A Slave to Desire (2 page)

Letting go of the sides of my cunt, and the
bar above me, I grabbed his bald head and rode my orgasm; grinding
against his puckered lips, engorged from pleasuring me. He moaned
again as I came hard; hot fluid rushing out of me and around his
face, covering the front of him. Walter’s tongue didn’t stop for a
second, learning to keep going until I gave the command, as I rode
another wave of pleasure when it rolled over the last causing me to
cum again.

Groaning out at last I let go of him saying
it was enough and stepped back. He stayed put, only bringing his
head away from the cushioned support to face forward, and waited
for instruction. The sight of him panting, his meager erection
straining at the zipper of his slacks had my already used clit
twitching for more.

“Take your cock out.”

Walter didn’t hesitate, he knew the chance
was there, if I wished it, for me to touch him—he
had
signed
the paper allowing me as much—but he never knew if it was going to
happen so he was quick to show me his dick whenever I asked.

“Good. Now stroke it, jerk yourself off
thinking about my pussy in your mouth.”

“Yes Mistress,” he said, his voice barely a
whisper as his hand began running the short length up then back
down his dick.

Snatching up my crop, I placed it on the
small cart with other objects like it and sat back in my red velvet
lounge with my legs spread wide to watch the show. Walter knew not
to cum until I told him and with his dick already being so hard I
could tell it was an effort for him to comply. Watching his
struggle turned me on even more as I stroked my hard clit coaxing
another orgasm from me.

“Rub it harder, I want you to beg to cum, I
want your dick to hurt so bad with the need for release that you
feel like you might pass out.”

Walter complied like a good slave, stroking
and pulling more vigorously on his miniscule dick. Watching it
strain, getting even larger—the veins pushing at the sides,
becoming more visible—matched the strain I could see in the rest of
his body. New sweat beaded on his balding head, then ran down his
temple, around his cheek, soaking his loose collar.

My pussy ached for more, making me wish his
dick was bigger, something that would get me off better than a hand
or a mouth, but I knew it wouldn’t. Phasing out Walter, I thought
of a huge cock pounding my aching hole with a skilled man behind it
spreading my pussy wide, then my ass, and my mouth. The images of
being taken by a faceless man had me bucking and cumming again on
my lounge and when grunted efforts came from the other side of the
room I remembered Walter and the state he was in.

“Have your release,” I commanded and the man
came in a hot gush of fluid all over his slacks as he thanked me
repeatedly.

Sighing to myself, knowing the masturbation
and pussy eating still wasn’t enough to sate the need in me, I
stood and went to Walter, helping him to his feet before leading
him to the exit. Clients came in the chambers blindfolded and
ready; what they wore could be, and was usually, a mess or even
destroyed by the time they left. It was understood that at times
your cock may be hanging out when you exited, but I was nice and
did up Walter’s pants before releasing him to Ricki who was waiting
on the other side, ready to direct the other man to the washroom
available for clients.

Ricki gave me wink as he collected Walter
telling the old guy he looked ready for a long nap at home. As soon
as the door shut I flicked on my screen, which showed the lobby,
and watched Walter enter the bathroom before exiting minutes later.
He spoke to Ricki who nodded a few times and shook his head then
collected a small box from the man. Walter left as I threw on my
robe, ready to hang out with Ricki and get my gift—what the
packages usually were that Walter gave him.

“Oh girl, that man is in love with you.”
Ricki was always gushing.

“Aren’t they all,” I said as I took the
small, blue leather box from him.

Ricki hopped up on the counter, his cerulean
eyes sparkled under dark eyebrows, which were sculpted to
perfection and arched in excitement. “What is it? Open it up!”

Shaking my head I laughed at him. Ricki
always seemed more thrilled with the gifts I got than I was, of
course since I tended to give some to him it was understandable. I
adored the man, calling him my gay boyfriend, and had even made him
part of the family under the guise that I met him in the mail of
the building I worked at.

The new hinge creaked as I opened the present
revealing a diamond tennis bracelet and solitaire pendant with a
gem that was at least a karat in size. Shaking my head again a
smile touched the corner of my mouth even though I felt a little
sad for Walter and the money he spent on me. The squeals that came
from Ricki said he didn’t share my sentiment.

Holding up the bracelet I looked at the more
thrilled man standing next to me. “You know if he put as much money
and effort into a real woman as he did me, Walter would be happily
married by now.”

“Please Lynette.” Ricki snatched the bracelet
from me to try on. “He’s one of those men who would think a wife
had to do what she is told and not spend an ounce of attention on
her.”

Ricki’s words had my ex-husband’s chiseled
features crossing my mind. Quickly I pushed his handsome, hate
inducing, face away.

Taking the necklace out, I handed it to Ricki
then lifted my hair so he could clasp it around my neck. “You’re
wrong there. Walter would shower any woman he had with all his
money and attention.” Letting my hair fall back in place I turned
to face my friend. “He probably just wishes I would be that woman
forever. Men who make demands have the looks to back up the dick
head attitude.”

Ricki laughed and planted a kiss on my cheek.
He knew the stories of how cruel my ex was, and how handsome I
thought him to be, even if he had never seen the man himself for
reference considering there was not a single photograph of him in
my new home.

“If any man now treated you that way he would
be a sorry sight after I was done with him, even if he was as hot
as Robert Pattinson.”

“Bleck! Not hot enough.” I wasn’t as fond of
the Twilight star as my bestie.

Ricki laughed along with me before he let out
a small cat call. “Yowza, how about that hunk of meat?”

Still giggling I turned to see a client on
the monitor approaching the front door and my laugh stopped short,
choking in my throat.

“Now I bet that is a man who knows exactly
what he looks like and makes sure every woman, or man, he is with
knows it too.”

Ricki’s words were barely heard over the
pounding of my own heart. The man was handsome, very much so, and
the expensive tailored suit he wore, as well as the Mercedes he was
walking away from, said he made big money. I didn’t need to have
those cues to know how much he made though, I knew precisely what
he was banking, because the man who would be my next client—since I
was the only day girl—was my ex-husband, Eric.

Unaware of who he spoke to Ricki was as
gracious as ever to Eric, whom apparently was a former client of
the previous day girl Rachel, aka Savannah. Clients didn’t know me
as Lynette either, I was strictly Mistress. Eric was getting the
run down on me as I watched from my room. Just like the desk clerk
had video surveillance of the outside of the building and in each
of the girls’ rooms for security, the seven of us girls had video
feed to our rooms showing the lobby. That way we could see
potential clients and if we didn’t like the looks of them, we said
so with a call to the desk and the client was offered someone else
or turned away.

I hadn’t called Ricki yet.

Instead, I watched a man I despised hear
about my rules, requirements, and the precautions of working with
me, as well as view pictures of my nude and semi-nude body. Clients
wanted the fantasy of knowing what the body of the girl looked like
that would be using them, even if they were not allowed to see the
face. They were expected, though, to have an understanding of what
the woman may do once in their chamber.

Ricki was always careful in explaining my
rules since I was a little harsher than most of the other girls.
The extreme treatment of my slaves was why days were easy to move
to; after a year on nights I had a built a particular client base
that didn’t mind switching for me. The fact my ex was a previous
day client and willing to change girls said he was a day-time walk
in; not unheard of but very rare and not something I had seen since
switching to days almost nine months ago.

“Is this really necessary for this chick?”
There was something in Eric’s voice, a hesitation maybe.

Ricki rolled his eyes. “Yes. Look, maybe you
should come back after five when there is a selection. You can even
see Savannah again if you would like.”

Dueling emotions took over in me. Part of me
wanted him to say, “fuck it” and come back another time but another
part of me wanted a chance to enact a new kind of revenge on the
prick.

“Okay, fine.” Eric shook his head and signed
the waivers as Ricki pulled out a new blindfold.

It was as though I watched Eric finish
signing and remove his suit jacket and tie, items he didn’t want
destroyed, in slow motion on the monitor.

“He signed it.” The empty room ate my words
as the intercom crackled to life.

“My sweet Mistress, are you ready to
entertain a new slave.”

The words were hollow in my ears when
normally they were sweet, coating me like a lust inducing
honey.

“Mistress?”

Snapping out of my stupor I cleared my throat
and pressed the button. “Yes dear, give me a moment to prepare the
chamber while you prepare my new offering.”

Eric made some noise behind my friend and I
had a feeling Rachel and the former morning attendant weren’t as
theatrical as Ricki and I preferred to be. Well, whatever he was
thinking it didn’t matter now because as the hollow sensation in me
began to fade a new one of excitement and anticipation replaced it.
In mere moments I would have that cowering fuck in
my
domain
and at
my
will. He was about to be
my
slave.

“Thank you Rickard,” my pet name for Ricki
when clients were around, “that will be fine.”

I motioned him to place Eric in the
restraints on my floor to ceiling poles. He nodded to me and
brought the man’s arms above his head—not to high to hurt him but
enough to keep him in one place—and spread his hands apart so as to
shackle his wrists to the movable bar I had hooked on the poles.
His feet too were shackled at the bottom, but not to a bar. Upon
restraining, Eric decided he wanted his slacks removed as well.
Ricki did so, then restrained his ankles once more before leaving;
taking the pants with him and fanning himself dramatically while
mouthing, “oh my god.”

Oh my god indeed
, I thought as I
walked around him; spread like an offering on the padded surface
set higher than the ground surrounding it. Relishing the sight of
his lean tan form, lightly haired in all the right places, obscured
by only white briefs, a button down, and the blindfold, I made sure
my heals clacked with each step on the harder surface as I took him
in. He looked almost angelic amongst the mainly black and red motif
of my chamber. Stopping in front of him I gathered the first button
of his shirt in my hands.

“I really should have had Rickard remove all
your clothing except the ball-strangling excuse for undergarments
you wear.” There was a moment I worried he may recognize even a
fake voice from me, but I stuck to what I had been doing for so
long and stayed on script.

He pulled back as far as the restraints would
let him. “What?”

The strike was so swift I almost hadn’t
expected it. There was no thought in the action of who it was in
that moment. As soon as he opened his mouth all that mattered was
my slave spoke out of turn. All worry in me vanished and I knew I
was the Mistress and he was nothing but a slave.

Grabbing him by the collar I pulled it tight
against his adam’s apple. “I know you had to have understood the
paper you signed and it very clearly said that you are not to speak
unless I ask you a direct question, and that is only with ‘yes
Mistress’ or ‘no Mistress’ except when I state otherwise. Will we
have another problem?” The words came out bitten off and mean; as
they should have, since I spoke them through gritted teeth.

“No Mistress.” Eric’s voice was weak and I
had to wonder if it was from the force I was putting at his throat
or something else.

Loosening my hold I went back to the buttons.
“Just so you know your place, this session will not be as easy as
they normally are for a new slave.”

“Yes Mistress.” This time when he spoke the
edge in his voice sent small tingles of electricity down my
skin.

His tone, his posture—taught and ready for
what was to come—all spoke of the same thing; he was mine.

“Now,” I said just a breath above a whisper
before ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying.

Eric responded with a small gasp.

“Why don’t we really begin?”

Grabbing a pair of shears from off the nearby
cart I proceeded to cut away the rest of Eric’s shirt. The need to
protest was obvious in the way his lips formed a grimace and how
each snip pulled a small noise from him. Those cuts were slow too,
precise, teasing at the fact I was ruining a shirt which I had no
doubt cost more than a simple button down should. As it fell to the
floor I saw the tag—black with white letters spelling, GUCCI—and
knew I was right.

“Awe, I hope that shirt wasn’t special. Don’t
worry you’ll be compensated.”

My patronizing tone twitched at his lip and I
knew, just knew he wanted to comment; and that, of course, was why
I was saying what I was—doing what I was. I knew Eric better than
anyone and knew how to get at him, push him to break the rules I
set in place, and the best part was, he had no idea it was me.