with him in the back of the cab, I was also extremely excited, happy to be back playing the game again. I managed to breathe "Yes, Master," and followed him as he took my hand and led me back out of the alley. By this time, I was totally lost. We were on a fairly large street that headed (if my sense of direction could be relied on in my present state - which I doubted) back uptown. He raised his hand, and a cruising cab pulled accross two lanes of traffic to stop in front of us. Richard held the door open for me, and I gathered up the full skirt and slid accross the back seat to the far side.

He got in, and my heart began hammering harder and harder. I had realized that Richard's position on the right side of the rear seat made it possible for the cab driver to see me playing with him if he looked in the rear-view mirror at the right moment. From a practical point of view, though, it didn't matter at all. I knew I was going to do whatever he told me (within reason - whatever that meant to me at that point).

Sitting as close to him as I could, feeling his left hand resting on my right thigh just below the petticoat and the top of my stocking, I reached over and pulled down his zipper. Spreading the opening with my fingers, I was trying to discretely withdraw his cock when he picked up my left hand and moved it forcefully over to his lap. The meaning was clear - he was getting impatient with me. So I reached into his pants with my left hand, pulled his underwear out of the way, and lifted his cock out with the thumb and first two fingers of my right.

The skin was so beautifully soft it felt like a dream. I put my head down on his shoulder and was glad when he drew me closer to him with his left hand and arm. I continued to hold his underwear away from his cock and balls with my left hand and, holding his cock firmly but gently (and delighting in the feeling of the foreskin as it slid up and down over the hard, hot center) I began to stroke the entire length of his cock with my right. As I stroked, I stared at it, fascinated by the way it grew - with more and more of the hard, red head becoming exposed with each stroke.

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Soon, the width of my four fingers covered less than half its length, and the strokes grew longer and I grew hotter. I crossed my right ankle tightly over my left and began to squeeze my thighs together, feeling the tops of the stockings sliding sexily against each other as I pressed the lips of my pussy tightly together. The base of the dildo hurt very slightly when I did that, but the pain seemed to heighten the sharp pangs of pleasure I was feeling in my clitoris.

Richard was far more excited than he'd been earlier. The head of his cock began to turn a deep red, and the sight of a single drop of moisture on the tip made my heart skip a beat. I used just the tip of my index finger to spread it over the tiny hole in the center, and was rewarded with more flowing out almost instantly. He was wet, now (though not nearly as wet as I was!) and I looked up to see him gazing down into my eyes.

"May I taste it, Master?" I whispered, in as seductive a voice as I could. I was surprised at the delight I felt in acting this subservient - and then realized that I was hardly acting. This was how I wanted to be - and how I wanted to be treated.

"Not yet, child," he said. His face had darkened a bit, but he was gentle as he said, "It's not your place to suggest such things. I will tell you what to do - don't improvise!"

"I'm sorry, Master - it's just that it looked so good to me. I won't do anything like that again." My thighs were rubbing together so hard that I was close to having a climax as I sat there - but I knew I'd never quite make it. I need to have direct stimulation of my clit, or deep penetration in my pussy, in order for that to happen. But being so close for such a long time was beginning to make me feel wonderful.

"What number West 10th Street was that, sir?" the driver asked. His voice brought me back to reality with a thump. As he spoke, my head swiveled forward, and I looked straight into his laughing eyes in the rear-view mirror. His eyes held mine, and for a moment, I stopped rubbing myself, stopped stroking Richard, and just stared at him like an animal caught in a beam of light.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Richard's voice hissed in my ear - more than loud enough for the driver to hear. "Number 85, driver."

"No, Master," I replied, my face flaming red as I realized that my response was also audible to the man in front. I began to stroke Richard again, watching another drop oozing out of the beautiful head, and amazed at how much more exciting it was (even though at the same time horribly embarassing) to know that someone else was watching.

We were about a block from the apartment, caught in a small traffic jam, when Richard said, "So you wanted to taste it, eh? Well, I've decided to let you do just that. I wouldn't want to make a mess of my clothes with it all wet like that. Why don't you lick it clean and then put it away?"

The words sent a shock of terror through me. The driver had given up all pretense of watching the road and was staring into the mirror, one hand on the wheel, the other out of sight in his lap.

"But Master, the driver...." was all I was able to mumble, my heart in my throat.

"Never mind him - I'll take care of him. Besides, he isn't about to cause any trouble, are you?"

"No, sir," the driver said, grinning widely. "I just hope the traffic stays like this a little longer!"

"Do it, Michelle - or we end your little game right here!"

I looked up at Richard, then into the eyes of the taxi driver in the mirror. Then, more excited than I've ever been in my life, and not caring what came next, I bent over in the seat and gently took Richard's beautiful cock in my mouth.

For a moment, I was all feeling. I became INTENSELY aware of everything I felt, but heard and saw nothing. As I bent over, I felt the rasp of the petticoat rubbing against my upper thighs and buttocks, and the tight, skin-like feeling of the long stockings below it. Each of the garter straps holding the stockings up was like an arrow drawn down my legs, and the constriction of the corset and its cups made me intensely aware of my breasts and my breathing. I felt my nipples, swollen with excitement (although they hadn't been touched all evening) and the now-familiar rasp of the base of the dildo on the lips of my pussy, as the body of it felt like a lover inside me. My hair was a pillow between the right side of my head and Richard's lap, while whisps of it caressed my left cheek. My eyes were closed, intensifying everything, and somehow I couldn't hear any of the traffic sounds - just the sound of breath "whooshing" through my nose and into my chest.

But, more than anything, I felt my lips sliding over that hot, wet, slightly sticky cock. The skin of the head, which felt soft to my hand, was like bumpy silk on my lips and tongue. My head was filled with the aroma and flavor of the liquid which I'd spread all over it with my hand. I felt the hairs at the base of the cock tickling the palm of my right hand, and the soft weight of his balls as I reached inside his pants to cup them with my left.

After a moment of sucking and licking the head, I lowered my lips further down the shaft and soon had almost the whole thing in my mouth. I licked, as I sucked on it, trying to clean off every drop of cum I'd spread on the head and the shaft. The taste made my mouth water, and soon I was slurping slightly with each movement of my head. I was in heaven - not thinking of the driver or anyone else.

Suddenly, my head was jerked roughly back by a hand which grabbed the hair at the crown.

"Are you trying to make me cum?" Richard said, angrilly. "Just finish up the cleaning and put it away - we don't have much time."

I smiled inwardly to myself as I carefully licked the remaining moisture off the shaft (amazing myself as I made a production of it for the visual pleasure of both the driver and Richard). So! Richard was THAT turned on by my sucking, eh? And I had hardly had a chance to get started! As Mr. Spock would say - "Interesting!".