“Tell me who is control!”
“You are, mistress,” and another crack of my whip made him writhe in pain.
“Tell me what a bad dog you were this week. Tell me every detail.” His tone and demeanor changed and a demonic voice replaced his regular baritone.
“I fucked her just like you told me to mistress.” I stopped pacing and decided he needed encouragement. Another crack of the whip above his hardening cock made him reveal all.
“The one who performed for you last time mistress. I fucked her. My wife was at work and I brought her in.”
“Did she like it?”
“Yes mistress, she took it up the ass and she even swallows.”
This mutha fucka brought Messy Mindy to my house.
“What about your wife, dog. Have you been fucking her?”
“No mistress, I haven’t. Just like I said I wouldn’t months ago.”
Down came my whip time and time again. The frustration was coming out. I wanted him to feel it. He was crying now - long tears of pleasure or pain. It seemed he enjoyed both. The whipping was exhausting me and I needed to wrap this up.
Selecting my cable ties I stomped over to him and pulled his fully hardened dick. I slid the cable tie around it and pulled it as tight as my strength would allow. I added the vibrating cock ring and set the remote control to low. He seemed excited by this new stimulus and I was sickened to think that this was what he enjoyed. Adding another cable tie, I pulled it tighter than the first. This was when he realized something was wrong. Picking up my whip I started to strike the bound appendage and he resumed screaming.
“Repeat after me, I am a dog and I should be treated as one.” He was whimpering again and my patience was growing thinner and thinner. He couldn’t seem to stop groveling and was struggling to speak. Another lashing of the whip soon remedied that.
He said it line for line and with every lash he slowed his speech. After I heard him complete the phrase a few times I turned the vibrator up to full and backed away. I could see his sorry little dick turning blue and he was struggling to get free. I took in the sight for a full two minutes before I decided to leave. I thought this sight was something that I would remember for the rest of my life.
I changed my mind. I wanted him to see who he was messing with and I stormed back over to yank off the blind fold. The look on his face was priceless as he put together what was happening. He tried to call my name and I smiled in his face. The pain made way for self pity as he started to beg.
“Natalia I’m sorry. No…I was lying. Natalia! Please, please let me down. Let me explain.” I was silent as I stepped out the room feeling quite accomplished. I threw the remote in the chocolate fountain before I dashed through the rainbow room and darted for the door. Waiting at the place I entered, I called for my purse and grinned. If he didn’t fuck again, it would be his fault. Maybe Mindy would suck a broken dick.
As the door with the pink bow closed behind me, I remembered my college mantra, “What happens in the club stays in the club.” Energized I walked down the street whistling.
10
It was two in the morning and I was at his door. I didn’t knock immediately, but rather, listened to see if he had company over. I heard no activity so I called his cell phone and a faint Marvin Gaye faded through the walls. I laughed to myself and waited for him to pick up. After three rings, a groggy voice answered.
“Natalia what’s wrong? Are you ok?”
“I’m at your door.”
“What?”
“I said I’m outside, please open the door.”
A click of a bedside lamp and three strides later he was at the door still holding his cell to his ear. I knew the mask would add to the effect, so I put it on just to see his reaction. He squeezed my hand and pulled me inside. I took the phone from his hand and said, “Fantasies do come true.”
Gaining strength from my costume, I assumed all the characteristics of a vixen. I grabbed his dick through his pants and backed him onto the bed. As I straddled him, he inhaled and closed his eyes. My kiss was hot and demanding as I tasted his sweetness. His neck smelled faintly of cologne and perspiration was now dripping from his face. Licking and sucking his neck proved too much for him and his grip on my ass tightened. I felt his dick swelling on my torso and I knew I was doing something right. Through the soft spandex it tickled me and there was no ignoring it.
I wanted to see and taste this dick that I had been dreaming about and it was more beautiful than ever. The veins were protruding through the skin of the shaft as I held it in a firm grip and stroked it like the precious wand it was. My mouth watered and I knew I would enjoy eating it. Sliding the long shaft into my mouth slowly, I decided to savor it. I let my tongue curl around the whole head and his body froze. His lips couldn’t seem to form any words as he opened and closed it without emitting a sound. Just as my saliva was lubricating my mouth the whole scene was lubricating my pussy.
Lips locked in a vice grip I swung my head left to right creating suction on this delicious piece of flesh. He was convulsing when I released his shaft from the confines of my throat and he was saying “oh fuck,” over and over again. I was feeling accomplished.
He suddenly got up, flipping me over in one motion, I found myself pinned to the bed. He was breathing fire and his eyes were that of a predator that had captured his prey.
“Tell me how the fuck to get this thing off you before I rip it off.”
I quickly found the zipper that ran from my throat to my crotch and he pulled it down after he pushed my hand away.
He stopped to stare, engraving the sight of my pink lacy underwear in his mind. He all but snarled as he traced the slit that the panties were creating between my lower lips. He freed one of breast and flicked it with his thumb before he enveloped it in his wet mouth. My skin was on fire and I was getting wetter by the second. He made a point of removing my clothes carefully before he went any further and I was losing patience. I was wet and I wanted him inside me now. He wanted to move more slowly and held my hand when I tried to remove the impeding garments.
When he was done drinking me in with his eyes, he wanted to taste me with his tongue and the panties were off in an instant. After he spread the lips of my wet pussy, he licked and massaged my clit in a way only he could. He explored every crevice and I couldn’t control the orgasms that were coming in quick succession.
“I want you Renee. Please -fuck me now,” and he came up from eating the wet meal I had provided. He was in the position to enter and again was savoring the moment. As I felt the tip of his cock slide into me, I ceased to breathe. Anticipating being filled by the coffee brown shaft was playing with my mind. He was taking too much time with getting inside the place I wanted to feel him so desperately and I moved my waist in an effort to hurry his submersion into my waiting passage. It was useless; he was larger than me by far and very much in control. I felt it slipping in inch by inch and the passion building in my tummy.
When he was totally inside me was when I finally breathed again. As he began to move, I felt as though I was hypnotized and floating on cloud nine. My muscles grabbed the shaft of this man I barely knew and I was loving it. His thrusts were smooth and rhythmic but right now I didn’t want to make love; I wanted to be fucked.
“I’m a big girl, Renee, I can take it. Release yourself.”
That was the only advice I gave before he turned into a jack hammer. My legs were splayed wide and he was pounding into me, hitting places I had forgotten existed. The strokes were getting faster and hotter and I was soaking the sheets with my wetness. His back tightened and I knew he was about to explode. Wanting to feel his release inside me, I locked my legs around his waist and the climax hit both of us. I felt it pulsating as the come escaped and I felt like I would keep him there forever. I wanted this man - all of him.
As the tremors subsided, his body went limp from exhaustion and I was covered in both our perspirations. I didn’t care. I had not felt love like this bef
ore and I was fully submerged in it. He cupped my jaw and stared into my eyes.
“I love you, Natalia. From the first day I saw you I wanted you and that was better than I imagined. “
“I love you too, Renee. I was trying to fight it, but like all things, it had to come to light.”
We made love several times that night, and each time was better than the last. Even though I wasn’t at my residence, I felt at home with this man and I had the feeling that I was here to stay.
11
It was around midday when I rolled down my street in a cab. I asked the driver to stop at the purple house. I had loose ends to tie up. I walked up to the door and knocked, waiting for the slut or her husband to answer. He was who I really wanted to chat with. As luck would have it, he opened the door, perplexed by my night time attire.
“Hi Natalia, if you’re looking for Mindy, she’s at work.”
“No, Peter, I’m looking for you.”
I stepped forward and produced a piece of paper from behind my back. As he engaged my stare and I looked firmly into his eyes.
“I have three pieces of advice for you. Check your cell bills for this number, two, check your credit card statement for transfers of $150 every last Friday of the month and thirdly, send an email to this address.”
He stood there with his mouth open not sure to make of my statement.
“I like you, Peter, that’s why I’m sharing this with you. Take my advice, keep your mouth shut and you will discover all you need to know.
With those words I walked back to the taxi to go home. I was talking with the locksmith as he changed to the locks to my house when the message came through.
“Please forgive me, Natalia. I made a mistake. I want to come home to you and the girls.”
My response was curt and said all it needed to.
“Please don’t contact this number again. I used to love you too, but now I’m just too goddamned tired!”
BIKERS FROM HER PAST
1
The man on the other end of the glass looked too much like Gloria for her own comfort. She’d gotten his blonde hair, though hers was obviously longer. His green eyes, she had those too, and the elegant nose that was the envy of so many of her friends (or, rather, acquaintances – Gloria really didn’t have any friends) back in Chicago; she had him to thank for that.
She’d gotten her mother’s figure though, thank God. If she’d taken after her father in that department, she would have wound up with a potbelly that stood like a basketball over scrawny legs. Her mother hadn’t given Gloria much in the way of maternal comforts, but Gloria was grateful for the voluptuous curves she’d inherited from the woman.
“Only way we could get ya to come back, eh?”
His voice sounded so much older than she remembered, the years of smoking and drinking and bellowing having taken their toll.
“More or less,” she admitted, looking at her father’s timeworn face. The phone in her hand felt sticky. She’d never been in a prison before, and felt almost like she was a prisoner herself with the guards watching hawkishly from every corner.
“Well, you’re a good girl, comin’ to look after your Ma,” Gordy said, looking down and shaking his head. “Probably do a better job than I ever did.”
“I’d say that’s likely,” Gloria agreed through gritted teeth. Although she’d grown up knowing Gordy was her father, the logistics of calling him “Dad” had always been tricky. Her mother, who had attracted Gordy in her youth, wasn’t Gordy’s official old lady. She was his mistress, a kept woman who lived in a cabin outside of Empire, the one-horse town where Gloria had grown up.
Empire was governed by the Lead Dust MC, of which Gordy had been a long-standing member. They had all but bought out the local law enforcement, and the small Wyoming town still stood as a remnant of the wild West: lawless and ruthless.
She’d grown up in the club, lived off its blood money and been coddled by its sense of family and belonging. But, unlike so many of the kids she’d grown up with, Gloria had always longed for something bigger. By the time she was 13, her mother was so beaten down by booze and the heartbreak of being Gordy’s second choice that she couldn’t contribute much to her daughter’s upbringing. When Gloria looked at her mother, she saw herself, if she didn’t get out of Empire, out from under the MC’s thumbs.
So she’d worked herself to the bone all through high school, getting stellar grades and honing her one true skill and passion: art. She had always been good at sketching, and she spent her free time improving until she had completed a portfolio good enough to grant her acceptance – and a full scholarship – to a small arts school outside Chicago. On that graduation day, when she’d taken her last look at the wide, dusty plains of Empire, her father had tried to command her to stay.
“You belong here,” he said, his voice rumbling and threatening to turn to a full roar. She hadn’t responded, just shifted the bag on her shoulder as she waited at the bus stop.
“If you leave, I won’t help you, I won’t protect you, I won’t do a damn thing for you,” he threatened. She gave him one long look.
“When have you ever helped me, Dad?” she spat, her sarcastic use of the childhood endearment driving her point home. Gordy had been around when she was a kid, but not enough. He brought her gifts and trinkets, got her cake on her birthday, sometimes took her out to dinner, but he was busy enough with his old lady and his legitimate kids that she felt, like her mother, that she was always his second choice.
The pain in his eyes when she turned away, stepping up onto the bus, did nothing to change her heart or mind. And when the bus pulled away, leaving Gordy in the dust, all she saw in his face was the pain he’d put her mother through, the way he’d left her just a shell of a woman, lovesick and lost for the rest of her days.
And now the bastard had gone and gotten himself arrested.
Gloria didn’t know, or want to know, the details. It was always the same with the MC anyway; some drug deal gone bad, and someone had to take the fall. Gordy’s number had come up, and that was all there was to it.
What it meant to the club was another brother down, someone they’d do their best to take care of on the outside. What it meant to Gordy was life in prison, because he probably wouldn’t live out the thirty-year sentence he’d been handed. What it meant to Gloria’s mother was unknowable; the woman lived in such a fog of booze that there wasn’t enough left of her to figure out what she thought of anything. What it meant for Gloria was leaving her job as a tattoo artist in Chicago and coming back to the deadened landscape of Wyoming, where she’d care for her mother as best she could.
She meant to try and persuade Lila, her mother, to come back to Chicago with her. Gloria had enough saved up to get her mother into a halfway decent rehab facility, or at least to put her up in a cheap apartment for a few years. She could only pray that Lila would agree to go – or at least be too weak to refuse.
“I know I didn’t always do right by you,” Gordy said, the glass between them as thick as the years. “You or Lila. But I always meant to. Probably doesn’t mean much to hear, but I did always mean to, and I hope you know that.”
“I don’t care,” Gloria said, feeling old anger and old resentment bubble up in her gut. “I’m just here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about her – if you even would. She’ll be fine. And not to expect any letters or visits. I wouldn’t let her talk to you if it was my only way of getting into heaven.”
Gordy’s eyes were sad; the eyes of an old man who’d lived too long and made too many mistakes. Gloria felt her resolve softening slightly, pity for the man she’d sometimes called “Daddy” welling up in her breast. That meant it was time to go. Before it got too emotional, before she got weak.
“Fair enough,” he said finally, and Gloria figured that was as good a place as any to hang up. Gordy’s eyes looked up at her, the phone still pressed to his ear, as she stood from the wobbly plastic chair.
He surprised her, th
en. He put one hand, palm out, onto the glass. She knew what he wanted - one last chance at making a connection with her, one desperate grab at her humanity, her sympathy; her love. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. She’d come so far, but all the same, here she was. Maybe she was always destined to end up back in Empire, back with the club she’d called her family, back where she “belonged”.
She opened her palm, fingers splayed out, and for just a second, she pressed it against the glass, right where her father’s hand lay on the other side. It was just a second, just a single moment, but it broke her heart and she jumped away like the glass was electrified. She didn’t look back as she fled the room, wondering if there was ever – really - a way out.
2
Wyoming is a big state, and Gordy was imprisoned six hours outside of Empire, near Casper. The six-hour drive had given Gloria time to clear her head, to regain her spirit, and to plan what she’d say to her mother.
Of course, the rule of the best laid plans held fast, and when she arrived at the dusty, nearly-derelict cabin she remembered from her youth, she felt all her words leave her in a rush. In their place came memories - happy ones, sad ones, and angry ones.
There were memories of birthday parties with other club kids in the vast backyard, the mountains in the distance seeming like the ends of the earth itself. And memories of watching movies on the old black-and-white TV with the VHS hook-up. The smell of stale beer spilled on the couches, armchairs, beds and rugs. Casseroles served on the wooden table in the kitchen, the red-and-white tile floor cool on the bottoms of your feet in the summer.
The sound of Gloria’s car door slamming shut seemed to resound across the distant hills, but Lila hadn’t heard, or at least hadn’t made the connection. Stepping up the rickety steps to the wood porch, Gloria saw that the swing Gordy had built still looked surprisingly sturdy. She wouldn’t be the first one to try and see how sturdy it was, though. The whole damn house looked like it was a good storm away from being blown to Oz. She didn’t bother knocking but let herself right in. No one locked the doors this far out in the country.
ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS Page 94
