Blistered Lips

She is watching you. You feel her eyes, lasers watching every move, every nuance, even the breaths you take. Yes, you paid her for this. To be here, to make you do this. But she is enjoying it. She likes her work. She likes making you do this dirty deed. This realization excites you.

You are on your knees in an alley off Garfield street. Not a very nice neighborhood. You can hear the music, the noise of the crowd from the biker bar on the corner. “Soon they will come,” she says. The gravel crunches as she moves closer, cupping your chin, pulling your face up to look at her. She studies you, stares into your eyes, her mouth a twist of a smile and a sneer.

“What do you say?”

You heart quickens in your chest. You know what she wants to hear. You swallow. You aren’t quick enough. She slaps you. Slaps you hard with her leather gloved fingers.

“Say it, you dirty, fucking, piece of shit scumbag.”

“I am a cunt-fag, Sir. Use me.”

“That’s more like it. And I expect you to say it every time. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She starts to raise her hand and this time you know better. “Yes, Mistress.”

You think of the hotel room on the other side of town. The business conference you spoke at this afternoon. The wife. The three children. The birthday dinner at your in-laws last week. Your woodshop. I’m a normal guy, you think to yourself. With a normal life, a good life, a happy life. Yet, here you are on your knees when two guys stumble out from the bar and turn into the alley.

You watch them wallking towards you, leather vests, tight jeans. One of them, the one with the beard, is already unzipping his pants.

Echo, Mistress Echo, grabs your shoulder.

“Here comes dinner,” she says tightening her grip. “Now lets get busy.”

pretty things
the things that make us dream
and pray and sing and dance

this is you

my prettiest thing of all

i shall drape you ’round my neck
or wind you through the tresses of my hair
or smooth you like lotion into my skin

you will be the blush that tints
the sovereign scent
the sun-hued tan
the one true smile line
the pink scar that fades not ever
the birth bruise that stays forever

and i will be a pretty thing
your pretty thing
the pretty thing we made together

I am watching you watching her. You aren’t even aware of me as you press your arm against your crotch, thinking nobody will see. Just a little rub. Ahhh.

But I see.

You waited there at the fountain watching her shop. Waited until she finally bent over to retrieve her dropped sunglasses. The flash of her white panties. That was what you were waiting for.

I wonder how often you do that. Waiting to see if you will get a little peek. A peek at something you can’t have.

Because you’re a pervert. A wreck of a little man that can’t get laid. Aren’t you?

How many pairs have you stolen? I know you have. Your sisters? Your aunts? Perhaps you watched a friend’s house while he vacationed and rummaged though his wife’s hamper? Finding a soiled pair at the bottom, then masturbating as you sniffed the still-moist crotch.

Pathetic little wanker, aren’t you? But I can almost understand. Because that’s about as close as you’ll ever get to pussy, isn’t it?

Well?

So, I’m looking at him.

Handsome, with smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, like thirty-something men tend to sport. Always makes a man, a confident man, look even sexier. Of course, he knows that. What he doesn’t know is that I am thinking about how long it will take to break him. Because that is what I do, after all.  He doesn’t know that yet. But he will.

He’s sent the waitress over with a martini and now sits at the bar awaiting my invitation. A smile in his direction would be his cue to saunter over, then do his little mating ritual. Be charming, sweep this little damsel off her feet, bed her, fuck her. That is how it usually goes for him and so he expects it.

Instead, I push aside the martini and have the waitress bring me what he is drinking. His eyebrow lifts as he watches her place the gibson in front of me. He thinks it flirtatious and cute, his cocked grin says.

I move my chair out a bit, turning towards him. He watches as I open my legs slightly and slide my hand up under the hem of my black dress. The look on his face says that, while this isn’t in his well-worn playbook, he likes it. He likes it a lot.

I let my legs fall open and slide my hand under my panties. I watch him watching me as I begin masturbating. Even from this distance I can see his prick pressing against the fly of his gabardine trousers. I can see his adam’s apple move as he swallows, the slight flair of his nostrils. He thinks he imagines my scent. But it is real, because I want it to be.

I take the gibson and bring it down to my crotch. He watches intently as I glide my fingers out from under my panties and hold them over the drink. Milky dew slips from my fingertips and into the gin and vermouth mixture, causing the two pearl onions to slightly shift.

He is mine. The rules have changed. He knows it. I always knew it. This is a new script and I am the one writing it.

you will kneel for her
breathe her nectar
worship her flesh

crawl to serve
live to serve
die to serve

you are her warrior prince
her captive
her nursemaid
her cocksmith
her whipping post

you will bow to her
her voice is music
her touch is baptism

give her your life
live to give all
die to give all

you are her manservant
her dark star
her touchstone
her birthright
her blessed one

you will cry for her
endure for her always
belong to her only

be everything for her
live to be everything
die to be everything

you are her favored slave
her rocketeer
her manboy
her prerogative
her choice

Drink this.

What is it?

It’s a vitamin drink, silly boy. Don’t you trust me?

Yes, but what’s if for?

It’s good for you. Just drink it and quit arguing.

Are you sure?

Oh, stop being so paranoid, and drink the fucking stuff.

Ok. There. Are you happy now?

Very. Here, let me take the glass and put it in the dishwasher. How are you feeling?

Ok, I guess. Why? What did you put in that drink?

I told you it was just vitamins.

Why is it so cold in here?

That’s just a side effect. It will go away soon.

Side effect? From what? What was in that drink?

Quit worrying about that. Remember when you missed my birthday party because you were out with Brad and Carl?

Yes. I told you I was sorry.

You did. And remember when I asked you to pick up my sister’s books from school when she was sick and you forgot? And she ended up having to retake the test? And almost had to retake the entire semester?

Yes. That was a real fuck-up. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.

Yes, you said so at the time.

I must be losing weight. Look at how loose the waistband of these jeans are. Funny, I didn’t notice it when I put them on.

Never mind that. Remember when you told me you were fishing with your dad and I found out later that you were at Mary Theresa’s party?

Nothing happened. I told you that.

Yes, you did. But you lied. I had lunch with Kelly today and she told me exactly what happened at Mary Theresa’s party.

She’s lying. You know how she is.

She is not lying. You are lying. And you are doing something else, also.

Did you see that? I crossed my leg and my sneaker fell off. What the fuck?

I said you are doing something else. Do you want to know what?

What are you talking about?

You’re shrinking.

Get out of here. You’re crazy.

No, dear. I figured since you were such a small man in the ways that count, you might as well look the part. Look behind you. Your head isn’t even reaching the back of the sofa anymore.

This is crazy. It’s some kind of joke.

No, it’s perfectly real and isn’t going to stop. I gave you a very special vitamin drink.

Ok, then. I just won’t drink any more of that shit.

You will. Because very soon your stomach will cramp. It will cramp bad. The only antidote will be more of the vitamin drink.

Are you fucking crazy?

No, not at all. Here, let me help you down from the couch and we’ll go see the cute little crib I bought for you. Pretty soon you will be sleeping in it.

Hello?

It took you five rings to answer the telephone. Is that acceptable?

No, Mistress. I was getting the mail and forgot to take the extension phone with me. I’m sorry.

I am very busy running a real estate office here, Thomas. I don’t have time for your fuck-ups. Two Rings! The rules are clear.

Yes, Mistress.

Have you had your nut juice popsicle?

Yes, Mistress. Exactly at Noon, just like you said. Thank you.

And did you wear your pink sissy bloomers to the mail box?

Yes, Mistress. I think the paperboy saw me. It was very embarrassing.

And the ironing? Have you finished it yet?

I have two more of your blouses to do and that will be it, Mistress.

So the iron is still plugged in, correct?

Oh, Mistress, please, no.

Get the iron, Thomas. Now.

Yes, Mistress.

Are you ready, Thomas?

Yes, Mistress.

Pull your right testicle out of the right leg of your sissy bloomers.

Ohhhh…

Right now. Do it.

Yes, Mistress.

Now place the bottom of the iron on that testicle, Thomas. Hold it there while I count to three. Don’t dare take it off. And don’t you dare scream.

Yes, Mistress.

One. Two. Three. Are you crying, Thomas?

Yes, Mistress.

Good. Do you think you will answer the phone within two rings the next time I call?

Yes, Mistress. I have learned my lesson. You were right to punish me. I was very stupid and I am so sorry.

Go finish the ironing. And prepare dinner for two this evening. I will be bringing home a guest.

Yes, Mistress.

Ok, I will see you later then.

Mistress?

Yes, what is it?

I love you.

“Kerrie Marie, come in here right now.”

You shift in your chair at the kitchen table, staring at the book in front of you. Dee Dee is pissed. And when Dee Dee is angry, she spanks. She spanks hard. You know first hand, because you’ve felt the wrath of her open palm and more than a few of her many implements more than once. And Dee Dee is very angry at Kerrie Marie.

“You might as well take your medicine and get it over with,” Dee Dee continues, “because if you don’t, I will spank you twice as hard.”

Although Kerrie Marie is just in the next room –both you and Dee Dee can hear her soft wimpering– Dee Dee doesn’t go after her. Instead she opens the Naughty Closet as she continues to talk in that subdued tone. Out of the corner of your eye you watch her eyeing the various implements hidden there.

“I think your disobedience today requires a rather special sort of punishment, Kerrie Marie.”

Because the cupboard’s open door blocks your view and you don’t dare act interested, you cannot see what Dee Dee is holding, but you do see the look on her face. The way she bites at the corner of her mouth, the hint of a grin playing around it’s edges: Dee Dee has a new toy and she is going to relish using it on Kerrie Marie’s tight little tush.

“There you are, little one.”

Kerrie Marie is standing at the kitchen doorway, hands behind her back, eyes downcast. Her small breasts, held by the purple spandex of the tank top Dee Dee chose for her this morning, are quivering. Dee Dee has turned from the Naughty Closet and is holding a long, thin wirey thing. She wiggles it and you see that it is actually three-pronged. She smiles at Kerrie Marie.

“Are you ready to take your medicine like a big girl?”

“Yes, Miss Dee Dee. I will take my medicine.”

“Do you see what I have?”

Dee Dee swipes the air with her new toy and it makes a crisp swishing sound. Kerrie Marie’s eyes visibly widen, her long lashes fluttering. She takes in a deep breath, but it catches in her throat, making a sound like swallowed sob.

“Yes,” Dee Dee smiles, “this certainly is a nice addition to the Naughty Closet.”  She looks at you.   “Don’t you think so?”

You swallow and answer, “Yes, Miss Dee Dee.” She winks then turns to Kerrie Marie. Before you can consider the meaning of that wink, Dee Dee is pointing to the counter stool. “Position yourself,” she tells Kerrie Marie.  A silent tear, like ice melting ice on a window pane, slowly trickles down Kerrie Marie’s left cheek as she stands in front of the stool and begins to bend over.

Dee Dee grabs her arm. “Wait,” she says and turns to you with a wicked smile on her face. You feel yourself blushing under her scrutiny. “What do you think,” she continues, “panties up or panties down?” You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Head cocked, Dee Dee continues to look at you pointedly. You know you have to say something.

“Down, I guess,” you say sheepishly.

“I thought so.”

She is smirking as she turns back to Kerrie Marie.

curl here against me.

it’s grey today,
cold outside the covers
colder still
outside in the land of bricks and mortar

so stay here with me
slip my panties down
and fit the length of your prick
up the crack of my ass

while I pull our arms together
around my ribs, up under my breasts
where they belong

when the day is cold
and the world is grey
stay with me

“I’m not so sure about this.”

You smile, looking into her eyes as you continue to gently wind the nylon cord around her slender wrists. She looks so vulnerable, so frail, so perfect. Her hesitation quickens your hunger; you feel it, a rapid flair deep in your belly.

“Sweetheart, just relax.”

Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. You watch the lift and fall of her naked breasts as she breathes, petite sighs of trust and tremor mixed together. You raise her wrists to the headboard.

“Oh.”

It’s barely a word, more of a shuddered gasp or nervouse moan, that escapes her lips as you tie her wrists, there above the carmel tresses of her upswept hair. You tighten the knot you’ve made and she whimpers. It rushes through you again. A roiling quake of lust and desire. You swallow. You want to take her now.  No, not yet.  You swallow again.

“Does that hurt?”

“No. It’s okay.”

“Spread your legs, Amy. Put your feet out to the edges of the bed,” you say, moving down to the footboard and unfurling a new piece of rope. You watch her legs slowly widen. The flesh at the top of her inner thighs quivers. The lips of her cunt part slightly, and you can see its inner moistness.

“You look so beautiful.”

She doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything, just looks at you from under her thick lashes. Tenderly cupping the heel of her right foot, you begin coiling the white cord around her ankle. The flesh there is pink and taut, hot and dry against your knuckles. As you secure the cord, her calf raises slightly from the bedspread. She is your captive. Knowing this, seeing this, takes your breath away, but you quickly reach for the other foot.

Finally she is stretched before you. White cord binding her porcelain-smooth ankles and wrists, she is a sacrificial goddess, your goddess, your beloved.

“Fuck me.”

“What?”

“I said fuck me. Now that you have me tied up like this, fuck me.”

You hesitate.

“I mean it. Do it.”

This comes out in a rush of words, a sob, as she arches her back and pushes against the cords.

And so you mount your bound goddess.