When a long-term fantasy becomes a mind-blowing reality, does the object of obsession decrease, increase, or transform?
The spent form before him glistened from the staggered moonlight squeezing between the half-closed blinds. His sweat mingled with hers. His the more abundant, the outpouring of intense effort.
No outward effort on her part, though equally intense…for she had to endure.
Naked. Completely exposed to his wandering eyes and roaming hands. A visual feast. A tantalizing tactile trip from head-to-toe, with countless repeat journeys.
The first ninety-minutes of the session spread-eagled on her back: wrists and ankles bound. The second half of the session on her stomach, ass raised on pillows. No gag. Never a gag. It’s such a fucking turn-on to hear, with clarity, every whimper, moan, groan, and scream his obsessive use of her body elicits—but especially the words.
Though he is a man—and like most men, visually stimulated—never discard auditory arousal. The rush he gets when she pleads to be spanked and fucked harder triggers a harder erection. When she begs him to “please stop,” knowing full-well he’ll push her to the next level can actually add an inch to his member. And when she screams “Daddy” in the throes of orgasmic release, he’s forever thankful to be a man—and a natural Alpha.
So, when a long-term fantasy becomes a mind-blowing reality, does the object of obsession decrease, increase, or transform?
In his case, she increased and transformed into his sole object of affection and adoration.
Mia froze, held her breath. Listened.
The encroaching night pressed in on her, warm, humid…silent, the wild thumping of her heart the only sound that broke its canopied darkness. She turned a slow circle, eyes probing the trees and dense underbrush crowding the running trail, alert for the tiniest movement, the rustle of a branch, the turn of a leaf.
She let out her pent breath, along with a nervous laugh. She had only imagined the soft footfalls pacing her, that crisp snap of a twig. Nothing stirred in the moon-dappled shadows.
With a shake of her head, she set off down the path once more in an easy jog. But her mind wasn’t easy; heat knifed between her shoulder blades, as if eyes were boring into her back. The sweat beading her body turned cold. Goose flesh prickled her arms.
More times than she could count, she had run this trail as twilight was bleeding into night. But this was the first time she had felt anxious, almost…afraid. Continue reading “A Halloween Bedtime Story”
“I told you I would just do it,” I said. And he made some angry mumbling sounds, so I slapped him across the face to remind him I was the Alpha. “Be glad I didn’t grab one of the toys.”
When I began to turn away I noticed Joe’s tiny tepee, now much wetter, was a little taller and bouncing around involuntarily. So I turned back to face him, and his angry expression changed to utter embarrassment faster than a politician can tell a lie. And I’ve always had an uncanny knack of judging people and situations.
“Now there’s something I’m sure you don’t want everybody knowing,” I said. “Something you just discovered about yourself.”
Fear began to creep in with the embarrassment.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said while departing the bed and heading back around to Waleli. “You chose me because I’m a professional.” Continue reading “Black Wolf: First Client (Part Four of 4)”
I’m not here to get my rocks off. Yes, it will physically occur, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to help clients fulfill their goals: goals that are accomplished with a combination of dominance, submission, humiliation, behavior modification through punishment and rewards, and cathartic releases through pain and pleasure. And as the Master I bear the responsibility of fulfilling their wants and needs while keeping them protected and safe physically and emotionally. And much of that is accomplished through mentorship: teaching and guiding them through their areas of ignorance and inexperience.
I released my grip and tenderly stroked her hair. Continue reading “Black Wolf: First Client (Part Three)”
Pinto Joe led me up the stairs and halfway down the right hall to a door with a hummingbird totem attached.
“Her room,” he said, stating the obvious. His nerves were reacting to the situation.
He wiped his hands on his robe before turning the knob.
I followed him through the door into the spacious bedroom. It was bright and airy, utilizing lighter earth tones in browns, tans, and greens. And it was the only room I’d seen so far that had no cowboy décor mixed with the Native American motif. And hummingbirds played a major role in the theme.
The center wall was glass with double sliding doors giving access to the balcony. There was a door in the middle of the left wall leading to a bathroom, with dressers and shelves along the rest of the wall. And two large closets were on the right, along with a queen-size canopy bed centered against the wall. And sitting on the handcrafted bench at the foot of the bed was Waleli, with hands in her lap, wearing a shimmering green satin nightie with matching panties. Continue reading “Black Wolf: First Client (Part Two)”