The Warehouse

This story recounts an experience in 2018 with my ex, M.


I pick you up from work. It’s dark. You’re waiting outside the luxury hotel where you’ve just wrapped up your late shift. I lean across to open the car door and you slide in next to me. Long, straight black hair frames your young Chinese features and even though every line of your face is etched in my memory, I’m taken aback by how beautiful you are.
I nuzzle in and kiss your neck, whisper to you to take off your panties. It’s a game we play, you in the passenger seat naked beneath the thin veil of your skirt, me touching you as we drive along the darkened streets of the city. What you don’t know is that tonight the rules of the game have changed.
I explain I need to make a stop to pick up something for the exhibition I’m designing that opens in a few days; there’s a particular stainless steel fixing I need for the construction. Our route takes us through one of Sydney’s inner city industrial suburbs and the diversion will only take a few minutes. You nod and stare aimlessly out the window, a blur of city lights silhouetting the profile of your face.
We drive down a narrow lane, slowing to pull up to a wide metal gate. Summer is approaching and the night outside is warm and still. At the entrance, awaiting our arrival, is Steve. We’ve never met in person—he replied to an ad I posted online—but we’ve talked through the details of tonight over several weeks. He opens the gate and waves us through. It’s as he described, a large industrial yard foregrounds the warehouse that houses his construction business. I drive through. The yard is littered with material offcuts: steel trusses, rusted mesh, plywood, shipping palettes, but its centre is a wide open space and it’s here that I park. Steve follows along behind and as planned approaches us from your side of the car. I press a button; your window winds down.
‘Hey mate’ Steve leans in to greet us, his arm resting on the sill of your door. He looks like his pictures: a conventionally handsome face, somewhat weathered in the way so many Australian men’s are, sits upon broad shoulders.
‘Hey’ I reply. I nod toward you: ‘Steve this is M, M this is Steve.’
You smile, slightly quizzical, clocking the oddness that its your window he’s leaning through. I catch and hold your eye before slowly and deliberately saying ‘M, I have a strong feeling that Steve would enjoy taking a look at your pussy’.
An odd expression darts across your face, surprise, anger, embarrassment and desire mixing into something I can’t quite fathom: a merging of resistance and surrender? As is your habit when embarrassed you clamp your eyes shut and turn your head sideways against the seat’s headrest as if averting your gaze.
‘Would you like that Steve? Would you like to see M’s pussy?’
‘Yeah mate, actually I would’ he drawls.
You’re motionless, eyes still closed, breathing heavily. I feel the tension in your body as I reach down and slowly lift your skirt to reveal your pink hairless youth. Time freezes.
I can hear the slight breeze, cicadas, the distant sound of traffic.
‘It’s pretty nice don’t you think?’ I ask
‘Oh yeah, beautiful’, Steve agrees.
I lean in to your ear and whisper ‘I think we should give Steve a better look, don’t you?’ Your breathing quickens but still you say nothing. I reach down and cradle your knee in my hand and gently lift it, placing your foot on the car’s centre console, spreading you wide open to his gaze. I see the muscles in Steve arm shift, the rhythmic pulsing of blood in his veins. He leans in closer, and I wonder if you can feel the movement of the air as it enters and exits his lungs.
‘Would you like to touch M’s leg? I ask. Barely perceptively he nods, reaching down to gently brush above your knee with the back of his hand. ‘And the inside of her thigh?’ I ask again. The rough skin of his fingers moves higher and you gasp, your head still turned, eyes still firmly shut.
‘What do you think?’ I ask
‘Oh yeah, she’s so soft’ he replies. Pulled back the way it is, your skirt does nothing to hide you from his slow scrutiny.
‘I bet you would enjoy touching her there’ I say to Steve.
‘Fuck mate, yeah I would.’
I lean in close and whisper in your ear ‘Shall we let Steve touch you there, touch your soft pink pussy? You say nothing but I see a shiver of desire run through you.
‘Why don’t you see if it’s wet?’ I say to Steve, ‘I think she would like that’ and I watch your lips subtly separate, your mouth opening as you feel his fingers begin to stroke that softest, most innocent part of you. I look at Steve, his strong hands insistently exploring.
‘Is it wet?’
‘Oh yeah, very’ he replies, and as he runs his fingers around your skin you can no longer resist, your raised knee drops fully to the side, opening you further, your hips push slowly back against the intrusion of his fingers. And now they are inside you, sliding in and out, slowly fingering you, now faster and more urgently. A wave of spasms pass through your body as you come and hot liquid shoots across Steve’s hand, splashing the footwell of the car. I adore this about you, how like an overexcited puppy scrambling to greet its master, you lose control of your bladder in these moments of intensity.
Together Steve and I take off your skirt, unbutton and remove your blouse, the monochrome moonlight caressing your erect nipples. You’re naked, fully exposed before us. Steve’s hand returns to its task, more aggressively now, its fast, rhythmic slap-slap-slap overlaying the guttural moans that emanate from deep inside you. You come again.
‘Slap it’ I say to Steve, and now I’m holding your knee, keeping you spread open while his flattened fingers rain down upon your softness, each wet thwack punctuated by your sharp intake of breath. You come again, faster and more urgently. I look at Steve’s torso half through the window, an expression of calm gratitude upon his face: ’Shall we move this on?’ I ask. He nods and we both smile knowingly.

I open the door and get out and for the first time your eyes open—in alarm. I know what you’re thinking, that I might be about to leave you here, alone, with this stranger, and while that idea has a huge appeal, to just abandon you to whatever urges this man wishes to inflict upon you, I know it’s a step too far for this evening and I mentally file it away for another time.
I walk around to your side of the car. Steve takes a step back and I reach in and grab you by your long soft hair, pulling you roughly to your feet. You’re standing now in the warehouse yard, totally naked and helpless before us, before me, your owner, and before Steve’s imposing physique, muscle hewn from years of manual labour. His isn’t the sharpest intellect and he lacks the imagination or focus of mind to have orchestrated tonight’s proceedings, but that’s not what’s required of him. Dragging you behind me by the hair, I lead you around to the drivers side, open the door to the back seat and direct you to hop in. I look up across the roof of the car and smile at Steve. ‘She’s all yours’. He opens the door and climbs in next to you.
Back in the driver’s seat I turn to face you both. Taking your face in my hand I run my thumb across your lips, pushing it into your mouth. You run your tongue around it then take it deeper. I shift my hand to tilt your gaze toward Steve.
‘Look how hard you have made him’ I say. He’s wearing gym shorts, his cock making a tent out of the soft, loose fabric.
‘Why don’t you feel how hard he is?’ I remove my wet thumb from your mouth and take your hand placing it on his thick cock. You moan.
‘Feel what you’ve done to him’, I say, and rhythmically squeeze your hand, tightening its grip. I look into your eyes and smile lovingly. ‘Impressively sized, isn’t it?’ You moan again. ‘Would you like to see?’ Again your eyes clamp shut in embarrassment. ‘I asked if you would like to see it?’ I insist. ‘Yes’ you shyly whisper and direct your gaze, first at me, and then down at the bulge between Steve’s legs. I loosen my grip and Steve slowly peels down his shorts, his cock springing up as the waistband passes over it. It’s thicker than it looked in his photos, long taut veins protruding from its meaty shaft. I place your hand back and you slowly run your fingers along it, drawn irresistibly to explore its contours, it’s damp foreskin and large shaved balls.
‘You know where that belongs’ I say, and apply the gentlest of pressure to the back of your head; little encouragement is needed. You look up at Steve then slowly lower your head to take him in your mouth. He exhales deeply and his body slumps back into the seat, the spread of his thighs widening. You do your best but the angle imposed upon you by the car and his significant size means you can only take in half its length. I apply more pressure, firmly this time, and you moan as his cock is forced deeper inside your mouth. Keeping my hand there I address Steve, talking to him over the top of your head.
‘Happy?’ I ask
‘Oh yeah man’ he replies. ‘She’s so beautiful’
‘She is indeed. Would you like to fuck her?’ I feel you flinch beneath the pressure of my hand ‘Her pussy is all yours if you want it’. The actions of your tongue are preventing him from speaking but he murmurs his keen interest.
I can feel little spasms run through you—the thickness of Steve’s cock is making it difficult for you to breathe—but I hold your head there, feeling their intensity grow, the struggle for air permeating your body, your hands reaching out to push yourself away. But I hold you firm longer, and then a moment longer still, until finally I release and you pull away gasping for breathe, a long arc of saliva still connecting your lower lip to his now rock hard cock. I take you again by the hair and pull your head back. Leaning in I kiss you tenderly, telling you how much I love you, how I’d do anything for you, but that now, right now in this car, you must do something for me. Still holding your hair I turn to face Steve.
‘You want to fuck her’: a statement not a question. ‘Her pussy is yours. You can do want you want with it. Fuck it how you want. As hard as you want. For as long as you want.’ And now I address you. ‘Steve is my friend and you will show him every courtesy. Your body is his. You will give it to him willingly, without complaint. If something is too much to bear you know what it is you have to say, but otherwise you will submit to his desires, his will, his insistence. He can fuck you how he wants. If the size of his cock hurts you, you will not complain. If he wants to choke you, to slap you, to cover your mouth, or open it up to spit inside it, if he wants to fuck you slowly, or slam you with ruthless force, if he wants to bite you, hold you down, draw out pain or use you with unfettered brutality, you will lie there without complaint, lie there and willingly submit to his desires.’ I hold your gaze, stare at you silently for 10, 20, 30 seconds, my eyes never shifting from yours. ‘You will do this, and anything else asked of you, not for him, not for his pleasure, but for mine.’ Again I pause. ‘Do you understand?’ You nod. ‘And do you agree.’ You say nothing, looking deep into my eyes and then your head slowly moves backward, then forward, as you offer your silent consent.