We drove up to his house, and he got out and opened my door, and I got out as naked as I was when he fucked me in the alley. He stepped up to me and kissed me with his hands on my tits. We were still in the front yard, and being exposed like this aroused me even further. “God, Logan, yes…”

I would have let him take me on his front lawn, and I tried to touch his cock.

“No, no, bad girl, Virginia; I’m in charge here.” He slapped my ass and led me into his house. 

Then I tried again to get his cock, but he slapped my ass again, harder.

Inside, he stopped me in the entry and just admired me. I felt my nipples tighten, wondering what he was thinking. At Barnie’s, I’d said, “I’ll let you do anything.” Now I was nervous about what that meant to Logan.

I stood there, not moving, feeling my juices leaking out of my pussy, waiting for Logan to tell me.

“Virginia, it's kind of ironic that your parents named you that. You're here to be the exact opposite of a virgin; you’re here to be my slut. You said you’ll do anything, that I can do anything.” He waited for me to answer. "Right? Answer, Virginia.”

I still hadn’t answered.

“RIGHT?”

I slowly answered, “Right.” I’d had a short-lived thought about being disobedient, but when I realized what he might do, I chickened out.

I also remembered why I’d said that. I wanted him to treat me like a slut; I’d always been embarrassed to say that to my boyfriends, and in Barnie’s, I knew he’d be the perfect teacher.

“Logan, um, Logan…” I struggled to say it. “I-I still want, no, I need…” I fell silent. 

I'd gotten it out at Barnie's; why couldn’t I say it here at his house? I’d started my transformation on the way to his car, God, fucking outside, where we could easily be seen, walking on the street naked past other couples. 

When I thought about what I'd done, I could feel the heat from my blush.

Do something, Logan, anything, please.

Logan looked at me for a moment and then said, “There's no need to undress you, is there? I’ll start, hmm. Kneel, Virginia. Yes, kneel.”

I hesitated before complying. Kneeling, I had to look up. I’m not sure what he saw, but he seemed pleased.

“Undo my pants and pull them down. You’re going to suck my cock. With lots of enthusiasm, too.”

I'd seen women do this in porn films, but me? This was new; I’d never touched a cock with my mouth before. 

I undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and helped them fall to his ankles. I was looking at his boxers that were restraining his penis. No, not his penis; it was his cock. I was going to taste and feel my first cock in my mouth.

I pulled the boxers down and saw his cock. It seemed huge and dangerous compared to my boyfriends' penises or dicks. They’d never seemed to warrant the word "cock," though I’d called them that. Ha, it made them sound bigger somehow, at least to them.

I touched it and then leaned forward and touched the tip with my tongue. It tasted salty and had a flavor I didn’t recognize, and it was nestled in his dark, curly hair. It was incredible, my first cock, my first real cock. I suddenly realized what the taste was: a combination of my juices and his semen.

I shivered; my first lesson, my first slut lesson. For a lot of girls, this was their first encounter with sex, but not for me; I went from hand jobs to fucking. 

I put the tip in my mouth, enjoying the sensation as he pushed more and then more of it in. Gagging, I somehow opened my throat, and it slid down. I had to pull back to breathe, but each time I did, I took the entire length again.

He started moving faster and harder until he had to hold my head still. He was fucking my mouth. All I could think of was, 'Is he going to cum in my mouth? I hope so. Logan cum. Please cum.' That was all I could think until he gave one massive thrust, and I felt his cock throb, and then there was a warm gush of his cum. Salty, warm, perfect cum.

After he recovered, Logan said, “Ginnie, very good for a first-timer, getting my entire cock in your mouth, swallowing my entire load. You’re going to be a fabulous cocksucker. " I wanted to preen from his praise but resisted; I’d wait for something more momentous. Still, I enjoyed the compliment.

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me so hard that my toes tingled. I thought about my gym trainer talking about remembering my core; well, Logan made it sing.

He guided me back into his bedroom, well, a room. It was as big as two bedrooms, but had no real bed that I could see. Was this where he brought his sluts?

“You asked me to take you home with me and treat you as my slut, my property. You had a taste of it, picking up my car. So, did you enjoy it?”

He was asking if I’d enjoyed it. That wasn’t the right question. 

He repeated, “Did you enjoy the taste of being my slut?”

I closed my eyes and sighed, “Did I enjoy what we did after leaving Barnie’s? Logan, it was breathtaking, all of it.”

I tried to explain myself. “Logan, it’s like I want to be used. I want you to feel you can tell me what you want me to do. I let you fuck me, practically in the open; I walked a couple of blocks naked; and you just fucked my mouth. If you think of, God, Logan, anything you want me to do for you, I’ll do it."

The sense of submission washed over me. The need to submit to him, letting him own my body, was in control. Just thinking about what Logan might require made me squirm.

His response was just a grin at first, but then he asked, “What goes through your mind when you say that? What are you afraid that I might ask you, but secretly hope I do?”

What was I hoping for? God, there was so much. “Um, when your cock was in my mouth... I wanted you to cum on my face. Your fresh cum on my tits.” I hesitated, “God, your pee, your urine on me, degrading me.” I gulped before finishing, “I want you to whip me, punish me, and mark me as yours. Treat me like a slut.” I looked at Logan defiantly. “That’s what I want!”

“So, let’s start then. Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he said.

When I did it, I felt something attached to my wrists, and then my arms were pulled up in the air. 

“What?” I was startled for a bit. When I recovered, Logan was in a cabinet on the wall with a whip and a couple of paddles in his hands.

“Last things first. Don’t you think, Virginia?”

He took the whip (actually, I learned he called it a "flogger") and struck my tits. The initial sensation was pleasure, followed by some pain. He kept doing it, interspersed with caressing my body with the tails, to drive me wild.

Pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, and caresses until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Master more, more, please,” I started begging him. Why did I call him master? He didn’t tell me to, but it felt right. He was my master, clearly.

Each time the flogger attacked my tits, I whimpered, but this was what I’d hoped for, being treated like his slut. Each time he hit my tits, he came back and teased me by lightly stroking my pussy.

I followed the whimpers with me begging for more, more, more. Harder, harder.

When he quit, I felt abandoned and started sobbing, wanting more. He put aloe cream on my breasts, saying, “I’m not finished; we’re not finished. I have one more proof that you’re my slut."

He turned me so he could reach my ass and give me a swat. It was loud but only hurt a bit. “You are my slut, aren't you, Virginia? I can make you do anything.”

All I could do was moan, agreeing with him, wondering what was next. I wanted to prove that he was right; I would do anything!