I keep up the rhythm, feeling the exertion in my arm now, feel her buttocks growing warm even through the glove. She bites her lower lip, her eyes misting. It hurts, and it’s humiliating and that arouses her which is more humiliating still. I watch her fight it, watch the struggle, feel the impact of her flesh beneath my hand. Every smack brings a wince now and she shakes her head unconsciously, trying to ward off the surrender we both know is coming fast.
It would be wrong to say she liked this, though there's no question it arouses her. No more than I like putting her through it, though the strain of my cock against the denim of my jeans proves the deeply sexual nature of the act. It’s necessary though, and bonding - the foundation for the structure we're going to build. What shape that will take is an open question right now, but our future stretches beyond this moment, this night, and because of that we must play out this duet to its finale. And there is a moment when she hangs there, the silence punctuated only by the steady slap of leather on flesh, and then it comes, her face relaxes from resistance to acceptance, her lips parting, her eyes growing heavy lidded. Ever so slightly she arches her back, presenting herself now, opening herself.
She wants to be fucked, she's so ready, slick hot, reduced to her cunt and its need to be filled. I continue the rhythm, continue the tempo - she'd take it right now anywhere she could get it, in her mouth, in her ass, if that's what I wanted. She's achingly empty and yearns to be filled, overflowed with my lust. She's rocking her hips, gasping for air. She needs it and so do I, my cock filled to bursting, rigid now, and heavy, as eager to fuck her, to take her, to make her, as she is to have it happen.
Without even trying I'm spanking her harder, the slaps sound like gunshots in the confined space. There's nothing I want more than to impale her, hear her scream as I drive deep inside, to conquer her, over and over again, make her beg for it until she can't even speak. There's nothing I want more than to empty myself into her, flood her cervix and womb and body and soul with everything I have, everything I am.
But I can't, and I stop, take a long moment to steady myself, lost as I am in the drug that she is. She's different, this one. I want more from her than I can say, more than I have from all others who've crossed my life before her. Is it only because she has so much more to give? And if I'm to have her, have her completely as she completes me, she must learn who I am, who she is, how we fit each other as no others do. Ride a horse too soon and you'll spoil it. I knew her potential the moment I saw her. She doesn't know - not all of it, not yet, but she will very soon, because I'm going to show her.
So I take off my gloves, and slide down her panties to join her jeans around her ankles, and revel a moment in the heat of her ass. Her cunt glistens, swollen and sticky, and I slide a finger into her, feel her arch back and moan. She’s ready, so ready, and I slide the finger out and up again to her anus, slide it in, hear her gasp, it’s so degrading for her to be used like this, probed and inspected like this, but she needs it and so I’m giving it to her. I hold it in her and she humps back, humiliating herself further in her heat. She wishes it was my cock violating her like that, and one night it will be, but not tonight. No, not tonight, and I slide my finger out of her again and she moans in frustration.
On the wall is a harness made not for a horse but for a woman, bit and bridle of leather and rubber coated steel. I take it down while her eyes follow me, bring it to her. Her lips part automatically and I slide the bit between her teeth, pull her hair through the leather straps, cinch it tight. It’s uncomfortable and she instinctively tries to expel it, but of course it doesn’t move. The collar is next, thick leather with a steel ring in the front to take a leash. She doesn’t struggle, doesn’t protest, just accepts it as I lock it around her neck. She'll take a leash tonight. She'll take much more. Her lesson is about to begin.
I stand her up and look at her. Her shirt is pretty, a white cotton blouse and I tear it open, buttons popping to fly around the room. Her nipples are just that hard, popping little buttons, painfully stiff and I indulge myself with her teats, pert and firm, upstanding little mounds, weighing them, squeezing them. I twist her nipples hard, watch her eyes as it gets painful. She pleads with them, pleads for it to stop, pleads for it to be harder. I give it to her harder, hard enough that my fingers hurt and she moans, but she takes it. Of course she takes it. She needs it and she knows it. She has no idea yet just how much she needs, but she’ll learn.
I’m going to teach her. I’m a trainer. It’s what I do.
Part Three
So that’s my little tale of the racetrack, honey. Did you like it, did it arouse you, turn you on? Did you wish you were that girl, wish you could be taken like I took her, just abandon yourself, feel that vulnerable, take the risk but know that it’s safe? Did it make you breathe hard, make you squirm, make you wet? Did you play with yourself while you read it, rub your hot little clit just because it felt so good? Did it wrench an orgasm from your womb, or did it get two? Or more? It made you keep reading, I know that much.
So here’s the catch, it’s a true story - or at least it’s truly a story and I’ll let you decide what’s truly the truth. She's just like you, her name is yours, and you're both caught in this hazy world of words, caught between reality and imagination. She was my muse, and I touched her just as I am touching you, but the difference is she broke my heart. And you might find it amazing that a woman half imaginary could do that, but she did, just as you might yet. She was so beautiful it hurt, and so she wounded herself in the mirror. She was stormy as a lover and yes I loved her stormily though I never heard her voice except inside my mind. All writers need a muse and she was mine, perfect in her imperfection and no less real for being ethereal.
But she’s the past and you’re the future. You’re real, I know you are, because you’re right there reading this. You picked me up in the bookstore and you bought me coffee when you bought this book. That was date number one, honey. Ten short minutes of talk-and-tease, the kind of interaction whose only real purpose is the only purpose you won’t admit to, which is to determine if you want to fuck this stranger you’ve only just met, and to induce me to want to fuck you too. And when that worked you took me home, coffee forgotten, focus on the real purpose, which is the kind of sex that comes from instant chemistry, ab initio sex, wet and wild with the thrill of discovery.
I showed you the door then, you know the one. Look at it now, right now, look up at it and then look back to this page. That’s the door I showed you, the door you came through, the door that started you down the road. You stripped for me, showed me the dirty flirty girl behind that in-control image, showed me the inner slut, the depraved and desperate need that lurks just below the surface. You put it on the line for me, gave it all up and that takes a certain amount of courage, honey. That’s where you found out that yes, I really do know you. And now you’re back again, the door closed behind you, and our journey before us. Soon we’ll be in that place where self revelation happens, in that languid time after the violent need of fresh new sex, lying, sweaty and sated, tracing a finger idly over heated skin, asking those casual questions whose answers mean so much. “So what are you thinking?”
But we’re not there yet, not yet, and right now all you’re thinking is, “What is he going to do with me this time?” The answer, honey, is anything and everything. Yes, you’re ready for it, ready for more and we’re going to pick up right where we left off.
So let’s go back to last time first. Part two, remember that? Remember the scent of your cunt and the smell of your sweat, remember how it felt to offer yourself, open yourself, reveal yourself. Remember immersing yourself in your own sexuality just because it turned me on to see you do it. Remember being on display, bent over, ass up and cunt open. Remember your arousal, your heat, your raw and burning need. Remember your orgasm, wracking your body, tearing out the centre of your soul. Remember being that exposed, that raw, stripped more naked than naked. Remember your own sounds in your ears, moaning, groani
ng, screaming. Remember your voice begging for it, pleading for it, “Yes,” and “Please,” and “More.” Remember how much you gave me, how much you gave yourself in giving me, and remember the way you felt at the end, languid, relaxed, post orgasmic, warm and safe and drifting off to sleep.
Remember that, because I remember it. That’s burned into my mind now as strongly as it’s burned into yours, and I’m never going to forget it, and neither are you. Remember that and then we’ll start, and this is a new game, the game called part three. Another little twist and we’ll learn another word. And first I want you naked. Yes, I want you always naked, naked is your place when you’re with me, so get your clothes off. Off! Do it fast, do it like they’re on fire, rip them off, tear them off, pop the buttons, burst the seams. Get naked, get raw, don’t ask questions just do it. Do it. Do it. Book down, just drop it. Do it, do it now.
Done it. Good girl. So now I want you kneeling down, back straight, head level, lips parted, and you already know what this is going to be about, don’t you? Really do it, don’t just imagine it, get on the floor, on your knees, ready to please. Do it, honey, because you have to do it for this to work. Nobody’s watching, it’s just me and you so do it, fucking do it. On your knees for me, because that’s where I want you, and right now that’s where you belong. Don’t turn the page till you’re there.
And now you’ve done it and you do know what’s coming next, making your mouth water and your lips part and your tongue slide nervously over your teeth and yeah it’s making you wet. It’s making you wet because I’m making you do it. You know what’s going to happen, honey, but not yet, not yet. I have something to teach you first. So last time I wanted everything from you but right now all I want is your focus, your attention and nothing else. So focus close, let the world fade away. I’m right there with you once again, but even more real this time, and you’re going to have to work for that. So close your eyes and feel me there for five long, slow breaths, call up the image in your mind, me standing right here in front of you. Close them now and count.
Open again, and here I am. Look up, hold my gaze now, look into my eyes, feel them open you up. Hold it longer, feel me take you, feel me possess you, kneeling there, looking up as I’m looking down, drinking in each other. Feel the connection, feel the power, feel the surge and the swelling emotion. You’re mine and you know it and I know it and that’s the way it’s meant to be. And now that we’ve established that, we can begin. You’re going to learn about me.
So look down, start at my boots, look them over, check them out. Women always look at shoes, so see what you can learn from mine. They’re basic black, solid and practical, boots built to get the job done, but burnished bright enough to see your image there in the high-gloss polish. Absorb that lesson, think about what it tells you about me, then let your eyes slide up to my five-oh-ones, clean jeans, well fitted. Keep them in mind while you keep moving up, over my calves, over my thighs, feel the desire to touch, to explore, but no, honey, right now it’s look-but-don’t-touch. You know that game, don’t you honey? How many men have you played that one with, and now you’re on the other side. Not getting what you want feels better than you might have imagined, doesn’t it? It’s nice, so nice to not have to make decisions for a while.
Slide your eyes up higher, up to my hips, to my belt and, oh yes, to that oh-so prominent bulge behind the Levi’s patented button fly. Feel your mouth water, feel your eyes get big as you take it in. If we were in public you’d just steal a glance, and you know you’re good enough to not get caught. So we aren’t in public honey, and this is about learning so take it in, every swelling curve of it.
Oh yeah, you long to touch now, you can feel it in your fingers, that twitchy desire, to touch, to feel, to explore right there. I have your focus now, honey. You want to feel it stiffen and swell beneath your fingers, to know that it’s you I'm responding to, to know what you’re arousing, what you’re unleashing when you indulge yourself in my cock like that. Feel your desire in the way your body leans forward all by itself. You have to tell yourself to keep straight, to hold back, because you want to show me you can do that, that you can play this game, do what’s expected, do what you’re told, be a good girl. It’s easy to do what you’re told when it’s what you want to do, that’s all you had to do in part two, but it’s a little harder when what you’re told and what you want are different things. Oh yeah, you want so bad, so very much, to just reach out and touch.
But honey, I have faith in you. I know you’ll do it, be so good for me. So just look, and if your nostrils flare as you try to catch the scent of masculine musk, well, you can get away with that, I didn’t tell you not to, did I? Smile the secret smile you smile when you get what you want by the back door. Smile that smile and inhale that scent that makes you so giddy, and so thoroughly wet. Imagine nuzzling it, imagine the feel of rough/smooth denim against your cheek and the taste of the cloth, and the slightest hint of what lies beneath.
Feel your mouth water with desire, and swallow hard to keep control, and move your eyes up because you’re still learning. Check the belt honey, basic buckle and hefty leather, basic black like the boots, wide enough to fill the loops. Are you getting the picture here? The theme is basic. I’m a very basic person. I’m not into flash, not into show. I’m into substance, I’m into real, which is why I’m in to you. Basic instinct, yours and mine, male and female, that’s the way it’s meant to be.
I know you, remember that? That was the lesson of part two. I know who you are, what you need, and this is it, exactly. Keep focused on the belt, honey, and think about why I choose to wear it. Imagine what it might be for. Imagine how it’s going to feel against your cheek, and against your cheeks. See the shirt tucked in around it, heavy, pressed cotton, collared, buttoned, loose but fitted, as basic as everything else. Follow the buttons up over the belt, lean waist to wide shoulders to find my eyes again, still locked on yours, they haven’t left since you looked down. Short dark hair and dark, dark eyes, back where you started, burning into yours, steady, hypnotic. Hold my gaze till you look down, slide your gaze back down to my belt, to my swelling crotch, that’s where you should be looking, that’s where your eyes belong.
Do you feel powerful here? Do you feel powerful naked while I’m clothed, kneeling while I stand, eye to eye with my thickening cock, wanting it and denied it. Do you feel powerful waiting to be told what to do, waiting for me to say yes or no? Or do you feel caught, helpless, heart beating wildly, desperate for release with nowhere to go, and nothing to do but wait.
Well, you should feel powerful honey, which doesn’t mean your aren't helpless, captive and captivating at the very same time. Yes your heart is racing, and yes your knees are weak. Powerful doesn’t mean you aren’t frantic to get contact with my cock, doesn’t mean you have anywhere else you can go and most certainly doesn’t mean I’m not going to get exactly what I want from you, exactly the way I want it, how I want it, when I want it. But yes honey, you have power even though you're here to do only what I want. You have power, kneeling naked, because you are in this position more beautiful, more desirable, more fundamentally female than you have ever been before, freed of every last inhibition, the single, focused object of my unslaked desire.
Because while you wait for me to say yes or no, what do you think the chances are that I’ll say anything but yes? What do you think the chances are that this little encounter is going to end any other way than exactly how you’re imagining it right now, with your lips wrapped around the base of my rigid, thrusting cock, with my hands tangled in your hair, pulling you onto it, fucking your mouth like it was your cunt. What do you think the chances are that this will end any other way than with my sperm squirting over your face, your lips, your tongue and right down your eager, hungry throat?
And isn’t that exactly what you want, what you crave, what you need? Do you imagine I have any choice but to take you? Any option but to make you mine in exactly the way you need to be mine? You have pow
er here because of who you are and what you are, the quintessential woman. All that counts right now is your mouth and my cock, and you can felt the heat coming off it even through my jeans. Move your cheek closer, feel that warmth and look up, meet my eyes again, plead with them, beg with them, make me know there’s nothing more you want in the world than to put your lips on my cock. See my hand reach out to your hair, feel it tangle tight, feel it pull you closer, firmly, slowly. Feel the touch of the denim, just the way you imagined it, rough and smooth, with that throbbing, solid presence swelling just beneath. Feel your heart beat faster now, feel your breathing quicken, your nipples stiffen, your clit get hard as your cunt gets wet.
Rub your cheek against it, feel that heat. Lick it honey, lick the cloth, suck against it like you could suck that throbbing shaft right through the fabric. Feel it stiffen more as I pull you tighter. Get your face in my crotch, inhale that scent. Make me promises with kisses, feel your power as you hear me growl.
That’s the way bitch. Bitch! Do you like it when I call you that? Do you find that degrading? And if you do, does degradation juice your cunt? Ever see a bitch in heat, honey? Ever see a real bitch, down on all fours, ever see the way she gets her haunches up, flips her tail aside so the alpha wolf can fuck her till he’s done? Bitches in heat have no shame, no inhibitions. Bitches in heat exist to get fucked. That’s just like you right now honey, so maybe you like to be called bitch and maybe you don’t but it’s an accurate analogy so that’s what you’re going to be until we’re done.
The Secret Journey Page 4
