Nympho (13 page)

Rico looked frustrated that he hadn't broken my spirit— that after all I'd been through, I was still gloating. Not only had I lived the fantasy, but I felt empowered knowing I'd won a round of boxing with Rico's volatile emotions. I could tell he didn't know what to say.

“It's good sleeping weather, and you're coming home with me to Upper Marlboro. We'll discuss our future because you belong to me.”

“Whatever you say, papi,” I said, still smirking. Rico grabbed me by the arm, tearing me away from the cops. I rose to my feet, holding my gaze on him.

“If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you. Now get your clothes and get dressed,” he mumbled under his breath so the cops couldn't catch on to his most hostile words. I reached for my shoes but he grabbed my wrist, a clear sign that I should leave them. When Rico and I left the hotel room, his outrageous antics continued.

About two miles down an isolated highway, Rico threw on the brakes, held a switchblade under my neck, and then pulled over.

“You think that was cute what you pulled? No one makes an ass of Rico. You still don't know who you're messing with, I see. Get out, puta. Get out and walk home barefoot while you think about your disrespectful behavior, you whore!” he screamed.

I got out and started walking. Rico drove alongside me on the shoulder of the road, taunting me in every way possible. I had expected him to speed off, leaving a trail of smoke. Instead, he dragged out my agony for at least a quarter of a mile. Out of the blue, his tone changed and suddenly he was gentle and warm.

“Hey, Les. Did I tell you I've got one of your pictures as my computer wallpaper?” I didn't reply. “You know the one with you sucking my balls on that boat ride—that's my favorite. I like the way your jaw line looks so strong and sexy. My mami is such an animal. Don't you agree?”

At that second, a sense of fear surged into my body. What Rico didn't know was that I'd recorded the whole train ride, from Wendee's performance up to the last threat he'd made. The only reason I complied to hoofing it was because all the evidence I needed to finally turn his world upside down was resting in my junky purse. Sure, I had to give something to get something. But as far as I was concerned, a little over four hundred dollars was an extremely wise investment. The digital video camera was the mere size of a pack of smokes, and I was able to blend it in with items sitting on the dresser. It almost slipped my mind, but Innocence was a slick little vixen. Even though the images of Rico and Wendee were shadowy due to the lights being turned off, at least the conversation was recorded, and Rico did eventually shed light upon the situation. When he did, I knew the camera had picked up everything that happened after that, including my act. I just had to find a way to keep him from noticing the contents of my purse.

“Mami, tell Rico you agree that you belong to him.”

“I do,” I said. “I agree,” I answered solemnly.

Rico stopped the car. I hopped in and began to wiggle my toes and rub my feet. Hey, it just be like that sometimes—until the time was right to make a move. Innocence could tolerate thug loving, even if Leslie couldn't. Unbeknownst to Rico, I hadn't learned my lesson one bit.

E
arly in the morning, after Rico released me from my “duties,” I got cleaned up and went to Arundel Mills to pick out the perfect birthday gift for Trey. It took me three and a half hours to come up with something, but in the end, I found the perfect gift for a man who was always on the go—a user friendly carry-on that was complete with an organizer. As I walked through the mall, I called and called Trey, wishing him a happy birthday. The first call I placed was around nine A.M. If he had in fact slept at home that night, I knew he should answer. When he answered his home line, it was in his typical hurried manner, promising to call me from the car on his way to the office. He didn't keep his word, so I wasn't able to announce my plans of making him a romantic dinner and treating him like the king in my world.

As the day wore on I realized he wasn't going to call me back. By evening, I'd called so much I stopped leaving messages and merely hung up each time I heard his voicemail. I got angrier and angrier, and then I lost my cool. I decided to leave another message, and I stated that he could fuck whom he wanted to fuck and that the wedding was off. Fighting and making up had become a new habit. Although it was getting old fast, Trey should've realized I didn't mean what I said. I really just exploded to make a point—it had everything to do with wanting him to be more attentive.

I turned off my phone and tried to put something into my growling stomach. As usual, I sat at my kitchen table with candles, his favorite Chinese dishes, but no Trey. My appetite quickly vanished, and I was only able to eat about seven bites of food and even that small amount proved tasteless. I made my way to my bed, stripped my clothes off, and cried away the rejection and disappointment that made me question why I even bothered to wear Trey's ring. I was still in tears when I heard a message on my answering machine.

“So you said you want to break up and call off the wedding, and I can fuck who I want to fuck—let's roll with that then.”

After the message ended, I began to cry harder. Trey completely missed the point of why I said what I said—it was the same shit, but a different day. My mind flashed back to a couple holding hands at the mall. When they stopped to turn the corner and enter a store, they stood so close their lips almost brushed. As the man smiled at the woman and grabbed her hand, I remembered wanting to feel love like that, but I realized how much the scales were unbalanced in my relationship. Trey never reached deeply into my emotions and pulled anything passionate out of our bond, and that bothered me enough to leave that nasty message on his cell phone.

At 1:10
A.M.
, Soul Train was blaring from the TV, but everything else was still and quiet. I was bored and hurt, so I logged on to the Internet to keep my mind off my disastrous night. I answered some emails, planning to go back to bed and deal with everything the next morning. The thing was, Innocence wanted to come out and play in order to help Leslie subdue her pain. Her desires were having a contest with Leslie's rational thinking, but by 2:11, she spoke to Leslie and told her that her destiny was to feel pleasure, not pain. I logged back on, and after about fifteen minutes of scrolling through ads on craigslist, I felt a lot less pain. In fact, I felt quite a sense of relief when I read the one stating 600
REASONS FOR A LADY RIGHT NOW
!$$$$$$$—35: I'
M A YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE PROFESSIONAL IN NEED OF A PRO OR NON-PRO TO BUST MY BALLS
! T
HIS IS SERIOUS AND NO FULL SERVICE
!!!!! J
UST TREAT ME VERY BAD
! 20
MINUTES OF YOUR TIME IS ALL
I
ASK.

I responded to the anonymous person with a few simple lines. I
F YOU ARE SERIOUS ABOUT CURING THAT KINKY LITTLE FETISH OF YOURS,
I
CAN ASSURE YOU THAT YOU WILL HAVE A GOOD TIME WITH ME.
N
O PICTURES AVAILABLE, BUT GUARANTEED TO PLEASE.

I left the PC on and lay down to take a real nap. My eyes were red as fire from crying, and I figured I'd catch a few winks while I gave the man a chance to respond. One hour later, he did. He typed his phone number, and I called it. I got all the pertinent details, gassed up the car, and was off to Tyson's Corner to bust some white guy's balls. I wore thigh-high black stiletto boots, a tight mini skirt, and a black top. I figured my get up would meet the approval of the sick business executive who enjoyed S&M and said he needed to unwind after a stressful day. He wanted to be treated badly, and given my mood, I could easily treat him like shit for a mere twenty minutes. I didn't know what to say or do, so I told myself that I'd think of how frustrated I was with the only man I loved and make up the scenario as I went along.

 

A man wearing a collar with a dangling choke chain answered the door when I knocked. That told me I'd have to go hard and jump right into the kinky role play.

“Gimme my damn money. I respect my time slave! Gimme my damn money before I turn around and leave. If that happens, you'll miss your chance to be punished well,” I shouted as I pushed my way inside of his home.

“Here it is, Mistress. Please don't leave me yet.” He scurried to get me the money, which I shoved it in my bra.

“Did I say you could look at me? Don't look at me slave. Get your shit—you now have eighteen minutes and counting. Where's my whip and the blindfold? You aren't prepared to worship me properly?”

I smacked him across the face and punched him in the stomach. The man didn't seem to mind—I'd never seen anyone enjoy something like that. Then he ran to collect his essentials. While he did, I walked around until I found his kitchen. I discovered a row of blue tins pushed against a counter by the stove. I searched each one until I found the sugar then hunted for his dustpan. I returned to the living room and poured the sugar onto the marble foyer as he watched. I dropped the metal dustpan, and then secured the blindfold around his head.

“Clean this mess up with your tongue. Lap it up like a dog,” I commanded.

Like an obedient puppy, he dropped on his hands and knees, struggling to push the pile of sugar he couldn't see into the dustpan. After a minute or so, I grabbed the whip he'd brought into the room and smacked his backside with it until his hind parts reddened.

“You're doing a piss poor job. That's not fast enough. What good are you? You can't do anything right, dumb ass!”

I yanked the chain around his neck and pulled him upward. The harder I pulled, the more he begged for me to treat him badly.

“Piss on me, Mistress. Please, please piss on me.”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?” I asked, searching for his bedroom.

“No, Mistress.”

“Then behave as if you know your place, you fucking bastard!” After I found the bedroom I pushed him onto the bed. “Come hell or high water, I make the rules around here,” I told him.

I picked up the heavy-duty wrist and ankle cuffs that were lying on the bed. After he was attached to the bed face up, I felt as if I was being admired by millions. With every act of humiliation, I punished him. I did it for Trey getting my hopes up high, then crushing my heart's desire to let go of Innocence. I administered more hefty lashes on his legs until I thought of what to do next. I lifted one leg toward his mouth.

First he sucked the dirt from my stiletto like it was something tasty. When he followed my outrageous command, I couldn't believe it! I started to just stand on him, then it hit me that this freak may have a foot fetish, so I took advantage if it. I removed my shoes.

“Suck my toes. If you do a good job and don't waste my time, I just may let my slave have his wish before I leave,” I said.

“I'd love to worship your feet, Mistress.”

Without hesitation the man licked my foot from the arch to the heel then sucked each toe, one by one. By the time he reached my third toe, I closed my eyes, resting them as my whole body relaxed. I was surprised I felt as if I were being pulled into some erotic current. The sensation of feeling a warm mouth caress my virgin feet almost felt as good as if he were spreading my knees and cheeks then hitting it right with a big dick.

My nipples grew hard and began sticking out into the air as I felt my juices start to flow. After I'd had enough teasing, I pulled my leg down, crawled onto the bed, and then straddled him. I finally opened my eyes, hiked my skirt up then grinded my pussy on top of his face. After I humped his mouth a few seconds my juices began running down his cheeks. He begged to push his tongue inside of me.

“Mistress, can I please lick you.”

After all of that toe sucking, I wasn't going to debate or reject the idea.

“Lick it now, slave. Hurry up, and stop when I say stop. If you don't, I won't pee on you before I leave.”

As soon as I finished speaking those words I felt a long, warm tongue move upward and caress my pussy lips. I reached inside of my shirt and began twisting my nipples as my eyes shut.

“Lick this. Keep licking this sweet pussy,” I demanded. “I'll punish you if you don't do the job right,” I added.

The man began to moan with pleasure as he played with my clit and made me gush. Without warning, I placed my hands on the bed and held my ass up in the air slightly. I let a warm stream of pee pour all over his chest and drip down his thighs. I climbed down from the bed and began fingering myself as I watched his penis rise and spurt a stream of cum high into the air.

“Oh, Mistress. You busted my balls so good. Oh Mistress. Oh. Oh, you're soooo mean!” he commented.

I stopped playing with myself and ordered him to turn on his side. “Bad slave. Very bad slave!” I screamed, whipping him at an angle. The more I whipped him, the more cum he shot.

After the man's time was up, I detached only one of the wrist cuffs.

“Mistress, can you please help your slave?”

“Time's up, buddy. In fact, you're ten minutes over the clock. Your free arm can reach the phone. Now share this secret freaky shit you like with your friends and coworkers.”

“Please, Mistress. Don't do this to me.”

“Only under
one
condition.”

“What's that?”

“We do this again next week. I want you to tell me where your wallet is so you can pay me five hundred more to make sure you'll call me to bust those balls again.”

“Yes, Mistress. I officially want to be your slave. I would love to see you in nylons, garter belts, and heels while I worship you properly. My wallet's in my top dresser drawer. Take whatever you want,” he answered.

I couldn't believe how easy it was to attract the attention of every man but Trey. I didn't intend on coming back, but I did take an extra six hundred for my time. As usual, it really wasn't about the money, it was about the power. After I removed every bill from his wallet, a skinny, white, blonde-haired woman dressed in a business suit walked in the bedroom, toting a maroon briefcase. As I noted her demeanor, she gave me a puzzled look. It led me to believe that she was his wife or girlfriend. I pegged her for a prudish cold one. I spoke up before she had a chance to say anything.

“I don't know where you've been all night but he's all yours now, honey. His cute little ass may be a little sore though, so be gentle on him tonight. Take care,” I said. “By the way, nice red power suit. You're working it, girlfriend.”

I winked and held my head high as I passed by the stunned woman. I figured since the man's wife or girlfriend came home, she was more than capable of unhooking him from the other wrist cuff—if she chose to free her kinky S&M closet freak. From the expression on her face, I don't believe she knew about his secret life, just as Trey didn't know about mine. I had my own problems to worry about though. Mr. Ball Buster was on his own.