Michitaurus and the Sad, Sari Girl Part 1

It was Fall of 2003. I was living with the Matts, having not yet been shamed by Tika into growing up. I was juggling Kelly and Maria, but their erratic schedules left me feeling more at their beck and call than them mine. However, the academic year had just started, which meant a lot of prospects. Yahoo! Messenger had a glut of new talent in the Fall, as kids went back to school and married mothers went cruising for big cock.

I was minding my own business, reading Diary by Chuck Palahniuk (yes, I know, I know, but I was the right age at the right time), when am IM jumped up on my screen.

*Countess\_Giger: Hello, is this Jay?*

I looked up the profile. It was as bare bones as it got. The picture was a weird, biomechanical women by the artist H.R. Giger, explaining the handle. The listed name was Countess, Age was 99, Location LV-426 – which was the planet from the movie Aliens. The profile had all the makings of a role playing bio for the fantasy chat rooms.

Or it could be a disgruntled husband.

*Breaks\_you\_in: I just might be.*

*Countess\_Giger: Kate gave me your screenname. She is my Resident Advisor. I’m Preeti.*

Kate! A year back, Kate had been the roommate of a girl named Wendy, who I thought I was seducing. Turns out Kate was pushing Wendy at me with both hands, to sabotage her engagement to a groomer.

*Breaks\_you\_in: I’ll be the judge of that.*

*Countess\_Giger: Ha. It is a Desi name. I’m Indian.*

*Breaks\_you\_in: How is Kate?*

*Countess\_Giger: Is she not amazing?*

Preeti had a habit of that. Asking a parallel question rather than answering your own. Maybe it was a cultural thing.

*Breaks\_you\_in: So why did Kate send you my way? Did you need a Shakespeare tutor? Boxing Lessons? A Pulse Rifle range buddy?*

*Countess\_Giger: You are exactly how she said you would be. Flippant.*

*Breaks\_you\_in: That’s me.*

*Countess\_Giger: She also said you are discrete and amoral.*

*Breaks\_you\_in: Now you’re making me blush.*

*Countess\_Giger: I have looked at your pictures. The garment tape was enlightening.*

*Breaks\_you\_in: Not to be rude, but I’m not in the market for a pen pal or to join a D&D group. Why don’t you tell me what you want.*

Enough time went by that I thought that was the end of the conversation. Almost an hour later, Preeti replied.

*Countess\_Giger: I apologize. I am very nervous. It took all the courage I had to IM you.*

I wasn’t immune to feeling like a heel. And Kate, I owed her. She wouldn’t have sent a rando to fuck with me. Kate was good people.

*Breaks\_you\_in: We’re just words on a screen. If it’s easier, play pretend. Tell me like you were telling a story about someone else.*

*Countess\_Giger: I like that. Okay. Give me time.*

So Preeti told me a story. Sort of. She actually sent me a freshly minted Livejournal link a few hours later. The story was about a girl who was grown in a sterile, biomechanical test tube, to be the perfect bride and servant. The day she took her first breath would be her wedding day. It was a beautiful, melancholy story, and it did the same job on me that it just did on you.

*Breaks\_you\_in: I’m not sure what you want me to do, Preeti. If you want my advice, write your own story. It might seem scary, but people do it every day. You can too.*

*Countess\_Giger: Will you help break my glass, Jay?*

Fucking Kate. She really had me pegged. Look, I’m a terrible person. But if I can do bad things that achieve good results, didn’t those noble ends justify my immoral means?

*Breaks\_you\_in: Did Kate warn you about me?*

*Countess\_Giger: Do you think Kate would want me hurt?*

A question with a question. Classic Preeti.

*Breaks\_you\_in: We aren’t riding off into the sunset.*

*Countess\_Giger: As long as you leave me a little hoarse.*

Here’s where I had to trust Kate. That she hadn’t unleashed an absolute dog upon me. What was in a girl’s head mattered far, far more than what she looked like. But there was a floor. I didn’t really have a type. How a girl inhabited herself counted for a lot. But still. Okay Kate, I’ll take the leap of faith. You did right by Wendy.

*Breaks\_you\_in: How do you want to do this?*

*Countess\_Giger: Do you play online?*

I did. I liked the idea my words alone could stir someone up. I mean, that’s pretty obvious to you. But I also found excessive chatting a waste of time. I could have just written something instead. However, it was a common tactic of mine to wind a woman up in chat, whip her into a frenzy, until she was ready to break all her rules.

*Breaks\_you\_in: To a point.*

*Countess\_Giger: Think of it as a rehearsal.*

So we played. By her preferences in art, I was not surprised to discover Preeti’s tastes. I’d learn later she was an early adopter of Hentai, and also an expert of removing viruses from her computer. Through play, she revealed about her fantasies. Which were dark, to say the least.

Before this story gets removed from several subreddits, let me be clear: ***everything that happened between me and Preeti was completely consensual.*** But that wasn’t how she played. She wanted to fight. Struggle. Never give in. Cry. Never give any sign she enjoyed it. She wanted it to hurt. She wanted me to take no mercy.

All those things worked for me. I only cared if a girl liked what I did to her as a way of having power over her. It was an ego exercise. I didn’t give a shit if a girl came. But if she did, and hated herself a little for it, well that was the stuff.

C*ountess\_Giger: Honestly, I would prefer it if you were more disgusting. Fat. Old. Hairy. But there is an appeal to your All American shell containing a monster. You are like a werewolf. And I liked your explicit pictures. You are very well endowed.*

*Breaks\_you\_in: No one dreams of being ravished (I used a different, four letter R word here) by a little prick.*

*Countess\_Giger: Would you? Really?*

*Breaks\_you\_in: Yes. If you change your mind once were alone, its too late. The moment the door closes, there is no turning back. Go ahead. Call the police. I have all these chats with you saying don’t stop, no matter what. And let’s be honest. No one is going to believe you over me. A little, stupid Indian girl over Mr. White Bread? And we both know you won’t tell anyway, because then your family would find out. I could use you however I wanted and get away with it. Then come back, again and again. Ruin you.*

It was exactly what Preeti needed to hear.

*Countess\_Giger: I’m going…*

So. Japanese people don’t cum. They go. Preeti had been reared on that culture’s pornography. It had left a mark. Anyway, we played like that for a few weeks, while I kept my iron in other fires. I was getting tired of our exchanges when Preeti messaged me.

*Countess\_Giger: Kate moved me. Into the basement, next to the mechanical room, like a dungeon. Block walls. No window. Pipes. The bathroom is just standing there, out in the open. I love it. I’m alone, all the time now. Here’s my building and room #. Don’t tell me when you are coming, if you decide to come. And I wish you do. Here, I am sorry it took so long for me to be brave:*

There was a link underneath. I had to make a Flickr account and send a friend request to see it. I was the only friend. There was a single picture.

One girl stood in the middle of two others who were mostly cropped out. Preeti was striking. Coffee with cream skin. She had a heart-shaped face, with huge, dark eyes over round cheekbones. A small, sensual, full-lipped mouth. She was in traditional Indian clothing, a hint of a flat stomach showing below full breasts and above hips that never once told a lie. Judging by the cropped out girls, Preeti was five feet tall on her tippy toes.

Kate was my goddamn fairy godmother.

I shot up out of my chair to look for my keys. It was Friday. If I left now, I’d have the weekend before Preeti had to be back at class. I stopped to pack my duffel with weekend essentials, plus a few extras. I had been out to MSU many times at that point, and even to that particular dorm, where Wendy and Kate had been roommates. It was the beginning of the school year, on the weekend, at a huge party college. Parking was the worst I had ever seen it. I ended up a mile away in a spot I was sure was legal. To this day, I have never paid the ticket that was waiting for me when I got back.

I had been in the building, but never the basement. The door leading down was pressurized, with warm, circulating air filling the spartan stairwell. The hallway it opened up into was something out of a horror movie. Weak florescent light flickered. The pipes whined while HVAC machinery roared. My guard went up a new notches. Had Freddy Krueger jumped out of the shadows, I would not have been surprised.

Now, you might be wondering why Kate would send Preeti down here. It was because, from what I knew of Preeti, she would indeed love it. She was a dark girl, with dark thoughts. In truth, darker than me, bridging into the realm of fiction. I’ll spare you the gory details.

Her room was B4, denoted by a small plate. The door was unlocked. I let myself in. It was a big space, twenty feet in a square, with a high ceiling, and hot as fuck. 80 degrees, easily. Florescent lights were mounted overhead. The walls were block painted battleship gray. The carpet was thin over the concrete slab. The “bathroom” was a toilet and showerhead positioned over a drain in the near corner. The furniture was spare. Racks for clothes along the walls. A twin bed packed into the far corner, with a metal a desk and ancient metal rolling office chair next to it. A table with a microwave and hotplate, with a minifridge underneath.

The walls over the bed and desk were papered with fantasy art, all of the H.G. Giger school. Biomechanical creatures and tentacles. Strange textures covered in slime. Cyborg women, in various state of dissemble.

Preeti was at her desk. As I came in, she jumped up, eyes wide, her chair spinning to clatter against the desk. In person, she looked even better. She was wearing a traditional outfit, much like the one in her photo, and was fully made up. Barefoot, she would have had to hop to make it to five feet. No way did she spend all her time down here so perfectly prepared for unannounced visitors.

***Before we go any further, all activities in this story were consensual and agreed upon beforehand!***

“Jay! Um. Hello.” Her voice was clear and measured, but forced, as if she didn’t speak much.

I didn’t answer. I locked the door and threw the bolt, then unzipped my duffel, withdrawing a door stop. I wedged it near the hinge, kicking it deep with my boot.

“Jay. I did not…you are aware we were just playing a game.”

I ignored Preeti, walking with inches of her to drop my duffel on her bed. She was very wet. I could smell pussy so strongly, I was sure she had been recently touching herself. I went to the nearest clothing rack and tossed my jacket over the hanging garments. Then I pulled off my henley, adding it. I kicked off my boots, stuffing a sock in each one, and unzipped my jeans.

“Jay. Please. It was only pretend.”

I stepped out of my jeans, and threw them over the rack. My cock sprung free. Precum dripped onto the ragged carpet. I still hadn’t made eye contact or said a word. I walked over to the toilet. It was always a challenge, pissing with a raging boner. I angled it downward as much as possible and stood well away. Precum obstructed the flow. Most of it got into the bowl. The rest would go down the drain with the shower ran. I shook myself, sending a long, sticky line down into the water. Then I turned towards her.

Preeti’s eyes were huge on me. “Jay. You cannot do this. I am a virgin. They will check me. I will be ruined.”

I closed on her, expressionless, my eyes cold.

“Jay, please. I will be cast out. Talk to me. Say anything.”

I grabbed Preeti by the throat, using the web of my thumb to apply pressure to the base of her neck. That’s how you make a girl feel choked. You don’t grab high, and constrict the windpipe or arteries. You clamp onto the base of the throat, the rest of your hand on her collarbones, and apply inward and upward pressure. Go ahead, try it. You know you want to.

Preeti gulped, her arm frozen at her sides. Holding her there, I reached into my duffel for handcuffs. They were shitty things. I child’s toy, with safety releases. She could get out of them, if she really wanted. I clicked one cuff around her wrist, then reached around her to secure the other. Preeti forgot to fight, or chose not to. Once her wrists were cuffed, she fought plenty, to no result.

I pulled her top up, revealing her breasts. They were full. D-cups, maybe DD. Her bra had half scoops and a thick underwire. It didn’t fit well, and provided poor support. A garment bought online, with a best guess as to fit. The style exposed her dark nipples. They were hard, sticking out as far as the first joint of my thumb.

I slapped her tits, forehand, backhand. Then I bore down on her left nipple, pinching it between my thumb and the first knuckle of my forefinger. Preeti’s eyes squeezed shut. It took a lot of pressure to get her make any noise. Her voice vibrated in a high pitch.

“AaahHahah! Jay! Do not!”

I moved to the other nipple, pinching and applying downward pressure, forcing Preeti to her knees by the grip I had on her tit. She looked up at me. Her color of her eyes was so dark it blended into her pupils, which contrasted well against the huge whites.

“Please. Jay. I am begging you.”

I smacked my dick on her face. My cock was as long as her head, nearly as thick as a soda can, and rock hard. Meaty and veiny. Sticky and slimy. Preeti winced, tried to turn away. I buried a hand in her dark hair, pulling her head back and forced her to hold still. I cockslapped Preeti until she started to pant.

When her mouth fell open, I stuffed my big dick into it. Her eyes shot open. Holding her hair, I grabbed her chin, pinching the hinge of her jaw open, and fucked Preeti’s face. She made loud, muffled protests, alternating with loud gagging noises as I thrust into her throat. It was the first hint of a performance. I blamed the Hentai. Preeti was emulating the animated girls she touched herself to.


Preeti didn’t attempt to please me at all. She opened wide, letting her drool spill freely out of her mouth. I fucked her face for a long time, dipping my dick deep, pulling out fully so her spit fell, then using rough thrusts to repeatedly gag her.

I was tempted to finish then, but we had all weekend. I pulled way, a line of throat spit from her lips to my cock, and slapped her across the face. A proper slap avoids the temple and point of the chin, both of which can affect vertigo. It uses the all the fingers but not the ridge of your hand. It’s loud, and it stings like hell. But the girl keeps her teeth and doesn’t end up with TMJ.

Preeti spun at the impact. I forced her face down onto the bed and pulled her long skirt up. She was wearing a G string that didn’t quite match her bra. I tugged them down to midthigh and knelt behind her, one knee down, one up. She was a brown girl, with dark labia, parted to reveal pink. My slick cockhead rubbed against her lips. She was so wet, I accidentally entered her.

“Noooo! Jay! Please. I am not on birth control. Please. You have a heart. I know you.”

I didn’t answer her. I plowed into Preeti, burying myself in three thrusts. She was open and ready. There was a box of toys in her desk drawer. Preeti had confessed as much. She liked to push the limits, in terms of the size of them. I was guessing that she had used one recently, in the rush that followed sending me that message and photo.

“No! Ahhack! Stop! Jay! Please. Use a condom. Please. There is sperm in precum. I could—ahhmn!”

Preeti had to bite down hard to keep from giving any sign she was responding to the pounding I was giving her. I drove in with deep, short strokes. She gulped hard, choking down any trace of a moan. I started to grunt with each thrust, slamming in hard enough to shake the bed. My knee was getting rubbed raw on the shitty carpet. Preeti’s had to be worse.


That felt worthy of breaking my silence for. “That’s the idea.”

I buried myself, leaning over Preeti, holding her by the shoulders. I withdrew half an inch, enough to ensure she felt what was coming. She buried her face in mattress in an exercise of self-afflicted breath play as I pumped her full of cum. Hot, thick spurts, splashing into her cervix. As soon as I was drained, I pulled out harshly. Still hard, the prominent mushroom head dragged my semen out with it, spilling it down her thighs.

I picked Preet’s legs up and tossed her fully on the bed, then climbed over her and got comfortable on her pillow, before dragging her face towards my messy cock. She wouldn’t open her mouth. I rubbed my sticky, half-hard shaft all over her lips and cheeks, then held her nose. She held out until she absolutely had to breathe. When her mouth opened, I stuff my cock into it. Preeti applied only the bare minimum suction. After a few minutes, I sat up to dig a book out of my duffel and started to read.

“If you behave, I’ll let you get back to your internet porn, or whatever it is do you all day.”

Preeti, mouth full, leered at me, then nodded. I reached over and undid the safety latches on her cuffs. She rolled off the bed, onto the floor.

“You got what you wanted, Jay. Just leave, and I will not say a word.”

I didn’t look up from my book. “You won’t tell anyway. And no one would care if you did.”

Preeti reached down to touch herself, and feel my cum flowing out of her. I affected to not notice.

“Go…Jay. Uhnh. Leave…please. Uhnh.”

“Not a chance.” I turned a page. “You and me are just getting started.”

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