The Pussy Whispers

by Dean Jéan-Pierre

  Delores’ entire body shuddered as Benjamin’s thickness expanded inside of her walls. Her body spoke to him and begged him to go faster…deeper—she wanted him to ram a hole through her if it would bring more pleasure. He obliged her cravings and fucked her like a crazy man. The familiar eruption of an orgasm careened through their bodies like a rocket taking off in the sky. They closed their eyes to better feel the pleasure circulating in their bodies and looking for a way to escape and give birth to its silent screams. Fuck-Up and Cold Beers approached the bed from both sides as Caribbean Leroy sat there with his eyes closed. He could not bear to watch what was about to happen. At least, she would die happy and in the throes of passion. That’s all he ever wanted for her was to be happy.

  Fuck-Up stifled his laughter as he watched Benjamin’s “ugly face” the face that men get when they are about to come. It looked like he was constipated instead of experiencing great pleasure. Delores’ body had reached its boiling point like a kettle whistling to let everyone know the water is hot. Benjamin felt her inner muscles pull him deeper into the quicksand of her pussy nectar and he released a flood of his own passion as she reached the zenith of her orgasm. Their moans merged together like an R & B duet team from the sixties as they traded sweet notes of passion. If they hadn’t been so enthralled with their own voices; they would have heard Fuck-Up and Cold Beers getting ready to pull their triggers. The last thought that Benjamin Stevens had was that being inside of Delores was the closest he might ever get to heaven. In a few seconds, he would have a first class seat to heaven or hell. Delores’ last thought was that she hoped that Caribbean Leroy would be so jealous of the dick down that Benjamin had given her that he would kill only Benjamin and not her.

  Caribbean Leroy heard the simultaneous gunfire erupt and for a brief moment before the guns went off; he contemplated saving Delores’ life, but there was no way he could keep the respect of his men and run his business. He ruled with fear. Men don’t fear other men who are pussy whipped. Caribbean Leroy had seen many things in his sixty plus years and certain things are inevitable. There is always someone who will be a better lover than you, someone more dangerous, and there is always a sweeter pussy just waiting for the right dick to make it reach its full potential. Caribbean Leroy convinced himself that there would be another Delores as he took one last look at her dead body before leaving her apartment. On his way down the stairs, Caribbean Leroy noticed the single red rose on the floor by the front door of her building. He picked it up, inhaled deeply and closed his eyes to keep his tears from falling. He put the rose in his breast pocket and walked out into the afternoon.

  It would be a long time before he forgot Delores St. Rose. There are some women that come into your life, and the minute they leave your side, their name is forgotten as quickly as the high from your last orgasm. Then there are some that live on in your heart and mind forever. Delores St. Rose would haunt Caribbean Leroy’s dreams for the next twenty years of his life. On the day that he died, the last words he whispered before closing his eyes was her name.

  1/26/09…6:11pm

  You Own Me

  “I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”

  - Anaïs Nin

  It had been almost a month since their last sexual encounter still shivers ran down her spine every time she replayed every nerve tingling detail, but to Serina it was more like a sensual religious experience. It confirmed to her everything that she knew about herself and awakened the submissive side of her, which had been lying dormant and unexplored for so many years. Serina always suspected that she would be open to it, but finding someone who could articulate what she wanted without her having to ask for it was the problem she faced until David Toussaint walked into her life.

  Every single day that passed since David, who Serina now referred to as her Master, had first entered her life and planted his seed inside of her sweetest fruit, and every other orifice; Serina felt alive as if she had just awakened from a long self-induced coma. She loved the feeling that came with sexual liberation. During the course of the day, she would find herself daydreaming or just smiling to herself when thoughts of David came to mind. Her entire body would come to life as if someone had lit a fire to her. The experience, still eroticized in her mind and body, gave her chills just to think about him taking ownership of her. She still wasn’t sure how he had done it, but why argue with the results. There was a glow about her which had not gone unnoticed by friends and co-workers.

  Her friends had noticed the change in her and assumed that it was a man, but Serina enjoyed the secret life they shared of Master and slave. He owned her and it didn’t feel cheap or make her feel weak that a man owned her mind, body, soul, and heart. In fact, it empowered her. It gave her confidence to tackle her everyday life with renewed vigor that she had not felt in a long time. Things were looking up for her.

  Serina left work early for a scheduled hair appointment, but her stylist was backed-up with clients, so by the time she left the salon, she was running thirty minutes late to pick up her Master at JFK. She wanted everything to be perfect for their rendezvous because he demanded the best, and she always wanted to give him the best. She didn’t want to disappoint him because it would mean that she wasn’t being a good slave and thus expendable. He had become her breath, her air; she fell asleep to his image in her mind and thoughts of sucking his dick until he came repeatedly in her mouth. Serina was dick whipped and proud of it. Her pussy throbbed with anticipation knowing that in less than an hour; it would be filled with its Master’s sweet black dick.

  A slight shiver ran through her body as she thought about her Master punishing her severely for being late. She wondered what he would to do her if she were in fact late. The thought of his anger excited and scared her at the same time. A good slave does as she is told and it’s not her place to push the boundaries of a slave/Master relationship. She feared losing him if she ever stepped out of line.

  As she exited the beauty salon, Serina caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror next to the door. The visual made her smile and she hoped her Master would like what he saw also. She had on black pumps, complimented by a tan skirt that reached just over her knees which allowed her to show off her smoothly shaven legs. Underneath she wore a pink thong that almost blended into her light skin. The crotch was Velcro and would give her Master easy access if he so desired. Serina subtlety ran her fingers across her skirt and pressed her fingers into the fleshy part of her pussy. The sensation made her moan softly as she imagined her Master ripping off her skirt separating her from her panties, and plunging his stiff dick deep inside of her swollen pussy lips. The thought of it made her flush with excitement and she felt exposed, but of course, no one was paying attention to her. They were all getting ready for their Friday night evenings on the town. She was getting ready to please her Master, to do whatever it was he needed her to do. She was here to serve him.

  Serina wasn’t a vain woman, but she loved how beautiful her hair looked when it was styled and looking pretty. It was long and brown and reached right above her shoulders. She always felt like a princess, like the ones in those romance novels she enjoyed reading as a child and later as a young adult. Her full lips and soft oval shaped eyes made her appear to be shy and gave away her secret that she was a sensual and passionate woman who enjoyed the act of making love. Every man who looked at her would instantly imagine her screaming his name and using her full lips for something other than kissing. Serina didn’t want any of these men. All s
he wanted was to satisfy her Master’s every wish. The cravings she felt for him were aches far beyond the physical. He fulfilled her in a way that no man had ever been able to before. For that kind of fulfillment, a woman would do anything she was told. Serina was no different. She was a pleaser and a giver. She would willingly give her Master anything he wanted, and if she couldn’t do it—she would find a way to get it done.

  She quickly checked her watch at the stoplight and immediately chastised herself for running late. Her Master wouldn’t be pleased about being kept waiting. The thought of making her Master angry excited Serina because he would severely punish her for the slightest disobedience. She also did not want to disappoint him by being late. The dueling emotions raged in her body, and Serina didn’t know which one she wanted to win. The last time she had disobeyed her Master; he had unleashed the ferocity of his passion on her body that left her cowering and quivering on the edge of the bed. For the next few days, her entire body was sore, but it was the sort of pain that when remembered would bring a smile to her face.

  Serina smiled so much that some of her friends thought that she was losing her damn mind. This was what she longed for all these years when she was married; a sense of sexual freedom that was unapologetic and untamed. Free to roam without harness; without having to explain to anyone why she enjoyed being a submissive slave to a man. Part of being a woman is having the freedom to choose the course of your sexuality. For too long, Serina had subjugated her will for another; a husband who was weak and undeserving of her. He was a good man, but he didn’t possess the innate gift of overpowering her body and mind just by looking at her. Many times, Serina felt that she was the man in the relationship because he wasn’t able to control her and dominate her in the way that she craved. She wanted that feeling of being overpowered so that when a man told her to lay still and she dared move—even an inch, he would punish her body and mind with sadistic pleasure that would make her ache for him even more. This is what she wanted, but she never received it from her ex-husband.

  When David stared at Serina, her body would lose any desire to resist his charm. She was his to do his bidding. Finally, she was able to submit freely to a man who instinctively knew how to touch her body and leave her feeling as if she had been fucked and made love to by four or five dicks at the same time.

  Her Master knew the secret to making love that most men, either didn’t know or care to learn. To them it was all about the physical. They didn’t understand that making love to the body was like taking a shower and only wetting the upper half of your body and the lower half is still dry. The full experience of a making love is to get her mind and body wet and make sure that every inch has been touched and made to feel loved. Making love is the same thing. You have to seduce the mind of a woman long before you can even think about penetrating her flesh. You have to mind fuck her and take her on a journey that will make her body ache for the physical, but the mental will be so real, so intense, that it will feel like the real thing. Before you even touch her enflamed skin and forever leave your imprint on her, her body will have already been primed and aroused just waiting to be touched. If a man can touch your mind and body with equal passion; then your heart is already his for the taking. He doesn’t have to do anything except to look at you and he will know that you love him. Serina hoped that she wasn’t so transparent to her Master as yet, but love is a feeling that when you breathe it from your soul, it becomes an entity that is its own person, with its own voice. It will not stay quiet even when you try to hide it. Serina’s love lived in her eyes and glowed on her face.

  A light rain had begun to fall as the light changed from red to green and then back to orange. Serina was so lost in thought that only the honking of the cars behind her snapped her back to her immediate reality. The succession of colors of the stoplight reminded her of a game she used to play as a child in school during recess: “Red Light Green Light One Two Three.” The memory of her childhood brought a pained smile to her face. It was a life of strict adherence without any room for self-expression. She escaped into the fantasy world of books and movies and created her own persona. When you are a child, you submit to the will of your parents because you don’t have any other choice. As an adult, you submit because you want to and can always walk away because you are now in control. Serina knew the truth. She had no control anymore. Her Master controlled her and she would have it no other way.

  David was a man who prided himself on being on time even when tardiness was beyond his control; he didn’t like the silent implication that he wasn’t a man of his word. His flight into JFK was delayed by half an hour, and he was sure that Serina was already waiting for him. His lateness gave her the upper hand in their relationship because as her Master they both expected that everything go according to schedule. Any little hiccups could altar the balance of power.

  “We will be landing at JFK in approximately five minutes,” the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We apologize for the delay and thank you for flying Delta Airlines. We appreciate your business.”

  “If you appreciate my business then get me here on time,” David muttered to no one in particular. All he had was a carry on bag so he would not have to wait to clear customs. The flight attendant at the door gave him her best phony smile and he gave her one back.

  Every step he took through the long winding corridor and onto the escalator was one step closer to pleasure; into the sweet depths of his slave, Serina. He deftly sidestepped passengers with children and other carry-on baggage that they were wheeling around without any consideration for people around them. He felt his body getting excited with each step he took that brought him closer to Serina. He ached to be inside of her and claim what was his. He wanted to fuck her into submission and remind her again that he was her Master and that he owned her. He hoped that she might challenge him so that he could get rough with her. He wanted to punish her. They both enjoyed this sort of intense sexual foreplay. On the escalator ride down to the sidewalk, he spotted her waiting for him and their first encounter came back to him in sharp colors of pleasure.

  David had renamed her Serina because names starting with “S” were always more sensual when they whispered from your lips and being sung passionately into a woman’s ears. Now that she was Serina, she inhabited the name as if she was born to it. They had met by accident at a Barnes and Noble bookstore in the city during one of his book tours for his recently published collection of erotic poetry, “Poetic Tongue”. During the reading of one of his pieces “The Domination of Her Will,” he glanced up and noticed her in the back row, seemingly in a trance. Every word pierced her deeply and she was visibly affected as he read this erotic piece. He would find out later that during the reading, she had become so aroused that she had a spontaneous orgasm. It was the first time something like that ever happened to her. David had to meet this woman so he approached her from behind in one of the aisles as she read Sugar by Bernice McFadden.

  “How did you enjoy the prose?”

  Serina was startled to hear a voice behind her feeling as if it was just inches away from her ears. She knew who it was even before she turned around. The lithe of his Caribbean accent fingered her earlobes and her skin felt as if it had been set on fire. She struggled to calm herself down before turning around to come face to face with David Toussaint.

  In the two seconds it took Serina to turn around to face David, he had done a quick inspection of her to see if she was to his liking. She wore a simple black dress that clung to her body, but wasn’t too tight as to draw any unwanted attention. She was a woman used to hiding her sexuality, and at first glance, she appeared to be demure, almost afraid to embrace the raw power of her beauty. David had noticed a few men giving her the eye as they walked by the aisle, but none of them approached her. She hadn’t noticed the attention. When she finally turned around to face him, she was unable to look him in the eye. It was the classic sign of a submissive woman who was giving ground to a more dominant personality.
David was intrigued by this shy beautiful flower standing before him that was afraid to bloom to her full potential. When she finally managed to summon the courage to look at him, she pretended to be looking at a book behind his shoulders. It was in that first meeting that he knew that he had to have her. She was like an empty beautiful canvas of untapped sexuality. He wanted to paint her with every single passionate color he could conjure and watch her bloom into the beautiful woman that lived inside her heart. He wanted to paint a Masterpiece. She would be the perfect subject. He suspected she was willing, but he had to be sure.

  He autographed a copy of his book for her and as they stood between the bookcases with the smell of new books, coffee, and raw passionate energy flowing between them; the air was heavy with their erotic thoughts. Serina’s breath was heated with desire. Her eyes stared downwards as David’s words of erotic sensuality caressed her mind, body, and soul. Every syllable, every word, felt like a match being lit on her skin. Serina wrapped her arms around her chest as David read a few of his poems to her attempting to exploit her amorous nature. He didn’t have to try too hard. Serina was open to his touch. She yearned for a man to be a man and claim her body and mind, and order her to do his bidding. She ached to feel his words growing inside of her and settle inside of her soul.

  David noticed her reaction as he read to her. She was lost in the moment, eyes closed and unaware of him watching her. Her head rocked back and forth slowly as she leaned against the bookshelf. She would sigh as he said certain words and exhale when phrases of being ravished and devoured crossed his lips. David took in the entire scene making mental notes to use later on when they made love. Her nipples pierced through her bra and called to David’s lips to alleviate her pain. Serina was ready to let David release her deepest cravings. For the next few hours, they talked about her. They didn’t talk about him. David got a good sense about her just by observing her. He knew what he had to do to make her submit. Over the next few days, through emails and phone conversations, Serina revealed herself to David. Her submissive personality once dormant slowly rose to the surface. She was ready to serve a Master. She was ready to be a slave. By the time they met for their first sexual encounter, the anticipation of what she expected would be hard to match. Her imagination had been working overtime and by the time David stepped through the doors of her apartment; she was so nervous that she was barely able to utter a word, but her body and mind were ready to submit fully to him. All he had to do was take what was already his.