LOVERS

by Roxy Harte

  I think she is probably the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and not because of her features, though her wide blue eyes and long dark lashes fill me with envy every time I see her, and not because her mouth looks permanently bruised and puffy from too many kisses, though it does, but because of the confidence she exudes.

  I think she shaves her head and wears boys’ clothing to hide her femininity, but all she succeeds in doing is drawing attention to her natural beauty.

  “The class today is called CFNM FM and CBT.” I pause. “Clothed female, naked male, forced masturbation and…” I smile wide for emphasis when I theatrically whisper, “cock and ball torture. So boys, we are to that moment where you get to take off your clothing. And as promised in the brochure, down to your underwear is fine for you extra shy boys, but nude of course is preferable.” I slide my hand down my riding crop. “And you do want to please Mistress, don’t you?”

  Toby, Toby, Toby.

  I’m distracted by her being there and count the minutes for the class to be over.

  I’ve seen her in her element. She is graceful and powerful, witty and charming. Since coming to California a decade ago, she has made quite a name for herself, becoming a fitness guru to the wealthy and famous. She has what every woman wants: flat, well-defined abs, shapely, muscular arms, and legs that leave men longing to put their dicks between her thighs. Plus she’s sexy in an androgynous way, making men and women lust after her equally.

  I’ve heard rumors that there have been offers for syndication, but Adrian says that she doesn’t take such offers too seriously. According to Adrian, she’s happy with who she is in the place she’s at in her life, but I find that hard to believe. Every time I have ever seen her, she has seemed very unsure. I wonder how she would feel if I went to one of her live recordings and sat in her audience? If I messed with her head…

  Chapter 23

  Emma

  I hear Mick squeal and look through the curtained kitchen window to see the boys playing with Jameson in the backyard. It makes me unbearably sad to see him tossing a football to each of them in turn. My husband is home for all the good it does me. I’ve won the battle though, I can be happy with that. Bianca is out of our lives.

  I know he loves me and even pregnant he finds me desirable…

  It feels like we aren’t speaking, though we are. Niceties. Polite words.

  Good morning.

  Did you sleep well?

  Dinner was wonderful.

  Aside from that, he mopes and I hate that he does.

  When he doesn’t know I’m watching him, I do, and seeing him play with the children makes his silence bearable.

  I keep hoping he’ll forget her, but even if he does, will there always be another?

  The simple answer is yes. I’m not an idiot. The truth is I don’t know if I can live like this for the rest of my life. No, I can. This is better than being separated. The boys need their father at home raising them.

  Stepping out into the bright sunlight, it’s easy to go to him, to rub my hands over his shoulders and remind him I am here. It’s easy because I love him, and I always will. We made a promise to each other. For better or worse. This is hopefully as bad as it will get.

  Leaning over him, I kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

  Closing my eyes, I hold his shoulders, hoping I’ll hear the whispered words in return. I don’t. Releasing him, I know he needs time to forget her.

  He will.

  He has to.

  Chapter 24

  Adrian

  I’m in the stockroom when Bianca comes looking for me. I haven’t seen her since she returned from her trip, and she looks amazing. Of course, she’s still dressed from her class and I have a hard time focusing on anything other than her breasts trapped behind the leather corset and the rolled whip hanging on a belt around her waist.

  I walk over to her and kiss the swell of flesh rising above the leather. “You are so hot.”

  “You’re working,” she says, and I hear the pout in her voice and realize it has nothing to do with wanting or not wanting to see me naked. A second glance into her face tells me she isn’t even thinking about us at all, and that hurts. I try to remember when things changed…it seems like only yesterday we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but on reflection it may have been months ago.

  I grab her hand and pull her closer, seeking to make eye contact, hoping to instigate play. “When have I ever not been willing to take a break for you, Mistress?”

  She sighs heavily, whatever is on her mind too heavy to be lulled out of.

  “So, what’s on your mind?”

  “Where would I even start?” she grumbles dramatically.

  I nod knowingly. “Jameson and Emma drama?”

  “It’s over. She won.”

  “I didn’t realize it was a competition,” I state harshly, then immediately apologize and lower my eyes.

  She pulls away, shaking her head, pacing the length of the small room. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She sits down on a small, low aluminum step stool, her legs spread wide. All that separates me from her pussy is her super tight, super revealing leather shorts. It’s been too long since I’ve been with her, at least a week, and several weeks since she’s dominated me. I leer, raw need threading through my body, but I don’t drop to my knees and lick her boots like I want to. We have an agreement, she starts the scenes…and she always dominates…though I’m as happy in either role, dominant or submissive.

  “I want him to be happy, because I care about him, but my God, you’ve met Jameson, he’s a wimp with women, especially Emma.” With her eyes, she implores me to understand. “He’s miserable!”

  “It was his choice to stay or go.” Irritated, I go back to stocking shelves.

  “You’re right, and this isn’t your problem,” she agrees. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with it.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “No poly rule of etiquette has been broken here, a little gray area amalgamation, but that’s okay.” I turn to face her again and seeing the look on her face, promise, “If I could help you, I would.” I cross the room and leaning down, kiss her…she barely kisses me back. “Okay, my male ego is taking a real beating here.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Your boy toy sat in on my class, and honestly it was kind of creepy. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “She wanted to watch, and I said it would be okay as long as she was discreet. She was discreet, wasn’t she?”

  “No one noticed that she was there except me…which was the creepy part. The question is: why was she there at all?”

  “She respects you. She looks up to you.” I regret telling Toby it was okay without talking to Bianca first.

  Bianca lifts a brow, and I realize she isn’t buying it.

  “I’m sorry, I’m bad.” I run my hand over her hair. I know how much she likes to have her head rubbed when she is stressed. She closes her eyes and pushes back against my palm. “She wants to be your friend.”

  “Riiight.”

  Bianca stands up, and my eyes go straight to her legs and shiny leather knee-high boots. God, I want to fuck her right here, right now.

  “Emma said that once too, three years ago,” she says, trying to breeze past me.

  Does she think our conversation is over? I grab her upper arm, keeping her from leaving the storage room. She looks at me like I’ve crossed a line, but I don’t care. “Toby is not Emma. She doesn’t have a manipulative or conniving bone in her body.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I take her hands and place them on my shoulders. I wrap my hands around her face and she lets me, probably because I’m wearing the shit-eating grin that always gets us in trouble together, the one that she can’t seem to say ‘no’ to. I kiss her and briefly she tries to pull back, but I hold her face tighter, increasing the intensity of the kiss until she softens against me. She grabs my cock and squeezes it through my jeans, making me moan, but it is
an oh God moan not a pain filled moan.

  “I’m having enough relationship drama today, keep Toby out of my way.” Her mouth closes over mine, kissing me deeply.

  With sheer force of will, I pull my mouth away from hers. “Tell me what is really fucking with your head. It isn’t Jameson or Emma or Toby. That’s everyday drama. Whatever is bugging you today is something new.”

  She grabs my face and in a definite power play, shoves me back against the wall. Her kiss intensifies, and as I pop the top stay on her bodice she rubs her knee along the inside of my thigh, rubbing up and down, then unexpectedly a solid knee into my erection.

  “Oh God!” I cry out, and she muffles the sound by sealing my mouth with hers.

  I push her away. As much as I like it when Bianca takes control, I want to be the man she is having sex with when she does. I do not want her thinking about whatever man is currently in her head.

  “Do I know him?”

  Her eyes go wide.

  “Kneel,” she commands, and I don’t question. I kneel. She looks down at me, her face hardened by a sneer that almost makes me lose my load. “You missed me?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  I am on all fours and it is easy for her to grab my hair, pull me by it, making me go up on two knees before she bends to kiss me. She bites my lip and I moan, but then she is kissing me, plunging her tongue into my mouth. She is rough, and I love it.

  “Am I making you hot, baby?” she asks.

  “Yes-s-s!”

  “Show me how much you missed me.”

  She releases my hair and I drop forward, back onto all fours. I rub my cheek on the top of her boot and run my tongue over the tip before tracing the hidden zipper with my tongue. I don’t stop licking when I run out of leather, I lick up the length of the inside of her thigh, stopping only when I reach her leather covered crotch. I tease my tongue along the leg opening, back to front, sliding my tongue as deeply as it can go.

  “Did I give you permission to lick my pussy?”

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, Mistress. You told me to show you how much I missed you, and I have a long way to go to show you how much.” I never promised to be a good submissive.

  “Really?” She laughs, and it is an evil laugh.

  I know I’m begging for severe consequences, but I don’t care. I want to be bad enough that I will deserve the punishment she dishes out. I pull on her bodice, releasing several of the front closing stays, and her breasts spill though the opening. My hands are all over her breasts…kneading, rolling, pinching the nipples—making her squirm and moan, a high pitched whine from the back of her throat

  “I know you didn’t ask for permission to do that.” She growls, and I can hear the hungry need in her voice.

  “Am I making you wet, Mistress?”

  She slaps my face and it stings. “Mistress did not give you permission to speak lewdly.”

  “Are you dripping?” I whisper. I am begging for it now.

  She slaps me again before pulling me to my feet by the hair on my head. She undoes my belt buckle and unfastens my button-fly jeans, exposing me quickly. She grabs my cock and rubs it roughly, demanding, “Who do you think you are?”

  I laugh and get exactly what I want from her as she slaps my cock, making me moan. I wish she had her riding crop or a cane, but her palm is fine. Her palm smacking my dick is great. She grabs my balls and squeezes, taking me almost to my knees, but I stay hard, I stay needy. If anything, I am harder and want her even more desperately.

  “Permission to fuck you, Mistress?” I beg.

  “Permission granted.”

  I pull down the zipper in the back of her shorts and yank them down, help her step from them, and then I pick her up, falling against the wall for support as her legs wrap around my back. She positions herself to ride as my dick slides into her. I pull out a little before thrusting hard and deep the second time. She gasps into my mouth as she kisses me with the same intensity that my dick is showing her pussy.

  “Mistress! I won’t last long if you do that.”

  “Now! Adrian!” she cries against my mouth, biting my lip, drawing blood. “Fuck me like you mean it!”

  I roll off the wall and reverse our positions, slamming her hard against the wall as I thrust into her as fast and hard as I can. She makes sounds deep in her throat, guttural, needy, pain-filled sounds that only make me want to fuck her harder, but I slow down because I want to enjoy it longer.

  She whips her mouth away, screaming my name, screaming, “Holy fuck! Don’t you dare stop or I will cane you eight shades of purple!”

  I obey, fucking her so hard I think I might damage her, but she screams for more. “Harder!” She shudders and orgasms, and I thrust harder, pulling a second and third scream of release from her before she grants me permission to come.

  We’re straightening our clothes, still ramped on endorphins, when she walks over and wipes my lip. She lifts her finger to her mouth, and I see my blood on it before the digit disappears between her lips.

  “You make me so hot, Bianca. Damn.”

  She bites me where my lip is still tender, and I taste fresh blood. The kiss doesn’t escalate; it softens, as she pulls my bottom lip into her mouth and sucks where she just bit. I moan and my erection springs to life even though it has only been minutes since our last encounter. She grabs me, feeling my hardness, rubbing me through the just fastened jeans, but she makes no move to unbutton what I just closed.

  I press into her hand, enjoying the feel of her touch.

  “We need an all-night, Adrian. We need a rough night.”

  My cock jerks against my jeans and her hands, straining for freedom. I can only moan and nod my agreement.

  “Promise me an all-night?”

  “Yes-s-s,” I agree, even though I know I will hurt Toby by agreeing. She just recently moved in with me full time, and I really haven’t figured out to how to handle Friday nights yet. I suppose since Jameson is out of Bianca’s I could spend the night there.

  She squeezes my balls hard through the thick cloth and makes me jerk and moan in her hand. “You owe me a Friday, so you’ll make good this week?”

  I nod in agreement as she squeezes harder, making my eyes cross. She drops down onto her knees and opens the fly with dexterity of ease that boggles my mind. My erection springs forward and her mouth is on my flesh, hard and fast, rough, just the way I like it…need it. She bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to let me know that she could draw blood if she wanted to. She licks the back of my shaft from balls to rim and my pre-cum spills over the top, making her giggle and laugh before she laps it up. Her hand wraps around my base and squeezes hard…another spill of milky liquid. This time she lets it slide down my shaft and drip onto her fingers.

  “Until Friday then,” she says, standing and walking from the storage room, leaving me unzipped and with my dick hanging out. God, what that woman does to me.

  My head drops back. “Fuck!” She didn’t answer the question. Did she just fuck me or her mystery man?

  Chapter 25

  Bianca

  Friday finally comes and as promised, Adrian meets me at my main Wicked Pleasures location. In the backroom there is a full dungeon set-up and for tonight, we need a full dungeon. I need to get my head back in LA and out of the London fog. This is my life.

  Bishop was a sweet diversion, but how real can his part of my life be when I have no idea when I will see him again? If I will see him again.

  No, tonight my focus is solely Adrian. A telephone conversation early in the day revealed that Toby was taking the news in stride that he is spending the night with me. I’m glad. One less stress for him and for me, because as much as we don’t like to admit it in our happy-poly-circles, the other partner always influences how our dates go.

  Adrian arrives right on time, bringing with him his cockiness as evidenced in his swagger. I’m going to enjoy tonight. I need tonight. I need
to get back to normal.

  I’m wearing my tallest platform boots. With him standing at six feet, four inches, I need all the height I can get to feel that we are on a level playing field; although I choose to greet him from a chair. I sit regally, of course, throwing my power-vibe at him as he approaches. He wears an evil smirk, and I think he will bust out laughing at any moment, but he doesn’t. When he gets within six feet of my throne, he drops to his knees and crawls forward, ending at my feet prostrate.

  I stand and put one heeled boot in the middle of his back, pushing him deeper into the pose. “Ready to have some fun, baby?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Do you have any special requests before we begin?”

  “I trust your judgment, Mistress.”

  I laugh, and it sounds twisted. I really shouldn’t have gone to London, I feel off-balance, unstable…I keep seeing my bite marks on pale, pale skin…

  “Strip,” I command and step back to watch him hurry to remove his clothes.

  “You were very cocky in the stockroom, yes?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Not very respectful, were you?”

  “No, Mistress.” Naked, he remains standing in front of me.

  “Perhaps some time in the stocks will wipe that smirk off of your face.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Now,” I say.

  He walks to the wooden stock, swaggering a little less belligerently. I almost laugh. I lift the upper piece of wood and he folds forward, putting his head and his wrists in the designated grooves. I lower the hinged apparatus and lock it down. His hands and wrists are trapped, his backside open to whatever punishment I choose to dish out.

  I clamp his nipples and his scrotum, a chain strung between the two sets. I pull the chain, putting tension on his nipples. He moans. I pull the chain lower, pulling his scrotum, and he moans loader.

  “I didn’t say you could make noise. Did I?”

  “No, Mistress. I’m sorry, Mistress.”

  I pull the chain so that both his nipples and his scrotum are getting the brunt of the punishment. He puts up a good fight to not moan, but in the end he does, grunting loudly.