The Favor
Chapter 1: The Question
Posted: July 07, 2004 - 04:39:18 pm

Rachel was my best friend. We'd been neighbors since birth, and though she was absolutely gorgeous, practically my idea of perfection, she had always been like a sister to me. We went to school together, hung out together, talked about everything. We just never got romantic.

Rachel knew about all the girls that I had gone out with, and I knew about her boyfriends. She knew that I'd had sex with a couple, and petted with even more. I knew that she had never let a guy get to second base. I had asked her about it. Was she saving herself for marriage? Did she not like the particular guys she was dating? Was she a lesbian? She would just laugh and tell me I was silly, and that she had her reasons. It was one of the few things we never discussed.

It was the beginning of summer. We had just finished our junior year of high school and we were hanging out together in Rachel's bedroom, listening to music and talking. Her mother was gone for the weekend, but she trusted Rachel home alone.

There was a lull in our conversation, and when I looked over at Rachel she was staring at me contemplatively.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"Huh?" I exclaimed in surprise.

"A simple question," she said. "Do you love me? We've been friends forever. Do you love me?"

I thought about it for a second and then said, "Of course! I'd do anything for you!"

She pounced on this, saying, "Really? You would really do anything for me?"

"You know I would!" I said.

She paused for a long moment, and then said, "OK, I have a favor to ask."

"Sure, what do you want?" I asked.

"It is a very, very big favor," she said with a warning tone in her voice.

"Okaaaay," I said, wondering where this was leading.

"First, I need to explain something to you that I haven't explained before," she told me. "You know that I don't fool around with my dates. It makes it hard for me to get dates, but that's my rule. And you always wondered why, right? Well, I'll tell you why.

"A lot of my friends think that it is because I don't trust the boys, but that's not it. It's that I don't trust myself." She paused for a moment, and then said, "Oh god, I practiced this in my head, and I still can't get it out."

Rachel sighed and said, "The reason that I don't let the boys touch me is because I am a pervert."

"A pervert?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am a sexual deviant," she said. "I get excited by certain things that would make other people disgusted. And I know that if I let myself go even a little bit, there would be no turning back."

"You are still confusing me, Raich," I said. "What things get you off, and how would there be no turning back?"

Rachel sighed again, and was quiet for a long time. Finally she reached over into her bedside table and pulled some things out, which she put into my hand. I examined them, and they looked like a smaller version of the ends of battery charging cables; I think they are called alligator clips.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Those are clips," she said in a quiet voice. "I use them on my nipples, and sometimes my clit, when I masturbate in bed."

I looked at them more closely, surprised. I closed one on the skin of my finger and it hurt like hell. I looked up at her, and she seemed on the verge of crying.

"Do you know those dreams that people have, where they are in class and they realize that they are naked?" she asked.

I nodded my head.

"To me, those are wet dreams," she said. Tears began falling from her eyes. "Most girls think of movie or rock stars when they jill-off. I think of Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Except instead of him saving me from the Nazis, he is using his bull-whip on me!"

Rachel was crying all out now, so I reached over and pulled her into my arms. "Raich, it's OK. Everyone has fantasies," I said. "If I told you half my fantasies you'd think I was a degenerate too! It doesn't make you a bad person! I still love you, and I don't think badly of you!"

Rachel continued to sob into my chest for a few more minutes. Finally, she wiped her eyes on my shirt and looked up at me. She reached over and got some tissues, blew her nose and cleaned up her face.

"I knew you'd feel that way," she said with a little smile.

"Then why were you so worried about telling me?" I asked. "Why were you crying?"

"Because I've never told anyone this," she said. "Besides, I'm not done."

"What else do you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Jeff, it's not just that I have these fantasies," she said. "You saw the clips; I can't get off unless I hurt myself. Actually, that's not entirely true. I can't get off unless I am in pain, or I feel completely humiliated."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Remember last year when I was in volleyball and my shirt got caught and my boob popped out?" she asked.

I hadn't been there, but the story certainly spread around the school. I nodded.

"When I realized what had happened I screamed, covered myself up and ran to the bathroom," she explained. "And when I got there I jumped into a stall and masturbated until I came, which took about 3 seconds. I replayed that night in my head while I masturbated for weeks. My only regret was that I ran away so soon. It would have been better had more people seen me.

"Even that faded after a while, and I had to go back to the clips and to other things that I use to give me pain. Jeff, I'm not normal. I need something more. And that is where the favor comes in."

Now I was starting to get a little nervous, but I nodded for her to continue anyway.

"Next year we are going off to college," she said. "In high school, I can keep the boys away. But the feelings are getting stronger. When I get to college, someone is going to figure me out, and in all likelihood, going to take advantage of it. And if I don't do something before then, I won't care. I'll give in to anything that someone asks for, just to get the pleasure. I don't want that to happen."

She paused again for a long time, not looking at me. Finally I asked, "So what can I do for you?"

"Jeff, I need to know what it's like with someone that loves me. Someone that cares for me. Someone that will do what I need, but still think about me. Jeff, from now until we graduate next June, I want you to own me."

I sat back, shocked. "Own you?" I asked.

"I promise you, that if you will do this for me, I will never say no to anything that you ask of me," she replied. "I am not asking for you to be my boyfriend, or for you to stop seeing other girls. I am just saying that if you do what I ask then I will be your slut, your whore, your fucktoy, your plaything, until we graduate."

That didn't relieve my shock. "Exactly what are you asking for? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to fulfill my fantasies," she said. "I want you to treat me badly. I want you to hurt me. I want you to humiliate me. I want you to screw me every way that you can thing of. I want you to use me for your pleasure."

"But why?" I asked. "Why do you want this? And why me?"

She sighed and said, "Jeff, it is all that I think about now. If I don't do something affirmatively to make this happen, then I will fall for the first guy that treats me badly. If any one of these guys I went out with tried to date rape me, I would fold and let him do it. I would encourage him to do it. I would encourage him to do it in the boys' locker room in front of the football team." She paused, breathing heavily, clearly worked up by the image that she was drawing.

"Jeff, I know you," she went on. "I trust you. And more importantly, I think that you can treat me like I want to be treated, and still respect me. I think that you can beat the crap out of me, and still worry if you are really hurting me. Jeff, you are the only person in the world that I think could give me what I want."

Now it was my turn to sit back quietly. I couldn't believe it. She had hidden her desires so well. Looking back, I couldn't think of a single thing that would indicate her sexual bent. And I couldn't figure out if I could give her what she wanted; what she needed.

I sat there for a long time, until finally Rachel couldn't take it anymore. She looked up at me and said, "Talk to me Jeff. Do you hate me?"

I smiled at her and held my arms out to her. I hugged her, stroking her hair and I said, "No Rachel, I don't hate you."

I released her and held her at arms length, looking into her eyes. "This is a lot to ask of me," I said. "On the other hand, it could be every boy's fantasy. But if you want me to do this, you are going to tell me exactly what you are looking for."

She nodded her head and smiled. "I know you, Jeff. I knew that would be the first thing you asked!"

"Ahhh, I'm so young, yet so predictable," I said regretfully.

"Only to me, you goof!" she said, punching my arm. Then she got serious and said, "Really though, I know you always need to understand the rules, so here they are.

"One, I don't want to be permanently damaged. I am on the Pill, so pregnancy is not an issue, but I don't want to be disfigured in any non-reversible way.

"Two, don't do anything that would make you lose respect for me. If you want to make me a slut, a whore, a skank, that's fine. As long as you still respect me. If you want the entire football team to fuck me up my ass, I'll do it for you. But if watching another guy screw me will make you lose respect for me, don't do it. I'd rather have my fantasy unfulfilled than have you lose respect for me.

"Three, the day after we graduate from high school, everything goes back to the way it was this morning.

"That's it. Those are the rules, limitations and boundaries."

I sat there examining her face, and this time she didn't look away. If anything, she was defiant. I said, "Are you sure those are the only restrictions?"

"I've thought about if for a very long time, and yes, those are the only restrictions," she affirmed.

"Let me go through the rules point by point," I said. "One: no permanent disfiguration. That leaves a lot of room open. Are you sure that is what you mean?"

She nodded.

"So tattoos are out, unless I reverse them, but I can pierce you as much as I want?" I asked.

Again, she nodded.

"And I can beat you and bruise you, but not break bones or knock out teeth?" I asked.

And again, she nodded.

"Two I could live with. In fact, it would be one of my rules," I said. "But Three I'm not happy with. Instead, if we go ahead with this, our year will start when you say, 'My fantasy begins now', and it will end when you say 'My fantasy is over'. Whether you say it after ten minutes or one year, that's how long it lasts. Can you live with that?"

She nodded, a smile coming to her face. "Does this mean you'll do it?" she asked.

"Not just yet," I said. "I'm still working my way through what is OK and what is not."

"Don't you get it?" she asked. "Everything, except for what I've specifically excluded, is OK. If you want to have me wash your toilet naked while a German Shepard fucks me in the ass and your sister pisses on me, it would not only be OK, but I would most likely cum like I've never cum before!"

Her eyes were glowing as she said that, and I actually believe that she meant it! I sat back again, considering what it would mean. Regardless of what Rachel said, when this was over things would most definitely not be like they were before. Could I respect her after doing the things that she wanted? I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Did I want to? Shit, yes!

Rachel was a dream. She was the girl next door type, light brown hair down to her shoulder blades, clear blue eyes and a button nose. She was about 5' 7" and still growing. Her baby fat was gone, as was the lanky, gawky stage that she had gone through, leaving her body slim with perfect teenage curves. Her breasts were not huge, but perfect for her frame, 34C riding high on her chest. She wore clothes that showed off her body, but were not too trashy, just the correct level of trashiness for today's modern teenager; crop tops and hip huggers, shorts, tight jeans and skirts.

Despite the fact that I had viewed her as a friend that was a girl, and not a girlfriend, I had still fantasized about her body, as had every boy at our school - and not a few girls. The thought of having her body for my pleasure was extraordinary! But again, it would change our friendship! Sigh.

I looked at her and asked, "Rachel, do you have something to say to me?"

She looked at me, confused, and then light dawned. Her smile was huge, and it made my heart feel good as she said, "Jeff, my fantasy begins now!"