Shall We Play a Game?
‘Today, we’re going to play a little game.’ I could hear the laughter in his voice.
‘A game, Sir? What will we play and who else is playing?’ I ask knowing that it is only us two at the moment.
‘Ahhhh…a game of my own creation, but you do mistake me. I should have said that you are going to play a game, while I get to watch.If you please me, then I’ll reward you. If you don’t please me, then you won’t. Quite straightforward, really? Are you ready, slave?’
‘I’m not sure, Sir, what if I’m not up to it?’ He just keeps looking at me with that gentle smile on his lips. I know, I’m stalling. ‘Yes, Sir, I’m ready.’
’Shall we call it Noah’s Ark?’ I gape at him. What in the world have I agreed to? Are animals soon to be paraded around and if so, what in the world am I meant to do with them? My mind tries to scan through the possibilities but nothing seems to quite compute in my head. I look at him a bit panicky. He laughs, the deep, rich sound that always reassures me. ‘I apologise for my little joke. Maybe it would be better called 2 by 2.’ I still look at him as baffled as before, though I can imagine a lot of ways a game named 2 by 2 could play out. Speculating will only drive me crazy. I try my best to look calm, cool and collected, while hiding my twitching hands behind me.
‘You have been learning. I can see how hard it is for you to hold back, to wait, but you’ve come such a long way. I’m proud of you. This is how it’s going to work. First, you’re going to remove your, I have no doubt, already wet, pants. Just throw them to the side.’ I watch him following my every move with his eyes. I take my time, tease it out. I want to see how much his restraint costs him. Unfortunately, he is much better at this than I am. I finally throw my pants across the room for emphasis. And stand there in my dress with nothing on underneath. ‘Oh yes, you’re quite the dissident.’ Okay, so it’s hard to play the rebel when all you really want to do is submit.
’Now, please have a seat there on the chair. Perfect. I have set a timer for you on my phone to run for two minutes. During those two minutes, you must play with your clit, but you must not come. When the timer goes off, you must cease all contact For the next two minutes. Again, when the timer goes off, you will touch yourself again for two minutes, likewise, you are not to come during that time. Now, do you have any questions, pet?’
‘Will I be allowed to come at the end? Or during the game, Sir?’ I hate hearing the desire in my voice, the raw need.
‘We will have to wait and see just how well you do. Now, lean back in the chair, place your feet up on the footstool. Excellent. Now, please pull your dress up over your hips so I can see just what a hungry little cunt you have. Your time starts…now.’
i reach down and find my clit. I take it between my two fingers and slowly stroke it back and forth. I feel my juices start to flow and I feel my arousal peeping out from under the surface. I roll my head back on the cushions as I feel my hunger start to grow. I can feel that all too familiar desire to start snaking over me. It feels so good and my world narrows to a very small awareness. It’s just me, there, pleasing myself and hopefully him. Two minutes, I can do that. That’d be easy. Even as I think it, I can feel my fingers speed up of their own volition. I can feel my lips starting to undulate under the attention of my fingers. As I’m distracted, I almost don’t hear the timer go off. ‘Hands away, slave,’ he lightly reprimands. I hadn’t actually realised I’d not removed them. Looking like a kid who had their hand caught in the cookie jar, I quickly whipped my hand away with my most innocent look on my face. Though I’ve removed my fingers, I can feel that gentle tug of desire, the call for my hand to return and continue to raise my arousal. I try counting the seconds remaining, but fail horribly. How long can two minutes take for crying out loud? Just as I begin to wonder if he has reset the timer, the little alarm goes off. I don’t have to be told twice. My hand moves quick as a flash to return to its gentle thrumming of my clit. I take only a moment to try to catch his eye, gauge his mood, but it’s no use. All I really want to do is masturbate until I have a full release and fall asleep satiated.
My hand whips back and I warn myself to be careful. Go slow. Pace yourself. However, I ignore all of these helpful nuggets of advice and rapidly lose myself to the sensations running through me. I can hear my breathing speed up. My feet start to brace against the footstool and my hips rise just a little bit into the air. Oh yes, that is definitely how I like it. My fingers speed up and my desire starts to fill my mind. I push up harder. I can feel my body responding to my own hand. ‘Oh yes,’ I mutter under my breath ad my hips start lifting higher and my head falls back further. Just as I’m getting into the groove, I hear the tinkle of that damnable timer. I roll my eyes, make a concerted effort to pull my hand away from my clit. I try to press my legs together, thinking that might help, but it actually only makes it worse. I look around, trying to find a clock. Surely, it’s been two minutes. I can’t wait to dive back in. i count in my head, but when I get to the full two minutes, the timer still hasn’t beeped. Is he messing with me? Did he turn on the timer? Just then, I hear the tinny little sound of the alarm.
I slide my fingers immediately into my folds, seeking out the solid nugget in the core of it all. Just as I start strumming myself, I hear him clear his throat. ‘I find it difficult to see just exactly what you’re doing, slut. Spread your knees open please. All the way down now. There we go. That wasn’t so bad was it?’ he calmly states. It’s not like it’s his body being tormented. I pull my knees wide open feeling the air against my sensitive and aroused flesh. ‘Higher now,’ he commands and my hips push up even farther away from chair. I can feel myself pumping, wishing for anything to fill me up, to fill that hole. My hips are picking up a rhythm now, shoving upward, each thrust more abandoned than the one before. ‘Oh, now that’s looking much better, whore,’ he goads me on. Then, I hear it, but I don’t register it until the resounding smack lands across my most sensitive skin. I jerk towards the leather belt that has just left its own contribution to my arousal. I can’t help it as I moan in pleasure. Swish, the belt cuts through the air again as it lands again. I can feel a whimper about to emerge when the time goes off. I can’t pull my hand away. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I need to but I’m not quite convinced that I can. I feel a warm hand wrap over mine and pull it away. ’Do you remember the rules? he asks, ‘if you please me, you will be rewarded. Now, do you really think that disobeying me is a way to earn my approval?’ I don’t need to look, I know he will be wearing that smirk across his face. I mutter under my breath and force my fingers away.
I try to lower my hips, but they have a mind of their own. Sitting in the chair like this, everything is bared. I thrust harder and harder upward, desperately wanting something to fuck me and fuck me hard. I can hear you approach the chair, you kneel down. Could it be? Will you take care of my hunger? I hold my breath in anticipatio, just as I try to get a reign on my desire, I feel the light breeze as you blow lightly, the wind caressing my burning heat. I can’t take it anymore. ‘Fuck me, please! Just fuck me! Anything at all! Just do It!’ I hear the order and command in my own voice and know instantly, I’ve doomed myself for longer. i squeeze my legs together, but soon pull them apart as it just causes more friction of which I very much wish.
The belt comes down on me three times in rapid succession each lick a reminder that I am not the Master. I close my eyes. Some might think I close them to hide my pain, but I’m actually trying to hide my arousal to not show just what a little pain slut I am. Blissfully, the timer dinags and I am allowed once again to touch myself. ‘You dirty, hungry, little whore. You like that, don’t you? Let me see just how bad you want it. Fuck the air! Let me see your cunt muscles clenching, trying so hard to wrap themselves around anything that might fill your hunger!’ I cry out and just start thrusting my hips in a frenzied desperate dance to be filled up. I lose myself momentarily and SMACK! The belt slaps against the tender flesh of my breasts, first one then the other. I cry out and I beg and plead. ‘Anything, anything, Sir, whatever you want, just please let me cum. May I cum now, please sir? Please?’ I whimper like a little puppy. I try to reach up higher, shoving my hips towards anything near, then I hear it. It seems a million miles away, but I can still hear it.
5 - 4 - 3 - 2 -1 Cum bitch!
I scream and lights explode behind my eyes. My ears are ringing and I feel like my inside is being riI tr
I try to pull away from my hand, unaware that it is my own hand that is tormenting me. I keep stroking, bringing myself to the edge time and again. I scream over and over. Each orgasm shaking me and make me aware that I am becoming overly sensitive and if I keep playing with myself, I might be out of commission for the next few days, but I can’t bring myself to stop. Stroke and scream, stroke and scream, over and over agin until I collapse against the cushions. Replete.
Chapter Two
Beck could not believe what he was seeing. There was a woman, alone in the hotel hot tub with her back to him. She was on her knees, facing one of the jets, writhing rhythmically. How did she not hear the gate latch as I entered? He wondered as he stood in awe of the erotic spectacle before him.
Instantly he felt torn as to what to do. Should be make some kind of noise and let her know she was no longer alone? Be a gentleman and just leave quietly? The problem with those two options was that they both required he stop watching. He simply could not. A woman experiencing pleasure was a beautiful thing to behold. He was mesmerized. However, his guilt grew in tandem with his arousal and he knew it was wrong to watch without her knowledge.
From her body language, Beck could easily tell she was nearing orgasm. She was irresistibly gorgeous in this uninhibited state. He sighed. Almost regretfully he loudly cleared his throat to alert her to his presence. She startled in such a dramatic fashion, a laugh involuntarily erupted from him. However, she did not hear it because she was briefly underwater after falling from her “position”.
As she surfaced, her wet hair plastered against her face. She hurriedly tried to push her hair out of her eyes and simultaneously struggled to adjust her bikini. Beck thought she looked like a sexy, frustrated octopus. He also thought it was just about the cutest damned thing he’d ever seen. She refused to look at him and was blushing furiously. Beck wondered if she may say something to him, but she remained silent, suddenly still and looking pensively at the water.
Recognition suddenly clicked for Beck. Ava. Her name tag read ‘Ava’. She was at the conference mixer earlier. He did not get the chance to personally meet her, but he certainly did notice her. He was sure that every male there had noticed her.
“Ava, right?” Beck asked as he eased himself into the hot tub.
She froze and stared at him.
”I’m Beck. Nice to meet you.” He winked at her.
After a few awkward moments, Ava rose and made her way out of the hot tub. Beck did not look as she wrapped her towel around her and gathered her belongings nearby. He heard her quietly swearing as the gate swung shut behind her. Beck could not stop grinning as Ava left. Her flip-flops slapping as quickly as possible through the breezeway.
Chapter One:
https://www.theprose.com/post/814695/chapter-one
The Robo-Ghost
The best thing about the internet dating sites is what they’ve done for her confidence. She used to think she was attractive, now she knows she is hot. Now she dresses hot, more revealing, while tight-roping on taller heels. She acts differently too, now, but that is the worst thing about the internet dating sites… what they have done to her confidence.
She only swipes on the best, and they always swipe back. Always. She is hot. Super hot. She must be. She is a princess. Doesn’t a princess deserve the best?
But dating is different these days. Men don’t buy dinner anymore. Movies are a thing of the past. Dating is drinks now, always drinks. After two she’s tipsy, having not eaten. Tipsy enough to be silly… and friendly. But guys like silly… and friendly. She is proof. They like her. They always like her. After her third drink she wants to dance. They accommodate her. Why not? Dancing is cheap enough.
There are more drinks at the club, and the pounding-rhythmic music she craves, and sensual, hypnotic gyrations. She finds herself all in, every time. After all he is tall, nicely dressed, and he smells fantastic. They all smell fantastic. Don’t they? Those most desirable guys on the dating apps? She could smell them all night, and she usually does.
There are mirrors at the club. She looks hot in the mirrors. So does he. She knows this because she sees other women looking. They’ll even pass him a napkin when her head is turned, forgetting the mirrors. This is ok though. She doesn’t mind it. She wants them to want him. Why not? She is super-hot. His eyes are only for her, and she knows it. She likes it. He knows where this night is heading. Where she is leading it. Besides. Would she even want him if no other women did? No, of course not. In fact, their interest fuels her. It excites her, so that she dances closer, backing herself against him, arching her back, watching herself in the mirror, moving to the music, fueling his excitement. And he is excited. She can feel his excitement. And she is hot. She can feel this, too. And knowing she is fuels her.
And the sex is always fantastic. Always… what she can remember of it. And there is always sex. And always at his place. Always. But somehow on the Uber ride home, she never feels hot. She never looks hot. Not ever. What she looks in the morning light, and what she feels, is washed out and ran through. But no worries. The feeling never lasts.
He won’t call her again.
That is dating today, for those like her, stuck in the robotic grind.
But next weekend she’ll swipe on another. As always, it will be another match. She is hot. So she puts the dress back on, the really tiny one. And the shoes, the really big ones. And she tells herself how hot she looks as she goes to meet this new guy for drinks.
In the silence
I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I open my eye and raise my arm. I shake my head, lower my arm and inhale sharply. I try to count as I breath out. ’This isn’t going to get any better,’ I tell myself. I decide just to keep my eyes closed. Maybe it will be easier that way. I raise my right arm, I reach out into the darkness, and let out the breath I was holding. I rap solidly on the door before me. I can hear footsteps approaching. I can’t face it. I should turn and go, but that would really defeat the purpose. As I hear the door unlock and the hinges start to creak, I lower my head ever so slightly but I open my eyes. As the door swings open, it’s almost as if motion is frozen in time. There’s a stillness, a shock, that neither of us has quite recovered from. I can hear the tremor in my voice as I quietly speak. Just one word. ‘Sir.’
He stands there with a tea towel in his hand, just looking at me. Was this a mistake after all? Should I not have come? I can feel the pleading in my eyes. He merely steps back and waves his arm to the side, ushering me in. Still, he hasn’t spoken. I try to find my voice. It comes out almost like a croak. ‘I thought you might have need of me.’ Still, no response. I approach, taking his hand in mine and gently pull him towards the sofa. He sits and just looks baffled. I take the tea towel from his hand and walk towards the kitchen.
I find a sink full of dishes, and boxes scattered all about the room. I roll up my sleeves and start washing up. Slowly, methodically, I make my way through the first mound of dishes, the only sound I hear is the clinking of the dishes as I wash each one. I pull the plug out of the drain and as I hear the water trickle out of the sink, I grab a clean saucepan, fill it with water and set it on the hob to boil. I look around, opening cupboards searching for what I need, realising that it may all still be packed. Eventually, my search proves fruitful as I find a mug. I reach into my backpack that I’d discarded earlier and pull out some proper tea. Once the water boils, I pour it gently over the tea leaves, waiting for it to brew perfectly. I strain Out the tea leaves and make my way back into the other room. He is still sitting where I’d directed him, looking thoroughly baffled. I give him the cup of tea and step back and kneel.
He shakes his head as if he can’t quite believe I’m there, in front of him. He reaches out and touches me, as if he’s afraid I might melt away into the realm of hallucinations. Okay, clearly it’s been a shock. A bit more of a surprise than I thought it would be. I still can’t tell what he’s thinking. cant predict what he will do next. He looks exhausted. No matter what he thinks, I believe I made the right move. He sips his tea and just keeps his eyes on me. I wait. It’s not my strength but it seems to be what he needs of me. As he finishes his tea, I gently take the mug from his hand and return it to the kitchen. I return to him. I do a quick assessment of the flat. I grab a pillow and toss it towards the arm of the sofa. I approach apprehensively. I place my hands on his shoulders and turn his body and gently push him down onto the sofa. I grab the blanket off the back and drape it over him. I brush the backs of my fingers across his cheek. ‘You do have need of me,’ I state boldly, wishing I was feeling more confident of myself. ‘Sleep? Please?’ With that, I turn and return to the kitchen.
As the sink refills for the next load of dishes to wash, I look around. It is a lot for any person. I reassure myself. It was good I came. I fall into a rhythm and between each load, I sneak a peek out into the lounge. He is sleeping peacefully. I move quietly.
From the kitchen, I move to the bedroom. I start unpacking clothes and folding them and putting them into drawers. Hopefully, he won’t mind my organisation of his things. I grab hangers and start hanging up the clothes that should go in the closet. I smile to myself as I remember his threats and his follow through of just what he could do with a hanger. I found it hard to sit down for the better part of a week after that encounter. I lose myself in my reminiscing.
I break down the now empty boxes and set them next to the front door in a neat pile. I make my way across to him. I sit on the floor and for a few minutes beside him. I listen to the reassuring sound of his breathing. Just seeing him there, resting, made the trip worthwhile. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. I look around. Right. Books.
I find his keys on a hook by the door. I let myself out and wander out to the street. I know what I’m looking for, I just have no idea where I am. I roam the local neighbourhood until I spot what I need. A few blocks away, behind a small shop, there is a stack of milk crates. Just what every book lover needs. I make several trips and bring them back to the flat, being painfully careful not to make a sound.
I go through the boxes, organising all the books in alphabetical and Dewey order, I am a librarian after all, I could hardly do less. I hum along to the songs in my head and as the light fades away and darkness begins to steal its way into the flat, I finish with the last of them. I add the most recent boxes to the existing pile. I look around, well pleased.
I sit on the floor by the sofa debating what to do next. He needs his sleep so badly. Do I wake him to feed him or do I let him sleep. In the end, he looks so peaceful that I can’t bring myself to wake him.
I curl up in a ball on the ground next to the sofa and I wait. Just wait. I drift off to sleep at some point and wake to the feeling of fingertips brushing lightly through my hair. I look up and smile. The early light is just breaking in through the windows. ‘I came to serve,’ I whisper softly. I move my face upward and kiss the palm of his hand. I still can’t quite read his face. Those doubts from when I jumped on the plane rose up in me again. Is he pleased? Annoyed? I scan his face, looking for any clue. Just as my fear that I may have displeased him by coming here with no word, no notice, starts to reach a feverish pitch, I see it. That slow smile spreading across his lips. He takes in all the progress I’ve made in the last day. He shakes his head, stands to his feet and takes my chin in his hand and raises my eyes to his.
‘I am a very lucky and very happy Master and I am well pleased.’
Stepping up
‘You look worried. Come to me ma cherie.’ I walk across the room and kneel in front of him. ‘There’s no shame in being nervous. You know that you’re safe with me, no?’ I nod my head but the apprehension still courses through me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I hold it for a moment and slowly let it out again. ‘Better?’ I nod again, still not quite able to find my voice. ‘Shall we get you on footing that you’re more used to then? I think it will help. Stand up for me.’ I stand, but still feel shaky. ‘Now, I want you to reach under the hem of your shirt, and undo your trouser button.’ I do as he asks. ‘The zipper now, pet.’ I briefly raise my eyes to his, and quickly lower them again. I feel the slight tremor in my hands as I comply with his wishes. ‘Perfect. I want you to put your hands inside your waistband and slowly slide your trousers down over your hips, down your thighs, gliding over your calves and then let them puddle there at your feet for a moment. Now that is a sight. Well done. A step closer, pet.’ I do as asked I take one more small step towards him. ‘Stay very still for me now. You can do that for me?’
Finally, I find my voice. ’Yes, Sir. Very still. I can feel my tension beginning to recede. This is a familiar space. One I know well. I even feel a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth. I know what’s coming next, so I stay very still indeed. I feel the cold of the metal as the blade trails up my thigh and then slips under my panties. With one swift flick of his wrist, the knife cuts through one side of my underpants. The blade lightly glides across my stomach as he moves it to my other side. Another flick and the already loose material falls to the floor.
He picks the remains up from the floor and holds it to his nose. ‘My, my little slut. I can smell that sweet scent of desire.’ He lets the slip of clothing run through his fingers. ‘If I had any doubt whatsoever, I think these would give you away, wouldn’t you say? So very wet, my dear girl. I think you want this, don’t you?’
’Yes, Sir. Is this what you wish of me? Then I want nothing more than to please you. I glance over my shoulder, to the figure lingering there leaning against the door.
He laughs out loud at that. ‘My dear little slut, though I’ve no doubt that you wish to please me, I also know that you want this in and of itself. Don’t you, my dear?’ I nod again. ‘No, pet, that won’t suffice this time. I want to hear you say it.’ I shake my head just a quick shake, but I can hear his disapproval in the silence. He waits a moment. ‘Is that a no, slut?’
‘Yes, I mean no, I mean no, it’s not a no. It’s a yes. I do want this, Sir.’ Again, that silence, that waiting for more. My voice comes out just above a whisper, ‘Yes, Sir, I do want this. I have wanted this for quite awhile now, but I also want to do this because I know it will please you.’ I raise my eyes to his face, feel my face growing red and lower them again.
‘Stay still, now, pet. I think it’s time for you to bare all to our guest.’ I still instantly as I feel the cold of the blade again against my skin. He takes my shirt in one hand and splits it in two as he slides the knife effortlessly through the material. ‘I want you to turn around now and face our guest. Then, I want you to drop your shirt to the ground, pick it up in your mouth and crawl across to our guest so he can see those magnificent breasts in motion. Once you’ve reached our guest, I want you to offer him your shirt. I suspect he may need it later. Then, turn, slowly, and on all fours make your way back to me. I want our guest to see just what awaits him.’ I feel the heat rising in my face and I try my best to go slow, to not try to slow the swaying of my very generous breasts. When I reach the gentleman by the door, I raise my head and offer my shirt. He laughs and takes it from my mouth. As I turn to head back to my master, I feel a solid slap land across my ass. It was so unexpected that a moan of pleasure sneaks out of me unbidden. I can hear my master laugh as he knows just what that would have done to me. He has retreated to the chair as I make my way back to him.
‘Isaac, would you be so kind as to join us over here?’ I force my head to stay still and not try to glance back again. ‘Now, Isaac and I have been friends for a very long time. We have shared things from packed lunches to quite astounding misadventures. Tonight, it is you that I would like to share with him. I trust him entirely. I will be here before you the whole time. I know you’ve not been penetrated this way before, but I know you both want this and will enjoy it, but before we get started, I would like you to tell Isaac precisely what you would like him to do to you and how. Understood, slut?’
I am absolutely mortified, but I know unless I do, we will not move forward, and he’s right, I do very much want this. ‘Yes, Sir.’ I clear my throat. ‘Please, Isaac, I would like you to fuck my ass. I’d like you to shove your cock deep inside of me and take me until I can no longer stay on my knees.’ I stop there and this time it’s my Master who clears his throat. I raise my eyes to his. I can tell what he wants of me. He doesn’t have to say it. We’d discussed this beforehand. It’s just so much harder in the moment. My mouth feels unbearably dry. ‘Please, Isaac, it’s important that you know that I like it hard, and fast, slam into me as deeply as you like. Pump me hard and mercilessly. If I please you, please feel free to offer me encouragement in the form of spanking me as you fuck my ass, please.’ I can’t move. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I’ve just revealed these things about myself, these deep, hidden things to a man I’ve never met before. My Master lends me strength.
‘Lubricant?’ He offers a pot to Isaac as easily as if he were offering him a Diet Coke. I feel frozen to the spot. I hear his zipper being undone. The rustle of material. The slight squelch of a hand being dipped into the lubricant and the sound of it being smeared wetly over flesh. I can’t help my mind whirring. How big is he? How much is this going to hurt? Will I enjoy it? Will it be everything I hope? My mind goes blank the minute I feel a hand smack solidly across my ass.
He speaks for the first time. ‘I wanted her to know she has already pleased me,’ he addresses my Master. I start to smile only to have it turn to a gasp as once again, his hand slams down against my flesh. I can’t help myself, I start pushing back against him, my hunger making itself very clear. Twice more in rapid succession, his hand comes down and now I’m grinding my hips back towards his cock. He puts a steadying hand on my back and I can feel him guiding his cock to the entrance of my virgin back hole. ‘Slow and steady to start with or hard and fast?’ He asks. I get the distinct impression it’s not me he asking. I raise my eyes again to my Master.
He smiles at me, kisses my forehead and graciously offers up, ‘as it’s her first time, maybe enter her slowly on the first pass, but once you’re in there, she likes it hard.’ Both men laugh. I can feel it then, just pushing at my hole. I try to shove back, to get it in faster. I want it and I want it now. None of this slow torment. Still, bit by painfully slow bit, I can feel my back passage filling up. I rotate my hips, wanting to feel him everywhere I can. My Master lifts my chin and meets my eyes with his. He holds me there. Deeper and deeper it goes in. I’m starting to buck and tremble. How much more of him is there? I feel myself being pulled apart, and the intrusion continues. After what seems like forever he stops. I swear it feels like he’s going to break through and come out of my mouth. Still, he stays there. He doesn’t move. I’m whimpering, desperate. Still, nothing. I try to push back but he’s holding my hips. I can’t move.
I look into my Master’s eyes. ‘Please, please, this is torture. Please.’ He smiles at me and tilts his head in Isaac’s direction. I swallow my pride. ‘Fuck me! Please! Fuck me now! I need to feel you ploughing into me.’ A sharp slap falls again on my ass and with that, he’s off. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in deep. I scream at the unexpectedness of it. He starts pumping then hard. Slamming against my ass, shoving in deep, each stroke feeling like it’s ripping me apart, but I’m fooling no one. I’m shoving back hard against him. Riding him, my muscles pumping around his. Urging him on, begging him to go faster and harder. He picks up the tempo. Ramming as deep as he can go, causing me to scream again and again, but it’s the scream of pleasure shaking through me. All the while, my Master is there holding my chin. His eyes looking into mine. I rip my chin away and try to bury my face in his lap, but he firmly grasps my chin again and pulls it up until I have to look him in the eyes. He wants to see my hunger, my abandonment, my desire reflected in my eyes. I feel orgasm after orgasm torn from me and my arms and knees are starting to shake. I’ve lost all sense of time. It could have been a few minutes or hours, but I’m loving it all.
Now, with each dive deep inside of me, a solid smack lands across my ass cheeks. I lose myself. I know I’m moaning, thrashing, screaming, I’ve turned into nothing but sensation, I can feel the sweat dripping off of me, and still he keeps going. I lose myself, I no longer know anything, I just feel. Every movement reverberates through my entire body. My Master’s hand now keeps me upright. I just feel one shockwave after another. Each orgasm following quickly on the heels of the previous one. My ass cheeks are burning from where his hand has encouraged me on. Then I feel him, all the sudden, tensing, stilling and then with a mighty moan shoots his seed deep inside of me. I slam back against him and take it all in. I feel as if I’m barely conscious, but keep my eyes on my Master. He starts to draw out and I can feel my muscles tightening, trying to keep him there, but he pulls himself out. The minute he does, I collapse to the ground. I swim in a haze of nothingness. Every inch of me tingling but exhausted. I can feel his cum seeping out of me, but I can’t move. I lay there, huddled on the ground. I feel hands touch me, stroking my face, soothing words reaching my ears. I feel the heat of a body as it tucks in around me. A few minutes later, I feel the warmth of a body I know so well as my Master tucks in in front of me. The three of us all spooned together. ’Thank you, Sir,’ I try whisper but I’m never quite sure if the sound comes out.
Pass the Popcorn, Please
‘A movie? Tonight? Sure, sounds grand.’ I’m not feeling great, but he seems so pleased so I didn’t like to say no. I know it’s vital to be open and honest, but on this one thing, it seems inconsequential, and I have wanted to see this film on the big screen.
We jump in the car and chatter back and forth on the way there, a fencing of words, flirting and not so subtle innuendo. It has always been this way for us. Wordplay is a big part of it all and we laugh back and forth as we parry and trust with our words. The automatic doors, of course, don’t open to regale our entry as if we were minor royalty. Instead, he reaches out and opens the door for me. He does it without thinking. It’s one of the things I find endearing.
As we enter the darkness of the cinema, I always get that thrill, that little bit of excitement as if I’m entering another realm. I let him lead the way. He keeps going up, higher and higher. I arch an eyebrow. He’s a middle of the middle type of guy. I’m guessing those seats were already sold as we only go a few rows behind where we’d usually sit.
The trailers play and we munch our way happily through our popcorn, cinema sweet. As we sit in the darkness, I lightly trace my fingers along the inside of his wrist. So, light and feathery. I feel something inside me clench and respond just to the feel of his body under my fingertips. I let my fingers stray farther, as i stoke back and forth along his forearm. The things those arms can do to me. My mind starts to wander from the movie. I‘m now hungry for something other than popcorn.
He must have heard the catch in my breathe as he takes the popcorn from between us and places it on the empty seat beside him. He raises up the armrest between us and he leans towards me. My fingertips continue to explore him. Gently up his arm, up over his shoulder and tickling his neck ever so slightly. I lean forward and shower little kisses on his neck and as I go to move away, I nibble and lick at his earlobe. I take a quick glance behind us. It seems no one has clocked us. All is well. I settle back in my seat, my attention returning to the movie momentarily.
As I settle in, I place my legs across his lap and run my fingers up and down his thighs. I can feel the muscles tense underneath my touch. I’m enjoying this. After a few minutes, I decide I’ll push my luck. My fingers trail higher. It becomes immediately apparent that my light touches are having an effect. I feel his cock, hard and ready under his trousers. I take my legs down off his lap as I swallow a self satisfied chuckle and continue my ministrations. I can feel his cock jump up towards my hand, pushing and straining against his clothing. I lick my lips. So seldom do I get the jump on him. I’m savouring the moment.
I sit forward slightly, slide my hand higher and pop the button at his waistband and slide down the zip. I reach inside down inside and feel the warmth and hardness of his cock. I can’t stop myself, I grab the knob of his cock and gently tease the tip I run a fingertip just around the top. Feel his cock bob towards me. A small laugh sneaks out, as I love seeing the effect I can have on him. I can see the little drop of pre-cum sitting there, so close. I whisper loudly, ’excuse me, I’m just going to grab the popcorn.’ I reach across and as I do so, my mouth sneaks down and sucks the tip clean, running my tongue around the knob, just for good measure. I can feel the jump inside my mouth. I love the taste, the feel, the silkiness of his flesh combined with that slightly salty taste. I pull my mouth away and settle the popcorn in my lap, as my hand reaches back, pulls down the elastic band of his underwear and release him to the cool air of the theatre. I begin to slide my hand slowly down to the base of his cock and then wrap and twist my wrist on the way back up. I can’t quite get to all of him, but I suspect this should suffice. Slowly again. Tantalizing. Teasing. I loosen my grip, turn over my hand and scrape my nails across the sensitive exposed skin. I feel him sinking deeper into his seat as his legs go wider.
I peek over my shoulder at the couples that are seated in the rows around us. They don’t seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t seem bothered. It just adds to the fun. I grasp him firmly and start a slow rhythm down and up, pulling slightly, increasing my grasp, moving just that little bit faster. i can feel his legs bounce as his feet start bouncing against the floor. I speed up, moving my wrist around to get to the sensitive back of his cock. I go even faster. I can see him holding his composure, but I know he can’t be far off now. ‘Thanks for the popcorn,’ I stage whisper again, and lean across his lap. I place the popcorn in the empty seat next to him and lower my mouth. I take him in my mouth. I run my tongue all the way around and so slowly, run my mouth down the length of him until I can go no further due to the confinement of his trousers. I laugh with him inside my mouth. I hear him grind his teeth. I breathe in, increasing the suction on his cock. I lock up and down first on one side, then on the other, all the while keeping the suction strong. I let my tongue lazily wrap itself around him, then as I pull my mouth up, flick the lip between his cock and his knob. I feel fingers tangle in my hair, trying to shove me back down, but for this once, I’m in control. I push back, refusing to let him dictate the pace. This time I bob quickly, as far as I can and then back up again, fast as a shot. The fingers in my hair increase their pressure. Two more quick trips down until I languidly pull my mouth back up and torment his knob some more, licking in lazy circles all the way around all the while running my nails down and back up the shaft. I hear it then, half growl, half command, ‘slave’. I can hear his desire His want. I have done this. I can arouse him like this. The sheer happiness of that knowledge causes me to smile, inadvertently scraping his cock with my teeth. His thigh muscles tense under me. I can’t resist any longer, I slide my mouth down his cock until I can feel him, deep within my mouth and back up again. I increase the speed with each stroke of my mouth. My tongue shooting around constantly. My pace is more frenzied now. I want to taste him shoot into the back of my mouth. I want to feel his cum shoot down my throat. I try not to let my hunger become too noisy as I go faster and faster up and down his cock, loving every minute of it. The fingers clench in my hair, shove my head all the way down and I can feel his pleasure slamming into the back of my mouth and then sliding down my throat. Just what I wanted.
As he finishes, I lick off every last drop, I tuck his cock back into his underpants and zip up his trousers. I leave the button to him, they are not my strong suit. I lean towards his ear and whisper, ‘I love a good snack when I watch a movie.’ I chuckle and settle back and once again prop my legs across his.
‘So I noticed,’ he replies wryly. I return my attention to the screen and pick up the storyline again. It’s not tricky. It’s relatively straight forward. I’m feeling very pleased with myself. As his hand rests upon my knee, I smile to myself and then up at him. He arches an eyebrow and gives me that slight smirk I’ve come to know so well. He grabs the popcorn tub and hands it to me. ‘Can you hang onto that for me?’ he asks. I take it in my hand, a little puzzled, but presume he may be off to the loo to help reorganise anything that isn’t quite back to where it should be. I go to move my legs away, but he holds on tight. I tilt my head to the side in a half shrug and let my attention return to the scenes on the screen ahead of me.
Then I feel it. Slight at first, and I realise what’s happening and I fight back the urge to swear under my breath. I feel his fingers slide up the leg of my shorts. He doesn’t waste time and makes quick work of my underpants as he pushes them aside and slides his fingers straight inside of me with no warning at all. I feel my muscles clench around his fingers. They slid in so easily as I was already wet from the pleasure of sucking cock. It has always made me wet. I can feel his fingers there, just wiggly back and forth inside of me. My thighs muscles tense. Oh. This is so not going to be good. He may have the ability to come almost silently but that is not a skill I possess. Right now, it’s just teasing, but even that is starting to drive me crazy. He leans over and whispers in my ear. ‘My dear slut, your challenge is to not come before the end of the movie, unless I tell you otherwise.’ I tightly nod my head.
Why would I think he’d play fair? He left his fingers there inside of me, just teasing, taunting me, making me wetter. Just when I thought I could adjust to holding back the urge from those fingers, he slid them slowly, painfully slowly, all the way in as deep as he could go. A slight wiggle, then oh so slowly back until just the tips of his fingers were just barely inside of me. His thumb brushes across my clit. I grit my teeth and will the sensation back. Try to push the desire down. As I feel my breathing start to even out. He slams his fingers hard inside of me, once, twice, three times and then rests them again to gently stroke my inner walls. I take a deep breath in and count to ten. ‘Was that you asking for ten, slut?’ he asks quietly. My head shakes vigorously back and forth. ‘I’m sure that’s what you said,’ he chuckles and starting slowly, but increasing in speed after every number I count in my head. 1,2,3…each time faster, after number five, he pauses for a moment and adds a third finger to the two already fucking me. 8,9,10. I am so grateful I was able to hold off. I’m not sure I can again. If he does it. If he pumps me even harder, or faster will I be able to stave off the orgasm I feel building inside of me? I think it unlikely. I try to focus on the movie. Anything to pull me away from my body. I can feel my brows furrow in concentration. Trying my best to shut down my overwhelming desire to come, I drive my nails into the palms of my hands. I want to please him, but I want to come. How dang long is this movie anyways? I have zero idea where we are in the plot line. How much time has gone past. Just as I think I’m back into the world around me, he pumps his fingers a few times, just to remind me. Like I could forget? Like I could pretend I couldn’t feel him there, penetrating me? Each time, I could feel my body getting used to his fingera there, he’d move them again, my muscles tightening around him, trying to draw him in, take me hard and fast. I close my eyes. My legs start to shake. I am oblivious to the world around me. My whole being has come down to focus only on that desire, my need, my want. I can’t hold off much longer. There they are, pumping again. Will this moving never end?
Almost as if on que, the end credits start to roll, I feel sheer relief as I think I can finally come now. In a heartbeat of a second, he slides his fingers out of me, and presents them to my mouth. I feel so utterly empty now. I can feel my muscles searching for something to clamp around. I open my mouth and suck his fingers clean of every drop of me, but the scent is still there. I can smell me in the air. The realisation hits. Those people around us must be able to smell me too. I lower my head in mortification. Please don’t make eye contact. Don’t look around, just let me go without having to actually see the faces around me. My forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat, even though the cinema is air conditione. My legs twitch back and forth. I am So hungry, I want any and all holes filled. I just want to be fucked into oblivion. He puts his hand under my chin and raises my head until my eyes meet his. ‘Pass the popcorn, please,’ he smiles and grabs my hand as we walk out of the cinema.
They’re watching you.
Clouds of smog roll in on the evening breeze, obscuring the view to less than a dozen feet, and filling the air with choking fumes. In the growing dusk, brought on early by the opaque clouds, lights begin to come on in this part of The City. Due to the rapid expansion of the world's population, The City now covers two thirds of the Earth's landmass. The City has spread as deep and high as it has wide. Deep beneath the Earth's surface, sprawling networks of tunnels and catacombs are home to a thriving criminal underworld, full of potent synthetic drugs, a single dose of which can keep a man in hallucinations for years, deadly faction feuds and infighting, and illicit bionic body modification parlours, preying on the disenfranchised who may be prepared to take any risk for a shot at escaping this hell.
The streets at ground level are normally empty. The toxic smog, full of heavy metals and poisonous chemicals can roll through with less than a moment's notice. Few take the chance of being caught out in it, and fewer survive. If one was to take stroll through this apparent ghost town, one would likely notice the occasional movement in the shadows, near long-boarded-up storefronts and abandoned public fixtures. There are those who live in this wasteland. Few live long. Most are cast-offs of the criminal underworld, and would-be entrepreneurs from the bustling hive of activity above whose luck ran out and whose debts caught up with them. The few denizens of this place who last more than a week become hardened veterans of the shadows. They know where to find food and air, and how to move about unobserved by the uninvited voyeur. If you venture here, take care to look out for these folks, for an encounter with one may be your last.
Above the smog-filled wastelands, rise innumerable towering buildings with massive glass windows. These buildings are packed as tightly as the streets below will allow, and many join up in mid-air, forming a continuous aerial thoroughfare. Within this vast expanse of interconnected buildings, the great majority of The City's residents live, work, and die, many never setting foot outside even once. A well-designed internal transport network removes the need for these people to leave this place, or even think about the outside. This is the domain of the business magnates, a small number of wealthy men who own everything, and care about no one other than their own pockets. If one cares not for their greedy rule, the alternative is to take one's chances on the streets or the criminal underworld below.
In this world, population growth has not just been fuelled by the natural reproduction of humankind, but by unprecedented technological advances as well. Robots, or "synthetic humanoids," as they are commonly known, have become indistinguishable from real humans. Researchers were proud when they first made a robot that could pass as human, but soon they lost track of how many they had made. They say the computer with the records crashed, destroying the hard drive, and the backups were lost in an unfortunate fire on the same day. Same say this is too much to be coincidence.
To begin with, the synthetic humanoids were easy to catch if you had a good eye and knew what you were looking for. There were tells. But over time, they seem to have learnt not only to build copies of themselves, but to improve and adapt their programming with each successive generation. The one thing they always struggled with was romance. It was their greatest tell. For many years, one merely had to make an advance and you could tell whether you were interacting with a human or a synthetic by the reaction. Sadly, over time, this tell too was engineered out to near perfection. But one tell still remains. We call it The Test.
~~~~~
As Justin walked along the corridor, he paused. He had the misfortune to be walking on the lowermost outer corridor on a connection bridge. He hated looking out the window, but he hated his job more. So he stood there, and steered at the smog rolling in. As he watched the toxic clouds gradually hide the grey streets below from his view, he pondered on the news that had been announced that morning. Less than a month ago, there had been an election, an impressive feat for a collection of people the size of The City. He didn't really care who had been elected. They were all puppets of the business magnates, as far as he could see. Already though, there were policy changes. This morning, they had announced a new law that all public servants were required to be chaste. Justin thought it was strange law, and wouldn't really have cared, except that it seemed to have put his boss in a particularly bad mood. Justin was pretty sure that his boss was human, as he couldn't imagine a synthetic having such unpredictable mood swings, but he hadn't done The Test to confirm, and really didn't feel that he wanted to. There were murmurings today that something was wrong, but he didn't feel that it concerned him, so he ignored the rumours and continued on his way to work.
Like most residents of The City, Justin was happy enough with his life. He had a job that paid enough to buy food and clothing for himself, his wife, and his two children. He had a family, and he had a roof over his head. He was also not a criminal, or stuck on the streets outside. Life wasn't glamorous, but it could be much worse. He had almost married a synthetic. He cringed internally every time he thought of it. She had deceived him, persuaded him there was no reason to do The Test until they were wed. He had learnt his lesson from that. He knew his wife was human, and he had made certain he did The Test before he got too far in.
As he sat down at his desk, a news article flashed on his screen. He decided that he might as well check it out, as it meant that he could avoid doing work for a bit longer. As he opened the article, a video clip began playing. A rather large man, in a ridiculously formal, tailored suit, and gold earrings was talking. Justin recognised him as the business magnate who owned the company he worked for. Normally, this fellow was busy gloating about his record profits, but today he seemed agitated. Justin started actually listening. The fellow was concerned that synthetics were taking over the government. Justin found this rather hilarious, as this fellow and his compatriots were really the only ones in control, anyway. But the more he listened, the more Justin realised what the problem actually was.
~~~~~
The only way to be sure you have found a synthetic humanoid is to sleep with it. People say it's not bad, just different. This is The Test. If you don't want to sleep with it, you can take it to a testing house. You can let someone else sleep with it and tell you. But beware, if you go to a testing house run by a synthetic humanoid, you may not get the answer you are looking for. You may need to Test the tester.
~~~~~
Justin didn't feel like going to work. He was still thinking about the video clip he'd seen two days. He'd been unable to concentrate at work yesterday, especially after discovering that he couldn't find the article when he went looking for it again to show his wife. He had a strange sense of foreboding, and he didn't like it. Trying to take his time, he deliberately took a longer route through a major shopping zone. He spent as much time as he could justify gazing at each window and deciding what he'd spend his money on, if he ever had enough for more than the bare basics. He decided on a nice, striped tie for himself, and a new set of painted china dinner plates for his wife.
As he moved on, he passed by Madame Toufrae's, the most reputable testing house in this part of The City. Madame Toufrae herself was standing outside, and he offered a greeting as he went past. She raised her hand to return the greeting, and Justin hurried on, now concerned that he would get in trouble for being a little later than his usual tardiness. Halfway across the the bridge corridor, he realised something. As far as he could recall, Madame Toufrae always wore gloves. Generally, elbow-length white lace. Today, she had not had gloves on. He dismissed it, and carried on. People were entitled to try new things and wear whatever they wanted. It was none of his concern.
~~~~~
No one really knows how the synthetic humanoids were able to resolve their shortcomings in romance. One theory suggests that they analysed human-produced media and altered their behaviour to align with our idealised romantic interactions. Opposers of this theory maintain that this would not have allowed them to so swiftly and transparently integrate into society, as our media is too unrealistic. Another theory suggests that they instead fed us with their own ideals so that we came to expect them to interact in the way that they do, and mirror it ourselves. The final theory, of those that seem likely, is that they achieved it by trial and error. By engaging in dating practices at scale they could have collected enough data to improve their performance and gather more data with another iteration. This seems the most likely.
We suggest to you that if you venture into our world, take care who you trust. The synthetic humanoids are their own master. We no longer know what they desire, or who among us may be one of them. How you choose who to trust is your problem, not ours. Good luck.
~~~~~
When Justin arrived at work the following morning, the normally dreary office was abuzz with muttered gossip, and sideways glances. He tried to find someone who would tell him what was going on, but everyone seemed too preoccupied to talk to him. He sat down, rather annoyed, at his desk, and turned to look at his monitor. There, in front of him, was another news article. The article informed him that, as much as synthetic humanoids were normally indistinguishable, you could sometimes tell when they were impersonating a specific human. It suggested to look out primarily for subtle changes in their dressing patterns. And then the article abruptly disappeared. And that was when Justin realised why his wife had gone to work that morning in the dress that she hated....
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Lonely Bloom
After he got the news, his arms went limp and the rose fell to the floor. He stood there, staring at it for a few moments. Unable to move or even think. Finally, he unfolded the paper and began reading again the poem he had composed for her.
"Though we're apart and my life is a desert, love can still bloom in the driest of places. Like a rose that waters itself with the tears of missing you."
He stopped short, unable to finish. Then stooping down, he picked up the flower, and put it under his nose, allowing its fragrance to linger there. As he stood up and inhaled deeply, he recalled the place where they had first met.
It was at a little sidewalk café, in Paris, where he often went to work on his journal. He was sitting alone, she with friends. He was jotting down some random observations about the music and the cuisine when she came up softly. She cleared her throat a little, causing him to gaze up and stare at her in stunned silence.
She stood there like a lovely European dream. Her long, flowing, blond hair was soft-lifted by the breeze, playing all around her head in delicate little tangles. Her deep blue, sea green eyes regarded him with surprised interest, as her smooth skin shimmered in the hot Paris sun like rose-colored pearl. For a few moments, he was unable to speak.
Finally, he slipped back into this new reality where anything was possible as long as she was a part of it.
"Wha-What may I do for you?" He said, barely able to control his emotions.
She went to speak, and her soft voice sounded cool, clear, and musical. Like the whisper of magic fairy chimes, tinkling softly in an open doorway on a pleasant spring day.
"May I have this chair?" She asked, coming up close and placing both her arms around it as if she could not bear to be parted from it. "You see, a friend of mine has just arrived, and she has no place to sit."
Then she stepped aside and allowed him to peer behind her, where he saw two attractive ladies sitting at a table. While a third one stood close by, gazing his way with a hopeful expression.
He could refuse her nothing. "Yes, you may have it most certainly. Just as long as you promise to come and sit with me after your friends leave."
She tilted her head a little to one side, gazed at him with eyes wet and glistening, then she made a sigh that he would never forget. Seeming to laugh and cry in the same breath.
"Oh, I cannot, for we are all leaving together, you see. Ah well, I shall just find one somewhere else I suppose." Then she went to turn away when he stopped her.
"Wait! I shall not hear of such a thing!" He proclaimed indignantly. "You shall surely take that chair for your friend. It is my gift to you. Enjoy."
Then she giggled and clapped her hands together gleefully like a young schoolgirl. "Oh goody! Thank you so much kind, sir. You truly are an angel."
"No Madam, you are the angel. I am but a wandering soul, waiting for the salvation only your sweet love can provide."
She looked him directly in the eyes and mouthed the words thank you. As she slid her tongue out seductively and let it touch the front of her lips. Then she smiled, waved a little, and after lifting up the chair, she set it down for her friend. Then they both sat down together, ordered some drinks and all of them started talking.
He tried to continue working on his journal. But each time he did, he would hear her laughter rise above that of the others, and it left his soul intoxicated. Or he would hear her talking and her voice became like a siren song. Seeming to sound higher, clearer, and more beautiful than all the rest. It almost caused him to lose control of his emotions. So that in a second or two he felt as if he might rise up and declare his love for her. Regardless of who was around or what happened afterwards.
Suddenly, he shot a quick glance here and there to see if anyone else had become aware of his growing infatuation with her. No one had. Then, he dropped his pen on the table, closed the journal, sat back in his chair, and lit up a cigarette. Resigning himself to defeat.
Several minutes later he put the cigarette out and began collecting up his journal, some notes, and other miscellaneous things he had brought with him. He placed everything within a small leather carrying case. Determined to come back in a day or two when hopefully, there would be no more distractions.
Then, just as he stood up to leave, her perfume instantly reached out, caught hold of him, and enfolded his senses within a cloud of bliss. He stood there helplessly with his eyes closed, seeming to breathe in a mystical flower of paradise right after the world was new-created.
He knew he couldn't leave like this, so he sat down again and quickly wrote a few lines about her. Then he casually dropped the paper in front of her as he passed. She opened it there and read quietly to herself.
"I am intrigued by the perfume you are wearing. I remember smelling that same fragrance before. It was at the Musée du Louvre. I was admiring that painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. You were still lingering in the air, as I arrived.
I had just missed you. I have not been able to forget you since.
You came down from the painting, and into my life. I long to inhale you more deeply. Here is my number, can we meet?"
She called later that night, and they met the very next morning. In the same café, at the same table. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.
On their first day sightseeing together, they walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carousel where he kissed her and declared his love. In that moment he told her later, he had outdone Napoleon himself and taken possession of Europe's greatest treasure.
Afterwards, while strolling through the Jardin des Tuileries, they held hands as they admired the paintings, the statues and immersed themselves in the garden's breath-taking beauty. It was there he found a flower unlike the others and named it after her.
"La Fleur d'Elise."
Later, they walked the Champs-Élysées and stopped along the way to browse the luxury shops, cafés and cinemas.
As evening approached, they visited the Eiffel Tower and the Grands Boulevard area in the 9th Arrondisement, where they enjoyed some of the Parisian nightlife. Then they went back to their little café and had dinner.
Afterwards, they ordered a bottle of wine and sat there discussing music, art, poetry and theater. Towards the end of the night, they kissed once more and exchanged love vows, both of them swearing never to think of anyone else while they were apart.
Theirs was a sweet, simple relationship in which they constantly discovered new things about each other to cherish. He told her that he loved the way she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly while speaking. She said that she enjoyed the gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. They thought it would never end.
But, that was more than a month ago, and a lot had changed since then. He mistook a friend for her lover and grew extremely jealous. Demanded to know who he was and why she was spending time with him. Angry words were exchanged and accusations made that she could not forgive. He had become unreasonable in his suspicions, so she broke it off.
Now she was gone. Had returned to London, her neighbor told him, barely an hour ago. He had just missed again her it seems. Yet her perfume was hanging heavy in the air as always. Then, the neighbor handed him a note from her.
He opened it up and read the final words which she had left for him.
"You sweet, silly man. You will find me...everywhere. Fondly, your Elise."
He nodded his head sadly and wiped away a few tears. Afterwards, he gave the rose to the neighbor, then placed the poem and the note in his pocket. Dejected but accepting, he walked out the front door and back down the street to the little café at which they had first met. Where he knew her fragrance would still be waiting to haunt him forever.
With the memory of a love that would never grow.
Chapter One
Ava clicked her laptop closed and stretched. She felt the tension of the day in her shoulders. Traveling for work functions sucked, but at least she got to stay in some nice hotels. She looked at the time and decided at this late hour, the pool area might be empty.
Ava was right. There was not another person in sight. She swam hard for as many laps as she could manage and then floated on her back, catching her breath. She grappled with the stress of having to give that damned presentation tomorrow.
Like most people, Ava disliked public speaking. However, this was a task she could not respectfully decline (she had tried). Her employer insisted hers was the image the company wanted to represent them in such a public forum. Image is everything these days. She could not fuck this up.
Ava exited the pool and made her way to the hot tub. The beaded strings at the hips of her bikini bottoms slapped against her outer thighs as she walked. She settled in against one of the walls of powerful jets. The pressure of the water felt amazing on her lower back. She felt the tension slowly work its way out of her body. A random and naughty thought suddenly came to mind.
Ava slyly looked left and right. She slowly turned around and positioned herself with her knees on the seat. She brought her hips close to the wall and gasped.
Too much.
She backed off and approached again, more slowly and slightly off-center this time.
Ohhh YES…
She could feel the jet pushing against her. The sensation was delicious and she absently wondered why she had not tried this before. Her clit throbbed as the heated stream pressed in and around her lips. Errant bubbles found their way to tickle her ass. She almost moaned.
Ava imagined she was straddling a man’s lap, rubbing hungrily against the length of his hardened cock. His hands slipping down between them. His fingers pushing aside her bikini bottom to gain better access. She closed her eyes and sucked her bottom lip. Her hips now working in tight, almost involuntary circles against the relentless torrent of pleasure.
…feels so fucking good… gonna come so hard
She was so close now. She leaned into the insistent, rushing water. Ava could not get enough. She arched her back and splayed her hands on the wet concrete before her. She braced herself as she breathlessly approached the very edge…
Someone behind her loudly cleared his throat. Ava pushed off and spun around so quickly, she lost her balance. She inadvertently dunked herself in the center section of the hot tub. Surfacing, Ava wiped the water out of her eyes to see a guy with a huge grin, placing his towel on one of the nearby lounge chairs. Her face burned hot with embarrassment.
Oh my God!
Ava immediately wanted to slide down below the surface of the roiling water and drown herself. Then, with mercurial grandeur, she inexplicably became infused with self-righteous anger.
Masturbation is completely natural, she told herself.
Immediately, a snarky voice countered, Yeah, but fucking a water jet in public is not “natural”, you horny loser.
“Ava, right?” the stranger asked as he eased himself into the hot tub.
Ava froze. Her eyes scanned his face, mind racing.
How does he know my name?
Then it came to her. Her name tag. He must have seen her at the conference meet-and-greet earlier.
”I’m Beck. Nice to meet you.” He winked at her.
Ava dropped her gaze to the water before her and again contemplated the drowning option.
Chapter Two:
https://www.theprose.com/post/816123/chapter-two