“Are you enjoying yourself, Ms. Smith, in The Palace of Eros?” Stormy asked her patron.
“My God, yes, baby, I’m having a good time; the best time. Thank you. I love the entertainment. The kitchen is amazing and I’m looking forward to the meal. Would the head chef be obliged to give me a kiss before we begin?”
Stormy blushed and the women “ooed” and “ahhed” their encouragement and approval as Stormy and Korea embraced and kissed.
Assisted by her topless sous chef, and her two fully nude assistant cooks, Stormy created a simple but magical meal around Korea’s favorite meat, filet mignon, medium-well and well-seasoned. Korea enjoyed watching the full and perky breasts and buoyant asses bouncing around in the kitchen as the women whipped potatoes and poured cream and melted butter to produce the most perfect twice-baked potatoes. The asparagus was tossed in roasted garlic and ground sea salt. The women moved playfully around the kitchen making purposeful spills for Betty to bend over and clean up and every time something was spilled, or broken, there was an ass to be swatted, whipped, or spanked with the big wooden spoon that was passed around the room.
Korea and Stormy ate together while the women cleaned. After dinner, they lay on the floor in front of the fire, Stormy with her wine and Korea with a cold beer.
“Before we discuss the rules of engagement for tonight, I want you to sit on my…” Before Korea had completed her thought, her mouth was full of Stormy’s pussy. She rode her mouth like it was a dick, and came until Korea choked on juices that shot from deep within her. It was Stormy’s first flood; the first time she had ejaculated. But it wasn’t her last. For the next year, she didn’t want to come at all, if she couldn’t cum that way.
The Palace of Eros closed at sunrise in a crescendo of moans and orgasms as six voices, and twenty-four limbs, twisted and convulsed in the morning light, on the floor, before a dying fire.
STORMY CHECKED HER EMAIL FOR THE THIRD TIME, looking for the invitation she had been waiting for to join the Food Critic’s Guild. An invitation to join the guild was an honor that would entitle Stormy to unlimited writing assignments and international travel opportunities.
She wasn’t sure how Korea would take it if she decided to start traveling for her newfound career, but she didn’t really care anymore. What used to be an alluring mysteriousness that kept Stormy intrigued with Korea was beginning to look like secrecy, and Stormy didn’t like secrets unless they were her own. Until now, she hadn’t kept anything from her lover. She had always been an open book, sharing her every desire and concern with Korea, even when Korea didn’t care to listen. But there was no invitation from the guild yet. There was a new notification from PayPal and an email from her managing editor at The Cutting Board.
She logged into her PayPal account…“Whoa!” she exclaimed with a bright smile. “What is going on here?”
She quickly transferred the money into her bank account and returned to her email and clicked on the name “T. Calloway.”
Stormy,
T. Calloway here. Did you check your PayPal? (I put a little bonus in it.) Nice, huh? Just my personal way of saying thanks. You’re really bringing us hits now. I’m checking in to see how you are doing. I also want to compliment you on your latest work. Your style is incredible and getting better every day. “Cooking with Love” is amazing…No edits this week beyond your standard typos (start spell checking, sweetheart.)
My favorite lines:
“The chef was obviously tired, rubbing his eyes and yawning…It was clear to me after the appetizer that he did not feel like cooking, and after the main course of a sleepy and sloppily plated chicken lasagna, I suggested the manager send him home.”—Cutting edge stuff…
“In all fairness, I waive this week’s review of “The Food Council” in Emeryville, CA, until the chef has had a good night’s rest. There is one thing that has become more clear to me than ever: When you do not feel like cooking, “Love” is definitely not on the menu.” —Powerful…
Your romanticism is intriguing. You’re even getting fan mail now! I really respect your passion. (Are you this passionate about everything you do? If that is the case, I can’t wait to meet you.) —T. Calloway.
“Bing!” An instant message popped up on the screen.
T.CALLOWAY: T. Calloway here. Do you have time to talk?
“Wow, is he psychic?” Stormy said aloud, typing a response.
THECUTB: Hey, boss.
T.CALLOWAY: Great news, Stormy. The Cutting Board is going to print.
THECUTB: You mean it will be a physical publication?
T.CALLOWAY: Yes. It will open at least 20 new positions. I need you on board.
THECUTB: I don’t understand, I already work for you…
T.CALLOWAY: The Cutting Board Website would be a different entity. This would be a daily gig. We need a full-time staff to produce a weekly. Relocation would be required.
THECUTB: To…
T.CALLOWAY: Washington, D.C.
Though she had thought of leaving often over the last year, Stormy wasn’t sure she could give up the lifestyle she had with Korea. That, and the fact that she was addicted to her, had kept her there; unsatisfied, but present.
THECUTB: Let me think about it…
T.CALLOWAY: I’ll give you 30 days. You need to know, the new publisher is leaning toward a bigger name for your column. She’s a critic from the DC Post who is well-respected. She’s established and on the board of the Food Critic’s Guild.
THECUTB: I see.
T.CALLOWAY: Starts at $120
THECUTB: Are you kidding, I make $300 now.
T.CALLOWAY: Don’t be silly, you make $300 a column. I am offering you $120K a year with a two-year contract. But you would be working every day, not whenever you feel like it.
THECUTB: I’ll think about it.
T.CALLOWAY: Think fast.
THECUTB: Thanks.
T.CALLOWAY: One more thing. Think you could fly down to L.A. to cover a new spot?
THECUTB: L.A.? Sure, no problem.
T.CALLOWAY: Good then. Southwest, Friday 2pm. Make a reservation at “The Ethiopian Sea” on Sunset. This is a review with a public interest twist. Pays $500 + RT Air and Hotel for 2 days. I want to see what you’ve got, so be creative. Some homeless guy’s suing for food poisoning. Check your email for details.
THECUTB: OK, bye.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! A hundred twenty thousand dollars a year! Oh shit!” Stormy screamed out loud. “Korea is right. There is something very sexy about making money. I think my pussy just got wet.”
KOREA SAT SILENTLY AT HER OFFICE DESK, WONDERING what the issue was with Stormy. She had to know that once you pass a sexual plateau, there is no going back. They had already reached far beyond mundane fucking. That night at Club X was proof of that. Korea still got excited whenever she recalled the last sexually deviant tryst she’d had with Stormy in public. It had been Stormy’s idea of a birthday present, and Korea had never gotten over it. She loved it. She loved it too much. It had been good to be so bad inside that San Francisco dungeon of swinging, swapping, and sadomasochism. Visions of Stormy strapped to a table, or getting eaten by strangers, sometimes played in her head when she was getting ready to fuck or punish Melody. But she hated what it had done to her respect for Stormy.
It had happened on her birthday, last year. Korea had taken off work early to get ready for what she thought would be a romantic night on the town that would include dinner, a sexy theater show, and salsa dancing. She drove to San Francisco and darted into Nordstrom to pick up her suit and a gown for Stormy. Korea had planned the whole thing, with a little help from Martha, her former secretary. On her way back across the Bay Bridge, Martha had called to remind her to pick up flowers from the The Blossoming Flower Shop on Grand Avenue. That was where she met Melody, the first time. There was electricity between them, and they both felt it right away. Korea had left her card in the lottery bowl marked “Win a Bouquet, We Give Away One Every Day.”
“Hey, Miss Korea,” Charlie O said, relieving her of all but the flowers as he held the door for her.
“Hey, back at cha,” Korea chimed, with a wide-toothed grin. “How has the day treated you?”
“Well, Sister Korea, I’ll tell you; I’m too blessed to be stressed.” Charlie O called for the elevator while Korea checked her box for mail.
“Amen to that,” said the voice of Darlene Davenport, the front desk clerk. “Miss Korea,” she stated plainly, holding an envelope on the tip of her fingers. “Message for you.”
“Thanks,” Korea said, taking the small pink envelope, smelling it, and smiling.
“Happy Birthday,” Darlene Davenport said to Korea’s back as she followed Charlie O into the elevator.
“Thanks again,” Korea said, ripping the note open with her teeth. Inside the elevator, she read anxiously over a set of six instructions, written in red lip liner, feeling her heart race faster and faster. She stepped out of the elevator into her penthouse, thanked Charlie O, and sent him on his way with a ten-dollar tip. When the elevator doors closed and descended with the doorman inside, she dialed Martha.
“Martha, change of plans. Cancel all of my reservations for tonight.”
“But Korea,” Martha began with the usual personal interference that drove Korea nuts.
“Martha…”
“You really should spend tonight with Stormy, she misses you so, and…” Martha continued.
“Martha…” Korea attempted again.
“…it’s been so long since you’ve treated her to anything…”
“Martha! Just do what I tell you to do!” Korea shouted into the phone before disconnecting the line.
Korea felt bad about having to fire Martha on Monday morning, since she was probably too old to find other work easily. But she was too nosey, and too involved in her personal affairs. But when Melody popped in with the winning bouquet, Martha had been replaced.
Inside the penthouse, Korea hung the dress and the suit in the coat closet, took the bouquet of flowers into the kitchen, and called out to Stormy. Hearing no answer, Korea smiled, ran some water into a large vase, and squeezed the stems through its tight neck.
Korea flipped the little note open again and read the first instruction.
#1. Don’t attempt to find me. Until you have completed instructions 2 and 3.
#2. I have drawn a bath for you; submerge yourself in it.
#3. Dress yourself in all of the items that have been selected for you, for your erotic birthday evening.
#4. There is a limousine parked outside. Go to it. Get inside.
“Damn,” Korea said to herself, remembering how she had found Stormy sitting in the limousine tied in rope with bondage knots.
Korea realized it had been hard to have sex without a little sadomasochistic action ever since that night. Stormy wasn’t into it anymore, she could tell. But Melody liked it just fine.
IT WAS FANTASY FRIDAY. Every Friday morning before the office was open for business, Melody and her boss both arrived by 7:30 so they could jump-start their day and have at least a half-hour for role play. Melody never knew what to expect; Korea always came up with something new and innovative. She would dress in something hot and change into work clothing before the switchboard could forward her first call of the day.
Melody was wondering if her relationship with Korea would stay pure like it was now when she became her woman and her partner in the company as she stepped out of her white lycra panties in the office ladies’ room to dress for today’s fantasy. She spread them neatly on the baby changing table, pulled a red Sharpie from its top, and inscribed them “Korea, you are the master of my fate, I am 4ever your slave—Melody.” She let them dry while she liberally applied red lipstick to her lips. Beside her name, she sealed her panties with a kiss. She smiled at the love note and stepped back into the panties.
Korea put her finger on the intercom button. “Melody?”
“Yes, Ms. Smith.”
“Have you finished drafting that letter to the councilwoman?”
“I’m putting your signature on it now.”
“Do I have any appointments?”
“You have a one o’clock with Sally in Human Resources and a three o’clock with Mrs. Paris from the Council for the Prevention of Human Trafficking.”
“Alright, come on in here. Leave your laptop.”
Melody loved to hear those words: leave your laptop. She knew that when she did, she would be handling other business for Korea Smith. Melody had never been into women before, but Korea had her completely turned out. After their first time together, Melody had quit her fiancé of two years. She didn’t give him a reason; she moved into the apartment Korea found for her, and got an unlisted number.
Theirs was the strangest and most interesting relationship Melody had ever had. Korea never asked her anything about herself and because of it, Melody never had to lie. Everything in this business was forthright because it had to be. Like the proposal she was typing now. Melody knew when she sealed it in the envelope and mailed it to Councilwoman Riley, it would generate another $650,000 contract for Project W.H.Y., but she also knew only part of that money would touch the community because the councilwoman would get her cut. But, as Korea had explained, if it weren’t for Riley, Project W.H.Y. would not be able to provide any services at all.
So just like in business, Korea made sure their sex life together was as clear as crystal. There was not one thing that Melody would not do if Korea commanded her to. What she had with Korea was pure and honest. She respected that. When she had been with her man, it seemed that they were both always lying about something. Where they had been; who they were with; how much money they spent. It was one pile of crap after another. Melody knew as long as she kept the fantasies coming, she would have Korea Smith for herself in no time.
She walked into Korea’s office wearing a low-cut red blouse, a white mini-skirt and red patent leather pumps.
“Didn’t I tell you that kind of attire is completely inappropriate for this office?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, master,” Melody said, dropping to her knees, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
Korea walked around her desk and sat on it. She lifted her cowboy boot off the floor and used the pointed tip to raise Melody’s chin. “Lick it.”
Melody opened her mouth and trailed the edge of Korea’s boot with her tongue.
“Good girl. Now take off my boot.” Korea was getting hot watching her. Her unquestioning obedience was a real turn-on. “The sock, too. Lay down, take off your panties, and give them to me.” Melody did as she was told, holding back a smile. She lifted her skirt slowly so Korea could read what she had written to her. “Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Korea said. “Just take them off.” Melody wiggled the panties down her hips and handed them to her Dom. Korea lifted the panties to her nose and inhaled as she inserted her toe into Melody’s mouth. “Suck it.”
Melody moaned and she sucked Korea’s big toe, pushing it in and out of her mouth, licking the tip and then reaching with her tongue for the other toes. She opened her mouth wider until they were all inside, sucking and licking between them. Her hips were pumping against the air.
“Oh, you want something inside your hot little pussy, don’t you?” Korea asked.
“Yes, master. Please fuck me.”
“I’m not going to eat your stinky little pussy when you look like you’ve been on the stroll all night.”
Korea walked to where Melody’s feet lay and kicked her legs open. Stepping up to her hip, she ran her bare foot up Melody’s thigh and slid her big toe down her slit until she felt her hole and pushed her toe inside of Melody’s hot little box, and let her fuck her foot until she came.
“Thank you, master,” Melody said gratefully.
“It’s almost eight-thirty. Okay, go put your suit back on; we’ve got business to do. Pull the file on the Council for the Prevention of Human Trafficking and bring it to me. And call Sally from HR and find out what she wants to waste my time with now.”
“Yes, Miss Smith.” Melody lingered for a second too long.
“What is it?” Korea asked.
“Ugh, do you want me to help you with your boot?”
“That’s over.” Melody looked down at her panties in Korea’s hand and pointed. Korea looked down at her hand. “Oh, I’ll keep these. They have my name on them.”
“Got it,” Melody said, scooting out of the door.
Korea took a long curious whiff of the panties again. She could tell by the scent of them that Melody had given up men. She hoped she wasn’t getting serious.
KOREA’S CELL PHONE WAS BUZZING IN ITS HOLSTER. Korea answered. “Hey, baby, I was just thinking about you.” She opened her desk drawer and dropped Melody’s panties inside and closed it.
“Hey, guess what?” Stormy asked.
“You’re making filet mignon, baked potatoes, and steamed broccoli for dinner?” Korea guessed.
“No. Well, not no, but, I mean, I will if you want me to, but that’s not why I called.”
“Okay, why don’t you just go ahead and tell me?”
“Well, I got my first out-of-town assignment.”
“What? No, you don’t,” Korea said.
“Yes, I do, isn’t it great? Mr. Calloway offered me five hundred dollars, a hotel room, and an airline ticket and everything.”
“I hope that Calloway guy, whoever he is, wasn’t too disappointed when you explained to him that you won’t be going, because you have a very busy, and a hard-working wife that you’re responsible for taking care of, because she loves you and takes care of you so very well.” She paused for a reply, but none came. “Where did this guy want you to go flying off to anyway?”
The Punany Experience Page 13