Afterglow Movie Review- Superman Returns

Subject- Superman Reviews

Feeling- It Rocks.

Favorite Part- Superman being a man.

Least Favorite Part- That part the felt like a replay of the first movie. I'm looking at you Lex Luthor.

Egotistical Observation Because I Fancy Myself a Writer- I could have done a better ending. I don't know what, but the end they had just sort of peters out. Hell, five minutes earlier would have made a better ending.

Did I get Choked Up?-Hell yeah.

Final thought- See it now and enjoy the theater experience.

Your Sexy Place

It is going to be a busy weekend. You know it. I know it. All your kids/friends/relatives/lovers know it. We’re all going to be busy as Eqyptians with a fresh stack of square blocks. We’ll all be lucky to come out with my minds intact.

I am here to help. Years ago a therapist tried to explain to me the concept of a Happy Place. He suggested visualizing a calm serene place with a babbling brook and little bunny rabbits. Now I know he was trying to help me with my anxiety issues so he was suggesting calming things, but that’s not how my brain works. Bunny rabbits make me think of ‘Watership Down’ and I start thinking about mythology and if Fiver’s special senses passed down through the litters he had. No, calm happy places turn into blank spaces where my mind starts wondering all over the place.

What I need is a Sexy Place. That chills me right out. I find a quiet place and close my eyes. For two minutes I am in my dream bedroom. There’s sexy paintings on the wall, and bondage furniture is spread through the room. A forever young Raquel Welch is bent over and asking for a spanking. A cage holds a sexy nude woman with a British accent. A beautiful black woman with glasses offers me her breasts to nibble on. I spend a happy minute or two indulging in something terribly naughty till my worry lines are replaced with the smooth glow of desire.

This weekend build your own Sexy Place. Build a couple. Experiment with different decorations while your spouse burns something on the grill. Try out different lovers when your kids find a new way to break a brick. Decide between a threesome or a foursome when your parents drone on about the latest illness Aunt Lorraine picked up. Pick and choose to your tastes. No one else is ever coming over, so go ahead and do that sinful thing that you love to do.

I’m not saying you should zone everyone out. It’s the weekend. Have some fun if you can. But if you can’t, or you have had enough fun to last you a fucking year, then take a quick mental vacation to your Sexy Place and let something pretty and eager go down on you before you head back into the real world.

Half Nekked Thursday Glasses

It was the week before the 4th grade started. As far as I was concerned, the most horrible thing that ever happened to me was happening now. I was getting glasses. Even as a small child I knew that glasses meant I was a nerd and something to be picked on. I loved going to school but for the first time I was dreading it. I was a semi popular kid. I had friends. My young mind knew that I could not have these things with glasses.

The 4th grade started and most of my predictions were right. I was always a smart kid, but now I was the smart kid with glasses, which made me Encyclopedia Brown now. I didn’t really like sports except dodge ball and freeze tag but now I was the kid with glasses who sucked at sports. Teachers treated me differently which was really weird. They treated me as fragile and smart which just fucked with me more.

The only thing that saved me was Kimberly. She was a plucky tomboy just as smart as me and a wee bit tougher but man, she adored me and I adored her. She picked me and stuck by me all school year long. We were as much a couple as fourth graders can be and though we never kissed, we didn’t have to. Sharing her ice cream was more than enough.

So that’s why I never looked at my glasses as a drawback. I got my first girlfriend AFTER I got glasses. Yeah I know I was only 10 but these things matter to a guy. Glasses are just a part of me now and quite frankly, I think they still make me look a smidge smart than I am.

In a weird way, glasses have become my fetish. I relate to people with glasses and make the false assumption that they are smarter than they are too. Glasses on any woman make them look better in mind. I have had submissives who on glasses only for reading and when they really want me to ravish them, they know to wear their glasses. I am that easy when it comes to glasses.

So here’s a picture of my glasses. They help me read. They help me do just about anything cause I am blind without them. They also make me look sexier and for that alone, they get their own HNT.

Fiction: Cell Phone Slave Part 11

Amaya awoke minutes before her alarm. She was lying on her stomach, and her thong was pulling tightly across her sex. The smell of sex was still in the air, and the feeling of Chris’s cock was still in her pussy. Without thinking about it much, she ground against the bed for a few moments and enjoyed the arousal that permeated her body.

Wesley’s promise came back to her as she awakened more, and she moaned. He’d promised to take her completely. He’d promised to bypass the phone and claim her in person. He’d promised it would be forever and ever. All she had to do was pass his tests.

She smiled. Test her all he wanted; she could take it. The games that used to scare her seemed trivial now, minor when compared to the possible rewards. In fact, Amaya wished she could go back and face those tests again, just to show how much better she could do. As frightening as some of them had been, she knew now how much more thrilling the sex was with the elements Wesley added. Especially now that Chris had reminded her how boring sex could be.

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Chris! She had almost forgotten about him. She didn’t miss him at all, but she was quite angry. He’d wanted to meet her because he’d seen her nearly naked at her window. He wanted her only for her tits and ass. Perhaps Wesley did, too, but at least he also wanted her for her bravery. He wanted to see how far she would go. Chris cared little for pushing her, just getting off and hoping Amaya was enjoying herself, too. It was such a waste. Chris wanted her because he had seen her playing an erotic game of nerve and exhibitionism, but he had no interest in those games himself.

She sat up and put on her glasses. The shades were still pulled, and she wondered whether her windows were still being watched. All she was wearing was her thong, but Amaya was feeling defiant. She walked over to her window and pulled up the shade. The warm sunlight felt good on her skin, so she brazenly put her arms behind her back and soaked it in. Already, early risers in several rooms had spotted her topless appearance, but she ignored them. They were there, and she was here. If Chris happened to see what he would never fuck again, so be it.

Amaya smiled as she pulled down the shade. Her heart was racing, but it had been fun. She doubted she would do it again, but with her anger at Chris still fresh in her mind, it had been easy. She wondered if she should tell Wesley about it. She wondered if he would find it exciting that she had reproduced one of his dares on her own. It was something to think about.

The rest of the day went fairly quickly. She ate in the cafeteria, went to classes and started reading a history book. It was a warm day, so Amaya kept the windows open in her dorm. She kept her clothes on, though, deciding that flashing the rest of the dorm might not be the best idea she’d ever had.

At times, she wondered why she wasn’t anticipating Wesley’s phone call as she had in days past. She was rested and not nearly as anxious as she used to be. For the first time in days, she didn’t watch the clock as the day went on. Now that she knew what she was playing for, shouldn’t she be more nervous? Yet she was calm all day long.

Maybe it was because she didn’t have any hesitation anymore. There was no longer any confusion about Chris. Although she still didn’t know who Wesley really was, it wasn’t important. All she knew was that she craved Wesley and that he craved her. It would all unfold when he was ready. Considering how long she had spent waiting for her financial aid, how much she had hoped for help from her ex-boyfriend and her parents and how much her roommate Helen had taken advantage of her, Amaya was happy to have some control in her life, even if was from the other side of a phone.

She was about to go to the cafeteria for dinner when the cell phone rang. Smiling, she picked it up and ignored the rumblings of her stomach. Food could wait; this was what she lived for. The phone still smelled like her pussy, and Amaya clenched as she thought about last night.

“Good evening, Amaya,” Wesley said. “Get dressed and put on your shoes.”

“I am dressed,” she said. “Shoes on and everything.”

He chuckled. “Good. I like an eager woman. Tonight, your task is simple. Leave your dorm and head toward the financial aid offices. From there, you should be able to see Wicker Street. Do you know the place I am talking about?”

“Yes,” Amaya said.

“Good. Head down Wicker Street until you see the Omega Epsilon Sigma fraternity. Ask for Mark, and tell him you are there to serve.”

“Serve?” she asked quietly. The fear came rushing back. A fraternity? What was she expected to do?

“Yes, serve,” Wesley said. “You are to do exactly as Mark says until he says you are done for the night. Understand?”

“What will I be doing?” Amaya asked.

“Serving,” Wesley said. “The fraternity is another project of mine. I teach the members things, and in return, they do favors for me. You are my favor tonight. I will check in after they let you go, and if one man there has a complaint, I will consider that you have failed the game. Am I clear?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Amaya said. “Am I going to have to fuck them?”

“Perhaps. Service takes many forms. The question is, can you do this for me?”

Those were the magic words. “I’ll try,” she said.

“You have 30 minutes to present yourself at their door. Remember, it’s the Omega Epsilon Sigma house. Don’t be late.”

He hung up, and Amaya was in a state of shock. A fraternity? She had just dumped Chris, and now Wesley wanted her to be in a house full of Chrises? No, he wanted her to “serve.” Was she a maid? A prostitute? What was she expected to do?

She locked up her room and followed Wesley’s directions to Wicker Street. Her empty stomach was forgotten as she wrestled with what he required of her. Like most freshmen, all she knew of fraternities was what she saw in movies. Visions of lewd jocks and drunk men ran through her mind. This wouldn’t be easy at all.

The Omega Epsilon Sigma house was smaller than she’d expected. It was only two stories tall and not nearly as majestic and fabulous as some of the sorority houses she passed by every day. It was well kept, though, unlike a lot of fraternities. The lawn was mowed, and there were no cans lying around.

The other thing she noticed was that there were heavy curtains on all the windows. In the past week, Amaya had begun to recognize when a place was protected against voyeurs.

As she walked up to the door, she noticed the Greek letters hanging on the side of the house. Her heart skipped a beat before she laughed out loud. The letters were W, E and S.

She was less afraid as she knocked on the door. A minute passed before it was answered by a tall, lanky man. He seemed to be all arms and legs topped by a pair of thin glasses. Amaya frowned in surprise. This looked like the kind of guy fraternities beat up on, not made one of their own.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet Mark.”

The man smiled. It was a hungry smile. His eyes took her in and his smile got bigger the longer he looked at her. It was as if he were he was imagining the possibilities of what to do with her and every idea was better than the last. At least, it was better for him. The almost feral way he smiled did not in the least promise that it would be good for Amaya.

“Hello, Amaya,” he said. “I’m Mark, and we’ve been expecting you. Please come in.” His polite tone did not match his greedy smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

Inside, the fraternity was not what she’d expected. It looked very spartan and didn’t have much in the way of decoration. The furniture was cheap but well taken care of. Amaya couldn’t help staring at it all. She’d thought fraternities were decadent houses supported by wealthy alumni. This place looked like just a larger version of a dorm.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but we spend our money elsewhere,” Mark said.

Amaya blushed. She didn’t want to come across as rude, but already, this man could tell what she was thinking. Feeling nervous, she cracked a joke to cover her embarrassment.

“You spend it all on beer, right?” As soon as she said it, she realized how insulting it sounded.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His hand snapped out and slapped her ass. His large hand smacked her hard, knocking her forward a few steps. She squealed, more from the shock of being spanked than from the actual pain.

“Show a little more respect,” he said. The smile was gone now, replaced a neutral, almost dismissive tone.

“I’m sorry,” Amaya said. Had she already screwed up? Her stomach tightened, and she couldn’t believe she had been so flippant. “I am really sorry.”

He stared at her and then turned around to walk down a hall.

“Come,” he said.

She followed him down the hallway and into a huge room that took up half of the first floor. It was a kind of library. Bookshelves lined every wall. Comfortable chairs and desks filled the rest of the room, but it was the books that dominated the space. Amaya would have never guessed that a fraternity would have such a huge collection.

“I don’t think you appreciate exactly what kind of place this is,” Mark said. “Go look at the titles.”

Amaya did as he asked. She expected to find textbooks, but what she found instead made her catch her breath. They were erotica books. Stories about naughty maids and office discipline were on the first shelf she looked at. Further down was a shelf filled with sex-education books, and the next one held large coffee-table books filled with erotic bondage art and photographs.

“We have different priorities than other fraternities,” Mark said. “We also expect a certain level of behavior and discipline.”

Before Amaya could answer, another man walked into the room. He was barely five feet tall, and his eyes were focused and intense. When he looked at Amaya, it was as though he were getting ready to grade her on some test she had already failed. She looked down at him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she should be beneath him.

“Hello, Nick,” Mark said. “This is Wesley’s favor.”

Nick scratched the little bit of stubble under his chin, and the action seemed boyish and out of place on a man with such stern eyes. “Wesley does have a fondness for the busty girls, doesn’t he?”

“Nick,” Mark said in the same stern voice he had used with Amaya. “You know the rules. No discussing Wesley in front of the candidate.”

Amaya deflated. “That’s too bad. I was really hoping to learn more about him.”

“You won’t from us,” Mark said. “Omega Epsilon Sigma owes everything to Wesley, and we’re not going to mess up a good thing.”

Amaya nodded, but she didn’t give up hope. They were boys. Surely, they would tell her something if she asked nicely enough. Even now, Nick looked like he was debating it. When he started to speak, she felt a guilty bit of relief. These guys wouldn’t be so hard to deal with, after all.

“I’ll tell you a little story,” Nick said. “One time, Wesley was playing his game with a pretty black girl. We all had a crush on her. She was a genius in chemistry and already knew some of us from some labs we shared. One guy, David, decided that he would date her on the side. They dated for a while until Wesley found out. We all thought Wesley would throw David out of the fraternity, but he didn’t. He just stopped playing with the girl and wished David the best of luck.”

“That was nice of him,” Amaya said.

Nick smirked. “It was. But from then on, any project or special treat he gave us, it was always when David was doing something else. Sure, David could live with us and study with us, but Wesley didn’t trust him with anything after that. Wesley didn’t let him help with the games or invite him to the parties he holds. David was shut out, even though Wesley never said a bad thing about him.”

“It was perfectly clear to the rest of us,” Mark said. “Fuck with Wesley, and Wesley wouldn’t have anything to do with you any more. No one has dated a girl of Wesley’s again.”

Amaya nodded. That small bit of relief had been stepped on. Well, what did she expect? She’d known Wesley for less than two weeks. These boys had played by his rules all the time for who knows how long. Wesley’s style was all over them.

“May I?” Nick said. Amaya almost responded before she realized the question was directed at Mark. The taller boy nodded and Nick stepped up to Amaya. She took a step back reflexively. For that, Nick’s hand snapped forward and grabbed her hair. He twisted it in his fist and pulled back towards him.

“Don’t ever step away,” he snarled. His hand tightened in her hair.

“I won’t,” she said. Her heart was racing.

Nick snorted, clearly not believing her. With one hand still in her hair, he placed the other on her breast. His palm was over her nipple as the rest of his fingers closed around her breast. Amaya hissed through her teeth as he squeezed her breast painfully tighlyt. She didn’t resist, though. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her fear of these two or how terribly wet her pussy was.

Mark started to talk again. “We’re a non-national fraternity, which means we don’t have any national supervision or rules. We’re a private fraternity with an emphasis on intelligence over money or connections. It costs nothing to join, except the willpower it requires to follow Wesley’s rules.”

Amaya couldn’t get over the way he was just talking while Nick mauled her breast. It was very uncomfortable. One on one with Nick, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but having Mark watch every squeeze of her breast was just too much. It was so casual to them, but it was hard for her to stand there and get groped for an audience.

Nick released her breast and moved to her other one. This time his fingers just pinched the hard nipple that was poking against her clothes. Amaya bit her lip as he pinched and twisted.

Mark flashed his greedy smile and kept talking. “You might be wondering how we can afford the house without wealthy parents paying our way. I’ll bet Wesley could fund it, but he said we needed to learn to be self-sufficient. So far, we’ve stayed afloat through grants. Wesley is a wizard when it comes to finding funding. This semester, we’re taking soil samples around town for an environmentalist grant.”

“Yeah.” Nick snickered. “When you have a houseful of perverts, you need to keep them doing something.” He released Amaya’s nipple, but his hand was still tight in her hair. That made her terribly nervous. At least when he was groping her, she knew how she was being used.

“Perverts?” Amaya asked. “I mean, is the whole house like this room?”

Mark smiled. “I guess you can say this is a fraternity that turns geeks and nerds into people like Wesley.”

Both Nick and Mark smiled then, and Amaya felt a shiver run down her spine and settle between her thighs. An entire fraternity of Wesleys? Did they learn how to spank and drive women like her crazy? The idea was frightening, and yet if she had known about them when she started school, she would have been stalking this house from the first day!

“What are you going to do with me?”

Mark stepped closer to her and reached between her legs. She groaned as he cupped his hands over her pants right over her sex. He bent down till his mouth was by her ear. Nick released her hair, but Amaya wasn’t going anywhere. She closed her eyes and tried not to grind against Mark’s hand.

“Whatever the fuck we want, Amaya,” Mark said.

Nick laughed as Amaya’s eyes popped open in fear. Mark’s hand left her sex and grabbed her hair in much the same way Nick had. A shiver ran through Amaya as she realized that both of them had been taught this hair grab by Wesley.

“Come on, Amaya,” Mark said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Oh, God,” Amaya moaned. Neither boy answered. Still holding her by the hair, Mark dragged her as though he was pulling a pet or a reluctant child. Nick followed. His scowling and general disapproval had been replaced with a stern neutral face. Amaya felt trapped between the two men, although she knew deep down it was Wesley who had trapped her. The house and the men were just his instruments for the next challenge he had designed.

They passed a woman washing the floor. Amaya stared at her with disbelief. The woman was completely nude except for a thick leather collar. Long blond hair covered her face as she scrubbed the floor with a sponge. The woman’s ass was glowing from red paddle strikes, and Amaya knew from her limited experience that the woman had been spanked within the hour.

The woman looked up at them and smiled. Amaya couldn’t believe how mature the woman was. She looked like she was in her thirties. What was she doing here?

Mark dragged Amaya past the woman. Nick stopped for a moment and did something Amaya couldn’t see. She did hear the woman moan, though. A flash of jealousy surged through her, stronger than any fear she was feeling right now.

“Was that another of Wesley’s favors?” Amaya couldn’t believe how bitter her voice sounded.

Mark tightened his grip in Amaya’s hair. “Oh, no. That slut is our little project. We can’t live on Wesley’s tossed scraps alone.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and passed many small bedrooms before they reached their destination. Mark took out some keys and unlocked the door. He let Amaya go first, and she tried to appear brave as she entered the room. She just knew it would be a dungeon or some sort of kinky parlor where who knows what would happen. No matter what perverse playground this was going to be, Amaya wasn’t going to chicken out and give these men reason to complain to Wesley.

For what seemed like the thousandth time today, she was surprised by what she saw. Instead of a dungeon filled with cages and chains, it was a rather empty room devoid of any furniture. It was the walls that held her attention — and her fear. Panties and bras had been nailed to the walls in a multi-colored tribute to the women who had been here before. Amaya couldn’t count how many of the panties were thongs. How many sets of clothes were there? Fifty? A hundred?

“Strip, Amaya,” Mark said. The tone of his voice that made he jump. It was just like Wesley’s when he told her to do something.

She didn’t say anything. With the door still open and Nick openly leering at her, Amaya did as she was told. Her heart was racing while she peeled off her blouse and shimmied out of her jeans. When Mark whistled at her tight pink thong and pink bra there was a brief flash of wanting to cover herself back up but she fought it. She popped off her bra and then slid off her thong. She stood before these two strangers naked and waited for their next command.

They said nothing as they walked around her. Around and around they circled, neither of them saying a thing. Amaya stared straight ahead and tried to calm her racing heart. What were they thinking, she wondered. Were they deciding how to spank her? Were they debating who would fuck her first? Would she have a cock in her mouth and one in her pussy?

“Look at that,” Nick said. “She’s already dripping down her leg.”

Amaya’s face blushed deep red.

“Good, she’ll make for an excellent demonstration,” Mark said.

Demonstration? Amaya thought.

Again, it was as though they had read her mind. “Yes, Amaya,” Mark said. “You’re here for a demonstration. This is a learning fraternity, and we teach our members a lot about how to treat women like you.”

“Oh, my God,” she said without thinking.

Nick laughed. “Yes. Sure, we have our own slut, but the demonstration is more effective with a woman we haven’t all fucked.”

He went over to the cabinet and opened it. He brought out a huge and very plush blindfold . He fit it over her face, and she was plunged into darkness.

“Since what we teach is for us, there’s no need for you to listen,” Mark said. Something pressed against her ear and slid into her canal. It expanded, and the world faded away. She heard a voice, but the ear plugs kept her from understanding what was said.

Hands went to her shoulders and forced her down. She went to her knees, and her mouth watered at the obvious implications of such a position. She tried to relax, But it was impossible. All she could think of was how many men would see her naked and what they might do to her.

A loud pounding echoed in the room and penetrated even her earplugs. It sounded like a hammer. They were nailing her underwear to the wall. She was already another conquest to them. Even though it was Wesley who’d sent her here and Wesley she was doing this for, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Omega Epsilon Sigma owned a piece of her today and forever.

Time passed. There was nothing to do but kneel in darkness and silence. Then she heard voices, lots of them. She strained to hear, but she couldn’t make anything out. All she could tell was that the room was full of people. She could hear the chatter and feel the heat from their bodies in the small room.

A hand grabbed her right breast and squeezed. Someone talked as her breast was pulled and then given a little shake. She tried to be quiet, almost clinical, but when a thumb rolled over her nipple, a moan escaped her lips. The chatter in the room dropped to silence, and all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

The hand continued to grope her breast, sometimes moving to the other breast. Amaya imagined that it was Mark giving a little lecture. He was telling them her bra size or maybe explaining how sensitive her nipple was. He was educating a new generation of Wesleys to tease, fondle and grope women like her. Amaya shuddered as she realized that a whole group of men was being told how to control her.

The hand moved away from her breasts and up her neck. A large hand encircled her throat. A surge of panic rose within her, and she almost rose to her feet with it. Other hands pushed down on her shoulders. There was the sound of talking, and Amaya strained to hear what was being said. The hand stayed around her neck, not tightening or choking her but oh so terribly capable of doing so.

The hand mercifully moved away from her throat and to her face. A finger coaxed her lips and then slipped in. Amaya sucked on the finger out of reflex. She could hear laughter but she didn’t care. Sucking a finger was far easier to deal with than that hand on her throat.

A second finger joined the first, and she sucked on it as well. The fingers were thrusting now, fucking her mouth while the entire crowd watched. A hand went to her hair and tipped her head back. The fingers dived down her mouth, pumping up and down for everyone to see.

A third finger forced her lips apart, and Amaya almost choked. The thrusting kept going. The fingers spread, and her lips struggled to contain them. What could they possibly be demonstrating? And was she doing it right? Even though she was kneeling naked in a room filled with young perverts while her mouth was being vigorously fucked, Amaya couldn’t stop worrying over whether she was doing it right.

Her hair was released, and the fingers left her mouth. Drool had slid down her chin, but Amaya couldn’t bring herself to wipe it. She was afraid to move. Even though she knew the spit glistening on her chin made her look like some wanton slut, Amaya wasn’t going to do a damn thing she hadn’t been told to do.

For a few minutes, nothing happened, and she was worried that maybe the display was over. She realized she was hoping for far more. What kind of a girl was she turning into?

Then hands grabbed her by the shoulders and stodd her up. Other hands went to her ankles and spread her legs very wide. The fingers stroked her thighs up towards her sex. Amaya wanted to close her thighs and shield herself, but instead she balled her fingers into fists and fought off the urge. She clenched her eyes shut under the blindfold and tried to slip into meaningless drone of the muffled voices.

The fingers stroked her pubic hair and then pulled aside her pubic lips, opening her sex for all the strangers in the room to see. Amaya felt the heat of her blush spread from her face down her chest. Her most private area was being discussed, examined and prodded. Worse, she knew that there was no hiding her arousal from the group as the fingers wiped off a sample of her moisture for everyone to see.

Just when she thought she could keep still and quiet no longer, the fingers slowly stroked her sex. She moaned out loud at the unexpected stimulation. Oh, God, she was being masturbated! One finger rubbed her clitoris while another penetrated her. It was done gently, but the fact that it was being done to her while a crowd of strangers looked on made the whole act so dirty. Amaya didn’t know if she was expected to climax or not, and she wasn’t sure if she could, but she did know that she would have no choice in the matter.

On and on the fingers stroked. Amaya was breathing hard, and she wondered if everyone was watching her heaving breasts. It was amazing to her that there were no cuffs, no cage and no restraints, and yet here she was. She was just standing here being masturbated for the education of boys she might never meet. It made her feel like an easy slut to be so willing to surrender herself, and at the same time it made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the school to have who knows how many boys staring between her legs.

The fingers stroked faster, and Amaya knew that she was expected to climax. She was surprised by how eager she was to do so. Let these boys see how a woman has pleasure. Let them learn how to bring her off. Let them watch her bite her lip and cry out as the fingers fucked her.

Let Wesley know that this, too, she does for him.

Amaya had planned to be quiet, but her arousal was too great. When the pleasure burst within her, she doubled over. As the bliss bounced around her body, she thrashed, and her knees gave out but the hands held her up till she could regain her strength. Her desire to be subtle and quiet was forgotten in the inferno of her orgasm.

The fingers moved away, and she just breathed. She stood there while incomprehensible chatter continued around her. Again, she worried that it was over. What had begun as an exercise that she didn’t think she could go through with had turned into something she couldn’t imagine ever ending. It was strange how every task Wesley gave her was like that. How did he know that she would enjoy everything? Or did he not know, and this was his way of finding out?

She was still wrestling with this problem when she felt warm fingers stroke her nipple. The two sets of hands around her shoulders let go but they were replaced by other hands. A lot more hands! They were all over her, and Amaya froze as she realized that now all of the boys were touching her.

The hands explored her, and there were so many of them, Amaya couldn’t focus on any one. Someone grabbed a nipple and flicked it gently. Someone cupped her ass and squeezed. Someone pulled her hair harshly, while someone else pinched the lip of her sex.

Her breasts were the focus of most of the attention. Hands cupped her breasts and squeezed. Other hands played with her nipples, and Amaya would hiss as they pinched and pulled. Someone bit her breast and she cried out. The biter moved away, but someone bit her other breast. She cried out again, and this time laughter filled the room. If she had been hoping for mercy, she knew without a doubt that there was going to be none here.

In time, they shifted from her tits to her sex. Fingers slid into her wet sex and thrust a few times, only to be pulled out and away. Not that her sex was neglected for long. There was always a new hand willing to explore. Finger after finger touched her sex. Each of them touched her in their own way, and each of them satisfied some personal question. Some played with her clitoris, rolling and playing with it as though it were a nipple. Others plunged deep inside her, fucking so hard that she went to her tiptoes from the force of the thrust. In no time, Amaya was dripping down her leg, and even those trails of her juice were touched and examined.

The first smack on her ass took her by surprise, although deep down she had known it was coming. A second blow struck her, followed by a third; another hand that gave her the fourth slap. Like everything else, the spanking was random and completely out of her control. Large hands, small hands, fast hands, slow hands, strong hands and weak all struck her bottom. Some would squeeze her ass afterwards, while others would pinch or drag fingernails across her skin. There was no warmup or rhythm to these blows. It was just the eager slaps of men taking as much or as little as they wanted from her.

The hands moved all over her. Her ears were tugged, and spots of her neck were viciously pinched. Hands gripped her thighs while others casually stroked her elbows. Fingers would enter her mouth while other fingers scratched down her back. Every inch of her was groped, stroked, pinched and touched. She was explored and transformed from a woman into something that was here purely for their hands. She was their toy, and she knew it.

Someone took her hand and placed it on a cock. Despite all the hands and sensations that she was experiencing, the feeling of a warm cock was what made her knees shake. Her fingers closed around the cock. She didn’t have to ask, and the hand that brought her to the cock didn’t need to encourage her. Amaya stroked the cock, realizing that this too was her role here.

Her other hand was guided to another cock. She masturbated that one, too. Other hands kept touching her, but they became secondary to the cocks in her hands. This was something she could focus on. The groping, the pinching, the spanking and the wonderful fingers that kept touching her sex became background sensations. Amaya’s mind was focused on the two cocks that wanted her touch. She stroked them, her hands adjusting for their individual sizes. Each cock pulsed in her hands and although she couldn’t see or hear the men the cocks belonged to, she could feel how much they needed her. It didn’t take Amaya long to realize how much she needed those cocks. After being mauled and aroused, it was such a release to act.

The second cock she had grasped was the first one to climax. A hand grabbed her bicep and squeezed painfully tightly as the cock in her hand surged and shook. Warm seed fell on her hand, reminding her of how Rick’s semen had coated her fingers. The hand released her arm and moved away, taking the cock with it. A towel was pressed into her hand and cleaned her fingers. Amaya had only a second to flex her fingers before another cock was placed in her grip. She smiled. Yes, this is how it would be.

Amaya stood there and stroked off the fraternity. Blind and deaf, she stood there while they continued to explore her body. This was no demonstration. There were no lessons here. She knew now that they had lied, and that was OK. The men of Omega Epsilon Sigma were just going to use her for their own enjoyment. She wondered if the difference between men like Wesley and these young guys was the ability to just admit what they wanted and take it?

How long did it take her to jack them all off two at a time? Amaya had no idea. Her hands began to ache after the first twelve. She kept stroking. Her fingers curled around all different sizes of cocks. She kept stroking. The other hands didn’t stop, although there were fewer hands as she brought more men to orgasm. She kept stroking. Her nipples were still pinched, her ass was still spanked, her skin was still scratched, her mouth was still opened by insistent fingers, and her pussy was never left alone for a second. Amaya kept stroking.

Eventually, no more cocks came forward. Only then did she realized that for the first time in what felt like years, there were no hands on her. She stood there and somehow felt more naked. Without the constant sensation of being touched, Amaya became painfully aware of how much her own desire had grown. Her last orgasm seemed so long ago, and now her pussy was wet, throbbing and craving the same release she had brought to these boys.

Hands touched her hands and guided them to her sex. Amaya dropped to her knees again, and this time nothing stopped her. Yes, this was only natural. She was blindfolded and being looked at by so many strangers, but bringing herself to orgasm seemed like the only logical thing that could happen next. After being touched by so many strangers, feeling her own fingers on her sex felt strange. It was comforting and so damn welcome.

She climaxed within a minute. She screamed when she came, and she didn’t care what they thought. The orgasm was so strong that she bent forward slowly till her head touched the floor. She stayed like that, in exhausted submission to whatever came next. It just seemed right.

“Thank you,” she said. Thanks had not been asked for, but again, it just seemed right.

Hands came for her again. This time they brought clothes. Her shirt was put over her. Hands held her steady as her legs were guided into her pants. Amaya briefly wondered why there was no underwear, but then she remembered. Her thong and bra had been nailed to the walls of the room, staying here as a memorial to what she’d experienced. Amaya knew that her thoughts and sexual fantasies would be staying here, too, perhaps never to leave.

She was taken downstairs. Still blindfolded, she was guided through the fraternity. A breeze struck her face and the sounds of cars filtered through her earplugs. Amaya was outside, and she felt the slamming of her door behind her. She had been dismissed.

She took the blindfold off and couldn’t believe it was dark outside. The earplugs came out, and she winced from the sudden flood of noise that greeted her. Was day-to-day life always this nosy?

Amaya stumbled off the porch and looked back at the fraternity. Inside, a group of sated men were discussing her. Inside was a room where her underwear hung as a tribute. Inside was a woman who served horny college guys in every way possible. Amaya felt a pang of regret at the thought that she might never go back there again.

Her phone rang. Her fingers kept trying to curl into the grip she had used to stroke the guys off. She answered it and waited for Wesley’s judgment.

“Hello, Amaya,” Wesley said. “I heard from Mark. He said you did very well.”

“Good,” she said. “I did my best.”

“Yes, I believe you did. I want you to understand something, Amaya. If you are mine, I will use you as I wish. It may amuse me to send you back to them. It may amuse me to send you to any of my friends and have them do what they wish with you. After what you have experienced today, do you think you could accept a life of being given to whomever I decide?”

Amaya looked back at the fraternity house. “Yes,” she said, and there was no hesitation.

“Good,” Wesley said. “And just so you know, Mark’s cock was one of the ones you sucked off the other day.”

He chuckled when she gasped. “Your money will be under your door. I’ll call you tomorrow, Amaya.”

He hung up, and Amaya walked home in a daze. Even after all she had experienced today, the thought that she had sucked Mark off kept coming back to her. She had spent a day with a man she had sucked off and didn’t even know it. What other man was walking around, knowing what she had done but unknown to her? It could be anyone.

As soon as she realized that, her sex got wet all over again. Amaya smiled. That’s why he’d told her.

And On Tuesday, He Read

Look at the disapproval on Zim's face. He knows. Even an alien invader who wants to rain some doom down upon the heads of our doomed enemies knows that a writer has to read in order to write. That stack of books hasn’t budged in a few weeks. As Zim would say, ‘Filthy human worm-baby, you are PATHETIC! I shall rule you all with an iron fist. You! Obey the fist!"

Today I think I’m calling for a day of reading. Oh I still have work to do but when I get a break I’ll crack open a book instead of chatting with hot chicks about their hot lives. It’ll be hard but I need to soak in fiction for a little while. I need to read a good book to see how a story is done and I need to read a bad book to inspire me to do a better job. I need step away from the world of Blogs and true life fictional confessions and slow my mind down for the long enjoyable ride of a 450 page story.

Weekend Hallucinations

Every couple hundred weeks or so, the stars align and cosmic forces work together to give me a mind blowing weekend that makes me wonder if it even happened. It would take me a week to blog it all and another month to process how it has inspired me or changed how I view things. The hardest part is that I am not terribly sure it happened at all. Some of it just seems too outlandish.

I mean, did Confederate soldiers really get together at Stone Mountain to defend a water park from Union forces?

Did I really sit in hot Georgia weather onboard a train to listen to a group of plucky college kids lip sync every freaking song that ever had the word train in it?

Did I really see a giant carving of Confederate generals on the side of a granite mountain?



Hmm, at least I have a photograph for that.

Did I really kick my wife’s ass in miniature Stone Mountain golf? Why does a Civil War site have miniature golf?

Did my wife really give me a blowjob while I watched ‘Seven Samurai’?

And could the blowjob be half as awesome as I remember it?

Did the restaurant we went to with Possible Spanking Friend really have nude paintings of aliens? That seems too bohemian even for Atlanta.

Was those Rice Balls the best damn rice balls I had ever have?

Was Possible Spanking Friend telling the truth when she said she had never been to a sex store before? And did we go to two to break that virginity and shop for a butt plug for her?

And did we really spend over two hours at one store talking to a vampire professional Domme about spanking, identity issues, parallel universes and H.P. Lovecraft?

Did I really say, ‘I love you’ to the Domme when she mentioned H.P. Lovecraft?

Was the rain Saturday Night as apocalyptic and violent as I remember it?

Did I really spend an hour or two trying out different knots on Possible Spanking Friend’s wrists?

Did Sam really destroy my brand new silk rope within three minutes of opening it? Freaking cat claws.

Did I really grab Possible Spanking Friend by the hair and hand spank her ass? Does this mean she needs a new alias? I like Sara.

Did eat spelt bread and actually enjoy it?

Did we really watch that many episodes of ‘While You Were Out’?

Did my wife really ask me in the grocery store why I never grab her ass in public?

Have I never done that before?

Did I re-write chapter 11 of Cell Phone slave in one three hour sitting?

Was it half as good as I think it was.

Did I really manage to get the soundtracks to both ‘Kung-Fu Hustle’ and ‘Shaolin Soccer’?

See, I’m still not sure all that really happened.

Secret Geek Sunday Fiction: Streaks

Through my crystal ball, I watched brave Viona take the lead. She walked purposefully down the dark corridor, and she never showed doubt. Not for a moment. Her companions were less courageous, but they were bolstered by Viona’s confidence. Although they faced me, the dread wizard Zandark, they had complete faith that Viona would once again defeat me and save the poor enslaved villagers.

Those idiots had no idea.

I turned my focus from her followers to the warrior-heroine herself. I loved how her gold breastplate glowed. Even in the shadows, it caught all possible light and illuminated the curves of her bountiful breasts. Her thighs were bare, covered only by a leather skirt that allowed her to kick and leap with agility. She held her legendary Moon Sword with a solid grip that caused my cock to twitch as I remembered how tight that grip could be. Her long black hair was tied back and flew behind her as she moved. I was mesmerized by the streaks of white shimmering in the faint light.

The bards have an explanation for the new white streaks that always appear after brave Viona battles me. They say the white appears because of the fresh horrors she sees in my Dark Towers. They say it is because no man or woman can face me and emerge unchanged. The truth is much darker. If the bards knew the secret of Viona’s white streaks, it would change both of our legends forever.

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My desire for Viona grew as I watched her step carefully down the hall. Her perfect calves were encased in thigh-high leather boots. I have always had a weakness for those boots.

It was time to weed out her group for our “final” battle.

The floor gave out under the thief, Pibbons. He fell into my Mirror Maze where, for fun, three Dire Tigers began stalking him. Can the cunning thief survive this ultimate test of escape? I have faith in the sneaky bastard.

A cursed mirror sucked in the soul of her Elven companion, Galana. The Elven princess will remain a statue while her soul battles the will of a trapped Sphinx for supremacy in the mirror. The battle will be purely mental and most likely involve some riddles, but Galana is assured victory. She might even escape in under five hours.

A special fate awaited the chivalrous Macan of the Blue Shield. The ass. He had been courting Viona for five years, following her from one adventure to another, always treating her with kindness, deference and tenderness. The fool dreamed of marrying her. Didn’t he realize by now that Viona lived a life of adventure because she liked danger? What kind of excitement could a dull, safe man like him give her?

The Harpies captured Macan while he was crossing one of the chasms that fill my Dark Towers. Hopefully, after spending a few hours with those lewd “ladies,” he might learn something. If nothing else, they’ll smudge his armor.

Viona was now alone, but I had one more challenge for her before I allowed her into my sanctum. She had to cross the Chamber of Fire Elementals. These raging demons, composed entirely of flame, were no match for the Moon Sword; they weren’t meant to harm her. I just wanted her to sweat hard for a good ten minutes before she faced me: Viona always looked her best when she was covered in a sheen of perspiration.

With a heroic effort, she finally broke into my sanctum. She was breathing hard, and the flames raged behind her. Her breastplate was heaving from her exertions, and her black hair was free from its ponytail and lay wet against her head. Her blue eyes glared at me.

“What have you done to my friends?” she demanded, pointing her sword at me.

“Now, Viona, have I ever harmed your loyal companions?” I replied as I rose from my throne.

She didn’t answer. I liked to think the sight of my body held her in stunned silence as my robe fell from my broad shoulders to reveal my naked form. Muscles rippled along my arms and chest as I strode towards her. I stroked my black goatee as I approached, knowing her eyes were focused on my cruel yet sensuous lips. My manhood swung between my legs, and I discovered that I was wrong about her eyes. They weren’t looking at my face at all.

“You’re already naked?” she snorted. “Presuming a lot, aren’t we?”

I snapped my fingers. The tame Tentacle Beast responded instantly. Coils of iron-hard tentacles reached down and grabbed Viona’s wrists and ankles. She roared in anger as she was lifted from the ground. Suspended in the air before me, she struggled briefly, but it was no use. Even her mighty biceps couldn’t break that grip.

“Zandark!” she screamed. “Release me now!”

I grabbed the Moon Sword telekinetically, being careful not to touch the mystic edge even by thought. The sword dropped to the ground a safe distance away. Only then did I come close enough to touch Viona.

“It’s been a long time,” I said as ran my clawed fingers down her sweaty bicep.

“You said you’d be in Lansdale,” Viona accused.

“I wanted to have some time to enjoy myself before you came and destroyed another one of my Dark Towers,” I countered. My fingernails moved up her arm and to her face. Her lips trembled as I ran a claw over her bottom lip.

“What did they give you when you defeated me last time?” I asked.

She took a moment to answer because she was enjoying the feel of my claw on her cheek. “I was given a thousand pieces of gold by the King, and Macan was granted a new device for his heraldry.”

My fingers went to her hair and clenched. “Don’t mention his name when we are together,” I warned her.

She winced as I pulled her hair, then smiled. “Jealous again?”

“Always,” I said, and then I kissed her.

Kissing a warrior is never simple. Her tongue battled mine. Her lips devoured my mouth as much mine devoured hers. We warred to taste each other, and when our mouths finally broke free, she was as breathless as I.

“The things you make me do,” I whispered. I snagged a finger under the collar of her breastplate and uttered a single Word of Power. With a simple motion, my finger tore through the gold steel, slitting her breastplate down to her belly. Her undershirt I disintegrated with another Word until her naked breasts were hanging free in all their glory.

“You bastard!” Viona growled, true anger on her face. “These breastplates cost a fortune!”

I chuckled and grabbed one of her hanging tits. She moaned as my claws sunk into her soft flesh. My hand kneaded her breast as her nipple became flushed and hard. A white-streaked hank of hair fell on her face and stuck to her wet check.

I was reaching for her other breast when I noticed a tiny mark by her nipple. My magic sight peered at the strange blemish and I realized it was a White Ward! My claws grasped the nipple I was groping, and I pinched her harshly till she cried out.

“A White Ward?” I accused her. “If I had touched it, I would have burst into flames!”

Viona smiled. “Thus ending your reign of evil forever.”

The bitch always had to fight it. That might be why I love her. Using an arcane gesture, I banished the White Ward from her breast. Once she was purified, I claimed my reward, leaning down to suck her nipple into my mouth. The sweat of her flesh tasted wonderful, and the moans that accompanied the actions of my tongue made me forget the treachery of the Ward. I bit her breasts gently with my fangs until she was writhing against the tentacles in lust.

“Any other surprises I should know about?” I asked her.

“No,” she gasped. Her breasts were glowing red from my attentions.

I walked behind her and snapped my fingers. Another tentacle reached down and wrapped around Viona’s waist. It pulled her so that her ass was level with her head. The Tentacle Beast also pulled her legs apart. He was a well-trained monster.

Removing Viona’s leather skirt, I was amused to see her wearing another chastity belt. A simple spell turned the metal into mist. Her buttocks clenched as the cold mist settled on her skin. I was delighted to see that she had shaved so that her sex was as bare and smooth as her thighs. That’s my heroine slut.

I kissed her ass. Some heroes might be surprised to discover that I, Zandark, had kissed the ass of Viona but I didn’t mind. She had a delightful ass. And how many of those heroes had kissed her ass metaphorically and would give their soul to do it literally?

“Turn her over,” I commanded, and the Tentacle Beast obeyed. Viona growled with rage as the tentacles manipulated her suspended body. She was more enraged by her new position. The warrior was facing me now. Her arms were held straight up, and her legs were spread wide and lewdly for my enjoyment. Worse, she was now facing me.

“This is much better,” I sneered. I ran my claws up her belly and groped a sore breast. Her blue eyes flashed at mine. She was deliberately trying to ignore my cock although it was just inches away from her sex.

“I want to see the love on your face when I fuck you,” I told her.

She spit at me. “I have no love for you,” she said defiantly.

I wiped the spit from my chest and rubbed it on my cock. “That’s true,” I admitted. “You have much less noble reasons for letting me do this.”

My claws went to her cleft and parted her lips. She hissed as my claws ran up and down the inside of her sex. Her powerful thighs clenched and pulled against the tentacles but it was useless. I kissed her lovely boots as my fingers toyed with her.

“Zandark,” Viona moaned. My claws found her clitoris, and I began gently rolling it. She had seen these claws slit stone, but she knew how careful I would be with her. Her face flushed with excitement.

“You’re already soaking my claws,” I told her. I raised one finger to my lips and sucked her desire. “You’ve been teased enough, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said huskily.

“Want me to quit taunting you and just fuck you?” I asked. I laid my cheek against her boot-covered calf. The smell of her sweat mixed with leather enflamed me.

“Please,” Viona asked.

“Say it,” I demanded.

The proud warrior-heroine swallowed and frowned, but her hard nipples betrayed her vanity. It’s hard to look indignant when your lips are quivering with need. She knew the rules, and she always came back to play. If I ever relented, I knew she might kill me.

“Fuck me, please,” Viona the Brave said.

“Again,” I snarled as I stroked my cock.

“Fuck me with your cock,” Viona the Fearless asked me.

I slapped my cock against her lips hard enough to sting us both. “Again!”

“Fuck me like I’m your bitch!” she snarled. “Fuck me like a slut! Fuck me like your whore! Just fuck me hard, asshole!”

I pushed into her, and we moaned in unison. Her sex was a Fire Elemental unto itself. My cock slipped into her lips and sunk down to my balls.

It made losing another Dark Tower seem a small price to pay.

“Finally!” she growled with satisfaction. She tossed her head back and hung loosely in the tentacles as I fucked her. The mighty warrior was just a woman as I pumped her sex. Only in my power could she let go of herself enough to be pleasured.

My arm wrapped around a leather calf as I fucked her. With my other arm, I grabbed a bouncing breast and squeezed. Her nipple was trapped between my closing fingers, and she screamed with pleasure as my claws gently raked her bosom. My cock rammed her hanging sex, and I watched the sweat fly from her body. She was as beautiful in surrender as she was in battle.

Her leather boot began to unravel as my claws sank into it. With a growl, I tore her boot off and turned to bite her bulging calf. Viona cried out as my mouth clamped onto her sweaty skin. I continued to fuck her, and I could feel the muscle of her leg tense under my teeth with each thrust.

“Harder, Zandark!” the shameless heroine begged. “Claim me!”

I claimed her. With unrelenting thrusts, I claimed my prize. My cock made her mine. Her begging screams were my title of ownership. As she hung from the ceiling impaled on my manhood, Viona climaxed with a glorious wail of release.

The wails rose and fell as she rode her other climaxes. Sometimes she would pull against her bonds as her orgasm became too powerful to handle, and other times she would hang limply as the orgasm stripped her of strength. Regardless, I continued to fuck her with my superhuman endurance until the warrior-heroine begged me to stop.

“Zandark, I can’t take any more,” she moaned.

“You can finish me in other ways,” I chuckled. I pulled my cock free and marveled at how slick and shiny it was. A snap of my fingers moved her into her final position. She squealed like a fresh bride as the tentacles turned back over onto her stomach and brought her head down to my cock.

“Yes!” she said lustily before my cock entered her mouth. My hands grabbed her white-streaked black hair and pulled her head down to my crotch. Viona moaned, and her lips and throat vibrated around my cock.

Up and down I pulled her head over my cock, and she faithfully kept her lips wrapped tight around me. The tongue that had commanded armies licked the veins of my masculinity. She grunted as I roughly fucked her mouth, and her gasps only increased my passion.

My cock exploded between her lips and filled her mouth with my seed. I quickly pulled her head off me and stroked myself. Viona clenched her eyes and smiled as pumped my seed onto her face. Flying streams of white coated her face and hair as I roared with pleasure.

Few people know that the seed of a wizard marks whatever it touches.

“Dark Gods of Helkos!” I whispered when I was finally done.

“Bright Gods of Paratin,” Viona agreed.

“I could take you with me,” I offered as the tentacles dropped her lightly to the ground. “There are lands we could go to that have never heard of Viona the White or Zandark the Cruel.”

Viona laughed as she slowly crawled over to the Moon Sword. “And be your wench forever at your beck and call in another Dark Tower? I don’t think so.”

“Would it be so bad?” I asked. “I could summon plenty of nasty things for you to fight.”

She was almost to her sword. “There’s more to life than just killing things. There’s helping people. There’s also the thrill of adventure.”

I waved it off. “We could rule the world together. Isn’t that enough adventure for you?”

Viona picked up her sword. “I might have fallen for you,” she said a little sadly. “But I haven’t fallen that far.”

That was when she spun around and threw the Moon Sword. The deadly blessed touch of that mystic weapon could slay me with a nick. Fortunately, I was already beginning to fade into the Ether.

“Yet,” I said before my dimensional shift was complete.

I didn’t hear her answer.

A Special Kind of Service

Today I want to talk about that special relationship that amateur/sometime get paid Writers have with a certain special someone. That someone is their volunteer Editor who never gets paid. These special creatures agree to pour over stories and root out all the typos, the commas and really bad sentences. They do the nitty gritty nasty part of writing and for the life of me, I can’t ever figure out why they do it.

I have been writing since I was a teenager. I have picked up a lifetime of bad habits and language idiosyncrasies that are just part of my voice. I also have a deep love of commas that has to be pruned daily or else all my, sentences, looks something, like this. I think I am a creative writer and a good storyteller but in the technical side of writing I need constant improvement. Hey, constant improvement is my feeling about domination, bondage, Buddhism and cooking. What a coincidence.

Now as a writer of erotica, I have had my fair share of volunteer editors. People offer to edit my stories and since I am fully aware of my flaws, I appreciate the offer. What always strikes me is their enthusiasm. They are so damn tickled to do what to me is mind-numbing work. To me Editors are the real masochists and I love them for it.

I think people like to participate in the making of erotica and editing gives them a way to help. It lets them join the orgy and provide a vital function similar to giving out hand jobs in between penetrations. I also have to hope they know how essential their task is. Their elimination of weak sentences helps everyone climax smoother. I’d rather you were blown away by the hot sex scene and not smirking because someone shoved their cock into someone’s ‘pissy’. A writer comes up with the plot, the story, the characters and all those special little things people love, but the editor is the one who does quality control to make sure those things get to you, the reader.

What has been weird for me is that I am dominant person writing a lot of domination stories. Editors come to me because they like the domination but they often fear that I and my raging dominant ego will object to every change they offer. They are surprised when I very rarely argue with them. They see editing sometimes as a dominant act: Editor makes corrections and Writer obeys. What they don’t get is that to my mind, editors are serving me. They are doing me, and you the readers, an awesome service.

Of course, once they realize that, some of the editors I have dealt with start becoming romantically interested in me. You have no idea how conflicted this makes me. Having someone serve me is an incredible turn-on. I fall in love with every good waitress I have ever had. Serve me and my writing and you’ve just about sent a thousand roses to my libido. So by the time they start flirting with me, I’m already fantasizing about them a thousand times over.

The problem is that professional relationships last so much longer than romantic ones. Once romance enters it, every takes on another subtext. I write a story about a bitchy submissive who is a brat, and the editor wonders if she pissed me off last night. If I become fascinated with a certain body type that is NOT the editor’s, there are questions of jealousy. If I really do have an issue with my editor on a romantic level, then her little editing comments might come across as snippier than they really are. And man oh man, when there are relationship problems, then the story is the last thing to get fix.

The solution obviously is to be professional and not enter into a romantic relationship with an editor. It is smarter to behave. It is wiser to keep things technical. Funny how wisdom and actions rarely meet in certain situations.

Say hello to M. She volunteered a little while ago to edit my stories. She started with Cell Phone Slave chapter nine and when we have time, she’ll chop away at earlier chapters. She has professional experience with editing which has been a big help already. She and I are hard at work on chapter 11 which has gone from sucking, to sucking less and will soon be fabulous. Go over to her site and thank her for making things better around here.

Half-Nekkid Thursday Relaxing

That’s no bed, that’s my couch.

When my wife and I moved to Atlanta, we left a lot of our furniture behind. It was too expensive to pack it all and we had planned to buy all new cool furniture once we got here. The problem is that getting here cost us a fortune and we went into debt doing it. Factor in a car wreck, a blown knee and other setbacks and you end up an apartment that looks a lot like a college freshman’s room.

We had two beds because being poly people, you need two beds. We turned the queen size into the living room couch. It works pretty well. Throw in two bean bags and you get into almost any position to watch television. Well, and do other things.

What fascinates me most about having a bed for a couch is how our guests use it. Some of the most wild carefree people in Atlanta will sit on it like it actually is a couch. They will sit up straight and you can see their toes point down as they try to touch the ground. On the other hand, the most judgmental stuffy person I met in Atlanta sprawled out on the couch and kept dangling her shoes from her foot. Every time she shifted it was some new sexy pose. Something about a bed just relaxes certain people.

That’s my other cat, Sam. To him the couch is just another kingdom in his domain.

Fiction: Cell Phone Slave Part Ten

For the second day in a row, Amaya spent her time getting ready for sex. The déjà vu was hard to shake as she showered, fixed her hair and chose her clothes. Again, she kept her meals light. She couldn’t help remembering that when she’d done this yesterday, she had expected wonderful sex. Instead, she had sucked off three guys in a dirty restroom. Amaya wondered if tonight would be just as surprising.

At least, Amaya would be the one unleashing the surprise. Chris thought tonight was just another date, but Wesley had asked her to fuck him. It wasn’t part of the game, but it was something Wesley had asked. At this point, Amaya wasn’t sure if she could refuse him anything. God, the things she had done already! At least fucking Chris was something she wanted to do. In this case, Wesley was just giving her permission to do something she was craving anyway.

When she wasn’t getting ready for her date physically, Amaya was preparing herself mentally. This was only their second date. How would Chris react? Would he think she was a slut? Would he be like her old boyfriend and jump her at the first invitation? Amaya was deeply confused about which she preferred. If he was offended, then how would he react if he ever found out about the things she did for Wesley? But if he hopped right into bed with her, would that mean that’s all he wanted from her? Did he just think she was hot? Amaya found Chris sexy, too, but as the day wore on, she realized that she liked him because he wasn’t as overt as Wesley and his demands. In her mind, Chris was the saner choice between the two men, and when Wesley went too far and asked for something Amaya couldn’t give, she liked to think Chris would be there to have a normal relationship with. That might not be fair to Chris, but Amaya knew by now that she wasn’t strong enough to quit Wesley’s games.

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Of course, all of this speculation would be moot if Chris really were Wesley. Yesterday, when she’d asked for time for her date, Amaya had felt a chilling certainty that Wesley wasn’t Chris — and that he was pissed at her dating. Today, she was less sure. Since Chris was an acting student, it could have just been part of the act. In fact, if Chris were Wesley, this was a great way to get her to sleep with him without coming across as too forward. The more Amaya thought about it, the more she liked the idea: It would combine her two favorite men into a situation she could relish.

The idea of being fucked by Wesley/Chris dominated her thoughts and pushed out her insecurities. She thought about it while she sat in classes, oblivious to what her professors were saying. Sex would be rough; that was a given. A man who insisted on cages and paddles wouldn’t be gentle. He would spank her. He would pinch her nipples as cruelly as that evil tack bra had. Would he tie her up? Of course he would. He would keep her immobile while he fucked deep inside her. Every action would test her endurance. Every moment would make her question her judgment, and her body would betray her caution by being so terribly turned on.

Amaya cleaned her room the hour before her date. It wasn’t till then that she realized that she hadn’t thought about where she would fuck Chris. The room was tidy already, but Amaya’s perfectionism wouldn’t let it be. She swept, she made up her bed again, and she even gave the windows a good wiping. Amaya wondered if she should run down to the store and get some candles, but she decided not to. Somehow, neither Chris nor Wesley seemed like the candle type.

At ten to six, there was a knock at the door. Amaya jumped and tried to stay calm. She peeked out the door and was surprised to see Chris standing in the hallway. She had been expecting him to pick her up outside the dorm like he had last time. Why would he come to her room?

Amaya smiled. He came up because he knows.

“Hi,” she said as she opened the door. Chris started to respond, then paused as he got a good look at her. Amaya was pleased that she had rendered him speechless. It didn’t feel right to wear yesterday’s outfit, so she had chosen something fresh —a red dress with a very revealing neckline and quite a bit of leg exposed. Yesterday, she’d lacked the confidence to wear something so revealing, but today, she had little doubts of her beauty. Today, Amaya was going all out.

“Wow, you look great,” Chris said.

“Thanks.” On a whim, she added, “Would you like to come in?”

Chris beamed his wonderful smile. “Yes, I would.”

Amaya moved aside to let him come in. As he walked by, she smelled his cologne and breathed deeply. She wondered briefly what his cock smelled like. The lewdness of the thought shocked her, but she had little time to recover. Chris was giving her a box of chocolates.

“I got these for you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Amaya said. She was tempted to open the box and see if it held one of Wesley’s envelopes, but she restrained herself. The box was quite large, and Amaya saw that it was an expensive brand. Wow, just like a normal date.

“Nice room,” Chris said. He stood next to Helen’s old bed and looked around. Amaya watched him and wondered how in the world she was going to initiate sex. It was fine to fantasize, masturbate and daydream about fucking a guy, but it was another thing to actually start it.

Fuck it. She had crawled naked into a cage on the top of the building. She had put on a bra full of tacks. She had masturbated in front of a camera and stripped next to that very window. Now was not the time to get cold feet.

Amaya walked right up to Chris and reached for his head. His expression was one of surprise, but he said nothing as she pulled his face down for a kiss. She kissed him hard, perhaps too hard, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to feel some sort of approval other than a warm chuckle on the phone. Her lips pressed against him and her tongue opened his mouth as she sought that approval from Chris.

His lips and his tongue approved. So did his hands as they slipped down her back and cupped her ass. They squeezed her ass gently, and Amaya moaned at his touch. She couldn’t stand to let her dress be in the way, so she hiked her skirt up and placed Chris’s hand right on her ass. The thong let him feel every curve of her buttock.

The kiss lasted until Amaya was out of breath. She pushed Chris away to gasp and was pleased to see that he was gasping, too. He wasn’t stopping, though. He kissed down her neck and nibbled his way down her chest until his mouth was on her exposed cleavage. Amaya moaned and wrapped her fingers in his short hair. Oh, God, this was exactly what she had been dreaming of, and it took only a kiss to start!

Chris nibbled gently as he kissed along the neckline of her dress. His hands kept squeezing her ass, and Amaya wondered when he was going to spank it. She could imagine his broad hands slapping her cheeks while his mouth kept kissing. Instead, they just kept teasing her by staying where they were. The potential was maddening, and Amaya squirmed as she pressed back into those strong hands.

Chris’s mouth hesitated on her breast, just inches away from where her hard nipple was poking against the dress. She hadn’t needed a bra with this dress, so all it would take would be a simple pulling of cloth to expose her nipple to his tongue. Chris didn’t do it. He just stayed where he was, nibbling and sucking on her skin till she was about to go nuts.

Amaya couldn’t hold back. She pulled her top down so that her breast popped out of her dress. She barely had time to realize how brazen she was being before Chris banished any such self-analysis with his mouth. His lips encircled her sensitive nipple while his tongue flicked over it rapidly. The sensation was overwhelming, and Amaya relished each lick of the tongue.

“Yes,” she growled. Chris paused but then resumed his licking. A few moments later, he was pulling at her dress to get to her other breast. Amaya hissed through her teeth as he sucked hard on the new tit. His teeth grazed her nipple before his tongue lavished her nipple with lengthy licks. She pressed her chest against him, wanting to get his mouth as far as possible around her large tits. She wanted to be consumed, and judging from his enthusiasm, Chris had no problem trying.

After a deliciously long time of nipple sucking, Chris had to stop for air. Amaya smiled and knew exactly what she wanted to do next. She placed her hands on the bulge that was pressing against his tight pants and ran her zingers along his zipper. Chris groaned with pleasure until she unbuttoned him and started to unzip him.

“No, no, wait,” Chris said.

A moment of panic seized her. Had she done something wrong? Was she supposed to let him take the lead now? A thousand doubts filled her mind, and tears formed in her eyes when he got up and walked away.

“Just want to pull these shades down,” Chris said. Relief replaced her doubt as he did just that. Amaya realized she was tightly wound and tried hard to blink back those tears. Wow, she had it bad. She reminded herself that the hard part was over; all she had to do now was fuck this handsome guy and enjoy herself.

Chris returned to her once the shades were down. Amaya stayed on her knees and reached out for his pants again. She unzipped him and pulled his pants down to reveal tight white briefs. His bulge strained against the material until Amaya pulled his underwear down. She smiled as his cock flopped out, and she took a moment to admire it. It was a decent size, and thinking back to the restroom yesterday, Amaya felt it could have been the first cock she saw.

Amaya took his cock into her mouth, relishing being able to take him down all the way down to his balls. She gently touched them while her mouth encased his cock. Chris groaned loudly and his hands went to her shoulders. Amaya hoped he would clamp his hands down on her shoulders and fuck her mouth, but instead, they just used her shoulders for support. That was OK; Amaya could fuck her own mouth for him. She bobbed back and forth on his cock with delight. Her jaw was still tender from yesterday, but she pushed through the pain. She’d sucked three men yesterday; she could suck just one today.

His cock smelled great. Sweaty. Masculine. It smelled like something that was meant to be sucked by an adoring mouth.

Amaya lost herself in sucking him. Every groan he made was like a caress of her libido. She wanted to reach down and stroke herself but she held off. She wanted to wait. She wanted to hold off her own pleasure until Chris forced it from her. No matter how much she loved filling her mouth with his cock, she kept her hands on his balls and away from her very wet pussy.

“OK, stop,” Chris groaned, and Amaya did so instantly. “Get on the bed,” he said next, and Amaya squeezed her thighs together tightly. Finally! He was giving her commands!

She rose from her knees and climbed onto her bed. He didn’t tell her to strip or remove her panties, so she didn’t. Chris pushed her gently to lie down on her bed, and she did so. Then he lifted her dress until her bright red thong was exposed. Amaya watched Chris’s face as he pulled her thong off and looked at her sex. She watched for any signs of dislike or disapproval, but Chris showed none. When he dipped down and placed his mouth on her sex, Amaya let go of any more worries and surrendered to the pleasure.

How long had it been since she’d had her pussy licked? Too long, Amaya decided. Chris treated her pussy so very gently, paying attention to every fold of her skin and every drop of her moisture. He lapped her sex, and it felt wonderful. He buried his mouth in her pubic bush, and Amaya gripped her sheets as a spasm of pleasure shot through her. This was nothing like her ex-boyfriend’s attempts at oral sex. There was no hesitation or half-hearted eating. This was full mouth-on-sex contact, and Amaya couldn’t keep her hips from bucking in joy.

Chris rode with her hips, never complaining as Amaya clenched, shivered or pushed her hips up. In the back of her mind, she was a little disappointed. She wanted him to clamp down on her hips with his hands and keep her pinned while he relentlessly ravished her. Instead, he moved with her, keeping his mouth on her no matter where she moved. It almost felt like he was trying too hard to please her as opposed to eating her for his own enjoyment.

When it came to her clitoris, though, Chris was merciless. He attacked her clit with his tongue. Amaya turned her head and bit down on her pillow as he slapped her sensitive nub over and over and over again. It was too intense, and Amaya whimpered happily at the way he pushed her farther than she thought she could endure.

“Like it?” Chris asked.

Amaya couldn’t answer. She could only gasp and nod her head. When he went back down, she braced herself for another assault on her clit, but he kissed her thighs instead. Chris kissed her thighs and flirted briefly with a few licks of his tongue on her pussy lips, but he didn’t resume his oral ravishing of her. Amaya clenched her sheets and waited; she was at his mercy and would wait forever for him to eat her again.

Her clenching was in vain. Chris kissed up her body, and his mouth returned to her sensitive nipples. She nearly growled in frustration. If this was part of the teasing, then so be it. No matter how badly she wanted that mouth back between her thighs, she would submit and be happy with him sucking her tits again.

Chris was rougher with her breasts this time, and that was some consolation. Her skin was still a little sore from the tacks, but that soreness was just extra spice on top of the rough way he squeezed and nibbled her tits. He never bit down too hard, though; his teeth just pricked and subtly grazed her full breasts. Amaya squirmed and shut her eyes, praying that Chris would take a vicious bite that would prove how much she could endure. He never did.

He was on top of her, though, and that Amaya relished. Yesterday’s restroom-stall walls had reminded her of how long it had been since she’d really felt human contact. She loved the weight of his body on top of hers. It pressed her down and pinned her to her bed. His cock throbbed against her thigh, just inches away from her pussy. Amaya thrust her hips against him, her body asking him to fill her because she didn’t dare voice her own desires. To her frustration and delight, he ignored what her body was saying and just kept sucking and kissing her breasts. There was so much to suckle that Amaya feared he would never finish and fuck her.

Without a word, Chris stopped and rolled off of her. Amaya opened her eyes and watched him. She kept perfectly still, just as she had the night someone came to her room to spank her. For some reason, she didn’t feel the need to even ask what he was doing. He knew she wanted him, and she had faith that he was going to fuck her tonight.

“I forgot my condom,” Chris said. His face colored as he blushed, and Amaya smiled. He was actually embarrassed to be getting a condom! Amaya smiled, but she was a bit embarrassed herself. She had totally forgotten about condoms, and what about yesterday when she’d swallowed three strangers’ cum? She chided herself for being irresponsible, but she didn’t let it spoil the moment. Chris was being smart, and all Amaya could do was learn from it.

The sight of him putting on the condom was quite erotic. He tore open the package and rolled it over his cock. When her ex-boyfriend had made her roll the condom on, She’d hated how slippery it was in her hands and how difficult it was to put on. It was different watching Chris do it. It was like he was decorating his cock for her, adorning it with a silver sheen for her appreciation.

Chris smiled as he walked back to her, and Amaya returned his smile by parting her legs. He leered briefly before regaining his composure and returning to a friendly smile. Amaya didn’t care. She liked the leer. It reflected what she felt between her thighs.

He crawled between her thighs and slid easily into her wet sex. Now she did cry out. His girth filled her, and she clenched down hard on what he gave her. Finally! She had warm flesh inside her and not that wonderful but cold vibrator. Chris looked down on her and kissed her briefly.

Then he fucked her. Slow, steady thrusts pushed into her pussy. Amaya wrapped her legs around him and rode his hips. His hands were on either side of her, and Amaya toyed with the idea of placing them on her tits. No, that was his choice to make. She contented herself with wrapping her arms around his back, feeling the muscles move as he fucked her.

Chris grunted as he fucked her, soft little sounds that were almost cute. Amaya watched his face, looking for what she wasn’t sure. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open with pleasure. Amaya was delighted to have him inside her, but she wondered if she was there inside his head. She said nothing, content to be used as a grip for his cock if that’s all he wanted.

“Roll over,” he commanded. Amaya clenched in response. He had given her an order! Shivers ran through her body as his words washed over her.

“Please,” Chris said with a smile as he pulled out.

Please? Amaya felt her stomach sink. Please? Did Wesley ever say please? It just seemed so wrong. Didn’t Chris realize how badly she wanted to be told what to do? How badly she wanted to surrender control?

Please?

Amaya did as he asked. She tossed off her dress before rolling over to her stomach and then rising to her hands and knees. She had guessed correctly. Chris pushed the tip of his cock against her slit and pushed right in. Her pussy took him in while her mind debated who he really was. She moaned when he filled her, and she clenched despite the confusion of her emotions.

Chris held her hips tightly as he pounded her. Amaya thrust back into him, meeting him with each fuck. She felt him smack against her buttocks, and the sound made her think of the spanking she’d been given in this very room. Images flooded her mind while his cock invaded her pussy. Expectations turned into tests as she imagined one act after another that would prove that Chris was her lover on the phone.

“Grab my hair,” she whispered under her breath. She wanted him to grab it and pull her head back as he rode her. If he did that, it would mean Chris was Wesley.

He didn’t.

“Slap my ass,” she whispered. If only he would spank her with his open hand and make her buttocks sting. Make her scream from the pain. If he did that, it would mean Chris was Wesley.

He didn’t.

“Make me ask to cum,” Amaya whispered. Why didn’t he make her ask for her own pleasure out loud and then grant it to her? Insist that she hold off until he was good and ready? If he did that, it would mean Chris was Wesley.

He didn’t.

Perversely, she no longer was willing to be submissive. If anything, she wanted to test how far she could push Chris. The more she thought about it, the more she needed to know: Would he surrender to her?

“Lie down,” Amaya said as she crawled away from him. His cock popped out of her, and she didn’t mourn its loss.

Chris laid on the bed with a satisfied grin. Amaya crawled over him and took a firm hold of his cock. He moaned and gripped the same sheets she had clenched when he first entered her. How could she have ever thought he was Wesley? Or was this the greatest acting job in the world?

She mounted him, filling her sex with him once more. Instead of being self-conscious about her weight, Amaya dropped her full weight onto his hips. She ground into him and clenched her thighs around his hips. Chris moaned as her hips moved back and forth, pinning him and fucking him so terribly slowly.

He reached up to grab her breasts, but Amaya intercepted his hands with her own. She folded his hands on his belly and held them there as she continued to ride him. Chris moaned but he didn’t argue. He watched her as she fucked him, and his face was full of adoration.

She couldn’t bring herself to return it. Chris was supposed to be her backup lover, the simple, normal guy she could turn to. Now, he was getting off on being told what to do! He was thrusting harder, enjoying the dominance Amaya craved for herself. It was so unfair! Amaya ground harder, fucking him with a vengeance, shifting and twisting her hips without any regard for what his poor cock could handle.

“Oh, God!” Chris cried out as he climaxed. He shook all over as Amaya continued to ride him. She gave him no time to enjoy his orgasm but fucked him even faster. It was only when he started to curl up and tried to slide out of her that she let him go. Amaya fell to the side and watched as Chris’s chest rose up and down rapidly.

“Oh, God,” he repeated. “Did you cum, too?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Oh, God,” Chris said again. “Wow, I could really go for dinner now!”

He laughed, and Amaya faked a laugh with him. A cold pit developed in her stomach at the idea of eating with him though. How could she have gone from liking him so much to how she felt now so quickly? He disappointed her, and she hated him for not even noticing.

“No food for me, thanks,” Amaya said. Chris looked genuinely hurt, so she added: “I’m really tired and knew I couldn’t last through a whole dinner somewhere. That’s why I, umm, jumped the gun here.”

Chris laughed. “Jump the gun any time you want, Amaya.”

She smiled and nodded. “I don’t mean to throw you out, but I’m really exhausted, and the sex wore me out.”

“Oh, no, of course,” Chris said. He moaned as he sat up. She watched impatiently as he grabbed his pants and slipped his shoes back on. She rose from her bed and threw her dress back on. Chris pulled off his condom and looked helpless. Amaya told him to use her trash can and not to worry about it.

At the door, he turned to kiss her. “I didn’t, you know, plan to do this,” he said.

“I know,” she said in what she thought was a helpful way.

It must have worked, because he smiled and kissed her again before leaving.

Amaya sat down. What the fuck was that? She tried to piece it together, tried to retrace her steps and understand what had just happened, but it was beyond her. Her emotions were in such a state of flux that she didn’t know how she felt anymore.

The cell phone rang. Amaya swallowed and picked it up gingerly. He’d said she had the day off; was he changing his mind?

“Hello, Amaya. That didn’t go as you expected, did it?”

“No,” she said. “Wait, how did you know that?”

Wesley sighed. “Because I know you, Amaya. You would never be content just to have sex with someone. You want to be used; you want to be hurt, because that proves you are not in control. A horny college kid can’t do those things without being told to, and even then he’d just be doing it for you. You don’t want a boyfriend, Amaya. You want to be owned.”

She wanted to deny him, but there was no way she could argue. Chris had left her feeling unfulfilled. She had spent the day fantasizing about Chris but when he was here she wished he were Wesley. Wesley had a bigger grip on her heart than she realized.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked.

“I’m suggesting that you might be the woman I’ve been looking for, and I want to upgrade our little game.”

“Upgrade?” she said.

“I am doing away with the one-hour rule. From now on, when I call you, you’ll obey me until the task is completed. You will still be paid, but the games will become more involved. Is that agreeable to you, or would you like to quit now?”

“Yes,” she responded quietly.

“Excellent,” Wesley said. “Go to your window and peek out through the shades. Look directly across from you, and then look a floor down and two windows to your right.”

She did as he asked. She recognized the room right away: It was the same room where a group of guys had watched her when she posed topless by her window. There was a large group of guys there, and they were in a boisterous mood. It took her a minute to realize that Chris was one of them.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. He was shaking hands and getting slapped on the back as though he had just won a prize. Amaya’s stomach sank as she realized what that prize must have been!

“I looked him up in the school computer when you gave me his name,” Wesley said. “When I discovered that he lived across from you in the same building, I did a little more research. Apparently, he saw you at your window and decided you were easy. My sources tell me that he also saw you the other day when you wore your punishment bra. I don’t know what his feelings for you are, but I do know he approached you because of your body and your willingness to show it off.”

“Asshole,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if she meant Wesley or Chris. It did explain a lot about Chris. It explained more than she wanted to think about. The worst part was that he wanted to use her for sex, but he was so bad at it.

And what did that say about Wesley? He’d known about Chris but waited till after she fucked the liar to tell her? How could he let her do that? Perhaps he enjoyed being mentally cruel? Perhaps he’d wanted her to fuck Chris so she could get over him and then tell her the truth to finish off any lingering feelings? Either way, she just felt hurt right now.

“You didn’t orgasm, did you?”

“No,” she said. Despite her hurt feelings, she felt herself get wet at that simple question.

“Get the paddle I sent you, and bend over your bed, ass out.”

The suddenness of his command shocked her, but Amaya felt her cheeks flush and her heart race. Yes, this was much easier. Easier to obey and get fucked than think about the manipulations of men. She scrambled for her purse and fished out the paddle. Yanking her dress back off, she got into position exactly as Wesley had commanded.

“This is not a game, Amaya. This is just something you need, and today, I am willing to give it to you. Understand?”

“Yes!” she said, and there was a tremble to her voice.

“Then spank yourself six times, hard.”

The angle was awkward, but she did it. She slapped her ass with the paddle while holding the phone in the crook of her neck. Despite the bad angle, Amaya managed to hit her ass pretty hard, and she was proud of the loud whacks.

“Harder than that, Amaya,” Wesley said, and his tone was harsh. “Six more.”

She did them, biting her lip as her ass burned.

“Six more, harder!”

She obeyed.

“Now, five as fast as you can.”

Her ass burned, but she obeyed. The rapid blows were worse than the hard hits. She tried to spread the paddle hits around her ass, but it was hard to do, bent over as she was. The heat just continued to build and build on her sensitive skin.

“Faster than that, girl. Five more!”

She did them faster.

“Five more, faster!”

She cried out as she spanked her own ass faster.

“Tell me you want to climax,” Wesley commanded.

“Yes! I want to climax!”

“Five more hits, hard this time.”

Amaya hit her ass as hard as she whimpered from each hit.

“Do you want to climax?” Wesley asked.

“Yes, please!”

“Five more hits, fast as you can.”

She obeyed, and despite the pain, it felt good to obey.

“Tell me you want to climax.”

“Please, please, please let me cum!” Amaya begged.

“Stay bent over, and finger yourself,” he commanded. “Finger-fuck yourself like I would if I were there.”

She dropped the paddle and immediately obeyed. Her fingers sunk into her warm pussy, a pussy that had only minutes before been filled with Chris’s cock. She clenched just thinking about it, and she was stunned to realize that her fingers felt ten times better than his thrusting cock. It was all in the context.

“Pull your fingers out,” he commanded. “Press the star key to lock the keypad. Put the phone against your pussy. Rub yourself with the phone, my horny girl.”

Amaya didn’t hesitate. She steadied herself with one hand and placed the phone where he commanded with the other. Her pubic hairs snagged and the plastic felt odd against her pussy, but she was so damn turned on. The heat from the spankings was still burning her ass, but it only encouraged her to fuck faster. She ground against the phone, fucking herself with a passion she hadn’t felt with Chris.

The orgasms came upon her quickly and shot through her entire body. She collapsed onto the bed and clenched her thighs tightly around the phone. Thoughts of Chris and Wesley were obliterated with pure pleasure. This is what her body craved. This is how she wanted to be fucked. Everything else was just distraction.

“I came,” she reported. The phone smelled like her pussy. It didn’t bother her at all.

“I heard,” Wesley said. “Tomorrow, the game continues. Will you be prepared emotionally?”

“Yes,” Amaya lied. “Will I ever see you in person?”

Wesley chuckled, and it was such a warm sound coming from him. “My dear Amaya. Haven’t you realized what the grand prize is yet? When you have passed all my games and proven your worth to me, then you will join me full time, forever and ever, in games you can’t even imagine.”

After a night of shocks, this one was by far the most stunning. She was speechless, exhilarated, happy, suspicious and turned on. It was what she had hoped for, but after the betrayals she had just gone through, she couldn’t let herself believe it. Join Wesley full time? Unbelievable.

“Sleep tight, Amaya,” Wesley said. “Prepare yourself not only for the games, but for what you may eventually win.”