0 comments/ 33142 views/ 0 favorites Lunch Lesson By: DR_Bowden You leave work at 11:30, a little nervous and excited. You get in your car and open the envelope you found under your keyboard. Inside is a hotel name and address on a scrap of paper and a hotel room key. You finger the key as you drive to the hotel. You have a two o'clock meeting and no one will miss you until then, you think as you pull into the parking lot of the hotel. The room is on the first floor in the front. As you turn the key in the door you feel a lump in your throat swell and your breath grows short. The doorknob seems almost hot as you turn it and step into the dark room. The door shuts behind you, blocking most of the light and leaving the room in the soft glow of the blue screen on the television. On the counter you see another envelope, manila this time 8.5x11, with "open me first" scrawled across the top. You turn on the counter light and open the envelope. Inside you find two cigarettes, a lighter, and a note. So far so good you think as you breath your first relaxed breath. The note reads: "Please remove all your clothing, take a short shower, and only put on the clothes you find hanging in the bathroom. There is wine in the fridge and a glass in the sink. Pour yourself a glass. When you are done meet me at the following address.". The note ends with a street address. You light a cigarette, open the fridge, and pour a glass of Zinfandel. After your first sip you feel your shoulders relax and take a deep breath. Your curiosity is getting the better of you and you head for the bathroom to see what I would have you wear. Turning on the light in the bathroom reveals a dress hanging in the shower, a spaghetti-strap mid thigh length satin gown in deep blue-green slit up the side. There is also a pair of fine knit black silk thigh-highs. Sitting on the counter in front of the sink is a pair of short black pumps. Next to the pumps lay a pair of black Chinese hair sticks with gold banding. The lack of underwear surprises you at first, you had half-expected only underwear, then looking at the dress again you think you can see why. You get undressed and move the dress and stockings to the counter. You hop in the shower to find rose petals blanketing the tub and a nice French milled soap in the soap tray. After your shower you dry off with a plush towel and put on the stockings, then the dress and shoes. The cool satin against your breasts and hardening nipples gives you the shivers. The stocking tops leave lines in the satin outlining the curve of your thighs and the ride of your hips. You put your clothes in the shopping bag that was in the bathroom. Leaving the hotel you are shivering again and wishing you had drank a second glass of wine. The ride to the address is short. As you enter the restaurant you notice how dark it is. It's a family run Italian place, each table is semi-private and lit by a candle in a red glass jar. You see my leather on the side of the booth and slide in across from me. I am smiling and when we catch eyes you can tell I am pleased. "I ordered us some coffee and pastries" I say. " you look quite dangerous, why don't you sit over here by me?" you shrug "why not" , now you're smiling and you not quite sure why. "very nice, now keep your hands under the table." I command. I move the place setting over to you and then quite deliberately trace the outline of your breast through the silk, circling your nipple and sliding the fabric across it's tip. You open your mouth to say something and suck in a quick breath as I lightly pinch and twist your sensitive nipple. "shh...you're safe...while you're here. there's only so much trouble we can get in, in a restaurant. " I say grinning. My hand moved from your breast to your bare neck, and I begin to lightly trace the muscles with my fingernails. "I can tell you followed the instructions I left." I say as I run my palm along the side of your thigh just above the stocking tops. "you look stunning, how does it feel?" you smile and mumble something under your breath ( your eyes are twinkling). “Pardon miss?” “It gives me the shivers, It’s almost like being naked in cool water” “shivers?….hmm” You hiss as I trace your bare neck and shoulders with ice from the water glass. The ice melts slowly and rivulets of icy water race down your back to gather and run into the channel at the top of your soft cheeks. Soon the top of your ass and the channel that runs down are wet and chilled. You open your mouth to complain and I insert the ice and my fingertips into your mouth, saying “cool down and relax…” . while grinning ominously. The waitress arrives while you are sucking on the ice and my fingers. She glances quickly away as I withdraw my fingers from your lips and run them down your throat. She places the whipped cream topped coffee and canolies in front of us, stealing glances at your face and hardened nipples before she leaves without a word. “you definitely put some steam in her day” I snicker. You have started to blush lightly and the cool satin against your nipples seems to preoccupy your thoughts. You remember the look on the waitresses face, part envy, part shock, she was definitely looking at your breasts. You lick your lips and take a quick drink of water. As you raise the glass to your mouth you feel a sharp stinging tug on your left nipple which elicits a gasp from your throat. And the glass splashes landing water on your shoulder to run down your collarbone and into your cleavage. You feel ticklish as the water runs between your breasts and around your belly button. The water gathers in a small pool at the joining of your tightly clenched thighs. You glare back at me. “Hey now, watch it!” you say a little louder than you like. You look up to see the raven tressed waitress staring at you. “arghh” you sigh. Calmly looking into your eyes I say “You were told to keep your hands under the table. If you need something then ask for it, politely. Otherwise punishment is dealt swiftly” You stare into my eyes trying to decide if you can go here with me. You are not scared or uncomfortable yet, just a little surprised and trying to re-valuate me. In my eyes you see the fascination I have for you that is always there if you let yourself see it. There is also something you are not used to seeing , a penetrating look that almost dares you to rebel or disagree and promises of the fun to follow. On a whim you make your decision, “I am sorry..” you say glancing down at your hands in your lap. “That’s better, now I don’t want you to feel that I don’t reward amicable behavior. So…” I dip my finger into the whipped cream and bring it to your lips. “lick , nibble gently. Never bite unless asked.” You look over at me through lidded eyes and take my finger into your mouth , curling your tongue around my finger and drawing the cream back down your throat. Slowly I withdraw my finger from the caress of your tongue, and trace along the base of your neck around to your ear, where I whisper “part your thighs and close your eyes” Your eyes close and you slowly move your knees apart. “Tilt your head back” you hear whispered. You feel my fingers run up your neck and stop at your lips, you feel pressure against them as you feel the satin slide up the inside of your thighs. You open your lips ,and legs a little more, and feel the hard crust of a canoli push past your tongue, leaving a trail of sweet cream. With the canoli slowly filling your mouth, you feel fingers trace your upper thighs and that incredibly sensitive spot between your thighs and pubis. This area is still moist from the spilled water. You have started to lick the canoli shell almost unconsciously as my fingers tug on the little hairs around your full lips and massage the outsides of this tender flesh. The canoli shell is removed from your mouth as fingers circle and apply pressure to a sensitive spot just above the joining of your lips. You almost moan as the breath rushes out and you look directly in to the eyes of the waitress walking up. You gasp, push my hands away and sit up. The waitress stares into your eyes as she says “I hope everything was to your satisfaction miss.” “yes thank you” you reply and look away. We pay the check and head out to the car, you’re not quite sure where the next stop on this trip is, but it’s only 12:40. Fantasy “That waitress was eyeing you something fierce. I think she was really enjoying your nipples. Which is good, because they are delicious nipples and they should be enjoyed, tortured, teased, twisted, tickled, and of course nibbled on.” You just swallow and smile as you try and focus on driving. “yeah, tell me more.” You say. “Well lets see. I remember you saying that they were sensitive and you liked them being teased. I also seem to remember you saying that the nipple clamps you had read about were something you didn’t want to try.” “Oh No, they sound painful. I don’t think I’m up for that yet.” You say as you look over and smile. You must know that if I had not already decided to set the clamps today that this statement would ensure it. “That’s the beauty of it, It’s not whether you think your ready or not, it’s if I think you are.” Your grip tightens on the wheel and you grind your thighs together, sending a short jolt of pleasure through your pelvis. Suddenly the memory of your thighs shaking while my tongue swirls around inside you and slowly drops into your bottom comes to mind. You hadn’t been ready for that either. “…Punishment for that transgression shall be dealt shortly.” You hear as you blink away the vision of your twitching thighs. What are you being punished for? What was the transgression? Damn It . How can you argue if you didn’t hear what you did wrong. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, remembering the burning crisscross on your bottom the last time I punished you. Your softest sheets still burned that night, and it was only your third spanking. As with any date with me you wonder if this will be the day you use the code words I gave you on our first date. Those words are your get out of jail free, your no explanation necessary free ticket out of the scene. We pull into the motel parking lot. You still have not asked what you did wrong. “ Go to the room. Take three steps in and go to your knees with your back to the open door. Wait there. “ You fidget with the key and cigarette as you head for the room. Entering you take the steps and kneel in the narrow area of floor between the bed and TV. Your cigarette lay forgotten in the ashtray on the chair by the door. The carpet is not well padded and your knees are already stinging. You jump slightly as the blindfold drops down over your eyes. Your elbows are cinched together behind your back thrusting your chest forward and up. Your head jerks backs as you exhale loudly. My fingers enter your mouth and slowly stretch it wider to take the rubber ball that is pushed between your teeth. The rubber is dusty tasting and bitter, and your jaw begins to ache as it adjusts to being stretched. Suddenly you realize just how completely vulnerable you are with your breasts thrusting into the air and your sight and hands disabled. You couldn’t say the code words if you wanted to. Your shoulders shake as you twist your head from side to side in the darkness. You try to speak around the gag and only mumblings come out. You shout into the gag and hear only mumblings, the futility is rapidly becoming apparent. You feel my hands grip your shoulders from behind. “Calm down , if you need to be freed you have only to make circles with your head”. You feel the fingers of my left hand wrap themselves in your hair, while my right hand encloses on your throat and I slowly roll your head in circles.”Remember that once you do this the date is over.” You nod trembling. You hear me move about , but are not sure where in the room I am. Then you feel your nipples tugged forward by my fingers clenching them through the satin. You moan into the gag and arch your shoulders still further. “Now I am going to give you a choice. I don’t do this often so choose well. Do you want the clamps put on one at a time or both at the same time. Nod once for one and twice for two.” You shake your head from side to side and feel the clamps bear down on both nipples immediately. The pressure is pinching and your nipples begin to throb, but you notice the clamps are flat and have no teeth. You are panting heavily through your nose. You realize you have bitten into the rubber now and you right thigh is drenched with excitement. “Present yourself slave”. You know better than to take your time at this. You stand and bend over at the waist. Normally you would grab your ankles, but the elbow strap prevents this. You just try and balance yourself as you bend over. A groan catches deep in your throat as you feel the cold gel covered finger enter your bottom. One knuckle enters……on past the second knuckle…..the finger pushes past your clamping muscles and reaches deep inside you. Just as quickly it is withdrawn and your bottom clamps down tightly feeling stretched and invaded, cool and empty. Now you feel the pressure of hard cool rubber pressed against your back door. “Now I want you to get used to this plug, as my slave you will be asked to wear it often. I want to hear this go in.” You feel the buckle on the back of your head release and the ball gag is pulled from your mouth. You inhale deeply as I push the plug in past the first ridge. “Fast or slow?” “Slow” you answer immediately. The next ridge is as big around as the finger I just pulled out, and starts the familiar burn of stretching muscle. The third ridge must be as big around as a half dollar and you feel the base of the plug pressed snug against your bum. You whistle as you inhale and exhale sharply. You hear the sound of leather being pulled from denim. You almost stand up as you realize I am taking off my belt. “You have been extremely naughty , and now punishment will be dealt.” “wait…” you say. Snap! I lay the belt across the backs of your thighs smashing against, but only stinging, your tender lips. Your back stiffens and your neck snaps back, as the next lash falls. This time the belt drops across your buns thrusting the plug deep inside you. You moan and scream. Pleasured and beaten as you are. Several lashes later your eyes are tearing as you consider saying those words. The lashes stop and you feel the cool slickness of aloe vera being rubbed into your burning backside. The clamps are removed from your nipples, almost forgotten, now the blood rushes back in and the stinging drives away any thought of your crimson bottom. I rub them and slowly the stinging becomes a not unpleasant hot throbbing in the center of both breasts. You are untied and the dress is pulled over your head. Lastly the blindfold is removed. The room has somehow changed. The bed is now covered in petals and the nightstand holds glasses of white wine and fruit. The drapes are drawn and the filtered sunlight leaves everything in an early summer haze. ”Lay down on your stomach, relax…”, you hear me whisper. The pillows are scented with lavender oil. The cool cotton sheets are little rough against your nipples. Your squirming to get comfortable has got you biting your lip. You know that in your next shower your breasts will relive every pinch and slap as the hot water beats against them. Your attention quickly returns to your bottom as you feel warm oil worked into your thighs, cheeks, and lower back. These not so gentle ministrations still serve to soothe your burning backside and thighs. The incessant aching of your stretched bottom now seems to be the only pain your body has to focus on. I must have guessed this you think, as I tap gently on the round end of the thick rubber. Your thighs twitch and your throaty groans begin again as I continue the rhythmic tapping. The muscles in your back begin to tense as your neck arches lifting your head back away from the pillow. The force of the tapping increases and you suddenly begin to feel impaled, as if you are being nailed to the bed. You have unconsciously pulled your knees up, spreading your thighs and raising your bottom to meet the thrusts. It feels like you have been denied release for hours. Thoughts come in short bursts: “This should not feel this good.” “I can’t believe I am begging for this.” “Please don’t stop, do anything but stop.” You feel your breath grow short, your fingers curl entwined in the sheet. Your hips snap up to meet my palm slapping at the hard rubber, driving it deeper into you. As your hips come down on the sheet you grind yourself against the mattress, sending quick shocks into your womb. My arm encircles your waist, stopping you short of fulfillment holding you inches above the bed. Your hips continue to spasm begging for that next slap, for contac1`t of any kind. After a minute of holding you suspended I slowly roll you over. My eyes lock yours and I appear to inhale your shortened breath. You wince as your buttocks settle on the cool sheet. You see the pleasure in my eyes. Crimson petals lay in patterns across your skin, a tribute to the leopard. Your body is taut, stretched like a mandolin string, a dragged fingernail sets off a symphony of gasps and muscle twitches. You watch through glazed eyes as I pull 2 cubes of ice from the bucket chilling the wine. You might have thought to jump, or at least be startled, but by now your sensitive skin is in overload. The ice only serves to cool the burning sensation covering your thighs. As I drag the ice up the inside of your thighs the melting streams of icy cold water run down the crease of your thighs, tickling. A chill starts just below your buttocks and send shivers along your spine. You hear my chuckles as your ass lifts off the sheet and I slip the cube inside you. You gag on the air you inhale as my fingers hunt for the melting cube. You feel it rub against your cervix, a feeling almost to intense to handle. Your body jerks and you yelp, thrusting your hips out in an attempt to dislodge the cube. I hold it fast against your cervix, speaking calmly as you thrash about. “Settle down or when this melts I’ll get a pair. One for here and the other for there.”. You feel me slap the plug still seated firmly in your bottom. “More ” you demand in a soft pleading voice. “Did you ask me for something, sweet girl?” as I say this my hand clenches the round end of the plug and slowly twists to the right while pushing it in still deeper. The fine sheen of sweat and melted ice reflects the soft filtered light, a picture perfect moment in black and white. “Raise your hips” you hear me command. You turn your head and look into the lens. Your hair falls around the back of your neck and along your cheek. Your left hand lies under your other cheek supporting your head. Your eyes are wet and pouting. My lens follows the curve of your neck to your shoulder, then down to the swell of your breast pressing into the sheet. Your side outlines a few ribs and then curves deliciously up to meet your hips, which tremble floating in the air. Shadows play across the dimple at the base of your spine. The light lovingly caresses the welts and redness I laid upon your cheeks earlier. The bulb of thick rubber separates your cheeks contrasting their soft white curves. Dew glistening on your slightly parted lips reminds me of Austrian crystal. I can’t help but reach out and tug sharply on some of that soft hair encircling the top of your mound. You see it in my eyes before you feel it. You mouth drops open and a low moan rolls out. I grin a little in surprise. Earlier today you would have yelped or gasped in surprise and pain, this moan was definitely a pleasure release. Slowly the bar is raised and your boundaries recede. Lunch Lesson You have done well at keeping silent knowing that the camera I hold will capture you at your most wanton, your most vulnerable. “Look into the lens” I command You do so, with eyes unclouded through lowered lids. Your bottom lip is pulled in, your teeth pressed firmly into it. Click. You take a deep breath, your breasts tighten against the sheet and your nipples send a sharp pang to your belly button as they shift against the cotton. You watch as my right hand raises, your eyes closing as it descends. The slap, directly against your full lips, sends a small earthquake rolling up your back and slamming into the base of your skull. Your jaw drops and I hear the gasp that I am hunting. Click. “Immortalized in the pleasure of agony. You are truly beautiful.”. “Stand. Go to the icebox and bring me the red wine.” You wobble a little at first and your vision seems fuzzy, but you manage to return with the wine as your senses clear. Taking the bottle, I direct you. “Lay on your back, close your eyes and open your mouth.” As you comply the friction of the sheet against your thighs and buttocks seems less harsh, almost a painful tickling sensation. You hear me uncork the bottle. “Slap!” You feel my hand slam into the outside of your left thigh pressing it closed. “Close you legs, must you always beg so obviously?” You close your thighs immediately, blushing. You don’t like feeling that you are needing, craving, even begging for this, but you desire whatever comes next, and whatever is after that…you cannot conceive of an end to this now. Your meeting is long forgotten. You squirm and shiver as the first splashes of wine pool around your bellybutton, trickling down your sides. Soon the pool overflows into the cleft at the top of your thighs. The cool, wet , almost velvet texture is not so different from the liquid warming your inner thighs and trickling down into your bottom. You almost giggle as the stream of wine trails up the middle of your chest pooling between the cords of your neck and pouring around the curve of your breasts. Your mouth opens wider, expecting to receive the bitter red liquid. Click. The image you may never see has burnt itself into your retina in black and white. Puddles of darkness settled on your flesh, outlining each curve and recess finding every fold. Your hardened nipples strain upward from the taut skin of your breasts. Your thighs are clasped demurely, your womanhood obscured by the opaque black pool slowly draining onto the sheet below. The hard cold wood pressing against the top of my head. The cool dark liquid coating the skin on my stomach, chilled, quivering. The smell of sweat, burgundy, and my sex rushing through my nostrils. I stretch my right hand above my head dragging fingertips across the rough wood of the headboard, searching for a handhold, something to grip tightly. The muscles of my arm are aching from the tension. How many hands have gripped this wood in ecstasy, terror, and release? Did her manicured nails chip scratching in vain against these cold boards on prom night? You set the camera on the nightstand, your hand curling around the stem of a wine glass, strong fingers, and solid hands. You clear your throat, the sound causing me to jump. You take a deep drink. My toes are getting cold and you just sit there examining me, committing every curve, mark and flaw to memory for replay at some later date in your own private venue. I open my mouth to tell you they are getting chilly, almost forgetting myself. You glance quickly at my mouth, then up to my eyes. You hear me exhale, my throat is tight, and your look implies that you saw my intention. You make no move to cover my toes. I understand this and the phrase repeating in my brain illustrates it. “As you desire”, the response you taught me on our first date immediately after the safe words. The throaty rumble of a new Harley cuts the silence. It sounds so close, right outside the room. The clack of hard heeled boots against the pavement echoes off the thin glass of the window. You are up and to the door like a starter pistol fired. I grin and bury my toes under the sheet, claiming the body heat you left behind. You order me to the bathroom, to “clean up” and brush my teeth. Sometimes I forget that you don’t care for my smoking. The porcelain tile of the bathroom floor presses into and chills the inside of my arches raising goose bumps on my calves. The faucet squeaks and water sputters out. The front door is open, I can feel the cool draft and hear you in a low voice talking to someone. “she’s all yours ...be gentle” I hear. But was it your voice? The slam of the door and roar of the bike follow shortly after. I finish brushing my teeth, and run a washcloth over my body. I’m sad to see my petal-spots rinse down the shower drain. The wine has left lavender stains around my breasts and at the tops of my thighs. Running my fingers over the welts, thick and raised stinging to the touch the crisscross my ass. I brush my palm against the hard rubber splitting my butt. I want to twist it and plunge it, when did it stop stretching me and making me ache? The hardness and fullness of it inside me is no longer foreign, only reminding me of your will. My breasts are full and heavy , normally lazy nipples throb and are swollen to the size of my pinky tip. I bring my fingertips to them almost in a trance when I hear you clear your throat. Quickly with my hands behind my neck and eyes down I walk to the bed. Your cold hand is pressed firmly in the middle of my back pushing me down face first onto the maroon bedspread amidst the unidentifiable purple flowers. You made the bed? My elbows are yanked back and cinched almost before the pain shoots between my shoulder blades. You fist closes in my hair and pulls until the back of my skull is crushing the top of my spine. I am a little nervous now, glad the biker left, my neck is feeling soft and exposed. I feel the subtle bite of leather across my throat, as it snakes around the front under my chin pulling tight against my flesh. The snap digs into the back of my neck as you secure the thick leather strap. I feel fingers curl around the plug tearing it from me, leaving the cold air to rush in. The groan that rips from my throat does not please you. I feel your cold rings as your spread fingers smack down on top of the welts covering the bottom of my ass and tops of my thighs, harder than the belt it seems. Even as my eyes fill with tears and I suppress my scream, I wonder. Rings? Again I feel the palm and spread fingers sear my wounded rear. The burning spreads to my thighs and the muscles at the base of my spine coil like springs. I pull away for a fraction of a second. Realizing my mistake I quickly push back. The bed moves and I hear the familiar sound of leather slide on denim. I know what’s coming next, and then nothing. I hear the water run for a minute. Cordlike fingers grip my ankles like a vice, pulling me back toward the edge of the bed. My pelvis screams as my hair is pulled lifting my hips off the bed, sliding a pillow under them. “Honey you’re mine for 8 more minutes, so don’t hold anything back now…” I can almost hear her say “I hope everything was to your satisfaction miss.” That thought is obliterated by the rough leather and hard steel studs laid straight down my back, licking against my most sensitive of lips. Flame shoots inside me and back up my crack burning along my spine. My response surprises even me. I moan and shudder, sparks are all I can see. All breathing stops. My body reacts by soaking the pillow and her cupped palm. My sent is thick in the room and I can hear her inhale slowly and deeply. I am blushing at this blatant display of my depravity. I am deliciously ashamed, Incredibly exhilarated. The bed shifts, I turn to look back as her hand encircles my throat over the hard leather of my new collar. “Show me your appreciation, clean my hand.” My scent is so strong I almost gag as her palm presses against my lips. I should have hesitated, I thought I would have hesitated. My tongue immediately extends and laps the warm liquid from her hand. The taste is musky and familiar. I clean each of her fingers by taking them deep into her mouth. I can tell she is pleased. Her hand relaxes and tips my chin up, as she searches my eyes. Her kiss is soft and almost loving. The lips pressing delicately as the tongue cleans more of my juices from my mouth. This sensual kiss is so out of place and unexpected, I moan and push my tongue into her mouth. She pulls back a little as I press forward. Her tongue presses mine back into my mouth as she slowly sucks my upper lip between her teeth. Her firm pressure sends sharp little shocks into the roof of my mouth. She releases my lip and I feel her tongue caress it’s tender inside running along my gums pressing into the soft pockets on each side of that thin pink membrane. This is such a private place and her swollen tongue roughly stretches the thin walls reminding me that no part of my body is safe. Something round and bumpy pushes against my entrance. I strain to gauge it’s size, a golf ball, maybe bigger. The hand squeezing my collar slips three fingers between the rough material and my adam’s apple cutting off all but the shallowest of breaths. Using this new handle she twists me until I face the ceiling, my left shoulder is almost aligned with my chin. My hips are trying to turn also , but the hand guiding this ball through my slick soft skin does not allow my thighs to move. My side begins to burn from the stretching caused by these forced contortions. A hiccup in my abdomen takes my breath as the ball passes into me, no temperature shocking my inner walls like the ice earlier, but a constant stretching from this coarse round object. My nerves fire as her hand smacks wetly against my now closed lips. Small beads inside the hollow round shell rattle and vibrate against my stretched insides. Vibrations rush upward into me carried along by my shuddering muscles. Another ball is inserted into me firmer and faster than the last it passes my stretched entrance and bumps gently into the first. The two balls shiver and jiggle massaging my stretched womb before settling down. The third pushes the first two farther back, taking that full, swollen feeling deeper into me. I feel stuffed with these three shivering twitching balls each rattling against one another. The fourth presses lightly against my opening turning rubbing caressing, humming slightly as the beads inside roll around. My stomach leaps and my hips jerk higher into the air as my thighs press together around the thumb that jams the four balls deep into me. As the first hits my cervix it shudders with a life of its own. Each ball in turn carries these tremors back to her thumb. The low rolling groan that pours from my throat gets louder as she slaps the fourth ball rhythmically sending wave after wave of vibration crashing against my cervix. It’s happening without thought, my tightly closed eyes fill with sparks against the fiery red backdrop of my lids. My teeth draw a hot salty fluid from my lower lip and my hands curl into cruel claws, nails biting into my palms. Each slap is met with a whiplash like reaction from my hips. My groans undulate with the rolling vibrations carried deep inside me. I am lost in the raw sensations, my muscles spasm clenching the four shuddering balls taking each vibration deep into my belly. My breathing is in gasps and gulps, a sweat breaks out on my forehead and the backs of my shoulders. The sensations are almost painful now, too intense, too raw. The slaps speed up and grow in force. I hear her cackle as my cries rise in pitch and I hear myself begging her to stop. Abruptly the slaps stop and her cold hand presses against my opening rapidly shaking my pelvis from left to right. The balls crash against each other and slide from side to side, the friction is too much, my hips fall to the bed my cries become screams. A wrenching pulse of pleasure churns through my stomach, My lips pulled cruelly apart as the fourth ball audibly pops from my body. I gag as two more are ripped from inside me, rapidly in succession, mini tremors rattle along my spine. Tears roll down my cheeks as I gulp for air. She pauses and slowly I feel the last ball spread me wide, the cool air hitting the flushed flesh of my inner lips. My cries are softer now and the muscles of my lower back and thighs twitch uncontrollably. I feel her fingers meet my flesh as she pulls the last one free. I collapse crying totally drained, no thought in my mind. The door slams. An alarm goes off somewhere in the distance. I slowly lift my head on a weak and shaky neck to see an envelope sitting on the clock. It wasn’t there before. Minutes pass before I shut the alarm off and pick up the envelope. It smells of motor oil, gasoline, sweat, and fading CK1. These are your scents. The note reads ”The meeting starts in 15 minutes.” Reality As I pull into the first of the lot entrances I realize that I have no recollection of the drive over. I wince as I move to step out of the car. The worn denim of my oldest jeans chafes my burning thighs like sandpaper. The edge of the seat presses into the welts on my ass and I automatically swallow the squeal that wells in my throat. God my nipples ache. For the second time in 10 minutes I wish that the shirt I chose this morning was thicker, looser, and didn’t require this awful bra. The 300 yards to the revolving doors that lead to the lobby were excruciating. My ass feels empty, the emptiness that comes from being filled so completely and left wanting. My walk is slower and more deliberate than usual, but I would never give you the satisfaction of showing the cause in my gate. Reaching for the revolving door drags the seemingly soft material of my shirt across the cotton of my bra. I bite my lip and feel the faintest rush of pleasure along with the pain in my nipples. Ordinarily I would take the stairs to the 3rd floor conference room. Today it’s all I can do not to sit in the elevator, although that would bring its own accompanying problems. In the elevator the second floor admin eyes me curiously as I lean against the wall and shift my weight from foot to foot. On the 3rd floor I try to stand a little straighter and regain some composure. I glance at my reflection in the chrome of the elevator doors. Not too bad. I tuck in the blouse and brush some stray from my eyes. I open the door and make no eye contact as I head to my chair. The standard opening conversations of company stock and internal scuttlebutt engage most of the room’s occupants. I take the chair and most heads turn to focus on me. I clear my throat. “As most of you know in this changing economic climate we may need to further evaluate our overseas resourcing…” Blah, blah, blah. I hate giving this direction. No-one likes to cut headcount. I pause to open the folder in front of my chair that outlines my plan for headcount reduction both here and overseas. The red petals are caught in the updraft as the folder opens. They flutter eight to ten inches above the table in an impromptu floral fountain before settling on and around the open folder. The dark red of the petals starkly contrasts the three black and white photos framed each below a single quote. “As I Desire” The end.