In my late thirties, as a wife, a mother, an administrative manager…
As a woman in emotional flux, I spread my fingers across a keyboard one day to defeat the boredom inside my mind.
I found that truth was actually quite interesting. I found that the imaginary was even more interesting. I found that I could write.
And, Mel Douleur was born.
She was as beautiful as a precious gem. She sparkled in the sun and glittered in the candlelight.
The warmth that shone from inside her was mesmerizing, but if you picked her up, she was cold and hard, with sharp edges that made her difficult to hold.
He didn’t mind. He polished and protected her, wrapping her up and keeping her out of sight of others who may admire her beauty and try to steal her away from him.
Had he paid attention, he would have noticed her inner glow diminish, each time he locked her away, blocking the sun from feeding her.
Had he looked closely, he may have seen the tiny cracks that grew, each day, as she was left to try to manufacture her own light, instead.
Had he witnessed them, he might have figured out that she wasn’t the stone he believed her to be at all.
But one day, as he sat polishing and admiring his prize, he did see one of those imperfections, and held her to the light to examine her closely.
The flaws he saw were startling and significant, causing him to drop her to the ground… where she cracked into pieces.
Nothing but a bit of glass. Not created to impress, but molded to fool, ensnare, and hold captive.
And HE was the fool who had kept her, trapped inside, for so long.
Once she was free of her shell, she soaked up the magic of the sun and grew more beautiful than you could ever imagine.
She took on the fiery attributes that fed her, dancing and swirling with such magnificence that all he could do was stare, and wonder at her extraordinary new form. Before looking away, baffled by what he couldn’t comprehend.
“I didn’t know,” he cried in despair.
“You didn’t try to know,” she said softly, watching him sadly for a while, before gliding out into the lovely light of day.
As she skipped and danced and revelled in her freedom, she found a different world around her.
People watched her, others joined her, many delighted in her in a way no one ever had, while she was trapped within that capsule.
She basked in the pleasure of an audience, enveloping herself in it at every turn.
But, when the sun set, the crowd disappeared. And the darkness pressed into her lightness with a fury.
Suddenly, drawn to the edges of the shadows, she was overtaken with need. Some mysterious presence magnetized her, as though the fire within her was molten steel.
Out of the blackness strode a new admirer. Strong and capable, with eyes that she knew could see everything, and a sadness that was almost enchanting, in it’s strange, taciturn way.
He leapt on her, like a beast of the night, drinking in her light and feeding off her power.
She did not fight him, but begged him to continue, to devour her, to reduce her to the quivering, mewling mess she’d never known that she always wanted to be.
When he had his fill, he lifted her and cradled her, whispering sweetness and love, and promising that his darkness would never overcome her lightness. Then he carried her into the sunrise, so that she might feed on it’s magic, forever.
“I am but a broken diamond, flawed and discarded,” she warned, longing to avoid the despair she had caused, once before.
“You are priceless, my precious gem, and I will guide you to see that truth, as you have guided me into the light.”
To catch up on the whole series, click here. This is the final installment. Let me know what you think!
“Chelsea, what I want is to take care of you. I want to give you the life you deserve. I want to help you accomplish everything you have ever wanted to and I want you to help anchor me, make me a better man, and turn my world upside down, over and over again. I want to love you the way you have always deserved to be loved…
“I’d like you to move in with me. If you need some time, or need me to court you, …I’ll give you anything, sweet girl. But my goal will be to own you and have you near me always.” Pulling me into him, he stares into my eyes and whispers against my lips, “Tell me, little girl, how to make you mine.”
My heart feels as though it might stop. I can’t answer because I simply cannot believe this is happening. A subconscious fantasy turned reality… in mere hours?!
While my mind is swirling, I suddenly remember, “I told Rachel I would check back on her!” I bolt upright and glance at the clock. It is nearly 11. I can’t stand going back on my word, and I don’t want her to sleep on the couch. I start to get up, then wonder if I need permission. I look back and forth between him, the clock and the door, unable to form words.
Master begins to chuckle as he sits up as well. Taking me by the shoulders, before wrapping his arms around me, he kisses my hair and says softly, “Stop spinning, little one. Please go get dressed, go check on Rachel and come back.”
Such a simple command, but, with such a huge affect. My mind clears, my pulse slows, and I feel completely quieted, like he just wrapped me in a soothing, warm blanket.
Had I always needed to be given orders? Was that part of my problem with anxiety over the years? Or did he create that need within me?
As he pulls away, I stroke his cheek with my fingers and search his eyes for the answers. What I find is peace. It doesn’t matter, I simply need to surrender.
After a moment, I move to stand and he follows me before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back into his arms. I sigh against his lips as he kisses me, and wonder if he wants to see if I’ll pull away. I wonder if he’s testing me.
I wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss, and allowing my eyes to close. When he releases me, softly and sweetly, he whispers, “Don’t be long, little one. If you are gone more than 30 min., I will have to come collect you.”
He gives me the most delicious grin and I feel my cheeks heat, he was testing me. Exerting his dominance over me in a new way, to see how I’ll react. That smile tells me I passed the test.
He spins me around and swats my naked and wickedly bruised bottom towards the door. I wince but giggle and run to the kitchen to collect my clothes. As I dress, I think about everything that has happened tonight and wonder if I can discuss it with Rachel. I could use a confidant, someone to help me sort through things. Perhaps I shouldn’t discuss Master, though… without permission.
As I slip into my jacket and check my reflection in the dark glass of the upper cabinets in the kitchen, I realize, she is going to ask. It’s late, my cheeks are far more flushed than usual, and, well, Rachel just has an intuition about these things. The conversations we’ve had regarding Master and my questions about submission had always come from her perceptions of my desires.
Running my fingers across my lips and staring into my own face, I simply couldn’t think what I would tell her if she asked what happened.
Suddenly, Master’s arms circle me from behind and his lips find my ear. “Are you stalling for a reason, little girl?”
I look down at his hands and smile at the return of that soothing relief. That feeling of surrendering the decisions to him.
“What should I say, Master, when Rachels asks about my night?”
“You want to discuss it with her? You two have become close, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Sir. I… I want to sort through my feelings with you, but…”
“Go on, sweet Chelsea,” he turns me in his embrace so that we are facing each other.
“I have shared a lot, with Rachel, already, Sir.”
“I have, too,” he whispers, smoothing my hair from my face and smiling.
I smirk at him, realizing this internal struggle is just silly. Surrender. “May I discuss it with her, Master?”
The tender expression that I suddenly recognize washes over his face. Oh, my… It is love. He kisses me softly and whispers, “Yes. Discuss whatever you like with Rachel. Whatever you need to do to answer my question, little one.”
As I make my way into Rachel’s apartment, I feel the goofy grin on my lips, but can do nothing to rid myself of it. She’s lying on the sofa with her eyes closed, so I make my way inside as quietly as possible.
“Ya don’t have to sneak around, I’m not asleep,” she says, actually sounding better than earlier. “Some fantastic lady made me soup that has some kind of magical, healing power to it.” She laughed, before falling into a coughing fit.
“Obviously, it didn’t work THAT well,” I giggle and rush to bring her a glass of water.
She looks at me as I hand it to her, and her lips curl in a devious smirk, “He finally told you!!”
“Told me what?” I try to be coy, but I’m a terrible liar.
She rolls her eyes at me and drags me to sit next to her. “Come on, Roni, spill.”
I freeze, hearing her call me that name. She knows me as Veronica. Marie knew me as Veronica.
Martin knows me as Veronica.
“Hey! You were just smiling and now you look like…” As tears fill my eyes, she can’t finish.
I stare at my hands in my lap and think about pretending to be Veronica all this time. Wondering how little of Chelsea is in her. Martin might think he loves me, but has he really gotten to know me? Even if Veronica is who I’d love to be… It is still just pretending.
“What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Rachel pushes my hair back so she can see my face, before grabbing the tissues off the table.
“Yes. He told me. Martin has asked me to be his. Me alone. But you just reminded me… I’m not sure he even really knows me.” I grab one of the tissues and wipe my eyes. When I turn toward her, the confusion in her face makes me continue.
“My name is really Chelsea. I was married when I started… coming here. Martin thought the fake name would make it easier for me. But I just realized… Rachel, I’ve been pretending to be someone else. How could he know that he wants me when he doesn’t really know me? He turned his life upside down for someone who doesn’t exist!”
I drop my face to my hands, sobbing, “Fuck.”
Rachel remains quiet for a few moments before laughing softly. I look up at her, startled, and she laughs harder.
“Oh, geez, Chelsea. Just think about that for a second, would you?!” She grabs my shoulders, turning me toward her, “For the last few months, because of this ‘pretending’, you’ve been happier than you were for years before. You told me so, two weeks ago. You told me that you wished you could have more than this. You told Marie you wished you could find a guy just like Martin.”
Sighing, exaggeratedly, she grabs a tissue, and wipes my cheeks. “What exactly did you pretend to be that you aren’t? What exactly are the differences between Veronica and Chelsea?!”
Trying to think it through only makes me more upset, because I can’t see the differences. So instead, I clear away Rachel’s dishes and used tissues from the table. Taking everything into the kitchen quietly and filling the kettle to make her more tea, I set out to wash the dishes, but sense her behind me.
“I’m just going to make you more tea and get you into bed. You need to rest, so you can get better, Rachel. You don’t need to help me sort out my love life.”
“Don’t you see, girl? Look at what you are doing right now! Serving me, to make yourself feel better! You ARE Veronica, Chelsea. You went searching for this act. You sought out a place where you could really be yourself. Where you could submit in the only way you felt comfortable with at the time. Now, you want more, but can’t get past the pretending?
“Being upset about Martin falling for the fake you is ridiculous! There is no fake you. It’s just you. The growing and changing Chelsea.”
I look back at her, those words sinking in like none that I ever could’ve offered myself. As I finish the dishes and the kettle whistles, I recognize how “serving” has always been the thing I turned to. When my marriage was failing and I simply could not do enough at home, I sought out this extra place where I could give of myself, because I needed it.
I smile at her and walk over to take the kettle from the stove. “I guess you might be right, Rach. It was never about acting, it was about finding myself.”
Staring at the door, I take the kettle off the heat. Rachel laughs at me again.
“Go!!! I am perfectly capable of getting myself to bed, Ron– Chelsea. Go.”
Stepping out of her apartment, I contemplate telling Martin exactly what happened. I think about what I might want out of this relationship. I wonder at how I can go from submitting once a week to every day, hour, and minute.
When I open the door into the foyer, and remove my jacket, I can’t imagine even wanting to go home, at this point. And when I turn to see him, wearing jeans and his undershirt, his natural body language filled with such… command, I am compelled to kneel at his bare feet. To submit to him.
After a moment, I steal a glance up at his face. His tender smile from earlier makes me blush. He reaches down and strokes my face before offering his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up and against him.
Kissing me hard and letting his hands explore my body, he whispers, “I want to fuck you again, little girl, so bad. But I need to know what you are thinking and feeling.”
I smile at the difference in the man he is with me. He was like this, after my punishments, even if he rarely spoke, but I never truly recognized that this was MY Dom. That the tender firmness was how he made me at ease and how he made me feel good. He is so different from Rachel’s and Marie’s Dom. Different, but the same in so many odd and exhilarating ways.
When he starts to drop his hands, I whine softly, “Please, Sir. Your touch is comforting. I have longed for it, without realizing it, for so long. Please, don’t let go.”
“If you allow me, I’ll never let go, little one.”
I giggle and smirk up at him, cocking my head to one side. Just then, I knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to answer.
“Ask me again, Sir? Please?”
“To be mine? How to make you mine?”
“Tell me to. That is all you need to do, Master. Tell me to be yours, and I will be yours. For as long as you’ll keep me.”
His face split into a smile that could have lit the room. “You want to submit to me, then. That is what you truly want.”
“I want to be yours. I want to serve you. I want to please you. I want to bring you pleasure. I want to give you my pleasure. And I want to, and will, turn your world upside down repeatedly. Because I know, you will always right it, quickly and with command. …I want your command.”
I become breathless, at my own words. The desires of my heart and spirit, so tightly intertwined with the desires of my body. “I really want your command,” I repeat, leaning into him, to feel his heat and his own desire.
He groans and bends his lips to mine but does not kiss me. “There is a lot more to discuss. Arrangements to be made. ideals to understood. Limits to go over… Lives to blend…”
“Tomorrow, Sir… Please? For tonight, just take me… Accept my submission? Please, Master?”
He growls, pulling me hard against him, his eyes searing into me, and his lust scorching my entire body, drawing my own to the surface. “I do love the way you beg, sweet Chelsea.”
Lifting me as though I were nothing, he carries me into the bedroom. As we undress each other, it feels like the first time, all over again. I contemplate how long that feeling could last. But then, as he covers me with his body and enters my sore, swollen and used flesh, I feel a sense of him coming home.
He kisses me, and it feels like completion.
He strokes my body, and it feels like I’ve never been touched in my life.
He says my name, and it sounds like he is naming me, for the first time.
He moves, on top of me, and it feels like magnetism, as though we are always meant to be touching.
And as we slowly climb to the top of our climaxes, I cannot imagination ever experiencing bliss like that again.
Until he wakes me, at sunrise… to take me, again… to heaven.
This post is a bit of fan-fic dedicated to the amazing Eric Keys who hasn’t written anything in his series Letters to His Mistress for entirely too long because he’s stalled, bored, and/or has been spending time writing stuff he would actually like to make money on, or something. Bad blogger… 😉
In an effort to inspire him to finish, I’ve written this letter from Edith’s P.O.V. (the mistress, who Reggie calls Eden).
If you haven’t read his series, this piece will make little sense (especially the end) and I encourage you to click over to LTHM to catch up. While you’re over there, leave Mr. Keys a message to let him know what you think. If you don’t feel like it, read on anyway, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh wait…
**WARNING – This is not my typical style of erotica, and includes a bit of horror towards the end.
(For those of you anxiously awaiting new material from ME in Good Girl and Moonlighting, it is my plan to wrap up both in the following week or two. So… no eye rolling or lectures… please? Feel free to give Mr. Keys a hard time, though…)
—
Dearest Reggie,
I can’t believe it hasn’t quite been two weeks since I last saw you. It feels like weeks, maybe months. I won’t go into everything that has happened, because I’m quite sure Abe has kept you well-informed.
To be perfectly honest, I’ve been happy to have had him around, several times.
I know you’ve been very busy, dealing with “things coming to a head”. Abe has even made some excuses about you not contacting me, but I will admit to some insecurity. Imagining you with some, young, lovely lady does turn me on, but I’d prefer to think of you missing me as much as I miss you. I’d prefer to think of you lusting after me, alone. You said, “…one mistress is enough. But sometimes, things happen.” I hope they have not.
I certainly have no right to make demands on that issue. But I assure you, sweetheart, I do not plan to find any young stallion to use. My only wish is to use you.
I can’t stop thinking about you. About our last few days together. God, Reggie, my body has never been so alive. I feel an actual, physical need for you. I’ve been masturbating at the rate of a teenage boy. Sometimes, several times a day, to the point of actually making myself sore.
I’ve already stopped once, just while writing this letter to you. I’m crazed with lust for you. I fantasize about you coming to my office and crawling under my desk to pleasure me with that delicious tongue of yours. I’ve only been wearing skirts and dresses to the office in some twisted hope to make that fantasy come true.
I imagine you making me moan and purr with delight. I picture myself climbing under there with you, straddling your face while I take your beautiful dick into my own mouth. The perfection of our simultaneous pleasure would be heard throughout the floor, but I wouldn’t care. After I coated your face in my musk, I’d push you out from beneath the desk so that I could get your legs into the air and have full access to your manhood.
I’d stroke your length while licking and kissing down your balls until my tongue found that soft spot between your sac and your ass. I’d massage it with my tongue and tease your puckered hole until you were wet with my saliva. I’d push inside, driving you wild, then I’d fuck your ass with my finger and take your cock back into my mouth.
Just before you were about to explode, I’d climb on top of you and fuck you like it was the last day of my life. I’d come all over you while you were coming inside of me. And, just to prove I really had you, I’d kiss and lick you all over until you were hard again.
I just had to masturbate, again. I want you so bad, Reggie. I need you.
The dreams have gotten so intense, lately. I sometimes wake more than once, during the night, on the verge of orgasm. When I told you about them, I had hoped to purge myself of them. But now, the rare nights that they don’t appear, I find that I miss them, in a sense.
One of the dreams, last week, was absolutely terrifying. The demons had us both chained, and were torturing me, while forcing you to watch. Your eyes were wide, but your face was set like stone. They cut open my skin with their claw-like fingers. They moved the burning chains around so they could access fresh flesh. They used their barbed tongues and talons on my breasts and pussy, driving me insane with pain and pleasure.
Several times, when I thought I was about to die, I would see your raging, hard cock, and would be suddenly out of my mind with orgasm. Finally, during one of those orgasms, you broke free of your chains and ripped the demons apart before fucking me, wildly, covered in their vile flesh.
When I woke, my husband was screaming at me to stop, because I was writhing and finger fucking myself, right there, next to him. I didn’t stop. Until I came.
He is sure something is wrong with me, because through all of this masturbating, I can’t have sex with him. I can’t even imagine it, sweetheart, because all I can think of is you. I’ve slept in the spare bedroom since that night. He’s barely spoken to me, other than trying to get me to go to church and speak to our pastor, again.
With everything else that has happened, I simply no longer see the point.
The dreams are horrific, for sure. I do not understand why they make me feel like they do. But it is almost as if they are a surrogate for you. I feel more sated from the orgasms I have from those dreams than any, in between. Almost as satisfied as I would be with you.
But I won’t be satisfied again, until I have you in my arms. Please, sweetheart. Whatever is keeping you from me, I wish you’d sneak away.
It is a story about Natalie, an eighteen year old, quite cocky and self confident girl, seeking Dominance without quite realizing it. She throws herself in the path of a handsome, but rumored playboy who quickly helps her see things in herself that she had never realized. And makes her want things she has never wanted.
It’s a pretty hot series, which I enjoyed writing a lot. I hope, if you haven’t already, that you’ll check it out.
As I kissed Samuel goodbye, he pulled me down on top of him, giving me that sexy smirk that always gets me. “Don’t go yet, baby. If you stay, I’ll make it worth your while…”
“I have to go, Sammy. You know I do.” I stroked his scruffy cheek with my knuckles and stared into his sad, grey eyes. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m already on thin ice. If anyone finds out about us, I will lose my job.”
I pressed my lips to his and let his tongue slip inside my mouth. I loved his kisses so much, for a moment I almost didn’t care about losing my job. But a three figure salary is hard to come by, these days. Regardless of whether I was falling in love with my assistant or not.
As I pulled back, he held me tight. I sighed and touched my forehead to his, “Samuel…”
“I want to quit, Lex. If I quit, we can be together.”
“No. I won’t let you give up the tuition reimbursement you’ve busted your ass to get for the last 22 months. In a few more months, you’ll put in for a promotion and we’ll be free to do what we want. Let’s not fuck that up.”
Groaning his assent, he finally released me. After I stood, I stroked his cheek again, his soft, three days of growth tickling my fingers. “I love you, Sammy. We will be together… If that’s what you really want. But for now, let’s stick to the plan.”
He rose, enveloping me in his arms and bent to whisper in my ear, “We already are together, baby. You are mine, despite my inability to claim you publicly.” His breath trailed across my ear and down my neck before he sank his teeth into my skin, sending tremors throughout my body.
“Fuck, Sammy… You do know how to make a mess of me.”
His hand snaked up into my hair and he yanked my head back, “I’ve got to leave my mark somehow,” he growled before kissing me and pressing into me so that I could feel that I was making a mess of him as well.
If I’d allowed myself the moment to think, I would’ve made the smart decision.
But that night, my body and heart did not allow my brain that moment. As I pushed him back onto his couch, and stripped off my shirt, his delicious cock was the only thing on my mind.
He gaped at me for only a second before grabbing my hand and pulling me to straddle him. “God, I love you, babe,” he whispered in my hair while his hands explored my curves. “And if fucking you is the only way I can show it, I’m going to fuck you till you forget and then fuck you till you remember.”
And, that he did. When I woke, I was so sore, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk. Somehow, we’d ended up on his kitchen table and as I stood, I actually felt sure he had bruised my cervix. I had bite marks on my breasts and upper thigh. My head hurt like he pounded me into a wall… Oh, he did.
“Damn you, you luscious man,” I breathed, as I made my way to a cabinet to get some Motrin.
It was still early, but when I saw the time, I started to panick.
Samuel lived in the apartment building down the block from our office. Generally, I would leave my car parked in the garage, and walk down with a few coworkers to have a drink or two at this pub down the street. Before the others left, Samuel would take off, and I was almost always the last to leave. That way, no one had a clue what my plans really were.
I’d noticed the mail guy, Duane, was still there when I left a few times, but I knew he rode a bicycle to work every day, so he wouldn’t notice my car, still parked in the garage. Or so I thought.
I quickly dressed and tried to make myself look as though I hadn’t been fucked sideways for the last five hours. When I bent to kiss Sammy on the forehead, he mumbled something about my pussy, and I smiled at the thought of him having raunchy dreams about me.
Ducking out the side entrance of the building, as I generally do, I walked quickly up the alley. It was well before sunrise, and I practiced the lie I would tell if anyone asked about my car being in the garage all night. I searched my purse for my keys, but when I reached the end of the alley, I ran directly into the chest of that creep, Duane.
Brick wall by madguru via DeviantArt.com
He was tall and lanky, the long haired but nerdy type, but he didn’t flinch at all when I plowed into him. When I looked up, the grin on his lips seemed a lot like a sneer, and his eyes were positively alive with internal laughter.
“Ms. Reynolds,” he said in that gravelly voice that always made me uneasy. “What on earth has you out this late… Your studly assistant’s cock, no doubt.”
I feigned complete shock and disgust. “Duane, now, please. You know it is against company policy for me to fraternize with my assistant!” I was a pretty good liar. I’d gotten myself out of plenty of tight spots in my thirty something years. I wasn’t going to let this 28 year old dork bowl me over.
“I felt a little sick after I left the pub. One too many cocktails, I suppose. Samuel was kind enough to let me sleep it off, on his sofa.”
Duane chuckled and this time, his sneer was completely obvious. “Please don’t lie, Alexis. You definitely weren’t sleeping on that sofa with Sammy.” Just then, I noticed his phone in his hand. He turned it to face me, and I watched as the amazing sexcapades I had just revelled in, played out, in full color, on that little screen in his hand.
“I really would have thought the two of you would be smart enough to realize you were perfectly visible from the fire escape. I really would have thought that you, Alexis, would know better than to get into this kind of predicament.”
I stood gaping at him before snatching the phone from his hand. “Before you smash it, and have to replace it, that video is already attached to an email. A message that will be sent out to your boss in exactly two hours, unless I stop it.”
God, his voice was evil. I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to run back up to Samuel and tell him to beat the loser to a pulp. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“What do you want, prick? …A promotion? …Money? …Just tell me.” I could feel the tears starting to build. I was never any good at confrontation. I was even worse in desperate situations. “Just tell me, you can have whatever you want. Just leave Sammy out of it.”
He laughed loudly and suddenly grabbed me by the neck. His strength was so surprising that I was coughing and gasping before I realized my toes were no longer on the ground.
“I will have exactly what I want, you snotty, little slut. What I’ve always wanted! You don’t even remember, do you? Turning me down… Telling me you don’t date coworkers. You’re a forgetful little bitch, aren’t you. But now, you’re going to suck my cock whenever I want! I’m gonna fuck every hole in your pretty little body, and then, my friends are gonna pay me, so they can have a turn, as well.”
He set me back on my feet and backed me against the brick wall behind me. I clawed at his fingers, trying to free myself from his grip, but feeling something along with the fear that I didn’t understand. He pressed against me, and I could feel his erection rubbing against my belly as he loosened his grip on my neck. “Don’t fight me, Lex. It will be worse if you fight me.”
His breath in my hair made my skin crawl, yet not in repulsion. I still wanted to spit in his face, but I also wanted to lick it. When his hand left my throat and skimmed down over my breasts, belly and skirt, I tried hard to tell myself it wasn’t worth it. That Samuel and I would find new jobs. But when his fingers slipped under my hem and between my thighs, he breathed the words in my ear that made me incapable of saying no.
“Good girl… Do you agree to my terms? Or should I let the email go?” His fingers pulled my damp panties to the side before sliding up and down my slit. “God, you’re so wet, you little slut. Are you actually turned on by me blackmailing you?” His voice was softer, and I wanted to scream, ‘No, never, you disgust me, you fucking spineless pervert!’
But all that came out of my mouth was, “Yes, Sir.”
The smile that curled his lips was villainous. I hated my body for betraying me. It seemed to always betray me. He pulled his fingers from my pussy and licked them clean. All I could do was stare at him, nauseous and aroused at the same time.
“You and one friend. One time each,” I whispered, trying to hold onto some semblance of self respect.
“Me, as many times as I like, until your boy gets his promotion, and five of my friends… Once.”
“No… I can’t do five.” And then, I started to cry.
I hated myself with a passion in that moment. A moment when I needed to project strength and negotiate terms with this psychopath. Instead, I prove that I am just a girl. A scared, little girl. I covered my face and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm myself. When he peeled my hands away, I expected to see that awful, smug, sneer on his lips. But it wasn’t there.
“Two. Guys Samuel doesn’t know. He won’t find out, I promise.”
Whatever the change was, whatever my tears did to him, I wondered if I should try to press my luck, if maybe Duane really wasn’t the prick he’d been acting like. But then, the sneer returned, and he whispered, “And it starts today. I’m going to walk you back to your car and you’re going to suck my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”
I couldn’t say or do anything. I only nodded, trembling and having awful thoughts about what else he might do to me during the length of this arrangement. Awful, but exciting.
I cried hard as we walked through the garage to my car, while he stopped the email from sending and supposedly deleted the video. I was sure he didn’t, and that he would watch it over and over, at his leisure. The thought made me nauseous and uneasy, but imagining him pleasuring himself while he watched me get fucked nine different ways, was uncomfortably arousing. I was mortified, turned on, and ridiculously confused.
I wondered if he’d followed me before. If he’d watched, or worse, taken video of Samuel and I on different nights. I thought back to a night, a few weeks before, when he’d pressed me against that stupid window to the fire escape and fucked my ass. I was so turned on at the time about the idea of someone out there watching… What if Duane had been out there that night, hiding?
When we got into my car, I sat back in the drivers seat, tears still flowing, and gripped the steering wheel for a moment. He turned, in the passenger seat, and reached toward me to wipe my cheeks with his thumb. “You can’t do this every time.” His voice was different, again. But his face remained hard. “Good girls don’t cry.”
How he knew the perfect thing to say, I have no idea. But the tears stopped. I sat baffled for a minute, wondering how this creepy, long-haired, messenger had weaseled his way into my head. I took a deep breath and leaned over him to the passenger automatic seat controls, pressing the seat all the way back so that I’d fit on the floor board in front of him. I reclined the back slightly, and stared into his eyes wondering what had made him like this. Hard and cold.
I hiked up my skirt and straddled him, realizing he’d gone soft and not wanting to suck on him any longer than necessary. I watched the concrete expression on his face disappear as I unbuttoned my blouse to reveal the pretty, hot pink bra that Samuel always loved. He lifted his fingers to skim over the fabric and I threw my head back at the thrill of his touch.
I started to rationalize that my attraction to him was simply a defense mechanism. My mind couldn’t handle the thought of this creep touching me so it tricked me into wanting it.
“Samuel likes to leave his mark, doesn’t he?” He breathing, his fingers trailing the bite marks he had given me earlier. Drawing my attention to them set my mind spinning again. With guilt, humiliation, and fear mixing with his touch and creating a heady cocktail swimming through me.
He pulled down the lace exposing my nipple, and immediately licked and sucked, while groaning his love of tits. I really didn’t want it to, but it felt so, fucking, good that I sighed and arched against his mouth.
I was grinding against his growing cock in no time. He felt very big, and I contemplated just asking if I could ride it. But after the ridiculous fucking that Samuel had just administered, hours before, I was pretty sure it would hurt. Maybe, the combination of pain and pleasure would be heavenly…
His fingers slid between us and under my panties. He teased my clit like he’d done it a thousand times before. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, trying to pretend he was my Samuel. “Stop it, little girl. Look at me, and don’t pretend it’s anybody but me.”
My eyes flew open, and I couldn’t understand how he knew, how he was so deep into my mind that he could sense my thoughts. The look on his face erased everything, though. He was in ecstasy, making me writhe against his long, thin fingers and his obviously large cock, straining against his khakis. He slipped his other hand into my hair and pulled my lips to his.
I didn’t want to kiss him, but his tongue was like warm sugar and I couldn’t help but allow mine to dance with his. He bit my lip and breathed my air, all while his fingers grew more and more determined, kneading my clit until my climax was eminent.
“Fuck… No, I don’t want to cum with you!” I shouted, trying to wriggle away, but he didn’t let me. He rubbed and circled some more before whispering against my lips, “You’re a terrible liar, Lex. Fucking cum. Cum now.”
His words did me in, and I felt that luscious release. Wave after wave of unwanted bliss. He didn’t stop until I collapsed against his shoulder. His mouth found my neck, kissing softly up to my ear, “I want to fuck you.”
I’m not sure how, but within moments, he had freed his erection and ripped my panties clean off of me. He lifted me and I tried to brace myself against his shoulders, but my guesses had been completely accurate.
He was unbelievably big. It hurt like fucking hell. But it was some slice of heaven.
He was at least kind enough to be slow. As I gingerly allowed myself to be filled by him, lowering onto his massive cock, stretching me beyond what I believed possible, he stroked my cheek with one hand and gripped my ass with the other.
He whispered ‘good girl’, and ‘take it slow’. When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he kissed me again and slid his fingers back to my magic button. I clenched, taking him in, deeper. I groaned, feeling him firmly planted against my bruised core, but each stroke of his fingers sent jolts through me, as though he were strumming an electric bass.
It was too much. My body hurt, having been wrecked, hours before. It should’ve rejected all pleasure. Instead, I was on fire. I needed to ride him and feel every, nasty inch of him moving in and out of me.
I began to rock and he groaned, rewarding me by slipping his other hand behind me and between my cheeks, pressing against my asshole. ”Yes, please!” I hissed, and he pushed his finger inside me.
I tossed my hair back and bounced up and down slowly until I felt my body making room for his complete length. When I felt myself sheathing him completely, I came again, hard. I bore down against the pressure, and sure enough, I rained all over him.
”Oh you nasty slut, did you just squirt all over me? Damn, you are as amazing as I thought you’d be! You must like being watched too…”
My eyes flew up, and I turned to see a short, bald garage security guy standing in the parking space twenty feet from my car, staring at us, through the passenger window. He was rubbing his crotch through his pants and it looked as though he’d been there a while.
Before the blush even filled my cheeks, Duane grabbed my hair and made me look at him. “Give him a good show, baby.”
He pulled me off, and pushed me to the floor while throwing open the car door to give the guard perfect line of sight to what Duane was about to make me do. ”Suck my cock, real good, and if our voyeur cums, I won’t sell you to anyone. You’ll be mine to have as I please, for the next few months, but I won’t make you be with anyone else.” I stared at him, stunned, until he added. “Hurry, Lex. You’ve only got till the sun comes up.”
I looked to the east side of the garage, behind the guard, and saw the sky brightening, quickly. I looked back at him, I could feel my cheeks flaming. As if oral sex with a massively endowed man weren’t hard enough, but he expected me to do it well AND look hot enough doing it to make some stranger blow his load? Just from watching?
I glanced back out at the guard and locked eyes with him. He licked his lips and nodded, hearing our conversation. God damn, this was humiliating. Really fucking hot, but… At least he wasn’t making me suck a strangers dick.
I grabbed Duane’s cock with both hands and started licking it like it was an ice cream cone. I added lots of moans, and gasps for the benefit of the guard. He had unzipped and was stroking his little thing like mad.
When I took the tip of Duane’s cock in my mouth, I looked up at him, and wondered why he’d ever need to blackmail anyone to get sex.
I wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was delicious. And the way he watched me… Fucking me with his eyes while I fucked him with my mouth. I completely forgot about the deal, and Sammy. I wanted his cum more than anything on earth. And being watched only made me want it more.
He grabbed the sides of my head, and started bucking his hips. I used my fingers to make up for three lack of depth to my throat. I tried hard not to gag, but was very glad my stomach was empty, because I was unsuccessful.
My saliva was dripping down my chin to his sack. I swirled my tongue around and around and pushed myself onto him further and further. I jerked the base of his cock and stroked his balls, rubbing my slippery spit back to his ass.
He started groaning and grunting, so I could tell he liked it. I heard our voyeur mutter, “Fuck, yes…” but didn’t look to see if he was already done. Duane spread his legs further and I slid my finger between his cheeks. “God damn…” He whispered, and I pushed against his ass. “God fucking damn.”
He let go of my head, and I sucked hard on the tip of his dick while I pushed my finger into his ass. In mere moments he was moaning and rocking, bucking and writhing, hissing and cursing.
I felt his cock throbbing against my tongue. I pressed my lips around him and used my hand to pump his shaft while I rotated my finger in his ass with the other hand. I could feel him resisting, which only made me more determined.
He was shaking, trembling, and growling, until he finally let go. Oh my, did he let go. Pulse after pulse of his sweet, thick semen shot down my throat. I sucked every drop and kept sucking until he stopped shaking.
He started laughing which startled me. I looked up at him and followed his line of sight while sitting back on my heels.
The guard was trying hard to clean his cum off the pavement with his handkerchief.
I didn’t think it was funny at all. Suddenly, I was even more humiliated. More than I’d ever felt in my life. I pulled myself out of the car, straightened my clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from the back seat.
“Please get out and let me go home now.” I couldn’t look at him or the guard. All I felt was guilt and regret.
He stood, pulling up his pants and staring at me, “It made you hot, before. Now, what? You feel violated?”
He stepped toward me, but I backed up. I was rubbing my lips, and felt like I would cry at any moment. He grabbed my hand, gently and took another step toward me. And when I looked up, into his eyes, there was no sneer at all.
“You did so good, little girl. Don’t be sad,” his gentle voice soothed me, but was confusing. “Come here,” he whispered and pulled me into his arms. “Good girl. You are amazing.” He stroked my hair and back.
Without thinking, I laid my head on his chest. I was so tired. “What is this, Duane? Why do you act like a prick when you have this other side? This guy could get any girl he wanted?”
“I’ve tried. But the asshole always shows up. The dog always gets loose. … And I like it. I feel powerful.”
I glanced up, expecting the leer, but found a weak smile instead. “Sweetness isn’t my strong suit.” He took a deep breath and held me out at arms length.
“Take me home with you, I’ll get you out of work, make you breakfast and, after you’ve slept, we’ll fuck the rest of the day away.” I couldn’t tell if he was asking me… Or telling me.
I looked down trying to decide what to say. “I don’t think I can fuck any more today… Physically…”
He laughed and I smiled up at him, before giggling a bit. “What would I tell Sammy? How would you get me out of work?”
“Oh, Lex,” he chuckled. “The things people never expect about the mail guy… I’ve got my ways. And Samuel won’t have a clue.”
As he folded me into the passenger seat, I contemplated what that meant…
And as he closed the door, and walked around to the drivers seat, I realized he had a whole story. Something gave him power that I didn’t understand. He didn’t just own my body that night, he ruled my mind.
But as he slipped into the car and grabbed the keys from my hand, he looked at me… With that leer. And everything evaporated. Again.
I was aroused all over again…
Humiliated by it…
And 100% his. Because of this power I didn’t understand.
To kiss your lips.
To feel you nibble on mine. To trace your upper lip with my tongue.
To push into your mouth and feel Your tongue. Dancing tentatively at first. Swirling around each other and pressing into each other.
To pull back and suck on your lip.
To softly press my lips to yours and sigh with desire.
Before kissing you again.
Hotter each time.
Until I’m desperate for your lips elsewhere.
My neck. Across my collarbone. Down to my breasts.
But I don’t want ONLY your lips.
I want your tongue to tease and tempt me. Taste me. Please taste me.
I want your teeth to nibble and graze me. Perhaps more. Harder… more demanding.
I want your palms to warm and soothe me, before finding fun places to smack and rub.
I want your fingers to knot in my hair, scratch down my back, pinch me, knead me, find slippery places to poke and tickle.
I want your cock. Without a doubt, I want your cock.
In my mouth, against my tongue, deep in my throat.
Between my breasts… One of the sexiest sights ever.
Teasing Your pussy, making me want you inside more than anything in the world.
Between my ass cheeks… you know how, don’t you?
In my ass. I’ve never wanted that before. But I do now.
I want to feel you pound my ass and pull my hair and cum all over me.
I want your cum. That magic elixir that will undoubtedly, only make me hornier. I want it.
I want to be your cum slut.
I want you.
I want to feel it tickle my neck, scratch my collarbone, caress my breasts, and torment my soft thighs.
I want to coat it with my liquid lust while you lick and suck your favorite, messy drink.
Once you’ve had your fill, and fill me with you, I want to hold your face against my breasts while you sleep, and run my fingers through that sexy beard, smelling myself within the strands.
When you wake, I’ll ask you to come with me. I’ll take your hand and lead you, giggling, into the bathroom. You’ll ask why it’s funny. I’ll turn and give you a shy smile. You’ll chuckle, and wrap your arms around me.
I’ll peel you off me, whispering my wishes against your beard. You’ll laugh again.
Whatever you want, little girl.
I’ll sit you down and wrap a towel around your shoulders. I’ll fill the sink with warm water before pushing you back against the vanity and straddling your lap.
I’ll wriggle, just slightly, luxuriating in the feel of your growing erection against my naked pussy.
I’ll lean, to dip my fingers in the water, and your lips will find my nipple.
I’ll moan, and wriggle some more, asking you to stop, to wait. Because I want this. And you need it
I’ll rub my dripping hands over your face and up into your neatly trimmed hair.
I’ll soak a face cloth in the warm water, and follow the path again and again. Until you are sighing, eyes closed, head tilting further back.
I’ll rub my favorite soap, the one that smells like cherries and amaretto, between my fingers until the delicious foam fills my hands.
I’ll rub it, gently, into your cheeks, chin and neck, your amazing beard building lather as I massage your sweet face in tiny circles.
When I scoop off some of the bubbles, and rub them into your hair, I’ll scratch your scalp lightly, and you’ll let out a soft moan, enticing me to persist.
Damn, those magic fingers…
I’ll add a bit more water, and caress my way back to your incredible beard. Circling, adoring, pleasuring. My hips will mimic my hands and soon, we’ll both be moaning.
I’ll rise up, and you’ll position your glorious manhood at my opening, so that I might sink down, sheathing you in that slippery heat that you create so easily.
Dipping the cloth in the warm water again, I’ll clench around you, giving a different massage. The kind that makes you growl and groan.
I’ll gently wipe the lather, rinsing and repeating until the suds disappear. Then, raising slightly to empty and fill the sink again, I’ll stroke you with your pussy, adding pleasure to pleasure, and then some.
After another few gentle swipes with the cloth, I’ll lean in to kiss your gorgeous lips, rocking against you, creating a rhythm between our bodies that will no longer be ignored.
I’ll direct my kisses across your jaw, burying my nose in your now, sweet smelling beard. I’ll nibble your ear and whisper so softly, that I want your cum… That I want to taste you.
I’ll climb off your lap, running my fingers once more through your yummy beard, and drop to my knees in front of you.
Between your legs, I’ll clean my salty, creaminess off of your amazing cock.
I’ll hum as your moans send my fingers to explore my own pleasure.
I’ll stroke your shaft while my tongue explores further south, tasting you in the most intimate ways imaginable.
I’ll slide my lips back up to the tip, taking the head in my mouth and swirling my tongue around and around until you grab my hair and push yourself deep into my throat.
I’ll suck and gag and swallow and gasp.
I’ll love every second of you fucking my mouth while I rub my engorged clit furiously.
When I feel your cock throbbing, I’ll pull back and stick out my tongue, wanting to feel those ropes of hot, white, cum, not just in my mouth, but on my face and breasts.
I’ll stroke you until the pulsing stops, and then I’ll scoop up your delicious elixir with my fingers, and lick them clean.
And when I’m done, and you smile down at me, telling me that I’m wonderful, I’ll giggle again, and give you that sweet, shy smile.
Erotic beard washing… Another talent, sweet girl.
Oh, yes. That beard.
And, I’ll do it again, whenever you want me to.
—
In case you missed it, this was inspired by an interesting search term that I posted about the other day. Yep. Erotic beard washing… Who knew?
It wafted in, like a feather on a breeze, and landed between us. We stared at it, lying there, beckoning us to pick it up. It danced around, filled with all the magic of fate, all the mystery of destiny, all the sweetness of hope. But still, we stared at it…
Neither of us daring enough to touch it.
Neither of us brave enough to figure out what to do with it.
Neither of us strong enough to brush it away.
But… Then the breeze lifted it and carried it away. Miles and miles away.
Perhaps it will return again. When the breeze is right, and our hands and hearts are open.
Perhaps we will meet our precious, glimmering chance yet again.
MelDouleur.com 