by Jason Luke
“I stepped back. Sherry was naked. I ordered her onto her knees, and then told her to take Denella’s panties off – with her teeth.”
Leticia looked up from her notebook, then back down again. Her hand raced across the page.
“Do you want me to slow down?”
Leticia shook her head. Didn’t say anything. She was frowning as she wrote, maybe trying to get it all down on paper and keep the words assembled in her head. I tried pacing again, but it just felt stupid. I went back to staring at the trees.
“Sherry crawled across to Denella, and the two girls started giggling. I slapped Sherry’s perfect little ass, and the laughter stopped. She got her teeth on the waistband of Denella’s panties and began to tug them down.”
“What did Denella do?”
“She stood there.”
“What did you do?”
“I sat back in the chair and watched. Sherry struggled for a couple of minutes and Denella turned bright red with embarrassment, and maybe a little arousal. Finally she was able to step out of her panties, and Sherry sat back on her haunches, a little breathless.”
“Was Sherry aroused?”
“I think so. The two girls had discussed having sex together, so there was some physical attraction between them. That’s why I ordered Sherry to take Denella’s panties of with her teeth. I wanted to test that attraction and see how Sherry reacted. I think, in different circumstances, they could easily have gotten into each other.”
“But you didn’t make that happen?”
“No,” I said. “Denella told me she wanted to watch. So that was the experience I set about creating. I got out of the chair and told Denella to finger-fuck herself. She looked at me, and suddenly she wasn’t giggling any more. Suddenly it all became very sexual and serious. She slid her hand down to her pussy, and I think the fact that Sherry was watching with wide excited eyes made it more difficult than if it had just been Denella and me in the room. She closed her eyes and began to rub her clit. When I had seen enough, I ordered her to stop.”
“Seen enough?”
I nodded. “She was right handed. She used her fingers to tease herself. When I saw that, I told her to sit in my chair and play with herself while she watched me fuck Sherry. Then I told her the one condition.”
Leticia looked up suddenly. “Which was…?”
“I told her she could only use her left hand.”
Leticia stared at me for a moment with narrowed sly eyes. “That was cruel.”
I nodded. “Very,” I admitted. “In fact it’s the kind of exquisite little exercise in BDSM and frustration that any woman can experiment with on her own in her own home.”
Leticia paused. Her hand hovered above the page. She glanced up at me, maybe sensing that to ask a question now would divert me from retelling the encounter with Sherry and Denella – but she was curious. She couldn’t help herself.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if a woman wanted a tame little insight into the lifestyle, she could always find a leather belt and fasten the hand they masturbate with to the headboard of their bed. Then they can try to pleasure themselves with their other hand.”
“What would that do?”
“Just give a tiny little glimpse into some of the emotions they might feel and sensations they might experience if they were involved in a very gentle BDSM scene,” I said. “Being bound and restrained is a turn on for a lot of women, and so is the feel of leather against their skin. Having their wrist bound above their head on the bed means they can get the sensation of being restrained, and at the same time the frustration of being aroused and wanting to orgasm – but not quite being able to reach the places they want in the way they are comfortable with.” I shrugged.
Leticia didn’t write any of that down, but she listened attentively and her expression became thoughtful. I had the feeling she was visualizing the idea, but she asked no more questions and I went back to that night with Sherry and Denella.
“Denella started to rub and finger her pussy,” I said. “I bent Sherry over the edge of the desk and told her to spread her legs. I wanted to be sure Denella got the full sense of the experience. Dragging Sherry away to the far side of my office would make the whole incident too detached. I wanted it to be in Denella’s face.”
Leticia put her hand up suddenly like she was in school, and wanted the teacher’s attention.
“You were still dressed?”
“Yes,” I said. I suppressed the little flare of annoyance at being interrupted. “I waited until Sherry was leaning over the edge of the desk. She had her head lowered, but I could tell she was watching Denella pleasure herself. The two women were just a couple of feet apart. If Sherry had wanted to, she could have leaned across the desk and suckled one of Denella’s nipples into her mouth. They were that close.
“I unfastened my belt, making sure Sherry heard the buckle being slipped and the zipper of my pants. It was part of the anticipation. Sex is a sensory thing for women. Sounds and scents are just as important as the other senses. For men it’s all visual, but women are more complex. I wanted Sherry to know that I was undressing. I wanted her to imagine me standing behind her, and think about how exposed and open and vulnerable she was to me. I wanted to feel like she was at my mercy before I even laid a hand on her.
“I wrapped my hand around the buckle of the belt and used the soft end like a strap across Sherry’s ass. The leather made a loud ‘crack’ as it flicked across the firm pale flesh of her bottom. Sherry flinched and then I heard her gasp softly with arousal. I asked her if she wanted more, and she lowered her face to the tabletop and thrust out her butt in silent answer. I took the belt to her again, this time leaving a soft red line across her flesh.”
“Were you punishing her?” Leticia asked.
“No, of course not,” I said irritably. “I wasn’t even trying to hurt her.” I paused and took a deep breath. A young couple were spreading out a blanket on the grass nearby. I watched them for a moment.
“Leticia, just because I was using a belt on Sherry’s ass, doesn’t automatically mean I’m punishing or trying to hurt. Feeling the sting of a leather strap – if done correctly – can be a completely erotic sensation. Whips and belts and riding crops aren’t just brutal ways to inflict pain. They should be props to heighten a submissive’s arousal. That’s what I was doing with Sherry. It’s the difference between a sexy spanking and a beating. This was sexy spanking – with a leather belt. That’s all.”
Leticia nodded. “I get it,” she said softly.
I had lost my train of thought. That happens when I’m interrupted. I stood moodily brooding for a few moments. The young couple had brought a picnic basket of food. The guy stretched out on his back and stared up at the sun while the woman set about unpacking the basket.
“My cock was hard,” I said at last, and Leticia bowed her head back over the notebook. “I locked my hands around Sherry’s hips to hold her still and she sucked in a short ragged breath of anticipation. Then I slid myself inside her, and there was a sudden rush of damp arousal as her excitement that had been welling between her thighs suddenly flowed over.
“I pushed myself deeply inside Sherry. It wasn’t romance. It was sex. I wanted her to feel as though she was being dominated, that she was surrendering herself to me and that I was taking her – not making love to her. She grunted and groaned with every thrust of my cock, and the sounds of our bodies slamming together became louder. Sherry’s fingers clawed desperately for the edge of the desk to support herself. She began to whimper and then push back with her hips to anticipate my next lunge. I leaned over her back and grabbed a fistful of her hair. I tugged, and she arched her back. She hissed in husky excitement.
“I still had the belt. I wrapped it around Sherry’s throat and slipped the tail of leather through the buckle so it was hanging like a loose collar around her neck. The leather swished across the tabletop like a cat’s tail as I pulled Sherry back onto my cock and bega
n to thrust faster.
“Denella was watching me with huge, dazed eyes. Her fingers were glistening wet with her own juices and the lips of her sex were flared wide and open. She was tugging and pinching at her nipples with her right hand, and crying out softly in frustration. Her expression was ravenous.
“I felt myself beginning to thrill. My cock became impossibly hard. I felt the urge to explode become almost irresistible, and at the very last moment, I stopped thrusting and held myself still, deep inside Sherry. I felt a sudden pulse – a white-hot surge – and Sherry’s pussy seemed to clamp tight around me as though trying to draw me deeper inside her. I screwed my eyes tightly shut and the room became suddenly quiet – like the calm before the storm. I was sweating. Beads of perspiration clung in my hair and trickled down my temple. I dug my fingers into the milky white flesh of Sherry’s shoulders and she made a throaty sensuous sound. She was trembling. Her breathing was short and shallow little gasps. Denella had thrown one leg over the armrest of my chair so I could see the wet pink opening of her, glistening with the slick juice of her excitement.
“I waited for the moment to pass –maybe ten seconds – and then I thrust back into Sherry. The force of my lunge took her by surprise. Her legs buckled. I felt the strength go from her knees so that she lay like a rag doll, and I covered her body with mine so that my weight pressed her against the tabletop.
“Denella threw her head back suddenly and her mouth fell open. She was panting. Her fingers between her legs were a blur. Her whole body seemed drawn and tense. I could see the strain in her neck and the soft swell of her throat as she gulped and gasped.
“I forced myself faster and harder into Sherry’s prone body. She was limp beneath me, totally passive and pliant. I clawed my way back to the brink of orgasm quickly and I clenched my jaw and hissed at the girls to come.
“Then it didn’t matter. Then nothing mattered. My whole body seemed to catch fire and I felt the force of my orgasm erupt.”
A couple of birds dropped down out of the trees and perched themselves on the edge of the park bench, like maybe they expected Leticia to feed them. I glanced away. It looked like the young couple sitting on the blanket were squabbling. The guy sat upright and gave a brusque shake of his head. The woman started cramming food back into the basket.
“Did Sherry and Denella… did they climax?” Leticia asked.
I turned back. “Sherry did, but not Denella. I asked her if she wanted help, but she seemed perfectly satisfied to be left frustrated – if that makes sense.
“I told the girls to dress and then sent them home.”
Leticia tucked her notebook into her bag, and then asked me as an afterthought, “Did Denella join you and Sherry again after that first time? Did she become another submissive for you?”
“No,” I said. “I never saw Denella again. In fact I was only at the newspaper for another couple of months, before I was forced to hand the day-to-day running of the business onto a manager.”
“Oh? Why?” She started to reach for her notebook again.
“That was the time when I found out my father was ill,” I explained. “I had to fly back home and become more involved with the overall business. We didn’t know how much longer he would live.”
“So you left Sherry behind?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever think about her?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you ever wish you had stayed in contact, or maybe brought her back here with you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
That was a good question. I had asked myself the same thing a thousand times in the ensuing years.
“Because part of what made the time with Sherry special was the unspoken understanding between us that it would never be anything more than sex,” I said. “There was never any talk of a relationship, and certainly never any talk about her becoming a full-time submissive to me. We just enjoyed the times we had together, and the roles we fell into. There was never a plan, and never a desire to commit – from me, or from her. It was what it was,” I said simply, “and that’s all it ever could have been.”
* * *
We walked slowly back to Leticia’s apartment and stood outside on the sidewalk in the afternoon sun. Traffic had thinned, but still the sounds of the city were a constant buzzing drone in the background. Leticia started towards the sliding glass doors, and then realized I wasn’t beside her. She turned back to me and frowned.
“You aren’t coming upstairs?”
I shook my head, staring at her with my hands thrust deep into the pockets of my jeans. “I want you to come to my place tonight,” I said. “Eight o’clock.”
Leticia arched her eyebrow and raised her chin in a little gesture of defiance. “And what if I have plans? It’s Saturday night.”
“Break them,” I said, and my expression was serious. “There are some things I want to show you.”
* * *
Trigg was waiting for me when I walked through the door. She stood in the foyer, her expression dark and brooding. Her eyes were slanted and narrowed into bright little blades, snapping with suppressed anger. I brushed past her. Her mouth was drawn into a grim line and words seemed to boil on her lips.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Trigg’s voice was low and quivering.
I stopped in mid-stride. “It’s not your concern,” I said. “Let it be.”
She followed me, light on her feet as a dancer, the sound of her heels on the tiles echoing against the high ceiling. She was dressed in black pants and a pink silk blouse. I could see a flush of angry color rise from beneath the shimmering fabric to her throat, and sense her bitterness.
Trigg caught her breath with a frustrated little hiss. “It’s wrong, Jonah. You can’t lead that young woman on like this.”
I turned on her then, my voice crackled like breaking ice. “Don’t tell me what to do,” I warned. “It is none of your business,” I said. “None.”
Trigg took a startled step back. I stared into her eyes, a direct trail of strength. She dropped her gaze, and I went on while the anger still simmered and fizzed in my blood.
“Leticia is coming here tonight. She will arrive at eight o’clock. You will not be here. I don’t care where you go for the evening, and I don’t care what you do. But you will not be here. Do I make myself clear?”
Trigg nodded, suddenly uncertain. I left her standing alone, staring down at the floor, and stalked off towards the stairs.
* * *
The afternoon passed quickly. I sat at the big desk in my office and tried to concentrate. There was business to attend to. Muffled sounds from downstairs distracted me, and I went to the office door and found myself listening to Trigg’s voice, talking on the telephone as she strode back and forth across the tiled floor.
I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I didn’t need to. The tone in her voice was bitter and frustrated.
At six o’clock Mrs. Hortez brought a silver tray and left it on a small side-table just inside the door. We made polite, awkward conversation for a few seconds and then she left for the evening.
I returned my attention to the paperwork littered across the desk, but still I could not concentrate. I pushed the chair back and began to pace the floor, stopping once to listen to the crunch of tires and the steady burble of a car engine in the driveway. I went to the window and saw Trigg’s convertible pulling out through the gates, the headlights bobbing and dipping as the vehicle merged into traffic and raced away into the darkening night.
I was alone. The house was eerie and silent.
Alone…
I began to pace once more, and suddenly it occurred to me that I was lonely. The realization was so shocking and disturbing that it stopped me in my tracks.
Being alone was something that I had always been comfortable with. I liked answering to no one. I enjoyed the freedom that came from remaining removed from emotional attachment. I had lived my life as my own man.
/> My world. My way.
It was the Jonah Noble battle-cry. But now, as I prowled back and forth across the floor, it struck me suddenly that I wasn’t merely alone.
I was lonely.
Things: property and possessions surrounded me – and that had included the many women who had passed through my life; they had all been property to own, or possessions to entertain and arouse.
I went to the desk and swept all the paperwork into a drawer. I poured whisky into a glass and dropped into the big chair. The leather creaked and groaned around me.
I sat staring moodily at the darkened walls and wondered whether I had been playing the game of life to win, or merely not to get hurt from losing.
* * *
Leticia arrived a few minutes before eight o’clock. I had changed my t-shirt for a dress shirt, and my hair was still wet from a shower.
I pulled the front door open and she stood on the step wearing a short black skirt, heels and a soft grey blouse that buttoned down the front and was cut low enough to reveal a hint of tight cleavage. She smiled up at me, and I was enveloped in a soft subtle cloud of her perfume.
“You’re right on time,” I said.
She came through the door and stood in the foyer. I noticed she had changed handbags.
“Did you bring your notebook?”
She nodded. She looked around, as though she expected furniture to have been moved, or the house re-decorated. “It’s very quiet,” Leticia said. “Are we alone?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s just you and me.”
There was a moment of heavy silence, as though those words were significant. Leticia turned so that we were standing close to each other.