female dominant

Author’s note:

This is a story based on Nikita and takes place during Season 1. Spoilers for that season. Both the actresses and the characters are over 18.


Never again. That’s what Nikita had promised herself. Never again would she allow herself to fall in love.

It had been an easy promised to make. The pain of Daniel’s loss was indescribable. No words could do it justice, but in her most cold and detached moments Nikita admitted to herself under different circumstances she could have moved on. If she was normal. If she hadn’t been turned into something ugly, something broken, something not entirely human anymore. If she didn’t have bosses watching her every move, taking everything from her until there was nothing left but a killing machine. But she wasn’t normal, so Nikita had committed her life to revenge and become lost in it. Lost in hate and anger until she couldn’t feel the pain of her loss anymore.

Of course she had been a fool to believe someone like her could love. That she could have an emotionally healthy relationship which lasted more than a night. Besides, Daniel had only loved her because he hadn’t really known her. If he had ever seen her, the real Nikita, he would still be alive because he would have run from her as fast as his legs could have carried him, and she would have let him go like she should have done when she had the chance.

So, never again. That’s what Nikita had promised herself. Promised herself over and over again. Pushed even the hint of love away at every turn. But no matter how hard she pushed it found her. First Michael, then…

“Alex!” Nikita murmured softly.

Few could get close to her without her knowledge. Alex was one of them, although part of Nikita hoped it was someone else as an assassin wasn’t anywhere near as scary to her right now as her young protégé. Another part of her, a very small part, hoped that her reply was a bullet straight to her heart, which again would be in some ways preferable. Alas it was not to be.

Slowly stepping out from the shadows Alexandria Udinov, better known as simply Alex, smiled rebelliously in a way which seemed to lighten up the dull lit room.

“I came as soon as I could…” Alex said, her eyes drifting to the candlelit table for two in the centre of the room, “Is that… for me?”

She had wanted to say ‘for us’ but Nikita didn’t like Alex saying such things so she resisted. She also resisted the urge to embrace Nikita, even though Alex really, really wanted to feel the older woman’s arms wrapped around her. But as usual Nikita was all business, so Alex took the small victory of the tiny display of affection and wordlessly followed her mentor to the table and took her seat. Nikita joined on the opposite side and they ate in silence. Or at least Alex ate. Nikita just sat there either staring at her or her food, which was more than a little troubling. Nikita wasn’t the best conversationalist but normally she would be talking to Alex about Division, her latest assignment, the next assignment, etc. And she would be eating.

As things became increasingly tense Alex nervously mumbled, “Thank you. You know, for saving me. Again. I know Michael helped, but I’m pretty sure he would never have reached me in time if it wasn’t for you. It’s… it’s nice to know you always have my back. That, that someone’s always there. It’s why I… you know…”

Alex trailed off when Nikita looked up, their eyes locking for what felt like an eternity, and then the feared assassin softly but clearly said, “I killed your father.”

The room had been pretty silent before but now it felt deafening. And Alex couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think for a few long seconds.

Her first thought was it was a joke. Nikita trying to lighten the mood with a horribly miscalculated joke. But Nikita’s eyes told Alex she was deadly serious. Because of course she was. Because nothing in Alex’s life could just be pure and good. No, it had to be ugly and tainted.

Alex took a deep breath, her first in what felt like forever, and she felt the tears beginning to fall from her eyes as she was almost consumed by the urge to lash out. To scream at Nikita. To attack her. To kill her. But the rational part of her mind stopped her. Forced her to at least get the whole story first.

Taking another deep breath Alex softly said, “You were on the team which attacked the mansion. You… you found him before you found me… and… and you killed him. If you didn’t he would have probably killed you. It would have been impossible to get us both out. And, and even if you could have got us both out Division would have hunted us down and killed us both.”

“Alex…” Nikita began.

“You did what you had to do!” Alex interrupted, tears falling from her eyes, “I get that. I really do. You had to confirm the kill. But what I don’t get is, why you didn’t tell me this before letting me into your bed?”

There was a long silence and then Nikita said, “Because I needed you. I needed your help to take down Division. We may still fail, but the odds of us succeeding were far greater together than not, and you had just as much reason as me too wipe them off the face of the earth.”

“So what’s changed?” Alex asked coldly.

“Nothing.” Nikita lied.

Alex frowned, “Then why tell me now?”

“I thought you could handle it.” Nikita lied.

There was a pause and then Alex said, “Bull-shit. We’ve been one step ahead of Division for months, and we may actually be getting close to taking them down, and you tell me this now? No, you wouldn’t risk losing me unless you had a pretty good fucking reason, so what is it? TELL ME!”

On those last two words Alex stood up, tossing her chair angrily away. In response Nikita slowly got up and moved around so she was almost but not quite in Alex’s personal space, her eyes never leaving Alex’s the entire time.

Only then did Nikita reply, “Because I want you to hate me.”

Frowning in confusion Alex murmured, “What?”

“You heard.” Nikita said, clearly becoming angry.

“Why?” Alex asked.

“Because I’m sick of you staring at me like a little puppy dog. Because I can’t stand you hanging on my every word. Because I just can’t handle you telling me you love me when…” Nikita spat, trying to keep her emotions under control but for once in her life her training failed her and she became lost in despair, tears falling from her eyes as she continued, “I killed your father. I killed him. Me.”

“You had no choice. I understand.” Alex said, stepping forward.

“You understand nothing you stupid little girl!” Nikita screamed, stepping back, “Stop it! Stop looking at me like that. I don’t deserve it. I can’t handle it. I can’t handle this. I can’t… Alex, when I thought I’d lost you, I… oh God.”

Rushing forward Alex grabbed a firm hold of Nikita. She could tell the older woman almost pushed her away or knocked her down. Hell, Nikita could have killed her if she’d wanted too. But instead she just allowed Alex to hold her, Nikita staring at the ground as she and the younger girl softly wept.

“Look at me. Look at me!” Alex said, waiting until Nikita was looking at her again, “It’s not your fault. I understand that. And I understand why you lied.”

“It’s not just that.” Nikita whispered, having to force the next words out, “I… I know who was behind your father’s death. I’ve known all along. He is protected by Division, and you wouldn’t have stood a chance before, but now… now you could get to him if you were careful. But I wanted you to help me first. I manipulated you into helping me. I used you. I lied to you. I killed your father. And… and I don’t love you. You’re just a fuck toy to me. I use your body then laugh at you when you fall asleep in my arms.”

The words made Alex feel like she was being constantly stabbed in the heart, and though it was of little comfort she knew what she said next was partly true, “You’re lying.”

“Not about the parts that really matter.” Nikita said, a half smile crossing her face briefly before she continued, “And I’m not lying now… the man who ordered your father’s assassination was Sergei Semak. He was your father’s right-hand man and he took over your father’s company once he was gone. You can find all the evidence you’ll need on my desk. If you remember everything I taught you then you should be able to kill him and disappear. Please Alex, disappear. Forget about Division and live your life.”

Alex frowned, “What about you?”

Nikita smiled, “Me? I put my quest for revenge before you and everything else. I lied to you, manipulated you and used you. I killed your father and denied you your revenge. Now… take it!”

Moving quick as a flash Nikita put a gun in Alex’s hand and guided it underneath her chin.

“I ruined your life Alex. I deserve this.” Nikita said tearfully, “I deserve this for so many reasons, but… but mostly for trying to turn you into me. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. But it’s not too late. You can have your revenge and be done with it. Have a good, decent life. Please be good Alex. Don’t become me. Please don’t become just another killer. Please remember there’s good inside you. And please… please kill me. I deserve it. Kill me.”

Alex closed her eyes, pain and sorrow still filling her body, but there was nothing to consider, “No.”

“Please… please kill me.” Nikita wept, “Kill me!”

“Never.” Alex whispered before tossing the gun aside and pressing her lips against Nikita’s.

It was just like the first time. Nikita tensing at first, then momentarily melting into the gentle touch only to silently push Alex away before she could add her tongue into the mix. Back then Alex had been going through a hellacious detox which hadn’t hurt as much as this new information yet both times kissing Nikita gave her total clarity.

Nikita was the only thing in Alex’s life which made sense. The only thing which made her happy. The only thing in her whole adult life which had ever really been hers, and Alex couldn’t and wouldn’t give it up.

“I forgive you.” Alex sobbed, “I forgive you for everything. Because I would be dead without you. And because you’re the only one I’ve ever truly been able to rely on. And because I love you. I love you so fucking much. Let… let me show you.”

With that Alex kissed Nikita again, this time not allowing the older woman to push her away. Nikita tried. Not extremely hard, but she tried. However Alex would not be denied this time. This time Nikita wouldn’t win. She wouldn’t have her way. Alex would have hers.

Of course had Nikita really tried she could have pushed Alex away. Or more accurately if she had the emotional strength she would have pushed Alex away, would have always pushed her away if she was stronger, better, the woman who Alex pretended she was. Hell, if there was an ounce of goodness inside her Nikita would never have let Alex seduce her in the first place. It shouldn’t have mattered how relentless Alex was in her (ultimately successful) attempts at seduction, or how insistent she was being now, Nikita should have resisted/should now resist. But she didn’t. Instead Nikita allowed herself to be kissed, stripped and guided to the bed, the whole sordid thing feeling like it lasted forever and yet only took a few seconds all at the same time.

Once she was lying on the bed with Alex on top of her Nikita truly became lost to the kiss, her tongue wrestling the younger girl ferociously and easily winning. She also tried flipping them over, Nikita ready to tear off this uppity little girl’s clothes and ravage her like she always did, brutally fucking Alex into submission in an attempt to finally make her protégé stop loving her. While the latter part had never worked the former had a perfect success rate, until now, Nikita taken by surprise as Alex countered the move and broke the kiss.

“This time I’m on top!” Alex said forcefully, not like those few times she had giggled it before being swiftly put in her place, but not so forcefully Nikita would immediately flip them like she so effortlessly could. Clearly taken aback by this Nikita did nothing, although Alex was aware that would change if she didn’t follow up correctly, the less experienced spy taking a deep breath before cupping her lover’s face and whispering, “I’m showing you, remember? I’m showing you I forgive you. That I love you. That you’re my whole fucking world. So just relax and let me love you. Please?”

No. Nikita should have said no. She wanted too. She wanted to be strong enough to finally do the right thing. But then Alex lent down and gently kissed her again and Nikita melted.

The kiss didn’t even last that long this time, Alex first moving down to her neck and then her breasts, the whole time Nikita trying to say something, anything, but words failed her. In fairness it was hard for anyone to think coherently when their lover’s mouth was gently worshipping their body, and Alex’s mouth had become so very good at driving Nikita wild. Especially when it came to her breasts, Alex moving back and forth between them for what felt like an eternity, the younger girl licking and sucking Nikita’s nipples with a type of loving tenderness which invoked tainted memories for the haunted spy. Then that mouth moved lower and Nikita became an empty shell, completely unable to think for a few long minutes.

Alex knew this wasn’t normal. It probably wasn’t healthy, psychologically speaking. And it was almost definitely wrong. People just didn’t go down on their father’s killer, especially after just finding out. Regardless of the circumstances Nikita would always be the one who pulled the trigger and while time might somewhat heal that gaping wound in her heart her love for Nikita would always be tainted. And yes, maybe it would be better if they gave each other some space, or she just spend the night in Nikita’s arms and whispering that she loves her and forgives her over and over again, but right now Alex felt she physically needed to show she could get past this. That nothing Nikita could say or do would ever stop Alex from loving her.

If that was wrong, and she was pretty sure it was, Alex never wanted to be right. And maybe she never had been right. Maybe Alexandria Udinov, the innocent little girl, had died with her family and all that was left was a broken shell which would never be whole again. But then in Nikita she had found a true companion. Someone as broken as she was, yet with a determination to get their revenge and protect the one thing they had left, each other. Yes, Alex thought as she finally reached her destination, in this woman she had found the perfect mate. Nothing else truly mattered. Her revenge was just something to make her leave Nikita’s bed. Nikita was her reason for breathing.

With that thought echoing through her mind Alex finally focused on the delicacy she had been staring at for several long seconds, that time allowing her to soak up the heavenly scent which was pure Nikita until it consumed her. Suddenly ravenously hungry Alex leaned down, closed her eyes, stuck out her tongue and slid it over familiar flesh, the taste of Nikita setting fire to her taste buds from the very first touch. Again and again Alex slid her tongue along the full length of her mentor’s pussy lips, teasing her entrance at the beginning of every lick while avoiding her clit.

Normally Alex would escalate things from there soon after, however this time was different. This time she was deliberately trying not to give Nikita what she wanted and do what she wanted for a change. Only despite her experience, especially when it came to being in between Nikita’s thighs, Alex had no idea what she was doing. Well, technically she had some idea, at least when it came to the physical stuff, but she was sure there were subtle differences she was missing. After all, Alex had never made love to someone before so it was impossible for her to know how well she was doing.

Of course Nikita recognised what Alex was doing. She had known since Alex had started kissing her way down her body, each and every touch excruciatingly gentle and loving, almost to the point where it broke Nikita from the spell her younger lover had cast over her. Even the kissing had been uncomfortably soft on Alex’s part, and as much as Nikita had managed to escalate things each time when Alex moved away from her mouth she was helpless to do anything about it. Or more accurately she felt helpless, an unusual feeling Nikita hated.

In reality Nikita could have pushed Alex away from her without much physical effort, but she knew she was far beyond the point of being able to do that. Still, she could have flip them over and taken control. Fucked this girl until their earlier conversation was nothing but a dream and they would both be mindless animals lost in their physical desires for each other. It had happened countless times before, and Nikita hadn’t promised Alex she wouldn’t do it again, but Nikita couldn’t seem to summon the willpower to do it. Almost like Alex had some psychological power over her, the young girl forcing her to remain where she was with the power of her mind. Which was of course ridiculous but Nikita couldn’t really come up with a better explanation of why she just lay back and let Alex deliver one infuriatingly slow lick to her cunt after another.

It was unlike anything Nikita had ever felt from a woman. Sure, she’d had plenty of them in between her thighs but none of them had licked her pussy with such care, love and devotion. Not even the men who had told her they loved her had done anything which had felt close to this, especially when Alex looked at her with those infuriating puppy dog eyes, Nikita finding herself lost in those beautiful blues for several long seconds before she closed her eyes and pretended things were different.

Pretending she was with someone else was a waste of time she’d given up long ago but Nikita often imagined a different life. A normal life. A life where she and Alex were the same age and Division was nothing but a bad dream. Nikita imagined that all the time but especially when she fucked Alex. Or when the younger girl was in her arms. Now she found herself actually imagining things were normal between them. Their normal. The normal which involved her slamming her tongue, fingers or strap-on cock into Alex until her protégé was screaming her name. Of course these images only made Nikita more desperate to cum until the former Division agent was willing to say or do almost anything to get what she wanted. And hey, she had already crossed so many lines in the last hour, what was another.

“Alex… please… fuck me… please fuck me…” Nikita whispered, her voice sounding deafening in the large room, “Fuck me Alex… fuck me you whore…”

The first few words only caused Alex to smile against Nikita’s pussy, the young spy feeling proud of herself for making the mighty Nikita beg. Then came the final word which made Alex stop in her tracks, the Russian girl looking up at her mentor in disbelief.

Nikita had called her all sorts of things during sex and Alex loved every minute of it but the other spy had deliberately avoided any version of that word. Because of the people Nikita left her with? Because of what happened to her? Because of Nikita’s guilty conscience? Probably, and Alex was grateful for it, but for Nikita to say that word she must have had a good reason. The real question was did Nikita still want Alex to kill her or did she just want her to fuck her? Or wasn’t Nikita sure? Either way Alex felt this needed to be addressed so while keeping her eyes locked with Nikita’s she slowly crawled up the older woman’s body until they were face to face.

“Deliberate cruelty doesn’t suit you моя любовь.” Alex said softly after a couple of seconds of silence, “Tell me Niki, why the candlelit dinner? Seems like an odd choice, if you truly wanted me to kill you.”

Nikita just looked away and remained silent.

“Will you at least tell me what you want now?” Alex asked.

More silence in then Nikita said, “I already told you.”

“Say it again.” Alex demanded softly.

Nikita turned her head to look at Alex again, the two spies staring at each other for a long moment before Nikita repeated, “Fuck me you whore.”

More silence, and then Alex roughly pushed two fingers into Nikita’s cunt and started thrusting them in and out. Like when the roles were reversed her fingers were dry so it hurt a little going in but Nikita’s pussy was plenty wet so not only did those fingers slide in easily but the cry the older woman let out was more or less of pure pleasure. Again that was similar to when the roles were reversed, and from the tone of Nikita’s cry Alex wondered if her mentor also enjoyed a little pain with her pleasure. Well, Alex knew Nikita could dish it out, but could she take it.

Taking a risk Alex decided to find out, her first couple of thrusts swiftly moving from a steady pace to a hard fucking before slowing things right down. As a result Nikita cried out loudly in mostly pleasure, and while there was an undertone of pain Alex was almost 100% sure the older woman liked it. Either way Nikita took it without any real complaint, not that that was really a surprise. After all Nikita was the toughest person Alex had ever met. Not that it didn’t make it fun to push her limits, even if the look in Nikita’s eyes told Alex she would pay for it later. Hoping to make it much later Alex curled her fingers inside the other woman, forcing a moan from Nikita, which was like sweet music to the Russian girl’s ears.

As Alex smirked down at her Nikita frowned. This was new for her and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Not being finger fucked, all but a couple of drunk one night stands had at some point done that, however there were few she had allowed to fuck her like this. Like they were in a position of power. Power over her. Nikita had certainly never allowed Alex anything like this. No, the younger girl was always between her thighs and lapping away at her clit whenever she had fingered her before, not hovering above Nikita with a infuriating smirk on her face. Then again at least it wasn’t the infuriating puppy dog eyes.

Just as Nikita thought that she caught a glimpse of those eyes, Alex’s expression changing into what she was sure was a deliberately wicked smirk before the younger girl leaned in to whisper into her ear, “Do you remember our first time? You took me just like this right over there, on the floor, your fingers slamming in and out of me as you stared into my soul. Did you see it then Niki? When you were staring into my eyes could you tell that I loved you? You’ve always been able to see right through me, so I’m guessing you did. That you knew I loved you before I started whimpering it, and then screaming it as I came all over your fingers. I bet you even knew before you took me and made me your little fuck toy. Didn’t you моя любовь?”

Nikita didn’t answer. She didn’t need too as they’d already pretty much had this conversation after the first time. Back then Alex had been constantly trying to seduce her without a hint of subtlety, Nikita telling the girl she was confusing feelings of gratitude for something stronger, that the teen didn’t really want the older woman, that she had to stop using her body to get what she wanted/reward people who showed her kindness. Truthfully Nikita hadn’t truly believed those excuses, not when she saw the increasing devotion in Alex’s eyes. Then one day during a training session Nikita had her protégé pinned to the floor and Alex had kissed her again while rubbing her sweaty, barely covered young body against her and Nikita just hadn’t been able to resist. She had slammed her fingers inside of Alex and fucked her right there on the floor, then up against the wall, then on the bed before finally shoving the girl’s head between her legs.

It had been intense, passionate and wonderful, Nikita barely trying to convince Alex afterwards that she hadn’t meant what she said. She certainly hadn’t been convincing that they could never do this again, especially as they had sex again more or less straight after the conversation.

“Now I am the one topping you. Now I’m the one with my fingers inside you… pumping in and out of you… fucking you… making you mine.” Alex whispered, awaking Nikita from her thoughts before the younger girl moved so she was looking her in the eye again, “And you are mine Nikita. You can try and deny it all you want, but I remember our first time. I remember looking at you and trembling. You looked like a lioness about to devour her helpless prey and it scared me almost as much as it made me cream all over your fingers. But as dominating and powerful as you looked, as much as your eyes told me you loved having your way with me they also betrayed you because I saw love in them. It was tiny but it was there, and it’s there now and it scares you. Even more than how you’re loving this. Loving me topping you. The mighty Nikita on the bottom, being the bottom for a change. I can see it in your eyes, and I can feel it in the way your pussy grips onto me and soaks my fingers. It tells me how badly you want to cum. How badly you want to cum for me. Do it моя любовь. Cum for me. Cum for me my love.”

Nikita wanted to deny it. She wanted to deny she was in love with Alex, again tell the girl she didn’t feel that way and the Russian was just seeing what she wanted to see. But she couldn’t. She was too busy doing what she was told and cumming hard on Alex’s fingers, Nikita feeling herself squeezing down on those digits and covering them with her cream. The pleasure was wonderful, mind-numbing even, but Nikita found herself unable to break her gaze from Alex’s which meant she had to see the love the younger girl had for her. Luckily it didn’t last, Alex stealing a move out of Nikita’s playbook and suddenly moving down her body to replace her thumb on the older woman’s clit with her tongue.

The change in stimulation had Nikita quickly cumming again on Alex’s fingers, and then for a third time in Alex’s mouth, the Russian girl replacing her fingers from Nikita’s cunt with her tongue and wrapping her upstairs lips around the other woman’s downstairs lips. Like that Alex made Nikita cum a couple more times, the younger girl greedily gulping down as much of the precious liquid as she could while some escaped to cover her face.

Alex was going to make Nikita cum even more, but then she felt her mentor’s hand on top of her head and began gently stroking her. Normally these small signs of affection were like water to a man in the middle of the desert for Alex, but this was one which usually led to Nikita shoving her face deeper into her cunt or the older woman grinding into her face. This was something of course Alex loved almost as much as the stroking of her hair, however that would be giving up her control and Alex wasn’t quite ready for that.

So reluctantly Alex pulled away, having a feeling that she only succeeded because Nikita wasn’t expecting it. A single look from Nikita seem to confirm this but she didn’t complain, nor did she say anything, the two spies becoming lost in another staring match for a little while. Then Alex very slowly walked over to the chest by the bed filled with Nikita’s most essential items and retrieved perhaps the most essential of them all, her boss’s strap-on dildo.

Nikita gave a raised eyebrow as she returned, Alex having a pretty good idea what she was thinking. The thought had certainly crossed Alex’s mind more than once and she definitely wanted to try strapping on a dildo one day but Alex knew if she suggested it under the current tense atmosphere Nikita would shoot that idea down and she would definitely lose control over the situation. So instead Alex positioned the harness at Nikita’s feet, the older assassin lifting first her legs then her ass so the Division agent could get the device into the correct place and then strap it onto her. It was something Alex had done many times now and she finished attaching the strap-on quickly and efficiently.

Once the harness was securely around Nikita’s waist Alex grabbed the dildo by the base, brought her lips within millimetres of the toy and then looked up at her mentor and softly but firmly said, “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Nikita had never liked taking orders but to be given one by her student, a girl about 10 years her junior, was infuriating. However Nikita quickly forgot her anger when Alex closed her eyes and took the head of the dildo into her mouth.

Ever since she’d first strapped on a cock Nikita had enjoyed receiving a blow job. It was something she could have never imagined herself enjoying, and Amanda had given her one hell of a lecture on how phallic objects made her feel, but Nikita tried not to dwell on that. It was easier not to when there was a pretty girl with her lips wrapped around her ‘cock’, and regardless of how very wrong this was Nikita couldn’t deny that Alex was a very, very pretty girl. A very, very pretty girl who looked indecently good sucking Nikita’s strap-on dick, Alex bobbing her head on over half the dildo soon after the blow job began.

Despite herself Nikita couldn’t help let out a little moan at watching that sexy little sight. The fact that the base of the toy was bashing her clit also had something to do with it but regardless of the reason it triggered Alex to look up at her with those big blue eyes of hers. At first it was fairly enjoyable, the two women staring at each other while one sucked the other’s strap-on. Then Alex made the mistake of smiling around the cock, Nikita interpreting that as some kind of sign of triumph. It infuriated Nikita and reminded her of the fact that she should be trying to make Alex hate her.

With that in mind Nikita softly murmured, “You always did look good with a cock in your mouth.”

Nikita pause to let that sink in before she said anything more hurtful, but before she could Alex removed her mouth and said, “As long as it’s your cock.”

Then Alex quickly swallowed the fake cock, this time slowly lowering her mouth down the full length of the shaft, stuffing the upper part of it down her throat with practised ease. The whole time she did this Alex kept her eyes locked with Nikita’s, daring the deadly assassin to say anything. Nikita still wanted too but she couldn’t find the words, Nikita just watching as her protégé deep throated the entire length of the cock, Alex pausing for a few seconds once she had her lips wrapped around the base, the younger girl fully coating it in saliva.

After all that was the practical reason for all this, and while Alex enjoyed sucking Nikita’s cock there was currently somewhere else she wanted that long, hard poll. So Alex held back on the urge to gag for as long as she could then came up gasping and coughing, nightmares of her past briefly returning to her before she concentrated on her lover lying before her. More specifically Alex concentrated on what she wanted to do with her lover, the younger girl quickly getting on top of Nikita, grabbing the dildo and lined it up with the entrance to her pussy.

The initial penetration had Alex crying out in pleasure. Sure, particularly the head of the cock was wide and stretched Alex’s downstairs lips kind of painfully every time, but the uncomfortable stretching was barely noticeable next to the pleasure she felt. It was the same for taking the rest of the strap-on, Alex slowly but steadily lowering herself down until she was sitting on Nikita’s lap with every inch of her mentor’s cock inside her, Alex moaning softly the entire way down and letting out an extra loud joyful moan when she had completed the journey.

Closing her eyes Alex took a moment to savour having every inch of Nikita’s cock inside her. Of having Nikita inside her. It didn’t matter to Alex that the cock wasn’t made of flesh in her mind once it was strapped around Nikita’s waist it became part of her mentor. It was part of Nikita. It was Nikita. Nikita was deep inside of her, touching places inside her no one but this goddess had touched her before, her teacher filling Alex up with a big wonderful dick which would never go soft.

Then with her eyes still closed Alex slowly lifted herself up a few inches and then lowered herself down, repeating the process over and over again, the young Russian beginning to ride Nikita’s strap-on with a slow but steady rhythm. The pleasure was intense, partly because keeping her eyes closed focused her senses on what she was doing and partly because for once Alex was in control. Sure Alex had been in this position countless times, and regardless of the position taking Nikita’s cock inside her was always pleasurably intense, but all those other times Nikita had been in control and this, this was different. Not necessarily better, just… different.

Nikita wasn’t so sure she liked different. It had rarely been a good thing in the past and now… now she wasn’t sure what to think. She absolutely hated the not being in control part, and she hated herself being so compliant which was doing nothing to convince Alex that she didn’t love her. But… Nikita had to admit, there was something relaxing about laying back and letting the other person do all the work, something she couldn’t ever remember doing with anyone before, at least not for this lifetime. Most of all Alex looked breath-taking like this, Nikita unable to take her eyes off the younger girl riding her cock.

Of course Nikita had fucked Alex in every position she could think of, the older spy even finding some new ones as she threw the younger woman around like a rag doll and ravaged her body. Except whenever they had been in this position before Nikita had been sitting up and mostly yelling abuse at Alex. And using her mouth to roughly kiss the other girl, and to attack her soft breasts, and even biting into Alex’s flesh either gently enough not to leave a lasting mark or placing it somewhere it would not be easily seen. Nikita also caressed every inch of Alex’s body whenever her hands weren’t on her breasts, or her butt, or roughly grabbing Alex’s waist so she could jackhammer the other spy up and down on her dildo.

All the above Nikita was missing terribly, and itching to do right now, the ex-Division agent knowing how easy it would be for her to just sit up and have her way with Alex. Or better yet flip the girl over onto her back and pound her with all her strength, or place her on all fours and fuck her like the bitch Nikita had treated her as for well over a year now. And Nikita wanted too. She wanted too so badly it almost hurt. But she also wanted to just lie back and watch, the latter desire winning out for now as Nikita tried to enjoy this unfamiliar fuck.

The thing Nikita mostly concentrated on was how beautiful Alex looked. How her young perky little tits bounced with every thrust, how her body looked glistening with the light sheen of sweat, and how that cute little pussy took Nikita’s big cock inside of it. Most of all Nikita watched the look of blissful pleasure on Alex’s face. How happy she looked. How content. And she couldn’t find it within herself to change these things.

Then Alex opened her eyes and looked at Nikita, the two women staring at each other for a brief moment before the younger one asked, “Do you really think you can say anything that could make me hate you? Anything you could do which could change the way I feel? You can hate yourself or you want Nikita, but I could never hate you. No matter what you do, no matter what you say I will always love you. You can piss me off, make me cry and scream at you, but it won’t change the fact that I’m in love with you.”

“It should. You should hate me Alex.” Nikita said softly.

“But I don’t. I can’t. Not really.” Alex said, her eyes getting teary again, “And maybe that’s fucked up, but we’re fucked up Niki! We’re both broken, and lost, and alone. That’s why we’re perfect for each other. Why we belonged together. Because with you I’m not broken anymore. I’m complete. I’m safe. And mountains of baggage doesn’t seem to matter anymore, or at least it doesn’t feel as heavy. And I think it’s the same for you моя любовь. Why else would you prepare a candlelit dinner? Why else would you hold me after we have sex? Why would you jeopardise yourself and your precious mission just to save me time and time again? Why else would you take on the Russian mob all by yourself just to save a fuck toy? And do you really think I’m the only one around here with puppy dog eyes? Niki, you’ve been looking at me like that since before I finished getting clean. Whenever you think I’m not looking, and sometimes even when you know I am, you give me this look like I’m the one that could save your soul, if only one of us could think of the right thing to say-”

Fuming with rage Nikita easily sat up and pushed Alex down, the older spy then grabbing the younger spy’s legs and placing them onto her shoulders so that when she leant forward she was bending the other girl in half. It was one of Nikita’s favourite positions, maybe her favourite, because it was such a position of dominance and she could stare into her lover’s eyes while they revelled in the submissive pleasure she was giving them.

Right now she didn’t enjoy it as much because Alex looked like a frightened rabbit caught in a trap staring at a farmer about to put a bullet in it’s head. The sight was enough to make Nikita’s heart break but the experienced assassin reminded herself she had to remain strong. She just had too. Because Alex’s words were getting to her and she just couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let this girl think there could be anything between them but sex, and even that had been a mistake. Not that Nikita could possibly stop right now, not when she craved this girl so much, but she just had to make Alex understand that she couldn’t love her. She had to make Alex hate her.

So Nikita angrily growled, “I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. You’re just a fuck hole to me. Nothing more, nothing less. I saved you the first time because I didn’t want to kill an innocent little kid and I was sick of following Divisions orders. After that I was manipulating you into being my own personal lackey, but it turns out the only thing you’re really good for is being a fucking whore!”

Alex opened her mouth to say something but Nikita just started hammering the strap-on in and out of her. As Alex had been slowly bouncing on the dildo for quite a while, even during her little speech about how much they belonged together, the Russian girl’s pussy was plenty relaxed and ready for a hard fucking so Alex cried out in pure pleasure as result of this assault. This angered the part of Nikita that wanted Alex to hate her, but at the same time she was mostly glad she wasn’t hurting her. No matter what Nikita didn’t want to hurt Alex, at least not any more than she had too.

Unfortunately Nikita’s words had failed again as through her cries of pleasure Alex whimpered, “I love you.”

This made Nikita fuck Alex harder, the older woman screaming, “HATE ME DAMN YOU!”

Nikita screamed other things. Hurtful things. Everything she could think of just spewing out of her mouth, angry and violent, Nikita doing everything she could to make Alex hate her while fucking her to orgasm. It was worse than it had ever been before because in her determination to win Nikita lost track of everything she was saying. And even though she was trying to do this for Alex’s own good Nikita could tell she was hurting this girl so much, and she wasn’t even succeeding as through it all Alex just looked at her with those infuriating puppy dog eyes.

Finally Nikita realised what should have been obvious, that Alex had been telling the truth, that there was nothing she could do or say which would change the way the Russian girl felt about her and it just destroyed her.

Jack was amazed at how nervous he felt. He could feel a trickle of sweat run down the small of his back beneath his heavy coat as he looked up at the innocuous neon sign. “Yashiko’s Massage Parlor,” it read. A further sign in the otherwise-shuttered window read simply, “OPEN”.

The place was open. At three o’clock in the morning. Jack sighed. He knew that he’d been lonely since he broke up with Denise (since Denise dumped him, the little voice at the back of his head responded. Let’s be honest here, if only with ourselves.) But did it really come to this? Visiting a thinly-disguised house of prostitution?

He knocked on the door, shivering in the cold. Don’t go jumping to conclusions, he told himself. You don’t know this is a brothel. This could just be a place where they give nice, relaxing massages. You could use a massage. You’re tense. Just go on in there, get a massage, and let anything else that happens, happen…

His thought process was interrupted by a voice. “You want a massage?” she (it sounded like a she, at least) asked him, in thickly accented English.

He nodded, before realizing she wouldn’t be able to see. “Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly difficult to summon.

“One hundred dollars. You have money?”

“Yes,” he said again, this time a little more naturally.

The door cracked open to reveal a Japanese woman wearing a silken robe that looked more like lingerie than it did any sort of professional masseur’s outfit. Then again, thought Jack, to be fair, he’d never been to a masseuse before. Perhaps they all wore something like this. She wasn’t particularly attractive–her face was a little too long, creating that slightly horse-like impression some women gave off. She had a nice body, though, from what he could see…which was quite a bit, he began to notice, as he stared at the slightly translucent robe. Gorgeous, small tits; long, slim legs…

She smiled. Suddenly, he realized how much he was staring, and he jerked his eyes back up to meet hers. Her smile was coy, teasing…surely a woman who wasn’t a hooker wouldn’t smile like that at a guy who was checking her out?

“One hundred six dollars,” she said in a business-like tone, holding out her hand.

“You…um, you said one hundred.” But he was already reaching for his wallet.

“Tax,” she said. Just the one word. He pulled out the money, idly wondering whether this meant it wasn’t a brothel. Don’t illegal houses of prostitution avoid paying taxes? Then again, maybe they just paid taxes on the massage part, and kept the sex secret.

She took the money, and said, “My name is Yashiko. Please, follow me.” She turned, and as she walked away, Jack noticed that one could definitely add ‘firm, rounded ass’ to that list of features he’d been cataloging. He stepped after her, admiring it, as she led him into a small, dimly-lit room with a low, padded table. There was a towel lying on the table, and Yashiko said, “Please take off your clothes. I will go get the bath ready.”

“Um…all my clothes?”

Yashiko nodded. “Yes, all clothes. Use the towel to cover yourself.” With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

It didn’t take long for Jack to strip down (carefully placing his wallet in an inside pocket of his jacket), and he hung his clothes on the hook provided. Taking off his glasses was a bit disconcerting–normally, it was something he only did before he went to bed, and having to look at everything through the haze of myopia was a little bit tiring. He had to resist the tendency to squint. He wrapped the towel around himself and stepped back out into the hallway, looking around. It was warm out here in the hallway…in fact, he thought, it was warm in the whole building. Then again, that made sense. If your customers spent most of their time naked, you didn’t want them getting cold.

Jack realized his cock was getting a little bit harder, and he tried to decide whether he should concentrate on calming down, or let it get nice and big as a signal to Yashiko that he was looking for sex. He was still thinking about it, and becoming uncomfortably aware that thinking about it wasn’t a good way to get rid of an erection, when Yashiko stepped out of an alcove further up the hallway. She said, “The bath is getting ready. Do you want to sit in the sauna for a little bit?”

Jack nodded, trying to go with the routine. She showed him to the sauna, and he sat on the low wooden benches, relaxing into the intense heat. After a moment or two, he started to idly play with himself, touching his dick lightly–Yashiko’s sudden opening of the door, a few minutes later, gave him a start, and he whipped his hand away from his dick. She beckoned him into the alcove she’d stepped out of earlier, which contained a vinyl-covered table with a little air-pillow, and took the towel away from him. He thought she looked at his erection, but his nearsightedness made it difficult to tell. She said, “Please lie down on your stomach.”

Jack did as bid, and Yashiko splashed hot water across his back. It felt good–not scalding, but definitely warm. Then he felt her hands on his back, coating it with some sort of liquid soap. He could feel it foaming up as she worked her hands up and down his back, and his erection grew even harder, pressing into the soft matting of the table. She soaped his arms, legs, and buttocks, then rinsed it all off with more of the nice, hot water. Jack was amazed at how relaxing it felt…although there was one part of his body that felt anything but relaxed right now.

Then she ordered him to turn over. He did so, letting his erection spring up–no point in worrying about what Yashiko would think now, he thought as she poured more hot water over his chest. It had to be obvious. She began to work the soap into his chest, and then, cupping his hand in hers, she used his hand as a living washcloth, rubbing it all over his front, down his chest to his cock. She smiled that same coy smile she’d had earlier as she ran his hand over his own genitals, turning the act of washing himself into a masturbatory experience. One, two quick pumps on his cock was all, though, and then she moved the hand away. Jack was amazed at how much he wanted to move it back…but it wasn’t really him that was doing it. It was her.

After she’d rinsed him down with more hot water, she pulled the towel down and bid him to stand. With quick, yet gentle motions, she dried him off, starting at his chest and kneeling down, lower, lower, gently pressing at his cock to dry it off. Jack just stood there and watched, feeling like his whole body was sensitized now.

At last she stood up. “You go back into the room,” she said. “I will be right in.” Jack nodded, and went back into the room his clothes were in. He lay down on the table on his stomach, as though she’d told him to, and arranged the towel so that it was covering his buttocks. He thought about lying on his back with his cock sticking up, but he didn’t want to be so…crass. Yashiko deserved better, he could tell that already.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her…then walked across and gently removed the towel, leaving him naked. “Oil or powder?” she asked.

Jack blinked for a moment, amazed at how tired the combination of the hot sauna, the hot bath, and the gentle fingers had left him. “Oil,” he managed to mutter out, letting his head sink into the table. His cock was still rock hard, though. He could feel it pressing down into the table again.

He heard wet splatting sounds behind him, and the scent of baby oil filled the air as Yashiko’s hands pressed into his back once again. She rubbed the oil into his back with a gentle, stroking motion, rubbing now and again but mostly stroking as she massaged the oil down to his buttocks, running her fingers along them, and down along his inner thighs, causing his cock to press further into the table…

“This feel alright?” she asked, as she stroked down his legs.

Jack didn’t want to answer–he just wanted to lie here, melting into the table as she rubbed his legs, feeling the calf muscles relax–but it would be rude not to. “Yes,” he answered dully. “Feels good.”

“What your name?”

It took him a moment to remember as she rubbed his feet, and he closed his eyes as he thought (and as she rubbed his shoulder blades, relaxing them, letting the tension just ease out of them slowly but surely…) “Jack,” he said at last.

She worked her way down his shoulders to his arms. “You have a girlfriend, Jack?” she asked, slowly massaging his palms and fingers, leaving them so relaxed that the effort to move them was just too much…too much…

“No,” he said, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. “We broke up…she wanted me to eat her out, and I said no.” Silly thing to fight over, he thought as Yashiko rubbed his neck, making it so much easier for his heavy heavy head to sink down into the soft, comfortable table, melting away all of his tensions…

“You do not like eating pussy?” Yashiko asked in a tone of astonishment as her hands moved down his back once again, stroking the small of his back on their journey back down to his inner thighs. Only his cock still felt hard. The rest of him felt like water, loose and liquid…

“I…” he thought back, trying to remember what the question was.

“I think you do like pussy,” she said, and he could imagine that same coy smile on her face once more. “Turn over.” He was amazed at how quickly her voice switched to a tone of command, and he found himself flipping onto his back without even thinking about it. He half-opened his eyes and saw her, smiling down at him, and this time it was unmistakable that she was staring at his cock.

“Sorry,” he said weakly, embarrassed for some reason. “It’s your hands…they feel…”

Yashiko nodded, her smile widening. “It is okay,” she said, now running her hands along his chest, smoothing oil into his nipples. “You just lie back, relax…” her hand moved down to his waist, teasingly, then drifted back up to massage his stomach… “…think about eating pussy…”

Jack nodded back, letting his eyes drift shut again as her hands rubbed and stroked. Eating pussy, he thought…it sounded disgusting once, but now, he thought he did like pussy. The scent of it filled his memory, as Yashiko said, “Pussy tastes sweet to you now, yes?”

It was too much effort to nod, so he just mumbled out his affirmation. He was rewarded for it, as her hands drifted down to touch his cock, sliding over it masterfully. He would have tensed up, but he felt so relaxed…

He could still feel her hand on his cock. “You want to eat pussy?” she asked him. He mumbled another yes, and was rewarded with another stroke. “Why do you want to eat pussy?”

It puzzled him. He thought about it, and began to speak. “I…” But beyond that, he wasn’t sure where to go.

“You want to eat pussy to please women.” Yes! That was it! He felt the hand go up and down again. “Repeat it.”

“I wan’ t’ eat p’ssy…t’ please w’men…” it was so hard to talk, so hard to think, but he had Yashiko here for that now, with her hand on his cock, and she was stroking it, and it felt so heavenly…

“Because women rule you. You are a slave of women, and you do whatever they say.”

“Sl’ve…w’men rule me…” It was all so simple, he thought as she stroked his cock harder now, cupping his balls and rubbing them as well…

“I am a woman. I rule you as Mistress. I will lead you by your cock–” she tugged on it again, by way of illustration, and he gasped in pleasure– “and you will obey me.”

The single word stuck in his mind as she milked him, jacking his cock up and down as he gasped out, mid-orgasm, “Obey…”

He heard the rustling of silk. “Good boy,” Yashiko said, and a thrill of pleasure went through his relaxed and sleepy body. “Now, open your eyes.” He opened them to see Yashiko, standing next to him, her robe lying on the floor. She swung herself onto the table and straddled his face, looking down at him like a queen facing her subject. Which was right, Jack thought. She ruled him.

As she lowered herself down onto him, he began to lick like a good boy should…


Jack gathered up his clothes, making sure to leave the rest of the money in his wallet for Yashiko. It was a bit pricey, but the chance to eat out a pussy like that was worth every penny, right? He’d have to come here again and again, he thought as he stepped out to the door, giving her as much money as he could afford and eating her sweet, sweet pussy.

But first, he knew he’d have to go make up with Denise. He was full of shame. She’d given him a command, and he’d failed to obey…failed to lick her cunt like a good boy…

He only hoped she’d take him back.


My afternoon didn’t start out as perfect. I knew Keith was having a rough day the minute I walked in the door from work. The music thumped away with the bass turned up far too much. That was never a good sign. When the music was too loud, it meant his writing was not going as planned. When he felt like he was blocked, Keith could be downright unbearable.

I didn’t touch the stereo controls, since that would do no good. It usually only made him cranky. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to just leave him upset. I had to break him out of his stress in another way. Luckily, I knew just what to do. The idea had come to me weeks before. I could tell it was time to use it.

He hadn’t called out to me, so I knew he was totally unaware of my presence. I stripped down to my underwear, tossing my clothes in the hamper inside the hall bathroom. Even though the music was up so loud, I moved quietly. Surprise would make this sweeter. It only took a moment to tie my hair back just so and apply a bit more lipstick. A quick spritz of cologne in just the right place almost completed the effect I wanted. I surveyed myself in the mirror. Black lace bra and matching panties…cologne…perfect. I crept out of the bathroom and headed down the hall.

I paused by the door to his study, cracking the door ever so slightly. The music drowned the noise. He was hunched over the computer, staring at a mostly white screen. I winced. Keith hated experiencing writer’s block. I could see the tension in his shoulders and back as he glared at the monitor. The speakers were even louder up here. I kept the door open for a breath more, just long enough to notice the position of the webcam. It was pointed at him and turned on.


I eased the door closed and tiptoed to the bedroom. We had another computer set up there, in case he came up with an idea in the middle of the night and didn’t want to wait the fifteen steps it would take to get him to the study. I turned it on and watched as it connected to the house network. As soon as it was up and running, I called up the spiral program. A teasing smile curved my lips. Yes, Keith would have a real stress-breaker in a moment.

It only took me a few minutes to program the spiral. The program had been a gift from a dear friend. It had originally been intended to help me get through my insomnia. After Keith saw how well it helped me sleep, he used it to help him quit smoking. We were both delighted with the results. Over time, I’d discovered a few additional ways to use the program. I had no idea if its creator had intended it for those purposes, but something told me he wouldn’t mind.

Once I was done with the programming, every word planned and the music ready, I shadow controlled Keith’s machine. One look at his text file made me wince. I knew where he had stopped the night before. He had only managed to get another thousand words into his writing outline. No wonder he was stressed out. Well, that was about to change.

I sent the program across the network to his machine. I gave it the instruction to run in the background while I lowered the volume on his machine slowly and almost imperceptibly. I could see Keith on the webcam. He didn’t even notice the music getting quieter at first. When he blinked and looked down at the control, I triggered the spiral program to go to the foreground.

He blinked and froze immediately. I watched his eyes glaze and lock on the center of the spiral. I knew the words that would soon be flashing across the screen. If I wanted to, I could foreground the program on my own machine and see them on my monitor. I knew better than to do that, though. If I did, I’d be slipping away myself.

Keith’s eyes began to water a bit. I watched him as he started to blink. My cheeks flushed as I felt arousal rising within me. I got up and padded over to the closet, grabbing my favorite pair of heels. When I glanced back at the machine, his body had slumped back further into his chair. His eyes were heavy-lidded and staring. Perfect.

I opened the door, aware that the sounds from the speakers were beginning to affect me as well. Everything seemed slightly unreal. The humming was made to send the brain into a light trance state, and even though the music masked it to an extent I was still aware of it. I shivered as I opened the door to the study, still moving as quietly as I could.

All the tension in his shoulders was gone. Keith rested limply in the comfortable typing chair. It was the best kind he could find, made to totally support his body while he wrote. I knew he could fall asleep in it. The spiral held his full attention, spinning slowly and entrancingly on the screen. The words were still rising up out of its depths. I knew what they said.

“Relax…slip deeper…and deeper…wait…to be commanded…wait…and slip deeper…and deeper…relax…”

I stepped forward and began to say them along with the screen, trying not to look at the spiral myself. “Relax…deeper…and wait…to be commanded…sleep…so deep…and wait…deeply hypnotized…”

As he heard my voice along with the words, Keith sighed. One hand slipped off the chair armrest and hung down by it, totally passive. I knelt down by him and began to stroke his face. “Relax…and go deeper…relax…and let your eyes close…relax…”

His eyes, reddened from effort, all but slammed shut. He let out a soft whimper of relief. “Good…and go deeper…and deeper…letting it all go…letting everything go…but my voice…and my commands…”

His lips vibrated slightly as if he was repeating what I was saying. “The humming and buzzing makes it so hard to think, Keith. You don’t want to think any more. All you want is to relax and go deeper…to relax and let go…to relax and surrender…”

I whispered in his ear, guiding him into a very deep trance. After his arm floated up in the air at my command, hovered there, and then fell back to his side, I was satisfied. “Good. Now, you are going to get out of the chair and crawl slowly to the bedroom. The closer you get, the sleepier and more aroused you will feel. Your mind will go more and more blank with each inch you crawl. When you get to the bedroom, you will strip and kneel, waiting for command. Repeat your commands, Keith.”

I felt another rush of heat at the slow, dreamy, sleepy tone of his voice as he repeated everything I’d just told him. “Good boy,” I reassured. “Obey now.” He slid down to the floor and began to crawl to the door. I opened it for him and watched him make his way down the hall. When he reached the bedroom, he turned and went inside. I leaned on the door frame and observed him taking off his clothes. He was already fully hard, his body waiting the pleasure of more commands. I took a deep breath and stepped in front of him where he knelt by the bed.

“Look up and open your eyes, Keith,” I ordered. “Look up and look deep into my eyes, feeling yourself fall deeper and deeper into a deep, hypnotized, obedient warmth.” His head tilted back and his eyes flickered open, gazing blankly into my own. I could see the slight twitch as he got even harder. “Very good. You are going deeper. You love to go deeper. You love to relax. You love to kneel for your Mistress.”

At that, he let out a gasp and whimpered. I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, letting it slide down my arms and to the floor at his feet. One of the cups draped itself over his shaft and I leaned down to free it. I couldn’t resist stroking the silk over his hot skin, prompting another moan as our eyes remained locked. “Good boy. You obey so well. You’re so deep.”

“So deep,” he whisper-gasped. “Obeying…” Perfect.

“Yes, Keith, you’re obeying.” I slipped my panties down, letting them pool at my feet as I sat down on the bed and spread my legs. “And now, you’ll obey even more…you’re going to be allowed to make your Mistress come.” I watched as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving mine, his body flushed with heat. “You can smell my arousal, Keith. It’s making you even hotter, even more aroused. Your body aches to meld with mine, your tongue is already wanting to move, to lick, to taste, to explore. Your mind goes deeper at the scent of my heat. Your mind goes hotter at the thought of going deep. When your eyes close again, you will melt against your Mistress’s body and do everything in your power to please your Mistress until she comes.”

His eyes stayed just as blank as ever, but his body was all but vibrating. “Good boy, Keith. Good boy. Your eyes are getting heavier again…heavier and sleepier…but you can’t look away from my eyes until you have permission.”

Keith strained to keep his eyes open, trying so hard to obey. I watched and deepened his trance until he was moaning with effort, then leaned forward and whispered “Sleep.”

His eyes sagged closed despite his best effort, and his body slumped against mine. Then a shudder went through him and Keith began to nuzzle and lick and nibble. I closed my eyes and leaned back on the bed, letting him please me. The pleasure of his seeking tongue screamed up and down my body as I urged him onward, reinforcing each command. When I could barely stand it any more, I began to moan “And what happens when Mistress comes, Keith? Sleepy Keith knows, sleepy Keith comes…Sleepy Keith comes when his Mistress comes…Sleepy Keith comes when I come…”

His tongue got even more frantic at the growl of need in my voice. I let out a long groan of pleasure. He echoed it, tongue almost massaging my clit. Perfect.

I didn’t even try to hold back my cries of pleasure as I came, knowing what hearing them would do to him. He grabbed my legs and held on as his own orgasm rocked his body. As soon as I could manage to breathe even a little, I began to chant “Good boy…good boy Keith…good boy…so good…” When I could sit up again, I gathered him into my arms and urged him up on the bed. We lay naked together, sweating and breathing heavily. I stroked his hair and talked him back down into a deep trance. When I glanced up, the hypnospiral program had finished its run and closed. I smiled and let myself cuddle him close, whispering to him.

“When you wake, Keith, you will remember exactly how to get to the next line of your story, and the next, and the next. But now you will sleep, and while you sleep you will forget to remember anything except that I came home and we made love. I came home, we made love, and your next words will be clear in your mind.” I kept telling him that until his breathing told me he had gone from hypnosis into natural sleep. With a sigh, I let myself join him.

It was about nine that night when I woke up and stretched. The bed next to me was empty, and I could smell pizza. When I glanced at the bedroom computer, I could see Keith on the machine in the study through the webcam. He was still naked, but his expression was focused. Behind the cam, I could see I still had shadow view of his PC. Words appeared in rapid succession on a white background.

I smiled and settled back onto the bed, blissfully satisfied.


I awoke after two hours of sleep, if that. It had been hard trying to sleep in the state Sophie had left me: hands cuffed behind my back, ankles bound, and gagged. I laid there, still having a hard time believing this was happening. I had always wanted to be dominated. Just then, the door opened and Sophie walked in.

“Rise and shine,” she said. She unlocked the kennel and unbound my ankles. She indicated for me to crawl out of the kennel, which I did.

“I’m going to take out your gag, but don’t talk,” Sophie said.

I nodded. She undid my gag and led me, by my cock, to the living room. She sat on the couch and told me to sit next to her.

“Now, I want to discuss our relationship. You may speak freely until I say otherwise,” Sophie said.

“I’m enjoying this so far,” I stated.

“Good,” Sophie replied.

“Why are my hands still cuffed?” I asked.

“It is a reminder of your submission,” Sophie replied. “In the meantime, I want to draw out a contract.You and I will write out terms, and you and I agree and sign it.” She said.

“Well, what are some terms we can discuss?” I asked.

“Well, for starters, basic things. For example, you should call me Mistress from now on. Got it?” Sophie asked.

“Yes Mistress,” I replied.

“Good. Also, things like what you will wear around the house and rules,” Sophie finished.

“When should we sign it?” I asked.

“Sometime next week. I want to put you through your paces first,” she said.

“Sophie-,” I began.

She pushed the button to my collar remote before I knew what hit me. I was on the ground, pleadingly looking up at her. Finally, she released the button.

“You are to call me Mistress!” Sophie growled.

“Sorry Mistress,” I said.

“You are still new so it is fine. Sit back up on the couch. What were you going to say?” Sophie asked.

“I was going to tell you my wrists were starting to hurt from being cuffed for so long, Mistress.” I responded as I say back on the couch.

“Here, let me see them,” she replied. A second later the cuffs were undone, and I gratefully rubbed my freed flesh.

“In the future, I won’t uncuff you, but you are new,” she said.

“Understood.” I replied.

“Now, get down on your knees and give me some pleasure.” said Sophie.

I got down on my knees and tongued her pussy while she stroked my hair. I plunged my tongue deep into her pussy. Sophie’s moans got louder and louder as I kept eating her out.

“I’m about to cum!” Sophie shouted. A second later, she squirted her juices all over my face.

“That was good, I think you have earned some pleasure as well, follow me,” Sophie said.

I followed her into what turned out to be her bedroom. Sophie tied me to the bed spread eagle.

“Now, do not speak unless spoken to,” Sophie commanded as she blindfolded me. She began jerking me off slowly. She jerked me slowly, every time I got close to orgasm, Sophie laid off.

She shoved two of her fingers up my ass as she kept jerking me off.

“You like that?” Sophie asked.

“Yes Mistress,” I replied.

“Louder!” Sophie ordered.

“YES!” I shouted.

“Good,” she said. She continued masturbating me. I was about to come, and she knew it.

“Do you know what a ruined orgasm is?” Sophie asked.

“No Mistress,” I answered.

I felt my orgasm rising, but as it began, I felt a thwack! on my dick. The pleasure stopped.

“That’s what it is,” said Sophie. After she untied me, she gave me my clothes and told me I could go home

“What time do you get home from work tomorrow?” she asked.

“At six,” I replied.

“Come straight to my house after work, I will be waiting,” Sophie ordered.

After work ended, I pulled into Sophie’s house at about 6:20. I knocked on her door.

“Come in,” was the response.

I entered, and my jaw dropped at what I saw: Sophie was in a black leather outfit, like the kind dominatrixes wear.

“Strip.” Sophie ordered. As I did so, Sophie continued. “We are going to the dungeon. This is not punishment, it is just my way of having fun.” She finished.

She led me down her basement, and I gasped at what I saw: one wall covered with a variety of paddles, whips, and canes. To my left was a stockade, to the far left a prison cell sized cage. And in the center, a throne like chair.

“In the stocks,” Sophie ordered.

I obeyed, and once I was in, Sophie gagged me with a ball gag. She began spanking me with her hand. She started soft, then upped power and speed. I was very aroused. Soon, she switched to a paddle. Sophie rubbed it on my ass in circular motions, making me tense. She hit me hard. It hurt. She did so again and again. Ten, twenty, thirty times, I lost count sometime after 50.

Finally, she stopped. She then retrieved a riding crop and traced it down my back. She hit me with it and it burned. Again and again. After twenty, my ass was on fire. After fifty, I was crying. Sophie stopped after about a hundred lashes. I felt fear as she got a cane. A second later, I heard the whistling of the cane. It connected, and I screamed into the gag. She hit me at least fifty times. She then stopped, and let me out and ungagged me. Sophie gave me a mirror to show me my ass.

It was purple and covered in welts.

“Time for bed,” Sophie said.

She led me to the cage in the corner and locked my wrists in two chains on the wall.

“Tomorrow your training begins,” Sophie said as she locked the cage and turned our the lights, leaving me in darkness. A second later, I heard the basement door close.

To be continued…

Author’s note: This is a fantasy. Got that? Good. It’s not real. It’s not about or based on real people. It’s not supposed to be a genuine description of any reasonably likely physical acts or psychological states.

If you try any of this at home, that’s your decision.


Ada Learns Something

It happened while Stewart was pounding into her from above, using his weight to slam against her cervix on each stroke.

Ada looked up at him, in the haze of almost-exhaustion and pre-orgasmic glow, and suddenly felt herself filled with a warm glow of affection.

She felt an impulse to reach up and tenderly wipe away the sweat pouring down his flushed face. She couldn’t do that because her arms were pinned by her legs, which were pinned against her ribcage by Stewart’s arms.

They had been going for a while, now.

He had started on her as they undressed, sucking on her pierced nipples until they were aching and tender and then working his mouth down her belly as her jeans came off, passing her carefully trimmed triangle of hair and going down on her with lips, and tongue, and teeth, and fingers in both of her holes, until she screamed and thrashed and squirted into his mouth.

Then she had rolled him over so she could play with his cock and his balls slowly and teasingly until he began to pulse and he took charge again before he came.

He rolled her onto her side and slid behind her, hooking his arm around her upper knee and holding it next to her ribcage as he pushed his thick cock into her with some effort. He fucked her in long strokes, slapping into her hard each time while she held onto the bed’s frame above her head.

She clenched her pussy around him as hard as she could and was rewarded by heavy grunting followed by uneven thrusts and finally an explosion deep inside her. With one of his hands holding painfully onto her breast to anchor the arm holding her leg, and his other hand mauling her other breast and nipple, she came at almost the same time.

When he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, she twisted around and wiggled down the bed, lubricating her fingers with some of the come leaking out of her. She used her mouth to coax him back to full hardness, then wiggled two fingers into his arse and began vigorously massaging his prostate until he squirted into her mouth.

She didn’t swallow until she had slithered up his body and smeared some of his come onto his tongue.

That was when he grabbed her shoulders and forcibly rolled her over, pinning her to the bed and folding her back on herself before threatening to fuck her until she couldn’t walk for a week.

He pounded her brutally while she goaded him on with taunts and lewd suggestions, until she suddenly felt a warm glow suffuse her whole being.

She stared at his face in an almost religious awe, committing every line and plane to memory, and felt her growing orgasm, that she had been resisting until his was inevitable, soaring up and threatening to overwhelm her with ecstasy.

She was pinned to the bed as effectively as a hogtie, and for the first time it felt frustrating instead of erotic.

Suddenly, instead of challenging him to make her come, she was helpless in the face of his aggression and dominant fucking, and could do nothing except gasp out “Fuck me like a cheap whore!” as her third orgasm thundered through her.

The spasms of her cunt finally pushed him into an exhausted spurt before he collapsed onto her, landing heavily on her beasts.

She felt her body burning with joy everywhere they touched. She disengaged her legs from his arms and wrapped them around him, holding him tightly between her thighs.

She felt too good to say anything immediately. She just wanted to hold him and kiss him and lick him and have him slowly fuck in and out of her until she was helpless with exhaustion.

She slid one hand down his back to his arse and wriggled one finger inside him.

He grunted in surprise. “Jesus, aren’t you done yet?” He growled.

“Nuh, uh.” She squeezed him a little harder between her thighs and wiggled her finger in his arse.

“Want me to fuck your arse until you’re crying?”

“Mmm, yes, please.”

She felt him shrink inside her, and felt a brief and entirely alien pang of regret and self-recrimination that she couldn’t keep him hard

He pulled out and rolled off her, lifting one of her legs to get out of her grip. “I need a shower.”

She rolled onto her side to watch him walk away. She saw him surrounded by a bright halo that highlighted every detail of his gorgeous, muscular back and buttocks.

She shook her head. What was wrong with her? She didn’t even like her men heavily muscled. She just liked his enthusiasm and his fat cock.

But there was something…

The shower started in the bathroom. Fuck it. She swung her legs off the bed and, walking carefully but still walking, she went to join him.

“I’m still walking, you’ll have to try harder,” she said as she stepped in and took the soap off him to start rubbing over his back.

He just grunted, and didn’t say anything as she soaped herself thoroughly and then used her body to soap his by wiggling all over him.

She tried to entice him back to hardness but he remained stubbornly flaccid as she washed and rinsed him, so she had to content herself with the tingling pleasure of touching him all over.

When he was dry, he collapsed onto the bed and was asleep in minutes. She forced herself to lie on her back, staring at the ceiling while she tried to work out what the fuck was wrong with her. She didn’t do lovey-dovey crap. She fucked. In fact, she fucked around, with frequent testing and a small group of trusted friends. What was happening to her now?

She looked across at him, and felt a rising urge to stroke his face tenderly. She shuddered at herself before the urge become irresistible, rolled onto her side away from him and tried to go to sleep.

In the morning, she woke up snuggled against him, with one arm flung across his broad chest and one leg across his hips.

He woke with a groan soon after she did, and pushed her leg off him.

“I have to piss,” he mumbled, lurching off to the bathroom still half-asleep.

When he returned, his cock was at half-mast and he was more awake. She was waiting for him, lying on her back, naked and without even the thin sheet that had been all they had needed during the night. She reached out for him with a smile she didn’t realise she had until it was set in place.

“Roll over,” he growled with a rising cock and a gleam in his eye. “You did ask me to fuck you in the arse until you were crying.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that.

She rolled onto her stomach, spread her legs and reached up to grip the bed frame as he knelt next to her on the bed.

He held her down with one hand on her lower back as he felt between her thighs, establishing his absolute dominance over her body. He rubbed her lips roughly, and pushed two fingers inside her as soon as he felt the first trace of dew. She was soon wet enough for him to finger-fuck her vigorously, and to moisten his thumb before pushing it past her puckered sphincter into her arse.

He waited until she was groaning and shivering before he pulled his hand away, pushed his cock into her cunt for a couple of strokes to get it nice and wet, and then slowly forced it into her arse.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax and not fight back as he stretched her open. His was the biggest cock ever to fuck her arse, and it was on the very limit of what she could stand.

She bit her lip and involuntarily tightened her grip on the bed frame, but after his head had bulldozed into her, it wasn’t so bad and she could start enjoying the feeling of his shaft rubbing in and out of her.

He started slowly and then gradually accelerated as she accommodated him, and she began enjoying it until he increased speed to the point where it became almost uncomfortable and she had to bite her lip and picture him thrusting in and out of her so the mental image would help her keep the sensation erotic.

He kept increasing speed, and a whimper escaped her lip, but she didn’t think of asking him to slow down.

He sped up a little more, and she buried her face in the bed, willing herself to take it.

“Until you cry,” he panted as he kept relentlessly fucking her arse. “Try walking after this.”

She was determined that she would not, under any circumstances, cry. Not from just having her arse reamed out. She clenched her jaw and then relaxed it again, closed her eyes and willed her body to settle into the eroticism of it.

Her body became so limp that every thrust shook it and he increased his efforts again.

She heard and felt him grow near, and felt a tinge of satisfaction. He soon grunted, shuddered, and buried himself to the hilt between her buttocks as he shook with release.

She smiled to herself, blissfully happy that she had pleased him. Then her eyes snapped open in shock. Where the fuck had that come from? Let him worry about pleasing himself!

As he took a breath and started fucking her again, she wormed one hand underneath her and began vigorously jilling herself. She drove herself to two orgasms before he came again, but could feel herself struggling for strength under his relentless assault.

“I can keep going,” he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he sensed her flagging energy. “I think I should have pushed a vibrator into you before I started.”

The thought made her go limp. “Oh, god, no,” she moaned.

He laughed, and sped up, attacking her arse brutally now. Struggling against his assault and against her own perverse feelings for him, she surrendered and gave him the satisfaction of seeing her start crying softly.

He laughed all the way to his next shuddering spurt, and then pulled out abruptly, sending one blob of come onto her buttocks. As she was gasping for relief, he rolled over, rummaged in her bedside drawers, and pulled out a long, metal cylinder.

Her eyes flew open. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

She tried to twist away, but he pinned her down with one hand again and trapped her legs under one of his before reaching between them and unerringly driving the dildo inside her before turning it on to maximum.


“Say my name, bitch,” he said conversationally as he twisted it inside her.

“Nnnng, Stewart!”

“Who’s got the biggest cock to fuck your arse until you cried?”

“Stewart!” she gasped out again, trying to thrash free but helpless against the weight of his hand on her back. She tried to squeeze her thighs around his wrist, but his leg was jamming them open.

“Who is going to hold this here until you can’t say my name any more?”

“Stewwwwwwnnnnggggg AAAAA!”

As the shudders of her orgasm died away, he kept smoothly twisting the dildo around inside her.

“Oh, fuck, please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, Stewart, don’t make me come again!”

“Please, Stewart, what?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“I can keep this up longer than you can.”

She had to bury her face in the bed as another orgasm threatened to overwhelm her, then his thumb found her clit and she convulsed helplessly.

“Please, Stewart, sir, stop making me cum,” she groaned.

“Say it again.”

“Please, Stewart, sir, stop making me cum!”

“Just once more.”

“Oh, god, no …”

His thumb began vigorously rubbing her clit as he pressed the dildo as far into her as it would go.

Her entreaties became babbling until she shook again, weakly this time, and he pulled the dildo out, leaving it, still buzzing violently, next to her sweaty, tear-streaked face.

After a few moments she weakly reached up to turn it off, and when the buzzing stopped she heard the shower running.

She managed to roll over, and began cleaning the dildo with her mouth.

When he came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, she was still lying exhausted on the bed.

“That’s what I like to see,” he said approvingly. “A hot woman fucked into submission.”

“Fuck you.” The response was automatic, but she couldn’t deny a burst of pleasure at his approval.

He laughed as he headed towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”


She forced herself to move, aware she was leaking come onto the bed. She tried to stand, then collapsed onto the ground and had to crawl to the toilet.

“What are you up to tonight?” she asked when she was finally sitting at the kitchen table in a dressing gown, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

He made a sour face. “Got to work late.”

“Pity. Give me a call next time you’re free.”


When she had seen him off, having to restrain herself from kissing him goodbye, she sat back at the table and buried her head in her hands. What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn’t be going soppy!

She was free that day, which just meant free to fret inside her own head, so after making the bed, she drove herself out the door to go shopping, after she had recovered enough to walk properly.

The next day, she had a shoot with a photographer she had known almost since childhood.


Ruby glanced up from her laptop. “Hey, Ada. Coffee in the pot.” She was wearing an ill-fitting painter’s smock over bare legs and feet, but her face had the driven look of a perfectionist.

“Cheers. What am I wearing today?”

“Get your kit off.”

“Ooh, goody. “

Ada sat on the edge of a freshly made single bed, stark naked in the warm studio, sipping coffee while Ruby stalked around checking light.

Finally, Ruby turned back to Ada. “Okay, I’m going for sultry, to start with. Black and white and nothing gynaecological. Get under the sheet to start with.”

After five minutes of Ada stretching, twisting and posing, with the sheet working its way slowly down off first one breast, then the other, then down to her waist, and one leg coming out, Ruby stopped shooting.

“Ada, what’s that look on your face?”

Ada had to drag her mind back to the present. “Huh?”

“You were giving me good sultry, and suddenly you went dreamy.”

“I did?”

Ruby leant on a tripod and gave her friend a piercing look. “Something up with you, girl. Spill.”

Ada flopped back on the bed, holding the twisted-up sheet between her legs and unconsciously using her forearms to squeeze her breasts around the cotton. Ruby grabbed a couple of shots.

“I don’t know. I was fucking Stewart the other night …”

“Huh! Lucky you!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t.”

“Yeah, okay, fair point. Go on.”

“And we were into it for a while, and then he was fucking me, and I was pinned and he was above me all hot and sweaty and I got all … I don’t know.”

Ruby smiled wickedly. “You’re in love now, then?

“Fuck off!”

“So what, then?”

Ada squeeze the sheet harder, using her feet to pull it down across her crotch. She shivered with delight. Ruby managed to capture the moment. “Fuck, I don’t know. It was weird. Suddenly I just wanted to do things for him. I still don’t like him much, personally. I mean, he fucks hard, and he’s got a great cock, but he’s got too much muscle to be really attractive and he’s kind of an arse still. I thought maybe I’d had a stroke or something.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow, and lifted her head from peering intently at her camera’s screen to look straight at Ada, who was beginning to unconsciously twist her body around the sheet with a look of remembered ecstasy on her face. Ruby kept on filling the camera’s memory card.

Ada stopped moving, and went limp again. “If he’s broken me, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“What, broken you for everyone else?” Ruby snorted. “Fat chance!”

Ada turned her head sideways and gave Ruby a calculating look. Yes: she felt like a woman right now. She threw the rope of sheet to one side. “Come here and try me, then.”

Ruby gave her a calculating look back, and flicked a glance at the clock on her wall before setting her camera down and pulling her smock over her head. “Yeah, alright then.”

Ruby didn’t have Ada’s rigorously sculpted body, but her small breasts were firm and nicely shaped and the slight outward curve of her belly just accentuated her femininity. She was not wearing panties and did not bother shaving.

She crawled onto the bed, giving Ada a tonsil-cleaning kiss from above as Ada reached up to gently stroke and rub her nipples.

When Ruby’s nipples were swollen and hard, she broke the kiss and slipped down the bed, going straight to Ada’s already damp pussy and making it damper with her own saliva, expertly alternating between teasing the lips, penetrating with her tongue, and rubbing the swollen clit, not using her fingers because she knew she didn’t have to. Ada started off whispering gleeful encouragement, then began sighing happily, then moaning deep in her throat, clutching at her own breasts and squeezing them roughly as her orgasm grew slowly but sweetly and irresistibly until she shouted and came.

Ruby sat up, grabbed one of Ada’s legs and held it straight up as she laid one of her own legs across Ada’s hips, using a firm grip on Ada’s thigh to pull their crotches together.

Ada grinned up at Ruby and rocked her hips up and down to rub their pussy lips together. Ruby wrapped her hands around Ada’s leg, one on her shin pressing the calf into her breast and one on the top of the thigh, and ground her crotch into Ada’s. She was beginning to breathe heavily, and was contributing her own moisture to the slickness between them.

Ada, her pussy still sensitive from coming once, kept rocking her hips up and down as she reached up to stroke Ruby’s small and perfectly formed breast, rubbing the nipple lightly before taking it between thumb and forefinger and beginning to squeeze and twist it.

Ruby’s lips parted, a faint hissing the only sound she made as she twisted her torso to make Ada tug at her captured nipple. She twisted her hips to change the angle and put more pressure on her clitoris while pulling Ada’s calf harder into her other breast.

Ada reached up with her free hand, wrapping it around Ruby’s exposed breast while pulling the nipple out to stretch it, and began squeezing hard.

Ruby’s mouth opened wide and she pressed it onto Ada’s foot, muffling her as she came with a whole-body shake.

“Have you ever let yourself scream when coming?” Ada asked before pulling Ruby to the side, toppling her onto the bed. She climbed on top while Ruby gasped for breath in the aftermath of her orgasm, and slid two fingers straight into Ruby’s pussy.

Ruby spread her legs wide and pressed one arm across her mouth to silence a groan. Ada added another finger and Ruby quivered. Ada leaned down and they kissed hard, forcing their mouths together as Ada very slowly inserted a fourth finger inside Ruby and then began thrusting slowly back and forth with her whole hand, her thumb pressed into Ruby’s clitoris.

Weak from just having come once, Ruby was helpless to prevent Ada finger-fucking her into a second back-arching, leg-shaking orgasm as she jammed her wrist into her mouth to prevent herself crying out.

As Ruby came down, Ada sat back on her heels and lightly stroked Ruby’s thighs as they lay on the bed.

“Ruby, why don’t you ever let yourself make a noise?”

“Try growing up with two fundamentalist parents who think you’re studying and would shoot you if they knew you ate pussy!”

Ada was left lost for words for a second. “I can’t believe I’ve never asked you before,” she said meekly.

“Meh, I don’t talk about it anyway. So: Feeling guilty yet? Any hints of betrayal?”

Ada slapped Ruby’s pussy, making the photographer yelp. “I don’t get guilty,” Ada said firmly.

Ruby looked at her. “Okay, that was sincere.” Then her face split into a grin. “Feeling all gooey over me?”

“No, just slippery.” Ada slipped two fingers straight into herself and started slowly pumping them in and out.

Sometimes when I am with my new lover, I can only come if I can imagine you there, waiting to eat his cum out of me, waiting to suck his cock clean of my juices. I know that you are not really there, and I know that it’s not healthy, sometimes it even makes me cry because you’re not there, frances, and I wish I didn’t want you to be there. I wish I didn’t need you to be there with me as he spreads my legs and moves his head between them.

I would rather not have to pretend and imagine you there, as his mouth begins to work its magic, licking and sucking….sometimes I wish it were you. I wish that I were holding your leash, forcing your head into my pussy, instructing you what to do to me, how to do it, where to put your fingers, where to put your tongue.

I imagine you bringing me close to an orgasm with your fingers inside me, your tongue in my ass, but before you can finish me off, I tell you to go sit in the corner, to watch a real man fuck me. I order you to kneel, your hands behind your head, at attention. I even gently lick your cock before you assume the position, tasting your pre-cum, knowing how much this excites you, how much you need it to feel like the man that you are, deep inside.

As he mounts me, as his big cock shoves into me, I look over in the corner. And in my imagination, our eyes meet, our gaze is locked, as he fucks me. You know that I am doing this for you, you know that I consider it a privilege to be your goddess.

The pain and the pleasure that I fantasize seeing in your face, as one emotion comes, the previous one disappears and back and forth they continue, as you watch your queen being fucked. You know that when I am full, when my cunt is drenched in his cum, you will have another chance to make me cum – as I order you to kneel between his legs. He will sit on the edge of the bed, as I watch, you hesitantly lick the tip of his cock, tasting me on it, my slickness, my wetness. A taste that is so familiar to you, just thinking of my taste can make your cock rock hard, can’t it?

You’ve tried to push me out of your life, out of your dreams, out of your fantasies, but I keep coming back into your conscience. You can’t rid yourself of me, frances, and that makes you angry, it makes you feel powerless, something you are not accustomed to feeling. You like to be in control, always, of your body of your mind and of your life.

But when it comes to me, you cannot help yourself, you are like putty in my hands and in my words.

This is your dream, to suck a man’s cock, to be made to behave in a way you don’t have the balls to do without being instructed. You want to suck a man’s cock, you want to take my cock up your ass but what you really want, most of all, is to take a man’s cock up your ass – for me. It would please me to see you with my man’s cock up your ass, with tears running down your cheeks, blubbering, spreading your ass cheeks, begging for it, begging for a cock up inside your asshole. You want to be the sissy that you know that you are.

You try to deny it, you don’t want me to know you better than you know yourself but I do and you know it so it’s time to accept it. It’s time to accept your place in my life and my place in your life.

You should be kneeling, begging, turning yourself over to me. I know the sissy-self you hide from the world, I know you for who you really are, so when I imagine you in the corner, fingers intertwined behind your head, supporting yourself on your knees despite the ache. The ache in your knees, the ache in your balls, the ache in your ass (because you know that I would have slipped a large buttplug inside you before I sent you to the corner, stretching you open, getting you ready for my man’s cock inside you).

I like visualizing your eyes meeting mine, watching me intently, watching my face for pleasure, for pain, knowing that soon, very soon, you will lick my taste of my man’s cock, as it shrivels, you will lick his balls and his thighs, trying to taste all of me, trying to get all of me off of his genitals.

He will hold your head, his fingers wrapped in your hair, guiding your tongue, telling you where to find more of me. You will do anything for me and you know that I need more than one man in my life. You know your place. Your place is about pleasing me. It’s what you need, it’s what you crave, it fulfills you.

In my fantasy, as my man is fucking me, you are waiting patiently, in the corner, waiting to be yanked by your collar and leash, in between my legs. This is your altar, your fountain of life, my juices sustain you, replenish you, give you what you need to get through another day in your life.

You plunge into my crotch, my taste exciting you, driving you. You can’t get enough of me, no matter how often you’ve been in this exact spot, licking my juices off my clitoris, exciting me, you shove your tongue inside my cunt. You make your way past my own juices and you begin tasting my man’s cum. It is all over my pussy, you try to push my legs farther apart, so that you can move your head deeper into my crotch, I order you to stop, and when you look up, I slap your face. My wetness on your face makes it sting all the more. Your eyes tell me that you are hurt. I tell you yet again that I am not to be used for your pleasure, you are where you are because you worship me, and it will always be this way.

“Never move my body to suit yourself. Now like my cunt free of cum, preparing me for the next time my man wants to fuck me. Clean me up, clean my pussy, clean my legs and clean my ass – some of his cum dripped down into my ass. Now, stop thinking and start licking.”

Like a devoted dog, you go back to work, cleaning me, exciting me. Your tongue on my clit and inside my pussy, your tongue moving into my asshole, my juices begin to overflow, you lick and slurp wildly. The buttplug in your ass, your tongue working on my cunt, all of this is driving you wild. Your cock is getting harder.

My man points it out, laughing at you. You look pitiful to him, a man so subservient to his woman, so willing to do whatever will please your goddess.

“Look, he’s trying to get hard,” he tells me, pointing at your growing cock.

You raise your head and shoulders, moving your hands to try to cover up your penis. You are blushing. I slap you again. “Stop trying to hide yourself from me. Bare yourself to me completely.”

“Move your hands behind you,” I instruct. I reach under the bed, find the handcuffs and tell you to put them on, behind you.

I use the leash to bring your mouth back to your job, “start licking, I am ready to have an orgasm. Don’t make me fucking wait, frances! Get to work now!”

My man heads into the shower, knowing that when he requires pleasure again, I will be ready and waiting – or you will be.

With your hands cuffed behind you, you struggle to pleasure me. I use my legs to squeeze your head between my thighs until you begin to struggle. I tell you to lie down, on your back, your arms and shoulders pinned underneath you. I mount your face, rubbing myself back and forth, drowning you in my juices.

“Frances, I thought I told you to keep your cock soft,” I tease as I bend over your chest, scratching my nails all the way down. I twist and pull at your nipples, feeling your chest trying to squirm away from me only drives me more insane. I run my tongue down over your belly while my fingernails leave long, unbroken scratches down your front.

When my tongue reaches your cock, it stands right up, practically slapping me in the face. I slap it back down, alternating between sucking it, licking its tip and slapping it, scratching it, squeezing your balls.

Your tongue is working madly in my asshole – your favorite place to be. My ass, you worship it, you fantasize about it. You need it.

Your cock is jumping up and down, your balls are hard, ready to explode and I take the elastic out of my hair, and wrap it around your balls. Your back arches, your knees draw up, in an effort, to cover yourself.

There’s no use. You know it and I know it.

You are my little slut, to do with what I will.

I sit upright on your face, suffocating you. I twist your nipples, squeezing them between my fingernails, you scream out in pain but no one can hear you, your protests are muffled in my pussy.

Your tongue words madly, inside my asshole, and I begin to gyrate on your face, using your nose and your lips and your tongue as my toys. Though your ears are covered by my thighs, you can hear me moaning, louder and louder, I begin to cry out….my juices, still mixed with some of my man’s cum, you slurp and you swallow, more liquid than you thought was possible.

You can’t recall your last full breath. You’ve had little gasps of air, when I’ve raised myself up off of your face, while riding you, in ecstasy, but in reality, you prefer my climax to your own air. You’d rather have my juices on your tongue than air in your lungs.

I am moving faster and faster and faster, I hold your head by your hair, ordering you to lick my ass faster, deeper, faster, deeper.

You do as instructed, being the good slave that you are, and I cum and cum and cum, pressing down hard on your face, my thighs squeeze against your ears. You can’t breathe, you are drowning in my liquids, a feeling of claustrophobia would bother most but you never feel safer or more secure than when I have enveloped you totally. It calms you down, you turn yourself over to my care, and you know that someone cares, someone understands and that someone, frances, is me.

That is what I imagine when my man is fucking me. I imagine you there, with me – and that excites me more than I like to admit.

Farewell, frances.

Yes she was there right in the middle of the sunny afternoon to attend to the crucial match of her newly owned soccer team, the Red Blue Strings.

Right at the center of the small Vip area she was a stunning presence.

The delicately pale neck and face protruding from her expensive white fur coat, designer wraparound oversized sunglasses covering her eyes, black silky leggings ending in audacious high-heeled Jimmy Choo shining boots.

And her short black bob shining in the breezy air, large silver ear rings dangling and shimmering in the sun, and a silky mahogany dark shade adorning her luscious, smiling lips, uncovering perfectly white teeth.

Yes, she was profusely smiling, as she was the center of nervous attention.

Here she was, seen and scrutinized, discussed and mostly envied, the first female president of the Red Blue Strings in all its glorious history, mid 40s successful businesswoman, the lady chairperson of most of the local charities, and yes, a passionate and dedicate worker and acute soccer expert.

In the last few months Ann Reginald had been on a business spree.

Sided by a dozen top female managers of the city, she had been engaged in the building of the first all-female board of the championship.

It had been a bitter and exhausting position battle in the legal field but at the end of the day all the former male managers were sacked or relocated to other jobs.

She not only saved the company from bankruptcy, but also diligently forwarded all the relevant files and names to the investigating authorities.

She didn’t go easy on fraudulent managers, and was particularly harsh with the former president Mr Clitford – and was particularly keen in framing him personally as a “male chauvinist pig”, which didn’t help his standing in the long-fought judicial battle for the control over the Red Blue Strings team and related assets. Her lawyers subtly worked for the media release of some offensive comments on women – and that was the final coup to his chances to win in court.

No surprise than that the local journalist community, and the court as well, mainly headed by freshly rigorous female leaders, have just decreed his ignominious defeat and disbanded his fortune, while State attorney Ms Lonaghan, during the trial, made a great job in representing Ms Reginald as an irreprehensible and financially cunning savior.

That made a great impact on the city opinion, and Ms Reginald was repeatedly interviewed on such issues as gender dignity, women in sport and business and the ascent of a female ruling class emerging in accordance with the severity of laws.

As she contemplated the outcomes of her brilliant career, she felt reassured and relaxed, watching down the Red Blues battling for the value of her company, not in legal and business quarters – where her sophisticated and elegant mind was almost invincible – but in the rough, hard, physical effort that the boys were putting in front of her eyes.

Her black sunglasses reflected the performance, while she diligently followed the game.

She had superiorly shaken her head at all the allegations.

Mr Clitford’s lawyers desperately tried to depict her in unfavourable ways, but it was a last-resort weapon, and proved completely ineffective “broken gun” – as she sardonically said in an interview.

No, she wasn’t a man-hating chauvinist, she thought as she carefully watched the newly purchased midfield Mike Sherringhan falling to the ground after a robust tackle.

She comfortably adjusted on her reserved seat, slightly leaning her head on one side – the luxurious earring clearly visible through her raven-black, elegantly fringed sleek bob – while her manicured polished hands reached for a cigarette in her Gucci pocket.

Mike purchase was advised by a brilliant market manager called Lucy Beckett, a pepper-mint redhead blatantly courting businesses with Ms Reginald and Rebecca Rafferty – the newly appointed enthusiastic managing director of the team.

She remembered the day of his physical and his hurried tour of the laboratory facilities.

Yes, she had found him strikingly beautiful and proportioned on the very day she shook his strong hand.

And knowing smiles and polite comments from other ladies in the board – and the nasty ones of Ms Werner (the corpulent, portly veteran doctor in charge of medicals) – confirmed her that Mike was a nice treat. Yeah she thought, curling her lips to comfortably host the slim cigarette filter tip in her mouth, what a show must had he been there in the dusty, gloomy lab room, spread naked and open on the metal table.

Certainly a show, a mirage for Ms Werner, like a young angel in a semi-lit corner of her graceless world made of specimen bottles, punctures, blood and urine samples. Her reign, the laboratory corner, was the most squalid place of the Red Blues sports facility, and she did enjoy some liberty in that secluded territory.

For one she had two nurses but she’d rather make visits herself when the subject was mostly interesting.

And geez did she love to go over the line with the most inexperienced and naive patients, touching more intimately than needed, adding disturbing comments, putting them through humiliating inspections. Most of the unfortunate athletes were shocked by her behavior, as was Mike.

At first he thought that chain-smoking, grey-strained curly-haired doctor was decent, even funny, maybe for her outdated, unfashionable heavily rimmed librarian glasses. But soon he had to reconsider. Standing behind her desk, she made him strip as soon as formalities were done, keeping eye contact and an amused expression.

“I want to see what we have bought” she told him, as he was already in his boxers.

When he nicely smiled back, moving his hand from the waistband to his head, she rudely slapped the desk with her right hand, making him jump.

“I don’t have all time and this is no fun for me!” she yelled. But she inwardly rejoiced at his sudden obedience and made a mental note on his most private organ revealed for her: balls hung quite low and full, nicely proportioned uncut dick, a patch of dark hair around the base of it.

“Please, sunshine” she said staring at his genitals, which confused Mike even more.

“What should I do” he anxiously thought. The medic was now looking behind him, to the examination table with two sinisterly shining (the only shining thing in that room, to tell the truth) stirrups attached.

Then he turned back and heard her saying:

“See that table, honey? Well, you are about to have a one-to-one with him. Why don’t you move your nice ass and go there?”

He was quite dazzled by such extravagant phrasing, gave her a puzzled look but met a defiant raised eyebrow.

So he lowered his eyes and went straight there. She hastily reached him.

“Part your legs wide” she instructed in a softer voice when he had his butt on the brink of the table, palms by his side on the cold surface, which contrasted with her hot radiating body encased in a white coat open over a shocking-pink, soft-looking sweater.

Maybe he was complying too slow, even with an unwanted hint of teasing, anyways she reached within his thighs and gently forced them more open. She wore no rubber gloves on, which was quite disturbing for Mike. Yet he didn’t know this was “standard procedure” in that quarter. She liked to feel what a man had to offer her.

So he could sense her thick and plump fingers weighing one testicle, than the other, while carefully sliding his foreskin back down the pole of his soft cock.

Sensing his flinching, she retreated her hands onto the divaricator frames.

“We must use these, to keep your legs steady so that I can have a nice and accountable view” she then told him with pouting lips, feigning disappointment. Then, flexing latex into her right hand for the inspection, she left the other hand ungloved.

He was frustrated and puzzled, confusion mounting in him, but complied.

He knew he had to, because without Ms Werner’s go-ahead there would be no enrolling in the team!

He was on his nerves, so when she accidentally touched the inner delicate flesh of his anal ring with a callous finger, while accommodating room for the inspection light bulb, he jerked

“That shouldn’t have happened!” he let out in an acute humiliation squeal

Maybe he was misinterpreting or was too impressed by the latest news story of a female head doctor abusing his patients in a State prison.

Ms Werner immediately tried to calm him, placing her palm flat on his chest to bring him down in position, then pushing his belly and quite casually but rudely rubbing the naked head of his semisoft penis, which was resting in the way and still had foreskin drawn back.

She was mildly apologetic at first, but when he didn’t stop complaining for that accidental touches and accused her of taking excessive liberties, she doubled her efforts to keep him down with his back on the table. She was the doctor, and she was in charge of the medical operations. She just had to make this very clear, and furiously cut his protests.

“You don’t respect my job, maybe because I am old you think you can say whatever you please!! Ah!!!? You know I could be your grandmother?”

Full of confused feelings, with dry mouth and watering eyes, he gulped and retreated under the effect of both her words and her strong arm restraining him in place.

He tried to keep eye contact with her, but he suddenly felt his head heavy and couldn’t but flop down on the table, as if exhausted by a long, lost, emotional battle.

In the meantime Ms Werner, once sure that he was again prone to uphold her medical authority, had again knelt down between his widely parted legs, to observe him better. While she was in that position, she heard him swallowing and clearing his throat.

“Sorry maam” he whispered sweetly, just when her gloved index finger started to probe inside his parted ass cheeks.

Was she just inspecting her prostate gland?

Was she only medical at this?

No, she couldn’t deny she was adoring every moment of it, in awe of such a young male specimen and of his inner, most intimate secrets, waiting to see later what tarots will tell about him – she deeply trusted tarots when it came to men.

She was deeply breathing now, almost gasping as her finger moved up and down, not even feigning to massage his prostate.

She couldn’t deny it: she was finger-fucking him. And his posture added to the shameless reality of this development.

And he was on the verge of quitting all resistance, physical and emotional.

He felt unable to react, aroused at her insistent, rhythmic touch, and more so at her mysterious, hot breath on his most sensitive and unprotected parts, so near and cozy that he suspected she could eat them in one single motion.

His arms were thrown above his head, which was tilted on one side, eyes half closed, cheeks red from the effusion of his corporal reactions. She riveted in this show, fascinated by the very outcome of her ministrations and of her successful drive to have him right where she wanted him.

Another generous amount of lube was taken swiftly, and she came back with two oiled and gloved fingers, pushing further into him, entirely focused on the mechanics of it.

She was panting yet

“Have you a gf?” she asked with a sharp hiss in between gasps.

“No maam” he immediately replied, like a good boy, noticing his voice slightly chocked by the bumping movement he was subject. Then he arched back a little, almost facilitating her intrusion.

This further gesture of invitation got her over the edge: her breathing increased together with her pressure, while with a sensual whisper she issued the standard reply

“Why a big hunk like you”

Her voice trailed off as she became transfixed on his body displayed and naked and his shaft turning rigid above his neatly defined abdomen, his penis hovering up inflated again. That was clearly a fuck, not a massage anymore, excitement and sexual tension was all that was about. Both the medic and the patient were abandoning any pretence.

Forcibly pressed on by her lustful invasion of his intimacy, he revived their conversation, unconsciously trying to establish at least an amicable bond with her, to escape the shameful impression of being used as a mere object of her lust, under the cover of professional care.

“She dumped me two weeks ago” Mike confessed humbly, and suddenly regretted it, as though he was giving away his deep feelings to a perfect stranger.

It was her ministrations, her assault that were extracting out all of his deepest fears and frustrations.

He was so confused!

The pleasure and the shame of being a clinical object mixed in his heart, made him blush profusely of all the pleasurable unwanted sensations she was stimulating within his depths, and thrash his head from side to side with sheer abandonment.

But the medic wasn’t in for a nice idle conversation.

She exuded sexual vindictiveness over the male species, more over those muscular hard-bodied footballers that flashed in her laboratory some here and then, without paying her any attention at all.

Arrogant brats, she only hoped the new chairwomen would put them in place.

For now, she was determined to extract boy’s juices from Mike, all focused on his semi-erect member, while she leaned on him and almost casually posed her free ungloved hand over his hip.

From time to time she curled her index finger upward to trace his prostate, which made him shudder and even tense his arms forward seemingly to stop her repeat the process.

“No please, don’t do this again” he uttered in a trembling murmur, not loud enough to be an order, or at least that’s how she decided to interpret it.

He was gritting his teeth, grunting in pure humiliation while she steadied the rhythm of penetration, all the while circling his anus with another bit of vaseline and then moving to pinch his rosy nipples with her sharp fingers.

A devilish and knowing smile danced upon her lips as she saw the tip of his dick shining with the first drops of precum.

“Eureka” she whispered, adding to herself “oh yeah what a little slut we have today”

He clenched his fists at the sudden realization that the only noise in the room was the heavy panting of Ms Werner, and the wiggling junctures of the metal stirrups solicited by her vigorous finger fucking.

Tension had risen to an unbearable level. And his body, his organ was at the core of it. He felt objectified and demeaned.

Fresh images of the prison medic scandal came to his mind. Damn those women-friendly media were really doing a job at intimidating guys into suspicion and bashfulness with women, particularly with women of authority and power.

The poor convicts appalled, forced to kneel naked hands on their bald heads, shouted at by intimidating wardresses, the villain doctor (already branded in the media as “Ms Evil”) manacling away one after the other, throwing the captives across the room and disappearing from the camera view.

The night-vision added to the hellish atmosphere, with green infrared bodies thrown here and there amid raunchy laughter, screams and obsessive raucous base insults. There was one devious wardress that threw a massive sweating man on the floor with a sharp cattle prod across his thighs, yelling bitch, motherfucker, and other profanities.

One was wickedly promised he wouldn’t have to feel the prod inside his ass, if he was to make 100 pushups, which was impossible, because guards took turns to pound him to the ground with their boots, ordering he restart the count. Mouths were roughly muffled with tape, while in the background a female voice was heard shouting “Stay still!” or “Do as you are told!” interrupted by painful moans and coughs. While they waited to be manacled away by the evil doctor, the knelt prisoners had to mouth fuck the black prod. They were then taken one by one in a secluded and unseen angle of the room by Ms Evil herself, who, despite the censorship ball applied to her crotch area, was clearly wearing a strap on attached to an harness wrapped around her hips.

He wiped away those images, convincing himself that Ms Werner was not that kind of sadistic woman, though he had to admit his mates were right in describing her appearance as that of a fiendish hag.

He felt uncomfortably defenseless. More, he felt he was going to be undone by her steady manipulation, and he didn’t want her to be a cruel one. He slowly raised his head to look at her, but he just met an indecipherable gaze behind large lens gleaming under the neon light.

She was hotly and overtly panting, almost sweating, bathing in Mike’s sweet and full exposition of all his pale white muscular male flesh. For all the demeaning thoughts she, as a woman, nurtured towards boys, she could not hide her admiration for the boy, the red shade of his face, all the pale white flesh and sultry pink penis of his spread body, open and hypersensitive to her touch.

Head collapsed back to the examination table, Mike desperately wanted to speak with her. He had to know if the woman so thoroughly having her way with him was evil or not.

He hoped with all his heart she was not to prove truculent. He fought back the sensation of being a rag doll in her hands and forced himself to take his watery eyes open wide.

“W – What do you want from me” he asked with a feeble and shaken voice, head turned to one side.

“Right now sunshine, or in general? I mean in life, or here and there? Ehhh what a nice and intelligent question from such a beau. Didn’t know they were so sensible… ” she garrulously replied, well intent at doubling his discomfort.

“What a fuck little slut! See you spurt that cum for me, that’s what I want” she deviously thought while increasing the tempo of her rough invasion, just in case that nice chit chatting was making him forget his place.

But her smooth-tongued answer was designed to be uber-romantic.

“Let’s see. What I want? You babe, you and me hand in hand on a desert shore, in a tropical island. Is that ok? What do you think?” she hissed with a slight smirking innuendo.

Her tone was not sardonic though, neither insincere.

She added emphasis to her affectionate confession, pinching his nipple between first knuckle and thumb of her free hand, and than moving around his chest with her sharp pink index fingernail, down to his flat taut tummy.

Here she circled his navel ever so slowly, then descended to his crotch area, where she tarried a bit, palm down resting just above the junction of thigh and hip bone. A few centimeters from the bobbing and pulsing pink head of his cock, which was shining with pearly drops of fluid at his swollen tip.

Taken away by that her own fantasies, she thought that pink shade of his gland matched perfectly with her own lipstick’s.

She smirked as she saw him shut his eyes again and throw his arms back above his head. Just when she had the sweetest fantasy of pinning him down to the sand and kissing him passionately, a gigantic spray of cum erupted from the rigid penis all over his abdomen and chest.

He had never been touched like this before, never suspected that it would be so overwhelmingly exciting.

She rested her two fingers for a moment inside his canal, then sighing deeply she withdrew them very slowly.

Then she briskly peeled off her latex glove and moved away from the examination table, while he still stood there shocked on his elbows, looking dazzled.

“When you’re ready come to my desk love” the medic told him while moving, without an hint of participation.

She had very efficiently recovered her previous working posture behind the desk, hurriedly compiling forms and lighting another cigarette in her left hand.

He managed to get up and very slowly walked towards the desk, still completely naked and inhaling the heavy scent of his own sex.

But since she was all busy on her papers, he rested in the way and started looking around the room, reaching aimlessly for some plastic crates. He was about to address her, to make things clear: was that a sexual intercourse or had it medical rationale?

Indeed, as if preventing his questions and solving his doubts, she coldly stated that she hadn’t found any abnormal curvature or tension in his penis, and no sign of bladder infection or enlargement.

So it was all about this.

Or was it?

No, Ms Wender was just taking cover behind a scientific language, because she had just felt a wave of guilty feelings for having being so intrusive in his intimacy, touching chords that he didn’t suspect to have and prompting an evident emotional confusion.

She never went beyond the anal gate, at least since the last comparable “incident” she had with a Latino macho player, who blocked her as soon as she had skillfully broken into the sphincter. Despite her best attempt at remaining clinical, the patient yelled at her and called her names, and even reported to the company a minor sexual assault, which may have put her job at risk, were it not for the purposeful support she had always received from the top.

Since then she had managed to keep professional, but in a disdainful way.

Those sluts loved to tease her with their bodies, but she was not allowed to touch and feel their intimate treasures, not even in a playful way!

Now she was compensating with Mike, enjoying the visual pleasure that he was offering her by unnecessarily remaining nude in her office.

And she decided to put aside any guilty feeling, pointing him delicately a small tissue and gesturing him to pass it on his shoulder, chest and belly, so as to wipe out the abundant and musky masculine intimate fluid.

He did as told, slowly and meticulously, focusing on each centimeter of his frontal nudity, while she leaned back on the chair, sucking on the cigarette and silently watching his muscles being polished.

“Could you do me a last favor, sweetie?”

She didn’t use his birth name, he noticed with disappointment. He felt their intimacy fading. Not bothering to wait for an answer and looking briskly into his eyes and then down to his body she calmly stated

“You are the most beautiful angelic creature that has ever entered this room. Naked I mean. Could you remain naked until outside?”.

He silently and imperceptibly nodded, proud inflating his pecs and tensing his abdomen, then got down on the tiled floor collecting his sparse clothes.

“May I at least put shoes on?”– he asked looking back at her.

She carelessly nodded back, all too focused on her own stirring passions.

He was such a good ending to her dull and lonely day, yet she had nothing to keep him tied to her, just in case she needed him back.

There are one or two things a woman could do to tear a man into her senses, a wisdom as ancient as white witchcraft. One is placing a wet, full-pouting lipstick kiss on him – but she had to do without.

The other is placing saliva on his erogenous zones. S

he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, headed straight to the door where he was and blocked his exit.

Then falling to her knees, her white medical coat wide open and her ample bosom stretching out, she placed her hands on his hips and quickly opened her mouth around his shaft, circling it and retracting the foreskin back with her teeth.

Slammed with his back against the door and his thighs open to her head, Mike looked down at her wickedly smiling while glancing up at him, than felt her tongue eagerly cleaning his cock from sperm strains.

With a final sloppy movement to the base, she sank her nose in his pubic sac, released it with a smacking sound, then finally opened the door and, after cheerfully smacking him on his buttocks, gestured him out with her index finger.

Unsettled cause his penis had just become to tick up, he stood there and she had to push him away.

Ms Werner had his cock glistening of her own saliva now.

She just needed to shut the door.

He was out, in the corridor of the medical facilities, and only there he started to dress.


As the referee halted the game to the disappointing first half finale of 1-0 for the opponents, a mocking expression surfaced on Helena’s perfect profile, arching her razor-cut design eyebrows in just the slightest hint of devilish sarcasm.

“Boys are unable to score these days” was her snide immediate comment.

And when Rebecca had asked her opinion on Mike, she nonchalantly belittled him, adding to her heartless report the indignity of an ambiguous gesture as she held two long-nailed fingers (the same darkly opaque shade of her mahogany-mocha lips) very close together to mean his underperformance.

At 48, Rebecca was the classical high-class cultivated beauty, and just replied to the indelicate comment of the president with a broad, luxuriant and wicked smile, arching her red lips.

She parted her long straight full glossy red hair, healthily shining in the air, and excused herself with Helena.

Her mobile was ringing. She connected with the earphone. It was Ricky.

“How is my boy?” she said out loud.

On the other end of the line, a youthful and hot voice replied gradually catching her amused attention.

It really was his day off work, a sleepy and lazy freezing cold Sunday afternoon, and unsurprisingly he was resting at her mansion, a nice cottage bordering with a snowy forest and with a view to the lake and the hillsides, just outside the city outskirts.

He sure liked to talk with Helena, because she was such a good listener, and had a lot of good advices to give. She always seemed to know his mind, magically preceding his wishes, and the almost girly giggles of her beloved lady-president stirred his passion.

She playfully started to talk dirty – she was now well out of reach cause during the interval many people had gone indoors – rhythmically dangling her shining left boot, while her right hand lazily adjusted the diamond necklace. How she loved the moment, teasing him as she often did when she delayed their passionate encounter, citing her numerous social duties.

Also that night, after the match, she said she would have done some interviews and business meetings, but he was stuck to her house and would have obediently waited for her to come back. Maybe hoping that Red Blues had just won, because she really was the best fucker after a victory.

“You know, after I’m done with all these duties, I have another one… I’d like to make you scream all night long. Fancy the idea?” she viciously purred in a single hurried whisper.

But he was well informed on the match.

“Oh I am not so sure seeing that you are losing 1-0″ he replied pertly.

“You bad boy! Don’t you dare talk like this to me again!” she said feigning shock at his challenge

“Oh” said then Rick, eagerly waiting for her harsh instructions.

“And you’ll better take that insolent ass of yours outside in the cold and chop some woods, cause I want the dining room fire lit when I’m home. And, as for you, you’d better be shining clean the way I like it! Is it understood?” she added wickedly.

“Yes, lady chairperson” he said half-ironically.

He knew what she meant with clean, that is naked from head to toes after a long hot bath.

Maybe he would add another spicy item to the picture, but that would have been a surprise.

On the other end of the receiver she reacted to his last words with a triumphant vivid smile – the top of her tongue slipping through bright white teeth – while people started coming back to take their seat for the second half of the match.

“I have to go now sweetie, but I’ll take to my words” she ended

Down in the locker rooms, Ms Lindbergh, the other big shareholder of the company, was paying visit to her players. In her knee-long white, imposing fur coat she was, as always, a striking presence. And more so in front of semi-naked, half-battered players, most of whom were much too discouraged to carry on the crucial game.

Yet she was all shining smiles and encouragements, and with her simple words seemed to prompt life back in Red Blues. At the end of her small talk they all jumped from their benches and yelled their pride and wish to come back and win the day. She knew she was good – and devilishly she knew she had once again overtaken Mr Jordan’s function – but that was the way she liked to conduct her boys, rejoicing in her effect on them.

They all high-fived each others, and then, when they were coming back to the field, they vigorously shook hands with Ms Lindbergh’s – her delicate and short frame now outlined by the company of such vigorous tall men.

But there was one, not as tall and as big as the others, that she wished she would have talked to.

It was Mike.

“Hm, can I have one more word with you, Mr Sherrighan?” she said, almost halting his run in a stricter than usual handshake.

Taken aback and forced in the locker room while his companions maliciously smirked, Mike stood once again on the bench, and while Rebecca talked more carefully, more seriously, more intently than she had done with the others, his face became pale and then reddened, and then paled back.

Mike appeared confused and overwhelmed.

Surely Ms Lindbergh, the vicepresident of the company, knew what she said.

Did she really mean it anyway?

Was really Ms President, “the lady chairperson” as he respectfully addressed her, considering him a disappointing bargain?

For some strange reason, Ms Lindbergh didn’t spend a word to encourage him, and merely repeated Ms president’s belittling comments as they were, without adding anything.

“Yes but do you agree with her?” burst out eventually Mike, pitifully aware of an hint of exasperation in his own voice.

“No, hm, well” she mumbled, taken by surprise by his vigorous reaction and by her own blushing at it “not that way” she added, for the first time reassuringly touching him over his right knee, and nicely crossing her legs in the run.

Just the magic contact with her small palm calmed him, as Mike couldn’t but stare at the contrast that the white, manicured and fresh hand made with his rough, hot sweating leg muscle, stirring an hardening reaction.

Not only there, for sure.

His cock too was reacting, just the smallest hint of it, but enough to make him uncomfortable with her presence, so that, almost as if awakened, he suddenly realized he had to catch up with his teammates, who were waiting for him outside.

Mumbling an excuse he stood up, while she carefully followed him with serious eyes. Inwardly, she felt happily hot.

She knew she had shaken him, and suspected she even teased his cock, but couldn’t make out the extent of it.

Forcing herself out of respect for him she didn’t look directly at his pants – she always tried to set boundaries beyond which a manageress couldn’t go with his players – but she felt so excited that for just a moment she dreamt of girlishly snagging them with just one of her red polished finger nails.

And then, maybe, getting her way out by saying the most raunchy thing, like “I just wanted to see if you have cock and balls to win this game for me”.

She was almost in the act – yet she knew deep down she would have never really dared, not at that point – when he was already out of her reach and swiftly turning away in the tunnel.

Then she called him back, with an authoritarian but sweet voice, and while still on the bench half purred a sexy “Good luck” with smiling eyes.

He mumbled something, didn’t know what. A “thank you” wouldn’t have been enough, he decided. And so full of virile proud hurried back into the playing field.

Was she meaning really it?

Sure, the general manager had just wished him good luck!

She had just prompted him to do his best, to work super-hard, to make the best effort out of that second half.

And thus make a good and lasting impression on the president, win back her trust and maybe convince her that he was worth the sum she had spent on him during market season.

As soon as he entered the field, a cold breeze invested Mike, making him feel strangely naked and exposed, and a bit envious of all his manageresses comfortably watching in their coats.

Did he forget it was mid Winter season?

Or was it the hot allure of that small intense talk with the Ms Lindbergh the humid and hazy locker rooms that made him feel that coldness in contrast?

Yet for just one moment he felt the unfairness of it. He just recognized Ms Lindbergh’s strappy cracked, Swarovskis-scattered sandal he saw passing by the most exclusive shop gallery of the town. Well, if they were those pair, it was like having two-months worth of his hard work wrapped around her delicate feet…

Salaries went down, abruptly and dramatically, but he knew that.

Gone were the times when a second-category midfield could get expensive cars and clothes and indulge himself, with the complacency of the then mostly-male team boards and journalist community, in chicks-picking.

All that sexual profligacy had disappeared as a strong morale entered the sector, after the latest scandals and the stern reaction of the female soccer expert community, opinion makers and commentators.

Prim tones were used to frame and charge the chauvinist and arrogant habit of these “spoiled children” whose lass behavior made them, according to sociologists, “prospect sex molesters”.

A strict code of private conduct was first proposed, but the uncooperative coaches (still, all men) forced the soccer association to take a more radical step to eradicate the money-sex bonanza, overcoming the remnants of male chauvinist strongholds: it was decided to heavily cut salaries. In a matter of hours, contracts were rewritten and, due to the feeble resistance of the unions and the insistent campaign of the press, players had to bow their head and adjust to much more modest economic conditions.

And, final irony of it all, the same very columnist that had led this campaign, Ms Rodovan (the authoritative head of Women Sports Monthly) wined over the “downsizing of the most virile young men of our nation” with a paradoxically nostalgic article titled “End of the macho party”…


Mike had just made his foray into the ultra-competitive soccer, and now, at 20 years old, he was already accepting the consequences, the bitter consequences of that choice.

He had neither time nor will to look back, even though, as Lora resurfaced to his memory, a heavy sobbing tear filled his eye.

But he managed to keep it back and, after high-fiving some of his teammates (committed, serious glances were exchanged, a promise of revenge for the humiliation of the first half), he rapidly made his way into the field. Yet he couldn’t but search for the lady chairperson up there under the cover, the center of all his expectancies and fears.

“Will she change her mind over me?” he whispered to himself, almost as if praying, while looking for his president.

And even though there were a lot of spectators, she couldn’t go unnoticed.

Right in the middle the Vip tribune, side by side with Ms Lilliam, there was the president, her majestic porcelain complexion exalted by a nuance of amber blusher on her high angular cheekbones, looking straight ahead with a fixed expression, stone-faced behind her big-shields black sunglasses, her darkly glossed lips pursed tightly in a nice frown, yet lusciously gleaming in the last rays of the Winter sun.

For one shameless moment, Mike tormented himself at the suspect that she was deliberately avoiding the much needed eye contact he was looking for!

How he would have loved to score and get her attention after the goal, running under the fence stripped of his shirt and throwing it at her, as a triumphant trophy!

Without even realizing it, he was enchanted into fighting for her, like she was her beloved promised in a Medieval knights tournament.

He started running and running as if electrically moved, sometimes losing contact with his tactical tasks.

Unconsciously he was trying to playing a subtle cat game with her.

“Yeah” he reassuringly and instinctively thought “sooner or later I will make her look directly in my direction”.

But anytime he looked for her, he had the impression that she stood motionless like an ice princess, a distant sphinx cruelly unsympathetic with the strenuous efforts of her human assets. How could he detect any movement and involvement – even interest in the game (much more importantly, in him)?

It had to wait for the last fifteen minutes, when a vivid action took place in the far side opposite from her and he was everywhere, kicking like mad, falling, kicking again and finally sorting it out for good amid admired cheering of the crowd.

Then she quite imperceptibly but surely turned to his direction, “even fifteen degrees” thought Mike with a wave of confidently masculine self-irony.

Then everything happened in the last ten minutes.

Mr Jordan did it: he had called in Rob Mercury, the “old” icon of the group with his 36 years and well into his tenth season with Red Blues, to make the last attempt at the rival’s goal.

Just when the substitution took place and the replacement hurried to the bench, Mike felt like a spell had been cast over the field, a breathtaking suspension of time and space: right in the middle of the afternoon and in the decisive battle, Mr Jordan had decided to defy Ms Mendes and Ms Lilliam’s authority.

As soon as she saw that challenge unfold under her angry eyes she puckered her upper lip in the most mischievous way, uncovering her white teeth she bloated an half-whispered “Shit!”, while the general manager frowned dazzled at such daring challenge of the two chairwomen now in charge of the company.

He’d better pray that the move would pay!

Yes, because Mercury was not only the iconic hero of the Red Blues ascent into upper categories, but he was also at the center of a harsh position battle between the old guard and the new management ranks.

Rebecca determinedly disliked Mercury for his lifestyle, his grotesque manners and infamous track record with women.

Ms Mendes wasn’t sympathetic either, and yet the big, battered giant was in a pitiful condition, pressed hard by molestation charges that seemed to emerge from every corner of the country, other charges from his yet ex-wife and debts mounting every day. Mike and all the guys had never for a moment doubted that, were for the former president Clitford, Rob would have been supported, both financially and morally, by the company he had spent his life for.

But that was not Mr Cliftord’s company anymore, that was a game of buddies.

Mr Jordan on his side was almost moved to tears in seeing his champion doing the best out of all his latest misfortunes.

At ’85 Mike made a long filtering pass through the besieged defense lines, catching Rob Mercury surprisingly free from rivals and just in front of the goalkeeper.

With a swift move he got free of him too, and angrily kicked the ball to score.

It was 1-1!

1 to 1!

The game was even and all went to celebrate Rob and his long-awaited return to goal, maybe a sign of a better future for him.

But Rob was inconsiderate enough to shout out his boiling rage against all the new managers who, according to his overexcited and exhausted mind, had made his life a nightmare, directly staring at the president, showing his fist to her, and then to that “spoiled bitch” of the general manager – while all the others, and Mike in particular, fought him back to order, silencing him, keeping the statuesque forward as far as possible from the ears and eyes of the two lady chairpersons.

But that game had yet to be closed, and the word end wasn’t written yet.

12:34 am

Meredith stood in front of the mirror completely naked, her wet, shoulder length dark brown hair sticking to her shoulder and face.

She admired her figure and cupped her breasts, pinching the dark pink nipples to two hard erections. She squirted body cream into the palm of her hand, and secretly, she loved the sound it made when she was just running out of the cream.

She ran her hands across her flat belly and her long legs which had a couple of scars, but they were pale, just like her white skin. She took care of herself, and did not spend to much time outside so her skin would stay this way. Soft, white and delicate, which was a nice contrast to her tall big boned figure.

She brushed her long hair, then combed it into a high pony tail before twisting it into a severe bun on top of her head. Applied some mascara and crimson lip stick.

Walking to her closet, she pushed a few dresses and sweaters aside and pulled her clothes from the back of the closet forward. Her mouth watered and she inhaled deeply.

She needed music. Ceremoniously, she walked to her CD player, turned it on and hit play on the CD that was already in it. Much better.

Back to her closet, she pulled an outfit from its hanger and threw it on the bed. Bending over, she fumbled at the bottom of her closet for a pair of boots and one at a time, threw them behind her next to her bed.

She reached for the talcum powder from her vanity and sat down on the bed, sprinkling her legs and feet, smoothing the white powder gently over her legs and feet. The moment she was waiting for. She reached for the pants first which were latex and black. She sighed. This was always the biggest challenge, getting them on. But damn, once they were on, it was a transformation unlike she had ever experienced with anything else.

It was trial and error getting them over her legs, until she read an article that talcum powder was your friend. Struggling made you perspire and made them virtually impossible to pull on.

She slipped the boots on next, lacing them up tightly from ankle to knee. She turned and twisted her feet this way and that way, testing the tightness of the laces and the restrictions she had. The sound the leather made, even the smell of leather was an aphrodisiac. Why is that?

She stood up and admired her legs in the full length mirror, then turned and kneeled on the bed then bending over to stare at her ass. She stuck her tongue out seductively, flicking it lewdly at herself.

Kneeling on the bed she grabbed the bustier and slipped it on backwards, doing up the hooks before turning it into place and pulling it over her breasts.

Dabbing a bit of perfume on her wrists and neck, she stopped and gazed at herself one more time before walking towards her bedroom door and picking up the suitcase she had prepped the night before.

She looked over her should and waved good bye at herself.

The neighborhood she drove into was quiet. Family oriented, wholesome. She parked along side the curb across from number 14. She looked at the house, again, very nice. Clean, landscaped with a single light on in the living room. There wasn’t a car in the driveway, nor was their a garage. She opened the car door, grabbed her coat and suitcase.

She missed noticing the man walking his poodle, but it was to late now. She slowly got out of the car, he was getting closer. As she crossed the street, she saw the way he was looking at her. She looked over at him and smiled, giving him her wining wink. He looked on, wide eyed and hungry.

She walked up the driveway and up the steps to the porch. Placing her suitcase by the stairs, she sat down on the wooden railing which the paint was chipping from. It felt rough and un even against her ass. Taking a quick glance at her watch. 1:45 am. His shift ended 45 minutes ago. Taking into consideration, a shower, dressing, and driving back home, he should be here any moment.

What timing. She lit a cigarette and waited.

She saw lights up the street and waited. Her heart pounding with excitement. Sure enough, the SUV slowed, and pulled into the driveway.

The man inside was reaching around for things, the SUV turned off along with the music that was playing inside which she did not recognize. He stepped out, she took a long drag off her cigarette, wanting to catch his attention. It did. He saw the glowing ember and immediately approached.

“Who are you?” He demanded abruptly. He was a bit taller then she thought, and no, he did not lie, he did work out. Vigorously from the looks of it.

She stood up and walked towards the edge of the stairs to look down at him. He wasn’t expecting anyone, especially her. They stood there a moment staring at each other. Dropped her coat on the ground.

“I hope your not to tired.” He didn’t say anything in return. Slowly walking down the stairs to stand in front of him, she looked up.

“God dammit.” She whispered, she preferred it when heels gave her height over men.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

She made a sound and pursed her lips. “Get my coat.” Without question he climbed the stairs and grabbed it. “The briefcase as well.” He looked behind him. She walked down the driveway and watched her as she flicked her cigarette onto the street.

“Yes ma’am.” He said, smiling now. It took him longer then she thought to clue in.

“You know I don’t like that.” She said and walked towards the door on the side of the house, waiting for him.

“Miss.” He said and followed.

“You are making things worse for yourself. Keep your mouth shut.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, watching him reach for his keys.

“The longer it takes you to open that door, the more of a chance there is of someone seeing me standing out here waiting for you to open that door. Is that what you want? You want your neighbors to find out what a sick little fuck you really are?”

What a change. But he wasn’t expecting anything different.

“What would they think.” She said, when he finally managed to pull out his keys and open the door, letting her in first. She saw him glance around before stepping inside.

As he settled into the cramped, hard cot in the small laundry room, he thought, “What am I doing here? How did I get into this mess?”

He heard the loud, passionate groans of lust coming from the master bedroom, his former place of rest. He laid his head, with a sigh, on the worn, old pillow.

Trying hard to set aside the noises from upstairs, he attempted to settle into sleep. A familiar, intoxicating aroma filled his sense of smell. As he finished the laundry and before heading into the bedroom she handed him a well-used pair of her panties. The look on his face told the story.

She smiled as he thanked her, knowing how even the simplest gesture on her part was accepted as a great honor.

He stored the treasure underneath his pillow before finishing his chores. Now, he brought the blessed fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“Oh yes, I remember.”

It started a few months ago. He was at work. As the general manager of a small company he supervised around one-hundred and fifty employees. Success was his, in a limited way, but he wasn’t totally satisfied.

There was something was missing in his life—an emptiness, an incompleteness. It was almost like there was a hole in his soul that he needed to fill before he could become complete.

As he wallowed in this search work became less satisfying and he daydreamed a lot about sexy, beautiful women. Thinking about their legs, the way they moved, their underwear, he filled the days imaging all kinds of various scenarios, usually involving spending long hours worshipping their bodies.

A man of a variety of needs, he had a plethora of different fantasies and as soon as one developed he jumped to another.

Although somewhat embarrassed about the obsession with his somewhat perverted desires he sluffed the guilt off by justifying the dreams because of a failed marriage to a woman who never understood his needs.

As he was between relationships, he hadn’t had sex in a while, other than his nightly visits with his hand. And the worst thing about it was that he wasn’t sure what kind of sex he wanted.

The situation, along with his life, changed suddenly and dramatically one day.

Business was flourishing and he discovered he needed a temp for extra clerical work. He had his secretary call a local employment agency and they quickly sent over a number of prospects. The first two, middle-aged ladies were both plump and matronly and he had a hard time even paying attention to waht they were saying.

The third girl immediately caught his eye. She was pretty, in that full-bodied, clear-eyed Salma Hayak way, with straight brown hair that reached just beyond her shoulders. She stood about five foot two and was a tad plump, almost like she still had a small layer of baby fat. But it looked good on her in an earthy way.

She was not overweight by any means; she was just sort of soft and full in the way the 50′s actresses were, not skin and bones like so many women of today. She was gifted with luscious legs, a round ass and nice, pert breasts. Her skin was smooth and creamy. Her face was very attractive and just barely shy of out and out beautiful.

Belying her youth was a knowing, very perceptive smile and she had an ever-present, mischievous twinkle in her eye. Her smile, her eyes immediately seemed to pierce into his soul as if understanding some part of him completely.

“Now, Jennifer,” he said tearing his eyes from her face, shuffling papers and pretending to review her resume. “What particular qualifications do you feel you have that would make you capable of handling this job?”

He tried to maintain his usual composure but he had a hard time keeping his eyes from drifting to her legs. Sitting directly in front of his desk, she was just far enough away so he could see her completely. Because she was young and probably not wealthy, her attire was less than business-like, wearing a short, plain sun dress, made of thin and cheap cloth. It gave her an appearance of being almost unprofessional, looking more like Sophie Loren in some Italian peasant movie.

His eyes kept flitting back and forth from the paperwork to those legs. The dress rode halfway up her bare thighs. He was struck by the careless manner in which she came to an interview with a noticeable lack of nylons, almost like she was defying conventional wisdom and daring him to hire her despite her lack of professionalism.

As he watched, she spread her legs ever so slightly, in an innocent, yet provocative way. She didnt even sit the way women are taught!

The luscious gams rested on the chair and he could see how soft, creamy and delicious they were. Unconsciously his tongue left his mouth and licked his upper lip. Hearing a soft chuckle he glanced at her face. The all-knowing smile and mischievous twinkle in her eyes made him blush in embarrassment.

Those legs, he whispered to himself, how I would love to feel them, caress them, even lick them. He reddened a little as he saw she was watching him carefully.

“Well, Mr. Sullivan,” she said with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, “I catch on very quickly. I see the situation and immediately know how to handle it.”

He studied her face, checking for any hidden meanings in her words. She returned the stare, her deep brown eyes totally captivating, almost entrancing. They lured him into their depths but didn’t reveal anything.

He wasn’t quite sure what her answer meant. Confused, he knew there was something about her manner, her presence, and her earthy essence that seemed to give her an advantage over him. It was almost as though she was some ancient goddess, a high priestess of some ancient kingdom, worthy of worship.

Reviewing her resume, he was aware she had very limited experience and not much education but in spite of her youth he somehow felt intimidated by her, an unusual yet exciting feeling for him. He sensed she knew a lot more than he did, especially about the ways between men and women.

Not wanting the interview to end, he stumbled for a few more minutes in a very unprofessional, clumsy way. His normally confident manner deserted him and he had difficulty asking intelligent questions. He could not focus on the process; all he could do was peek occasionally and surreptitiously at her luscious legs, wondering if she wore plain cotton panties.

Finally he made a rash and hasty decision, one based on primal needs separate and apart from her work experience or what they needed for this job.

“You seem qualified for the position. When can you start? We need someone right away. Actually, we would like you to begin tomorrow,” he said rushing his words and annoyed at himself with his inability to remain calm.

“I can’t start tomorrow I need a few days to settle some things.” She seemed to be in the drivers seat here. “How’s Friday?”

He was shocked. Usually, prospective employees do whatever it takes to get the job. The way she responded felt like she was in control of the interview.

Nodding a silent agreement, he watched as she smiled sweetly. There was a knowing look in her eyes as she surveyed him one last time. Rising from her chair, she gave him one last little grin, turned and left.

He studied her casual, sensual sway as she walked from the room. Her bare legs, her round, full rear filled his senses with a desire he had seldom known. His heart, as well as his groin, ached for her with a conviction he had never felt.

Turning at the door as if knowing he would be watching her, she caught his eyes studying her gorgeous ass. Reddening, he tore his eyes from her posterior to her face. Her grin let him know that she knew where he was looking and what he was looking at.

The week while he waited was intolerable. Frustrated, he buried himself in work, impatient for Friday to arrive.

On Friday morning he arrived hours early but was unable to concentrate on anything and found himself quite annoyed with everyone. Angrily, he told himself to forget about her and focus on work, but he kept checking the clock and waiting for the moment she arrived. He was acting like an awestruck teenager mooning over some unattainable movie star.

During the day, he tried his best to stay away from her, not wanting to succumb to the need he felt to see her again. It would be easy to avoid her as her workstation placed her on the floor beneath his, in a room he normally didn’t visit.

But she remained in his thoughts as he tried to finish a project. Just as he immersed himself in the final details, she entered his office. Without a knock, she walked right in.

“I’ve got your mail,” she said with a cat-like grin.

Caught off-guard, he stared mouth agape, captivated by her, wondering if she knew he was just then thinking of her.

He found himself in an unusual position. He was totally dumbstruck and couldn’t think of a thing to say to her.

“Where do you want it?” she asked, gliding over to his desk and simply dropping the pile on one side of it.

Standing to the side of him, she leaned over the desk, resting her elbows on the top, examining the papers he had in front of him. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed the outline of her perfect, pert breasts. They were hidden behind her simple white blouse, inches from his face and he desperately wanted to lean over and fill his mouth with them, kissing and licking avidly. He noticed that the globes were not exceptionally large but they were firm and ripe and seemed perfectly suited to her earthy figure.

“Whatcha doing? Something important?” she asked as she chewed gum in his ear like a teenager. She studied his reaction as his eyes moved slowly up from her breasts to meet hers. He reddened as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Feeling the heat of her nearness, he breathed in the subtle scent of the soap she used this morning. He stared blankly into her eyes as if hypnotized by some magic spell she cast. Smiling at his embarrassed face for a moment, in total control of the situation, she turned and walked out.

His dry mouth gaping, he stared at her round, soft buttocks as they gracefully strutted out, whispering secret wishes to himself about needing to become familiar with that object.

She didn’t look back this time, as if she was sure that he was watching and didn’t need to confirm it. He kept staring at the empty doorframe long after she disappeared like a dog would wait all day at the door for his master to come home.

Needless to say, he was useless the balance of the afternoon. Her seemingly innocent interruption had destroyed all pretense of normality for him. Acknowledging the hold she had over him, he felt himself charged with a strange and erotic tension as he sat daydreaming at his desk.

More than once he wanted to relieve his aching turgid member, with a need he had never felt before. He sat frustrated, yet entranced, and completely under her spell.

There was no doubt the young beauty intoxicated him. She awakened some buried urge he had deep within him. It was as though she was some primitive goddess he had to submit to, obey and worship. He couldn’t explain the reason why she held this power over him; he didn’t even want to understand it.

He just wanted her, in any way she required.

On Monday, after a restless and frustrating weekend, he made an excuse to go down to the sample room where she worked.

He didn’t need a reason; he told himself, after all, he was the boss. He could check up on any employee whenever he wanted, that was his right. For some reason he felt he had to justify this decision to himself.

She was alone in the room, sitting on a stool eating a donut. Her short skirt rose to midway up her thigh. The softness of those smooth, luscious thighs spread against the lip of the seat. His eyes riveted on them and lust filled his senses. Her legs were parted provocatively, just an inch or so. They were just far enough open to be exciting yet not quite far apart to seem indecent.

There was something especially alluring about her earthy body, her lack of nylons, and her casual, revealing dress. She was sexy in an Italian peasant sort of way. Nylons would never be needed on her exquisite legs. They would enhance them but her legs were enough by themselves. The smooth softness, the hidden treasures that lay above and between, all added an arousing picture of sensuality.

“Oh, you caught me,” she giggled. He said something about it not being a problem and moved closer to chat. Her feet rested on the rung of the stool, which caused her short dress to ride up almost to her crotch. He stood in front of her trying hard not to stare down at her luscious gams.

There was a definite hardening in his pants and the friction of his member brushed against the rough fabric. He lowered the paperwork he was carrying to cover the small tent so she could not witness his obvious arousal.

“I have such a sweet tooth. I made my last boss buy me candy all the time. Do you know any good candy stores around here?” She looked at him like a cobra eyes a mouse. Her arm accidentally brushed against some papers and they spilled to the floor. Without thinking, he quickly knelt down to recover them.

Realizing his position, he found himself inches from her legs. Her shoe was directly in front of his face. It appeared inexpensive and well worn, not the fancy, expensive kind in his dreams, yet somehow it’s casualness added to her bearing.

He inhaled silently but deeply, attempting to memorize the sweet scent of her odor. His face flushed as the aroma drifted in and he had trouble breathing.

He hardly moved, the papers long forgotten. He was aware that he could touch her leg with his mouth just by leaning forward. He felt his face being drawn forward, perhaps toward a fate that would bind him forever to her. He wanted this future. Her foot silently beckoned him. Time seemed suspended as he awaited his destiny.

“Well, you’re finally where you belong. That didn’t take long. I thought you would be easy but I didnt think it would be so simple.” Her words temporarily broke the spell. He looked up at her, pausing momentarily to glance at her crotch, spotting the white fabric hidden there.

Something glowed deep inside him and he felt being here on the floor beneath her and beside her magnetic legs was the most appropriate place for him. He peeked at her face. It was blank with no apparent hidden meaning behind the words she spoke so calmly. Or so it seemed.

He wanted desperately to remain kneeling at her feet, where he was, and lean forward that final inch towards her foot, and complete the journey. He wanted to place his lips against her toe, lick the shoe, and savor the softness of her skin.

He loved the feeling of being on his knees before her—this feeling of absolute submission. She sat there like a queen and observed him like he was some kind of laboratory experiment.

Finally, mustering some reluctant pride he picked up the papers, set them on the table, looked longingly at her and left.

At home that night, he furiously relieved his pent up emotions in the shower, spewing his seed against the wall as he pictured her towering over him as he looked up at her legs from his lowly position on the floor. He didn’t understand why this image was so strong and so erotic. He didn’t care.

He tossed and turned all night as he tried to make sense out of the situation but couldn’t. His dreams were filled with visions of her legs, her feet, and her wicked smile. He woke with a fullness in his groins and an ache in his soul that he had never felt before.

He avoided her the next day, staying behind his closed door, afraid of this passion, terrified of her power. The following day, he succumbed to his overwhelming urges and sought her out.

He waited until he knew she was alone and snuck down to see her.

Once again she was sitting on the stool with her voluptuous legs on display. He hesitated as he watched her. He felt something in himself surrendering to her beauty, acknowledging some basic superiority she had over him.

He thought she knew he was in the doorway but she went about her work as if she didn’t. He took the time to worship her with his eyes. He was filled with desire. Somehow he knew he would do anything for her, to be with her. And with that knowledge, he also sensed that he would be tested again and again on that vow.

Never before had he wanted to capitulate to a woman, become her servant, a slave to her every desire. He did now. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg for the privilege of touching her, to be allowed to clean her shoe with his tongue—to give her everything.

“What are you hiding behind your back?” she asked coyly without even glancing up. Quickly he went to her and handed her a box of expensive candy.

She jumped up and squealed as she took the box. Her hand accidentally brushed against his arm. He became so aroused by that simple gesture that he had to leave before coming in his pants. He heard her chuckle softly as he scurried out of the room.

He shut the door of his office and battled with himself for control. He was losing himself to this simple beauty, he was surrendering his pride, his manhood, his very self to her and he wasn’t even sure if she knew of his infatuation. Or cared.

The fight with his conscience waged on as he debated all of the reasons why he should just leave her alone. She was too young. She may not even like him. What he was considering sacrificing for her was too much.

On the other side he relived the feel of her touch. He saw her gorgeous thighs and wondered what delicious warmth lay between them. He wondered what she would taste like, her legs, what lay between.

His unanswered questions still haunted him and he did not come to any conclusions when he returned to see her an hour later.

This time she was bent over the table as he entered. He gasped at the sumptuous, voluptuousness of her sensual ass and he felt a flash of carnal lust. He froze as he stared; the only movement of his body was in his pants.

Her perfectly rounded curves jutted out towards him and he felt a masochistic streak of need soar through him. His tongue caressed his upper lip, as he was lost in the vision. If only he could lavish this sensuous ass with soft kisses.

She must of known he was there yet she kept bent there in that perfect pose. The questions of before, whether he should yield to her sexuality or forget her were answered in that moment, with that vision seared in his mind.

He knew beyond doubt that he would do anything for her.

Another employee, an older woman, entered and interrupted his reverie. He jumped back like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The older woman frowned in obvious disapproval, as she took in the situation. Jennifer glanced up without moving and smiled at his embarrassment.

He brought her candy every day. She granted him only a few minutes conversation when he handed the gifts over and then sent him on his way.

One day while he handed her a box of candy, she groaned in annoyance.

“Are you all right? What’s the matter? Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked very concerned.

“It’s my feet. Standing on them all day makes them hurt.” She watched him carefully. “Do you give massages?” Her eyes twinkled.

“Not usually. But I guess I could,” he answered rather cautiously.

“Oh, goody. Go ahead.” She kicked one foot out and rotated it slowly. The movement mesmerized his eyes. This was a big step. They both knew it.

He eased to his knees on the floor and gently removed her shoe. Like everyday, she didn’t wear nylons and the feel of her soft skin was exquisitely arousing. His nostrils were filled with her delicious scent. She commented about the smell but he couldn’t concentrate enough on her words to understand what she was saying. The aroma drifted through his brain like a potent aphrodisiac, numbing all common sense and turning him into a willing slave.

Part Fourteen: Fireworks

As he got up from his knees, while Miss Meryn was seeing Miss Natasha and Scott to the door, Jeremy was very anxious. Though he had never encountered it before he knew that Miss Meryn was upset, and had been for much of the evening. He just didn’t know why. He had tried so hard to do everything he could to make the night a success for her, so that she would be proud of him in front of Miss Natasha. But he had obviously failed. This was made all the more apparent to him when she walked briskly past him from the foyer and proceeded into her bedroom without saying a word.

Jeremy didn’t know what to do with himself so he stood there numbly as if in a trance. If only she would tell him what he had done wrong, so he could beg forgiveness and promise never to do it again. An even more frightening thought began to occur to him. What if tonight had just been another opportunity for her to compare him directly to someone like Scott, and he had come up wanting again. He thought back to the cryptic conversation Miss Meryn and Mis Natasha at the end of the night. Was Miss Natasha offering to find someone new and better, like Scott, for Miss Meryn as she had threatened to do once before? And was Miss Meryn considering it, and was just struggling to find any excuse to tell him he had to go. Jeremy was beginning to panic.

His fear rose to a new level when he heard her sharply call him to come into the bedroom. He entered nervously and saw that she had changed into her nightgown, covered by a long robe, and was sitting on the side of her bed. She indicated that he should kneel before her.

As he looked up at her from his knees he could sense that she was still upset and very tense. For several long moments she just stared down at him frowning.

“So Jeremy.” She broke the silence sternly. “Explain to me why you felt it so necessary to take off your clothes tonight.”

He took a deep breath before answering. “I’m so sorry Miss Meryn. I know you don’t like me to undress, but when I saw from the kitchen that Scott had done so, I didn’t want Miss Natasha to think you didn’t have the same control and respect from me.”

“And you think that prancing around nearly naked is a sign of respect for me? As Natasha said, Jeremy, this is my house, and I make the rules. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Never again Miss Meryn. I swear.”

“And that footstool stunt Jeremy” she added, “what on earth could you ever have been thinking?”

He bowed his head. He knew now he had completely failed her tonight. Every choice he had made had been wrong. But he would answer her question truthfully, no matter what the consequences.

“I was thinking” he admitted quietly “that at that moment there was no place in the world I would rather be.”

Meryn lowered her head and allowed herself a small smile. She could never remain angry for long with Jeremy. And, in reality, she hadn’t really been angry with him now. She knew that everything he had done tonight had been an attempt to please her. She understood that it was another issue entirely that was really bothering her. It was time to broach it, but she didn’t quite know how to proceed.

“Jeremy” she began tentatively.

She paused a moment longer

“Do you masturbate?”

His face reddened. “Yes, Miss Meryn.”

Of course he did. How could she think otherwise. The more important question.

“How often?”

He hung his head. “Almost every day.”

“Sometimes more?” She asked.

“Sometimes more.”

Natasha he been right. Meryn didn’t know if it was that fact, or Jeremy’s admission that was refueling her anger.

“How dare you. How dare you do that in my house. Under my roof.”

Jeremy’s head snapped up. “Oh no Miss Meryn. Not at all. Not here. Never.”

“What do you mean? You just told me you jerk off a couple of times a day, but now you’re trying to tell me you don’t do it here.” Her eyes widened. “You mean that you do it at work?”

“God no, Miss Meryn. I would never do that. Please believe me. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t play games with me Jeremy. You say you do it several times a day, but that you don’t do it anywhere. Explain to me what I don’t understand.”

He swallowed. “You asked me if I masturbate, Miss Meryn, and I do. But never here. I wouldn’t … I haven’t … Not since …” He paused.

“Since when Jeremy?”

“Since I met you Miss Meryn.”

Now it was Meryn’s turn to pause. Then…

“You’re telling me that you haven’t done anything like that since the day you met me?”

He could only nod.

“Why not?” She was perplexed. “Doesn’t being here … All of this … Don’t I turn you on?”

“Oh God yes Miss Meryn. Since the day I met you I have never been so stimulated. Every day, every minute that I’m with you.”

“Then why?” She was truly puzzled.

Head hung once again. “Because I didn’t think it was right. I shouldn’t … I wouldn’t … without …”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Without what Jeremy?”

“Without your permission.”

Meryn rocked back slightly. For the first time she actually realized that this wasn’t all a game to Jeremy. She was somewhat frightened by the amount of control he had given her, unasked for, over him. She was staggered by the implications, and she struggled to understand what it all might mean. She knew she was at a crossroads, and critical decisions had to be made. For several long, long moments she looked down at him silently.

She decided.

“Jeremy.” She asked quietly. “Did you ever give pleasure to Natasha? Sexually?”

Face reddening again. “Yes Miss Meryn”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Now blushing furiously. “Yes Miss Meryn.”

Her face now softening. “I think I would very much like for you to do something like that for me tonight.”

He just looked up at her without speaking.

Oh my God, he’s going to refuse. After all this, she thought desperately.

“Miss Meryn?” He finally broke the silence.

“Yes?” she quavered.

“I really want you to enjoy this. I think it would be a lot better if you lay back and try to relax.”

She smiled. She really was acting like a schoolgirl doing it for the first time. In a way though, this was a first time. Like this. She lay back on her bed with her legs still bent over the edge. And waited.

The first thing she felt was his hands working their way under her robe beginning to caress the outside of her thighs. He continued this for several minutes, gently and slowly stroking her outer legs. And she did begin to relax. She then felt his lips softly touching the inside of her right knee, then slowly kissing his way up her inner thigh. When he reached her panty covered mound he lightly brushed over it with his lips, eliciting a slight moan, before kissing her left inner thigh to her knee. He then proceeded to softly lick his way back up her thigh. Reaching her panties this time he nuzzled the area with mouth and nose, her hips slightly thrusting in response, before licking down her right thigh. She was starting to become very wet. Inside.

One more time Jeremy licked his way up her thigh, now more strongly and broadly with his tongue. When it reached her center, its own wetness struggled to meet hers the cloth of her covering. Get them off, she screamed in her mind as her hips began to gyrate more. As if he had actually heard her plea his hands reached up and pulled her panties down and off, his tongue then returning immediately to her lower lips. It pressed through, found her clitoris, and gently began licking. Her moans became groans, her back arched, and as his tongue became more insistent, she came heavily.

Responding to her cry of joy, Jeremy’s tongue began thrusting in and out more forcefully, inspiring further spasms of pleasure for Meryn. Wave upon wave of her orgasm continued for over a minute, his tongue working furiously throughout, before it began to subside, and then slowly, peacefully, came to an end.

As she settled back into a very satisfied rest, she became aware that while Jeremy’s attentions had diminished, they had not ceased. His tongue had continued to gently lap inside her outer lips producing a very strange sensation. This was a new experience for her. While she had had oral sex before, it was usually as a part of a sixty-nine, and it had always ended when her partner had cum. She had never had it continue beyond her own orgasm. As his tongue began to probe into the depths of her inner recesses, she felt herself begin to respond again. It was a much different feeling from earlier, deeper and more sensual. An almost guttural sound escaped from her throat as her pelvis once again started to sway, a warmth and vibration beginning to suffuse her entire body. She then felt his tongue recede to attend her clitoris once again, but he replaced it below with a different invasion of her sanctum. Thinner and less intrusive than a penis, but clearly more personal, his finger explored her entire vault, circling her cervix, pushing and pulling into all of her walls. And her vaginal muscles rushed to respond, as if to try to catch and embrace and hold it within. But as it continued it’s elusive, delicious movements, her hips began to more vigorously rock. Just when she thought that she stand no more, a second finger joined the first, spreading and thrusting and filling her entire being.

She exploded. Her back arched, her fists began pounding the sides of her bed, and in a distance she heard screams that could only be her own, as fingers continued to thrust back and forth within. And she came, and she came, and she came some more. For over a minute and well into two. And she began to hear a hoarse voice between the screams, first saying, “Oh my God, oh my God.” followed by “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop”, then finally, after over two minutes of unfathomable ecstacy, a labored surrender, “Enough … Please … Enough.” And her pleas were heard, as fingers and tongue were gently withdrawn, and she collapsed back into an unreachable haze.

With her heart pounding and her breathing labored, Meryn tried to comprehend what had just occurred. Her first orgasm had been as good as many she had had in the past. But the second one. She could find no concept or words to describe. She had heard the term “the earth moved”, and she had indeed felt something shift within her. Even that however seemed inadequate to the unique nature of what she had just experienced.

After several minutes, as her heart finally began to slow, she realized she had lost awareness of Jeremy. Feeling a new sensation however, she lifted her head with effort and looked down. She saw that he had lifted her legs up onto the bed and was kneeling at the end, gently kissing her feet. Letting her head fall back, she lay there for several more minutes in blissful exhaustion. Finally, as her heart and breathing returned to something approaching normal, she raised her head once again, propped a pillow under it, and gazed down.

“Jeremy.” She finally called to him softly.

“Yes Miss Meryn.” He answered.

“That was wonderful.”

She could see his smile between her toes.

“Thank you Miss Meryn.”

After several more moments she called again. “Jeremy.”

“Yes Miss Meryn.”

“Would you like to cum?”

He stopped his adoration. A hoarse, almost strangled reply. “God yes Miss Meryn.”

She pushed herself up slowly to sit on the end of the bed in front of him, and looked down into his upturned face. Finally she offered.

“If we didn’t include intercourse or oral sex,” she began “is there any way you would like to cum that would be special for you?”

He tried to speak, but failed, and then hung his head. She believed she understood why.

“It’s alright Jeremy. I really do want to know. If it’s something I can’t do, we’ll try to find something else.”

He looked back up. Face beet red again, he answered hesitantly. “If you could let me lie down in front of you Miss Meryn … and … stroke me with your feet.”

Meryn smiled. “Take off you pants Jeremy and lie down on your back.”

He stood up, pulled off his briefs, and lay down on the floor on his back in front of her. It was the first time she had ever seen his penis. It stood straight up, five inches into the air, thick and throbbing, covered and glistening with copious amounts of precum. Meryn knew from experience that it was the underside of the shaft where most sensation lay, so she placed her left foot at the topside of his penis to anchor it, and then lightly brushed, barely making contact, the length of the underside with her right big toe. This produced a low pitched groan.

“Did you like that Jeremy?” She cooed.

“Oh yes Miss Meryn”

She stroked him again, again barely touching the shaft. This time it was greeted by a thrust of his groin. She repeated it a third time, causing him to begin to hump the air. He had teased her unmercifully earlier, and she wanted to return the favor.

“Would you like to cum Jeremy?”

“Yes, yes Miss Meryn.”

“Beg me Jeremy. Beg me to cum.”

“Please Miss Meryn. I want to cum so badly. I need to cum so badly. Please, please Miss Meryn.”

Looking down on him she saw he was struggling mightily to maintain control, his fingers clawing at the carpet, and his teeth gritted.

“Why don’t you cum then Jeremy?”

“Because…” he forced out.

“Because why?”

Through clenched teeth, every effort bent to holding back. “Because you haven’t given me permission.”

A flood of emotions surged through Meryn. Exhilaration. Power. But most of all a sense of connectedness. She smiled broadly.

“Yes Jeremy, yes. You may. You have my permission. Cum for me Jeremy.”

With that she began stroking his slickened undershaft more firmly with the side of her big toe. To her surprise he did not cum with the first stroke. Nor with the second. It was as if he was trying to savor every possible moment of it all. On her third stroke however, with an almost anguished cry, his back arched and he erupted, a geyser of his cum shooting almost a foot into the air. As he ran her foot more vigorously up and down his shaft, further spurts rapidly followed, progressively diminishing in height, but obviously not in depth of sensation. He furiously gripped the carpet on each side of him, and his inarticulate cry became continuous, as his cum continued to issue forth in ever slowing spasms for well over a minute. Finally his cries stopped, his back relaxed, and his penis became semi flaccid between her two feet, only occasionally now twitching and dribbling.

Meryn remained unmoving as she looked at him breathing hard, his eyes closed, and a look of utter joy on his face. After several minutes his panting began to subside, and he opened his eyes and gazed up at her.

“Miss Meryn?”

“Yes Jeremy.”

“That was wonderful.”

“I’m glad.”

She waited for several seconds, but she had to know. “Was it as good as with Natasha?”

He looked up at her quizzically. “I never had anything like this with Miss Natasha.”

“But you told me you did it with her.”

“I said I gave her pleasure. She never did anything like this for me.”

Meryn nodded, guiltily pleased. “Was it as good then as with anyone else you’ve done it with?”

Jeremy smiled. “Miss Meryn, this was the first time I’ve ever cum with someone else.”

She was somewhat saddened to hear this. Still, there was something to be said for being a first, and for that she was very glad. For him. She returned his smile, then looked down at her cum-covered feet. She lifted one up to indicate it and said lightly.

“Ah Jeremy, do you think you could help me with this.”

His eyes widened.

“Of course Miss Meryn.”

He instantly scrambled up to his knees. She had expected him to rush into the bathroom and return with a washcloth and towel. Instead he immediately began to lick his cum from her feet. At first she was slightly repulsed, but he was so ardent in his efforts she sat back and began to enjoy it. He cleaned every inch of both of her feet with his tongue, paying special attention to between each and every toe. When he was done, he carefully set down each foot and knelt back.

“Miss Meryn,” he offered quietly, “I just can’t thank you enough for making this the most special night of my life. I will never forget it.”

Meryn closed her eyes and sighed.

“Neither will I, Jeremy. Neither will I.”

September 2018
« Feb