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The Florist

By: PygmyCoho



This tale is set at a different time and different place, in a simple pre-industrial culture. This could cause some confusion, so . . .

Time is signaled by bell tolls—twenty "bells" a day (one day is an "all-bell" or "alls"), eight days a week ("eight-alls"). Morning counts to "ten-bell" (which is equivalent to noon); afternoons/evening might be "ten-three" or the "ten-eight bell." "Moons" are twenty-five-day months and fourteen of them make up one year (a "fourteen-moon").

Currency is "bloch." Distance is in "remin" (feet) or "spralls" (miles), though neither is an exact equivalent measurement.

I hope that helps. Enjoy.

PC

Prologue—The Road

I cannot blame her for leaving me—what woman would do otherwise? She had been cautioned about becoming the spouse of a Florist, after all. Perhaps that makes the loss all the sharper. For as long as I remain a Florist, what woman could possibly make peace with my calling?

So in a haze of anger, depression and self-loathing I packed a few cherished belongings, a bit of emergency bloch, and waited through the gloom for the two-bell. The bell strokes echoed away and all fell quiet again.

And just like that I slipped off to find another life in another township. Someplace where no one knew of me or what I did. Someplace that would allow me to have a life of my choosing. And with a little luck I might find the person I longed for who would share it with me.



The Florist Ch. 02: Weinotia



This tale is set at a different time and different place, in a simple pre-industrial culture. I've been searching for the right category, and Sci-fi/fantasy seems to be the best fit. This story is the second installment of the series so a quick repetition of some of the "lingo" may help . . .

Time is signaled by bell tolls—twenty "bells" a day (one day is an "all-bell" or "alls"), eight days a week ("eight-alls"). Morning counts to "ten-bell" (which is equivalent to noon); afternoons/evening might be "ten-three" or the "ten-eight bell." "Moons" are twenty-five-day months and fourteen of them make up one year (a "fourteen-moon").

Currency is "bloch." Distance is in "remin" (feet) or "spralls" (miles), though neither is an exact equivalent measurement.

I hope that helps. Enjoy.

PC

Chapter 3—Weinotia

A moon later I found myself once more in Tsibili. I sat at my desk reviewing the village's nubile young women, something I try to do ahead of time but had neglected with my hurried return and meeting with Saliana. It seemed as though it would be a slow two eight-alls for I had trouble finding any serious candidates. I sipped tea and filed the papers.

Loud knocks echoed from the doorway. I shuffled to answer it but as I reached for the knob another round of raucous beats startled me.

I swung the door open. "Yes?"

"You Kelline?"

I studied her for a few heartbeats. "Yes." Her cowl and cloak hid her from me just as they hid her from the chill of evening.

"May I see your face, please?"

Her hands flipped the hood back from her head. She was pretty, with raven hair in tight waves that appeared to reach below her shoulders. She wore a stud centered beneath her lower lip. I guessed her age about half of my fourteen-moons. Her eyes flicked to me, to the room behind me, and back to my clothes.

When she looked at me, I answered, "I am Kelline. How may I be of service?"

"I've prepared and I want to experience a vigorous mating." She sniffed and her eyes darted about until she finally focused on me again.

"I see. And to whom are you betrothed?"

"No one."

"Courting?"

"No one."

I tried once more. "Leaning?"

This seemed to exasperate her. "No one! Listen, are we, or are we not?"

"There is a bit more to it than that," I began, hoping for the patience that I knew would be needed.

"Yes, I'm sure," she muttered as her body shoved past me and into my home.

"Please, come in." I closed the door behind her.

"Huh, I thought a Florist would have a nicer place than this."

"Thank you," I told her in an emotionless tone that camouflaged my true feelings. Then I closed my eyes, took a very deep breath and exhaled for several long beats.

"Please let me take your cloak." It surprised me when she allowed me to do just that. "That's better. Would you, I'm sorry. I do not know your name, milady." I hung her garment on an entryway coat hook.

Weinotia. I'm named Weinotia."

I reached for her hand and was about to kiss it with delicate difference when I recalled what she requested. Instead, I gripped her forearm and pulled her towards me. Her surprised was plain in her widened eyes. I gave a soft, sucking bite to the inside of her wrist and let the skin slip slowly from between my teeth. I had the peripheral impression of inkwork at her right arm, though my gaze remained on her face.

At first she stared at my mouth. When she looked into my eyes I saw interest. There may have been a trace of humor, too, because I swore I noted a flicker of a smile—not on her lips but just a hint of one around her eyes. 

"Dear Weinotia, there are certain protocols I must, unfortunately, subject you to before I may provide what you desire. I am not at liberty to deviate from these mandates. It is for your protecting and your fulfillment—"

"I'm ready now!"

I stepped toward her and she backed away a half-step. She met my stare without blinking then stood her ground.

"I must insist—" I grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her close enough that we felt each other's breath. Hers grew shallower with every heartbeat. "or . . . you must leave."

As her wide pupils played across my face, I knew how this episode would unfold—at least for the next half-bell.

She whispered, "What must we do . . . first?"

"I must have you sit with me for an interview. Let me lead you."

Without waiting for her answer I reached around her shoulder and gripped her upper arm. Weinotia let me steer her into the sitting room where she settled into one side of a deep sofa. It was only then that I removed my hand from her.

"May I get you something?"

"Like what?" Her eyes began darting again as though this was some sort of trap. I waited until she gazed up at me.

"May I offer you something to eat, or a beverage?"

"No, I—"

"I'll just get us some refreshments and will be right back." I turned and went to the kitchen before she could reply. She called after me but I ignored her.

The preparations were completed quickly, but I waited another little while. Then I breezed into the room and set the tray before her.

"Eat. Let me pour the rootade."

What looked like thoughts of escape flashed over her face, but her focus was completely on the food. She picked up a rice bun and took a timid bite. Then she took a not-so-timid bite. Then the rice bun disappeared. She reached for another, paused and glared at me.

"What?"

"Please, help yourself."

"Are you mocking me?" Her hand remained poised over the food, but I felt it could just as easily strike at me.

I set her glass near the tray and leaned back in my chair. "Weinotia, let me assure you that I will not mock you. Ever. Nor will I harm you, physically, mentally or emotionally. At least not intentionally. And I pride myself on my ability to read people so the odds of unintentional harm are practically nonexistent. Please," I prompted—she had reached for another bun as I spoke. She appeared annoyed for an instant, but she took the bun.

"My duty is to provide the perfect service you request. We will need to establish a level of trust in order to reach the desired result."

She finished the pastry and nodded. "All right."

"Good. I am going to ask you several questions and you must provide me with thoughtful, honest answers."

She stared at me, and nodded.

"Good. And as part of this exchange, you may ask me questions to which I shall reply with thoughtful, honest answers. Agreed?"

"I'll go first. Why don't you have a large home?"

"I choose to live a simple lifestyle. I am also an apprentice artisan so I alternate and spend two eight-alls in Gatekey and two here. This home suits me best. All right?"

A brief eye-flick, and she nodded. She sampled her rootade, set the glass down and sat back as though prepared for an inquisition.

"When did you eat last?"

Anger flashed in her face like the light from a shutter-lamp on a dark night. "That's none of—" Weinotia snapped her mouth closed. I watched her sigh and saw her shoulders slump. She mumbled, "Three alls."

"Why?"

"Bloch. So I could pay you."

I stood, angered. The fear in her hurt me. "Please excuse me. I will be right back. Eat."

I consider myself a good Florist. As I told Saliana and Tallani—and many others—once I accept an agreement I set my needs aside and do the best I can. The better Florists all work this way; thus it is common for the services to cost. But this was the first time someone admitted to me that I was taking food from her mouth.

I put together a much more extravagant platter with chesses, meats and fresh garden harvestlings. This was placed before Weinotia with a flourish.

"You are a guest in my, humble, home." I bowed to her until she smirked. I knew that was as close to a smile as I was going to get, at least for now. "You shall not want for anything that I may provide you as long as you are in my home."

"I don't need your charity, Florist. I am here for a vigorous mating then I'll be on my way. If you cannot provide one then I'll find someone who can."

"How long have you been alone?"

"It's not your turn—" Her voice caught and she tried to hide her face from me.

I sat next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She resisted but I kept a steady pressure on her until she softened. Weinotia slowly melted against me. With one last deep breath the lingering tension ebbed from her body. She began to weep very quietly against my chest.

"Dear Weinotia, you are not an object of pity or charity. You are my guest, in my home, and you shall be treated with respect." I rocked her and said, "Please be honest with me. I want to understand."

"I, have, been, a, lone, for, so, long. Too, loo, ong."

"Parents?"

She shook her head.

"Relatives?"

Another negative gesture.

"I'm sorry. Anyone special at all?"

"All, a, lone," she sobbed in a tiny voice, her bravado gone.

I wrapped her in both my arms, leaned back and pulled her with me. My hand stroked her hair as she cried.

"The human touch can be so profound, so emotional, and so healing," I murmured to her. "Just let me hold you and revel in my touch, in my warmth, in my comfort. Everything will be all right, dear Weinotia. Just relax and let me keep you safe with me, for a little while. All right?"

Her body shuddered as she filled her lungs. She nodded and I felt her regain some self-control.

"And when you are ready, then we shall feast together and get better acquainted, all right?"

"I, I think, I, would, like, that, Kelline."

"Good. I look forward to it as well. Now relax."

We swayed slowly together as the shadows lengthened.

* * * * * * *

More than a bell later Weinotia seemed to be her old self, feisty and direct, but with one important difference in my view—she acted with more respect. Her manners no longer betrayed a frightened and insecure girl. Just the brief intimacy we shared let her feel comfortable as a woman. It made her beautiful to me. But during dinner I also got to know some of her life's pain.

"So just like that my mother was gone. I was pushed from one relative to another. And the relationships grew more distant each time. First I lived with an aunt, then a cousin. After that it was a second cousin, thens. I hated each home and none of them warmed up to me, either."

"And you were twelve?"

"Eleven when my mother passed. I was fourteen by the time I left my last . . . 'family'." She nibbled away her last rice bun. "These are excellent, Kelline." She smiled. There was something coy, and quite charming, in her face.

"I'm sorry I don't have more."

"I'm not," Weinotia laughed. "I'm ready to burst as it is. If I ate one more, whew!"

"You have a fine laugh."

Her expression changed in an instant. "You're not teasing me, are you?"

"No! It's just that that was the first time I heard you laugh. It is a joyous and lovely song, Weinotia. Truly!"

Her eyes sparkled and her lips curled. I think it may have been the first heartfelt compliment she had received in a long time. I also suspected she had laughed very seldom for the last several fourteen-moons.

"Thank you, Kelline."

"Are you . . . Weinotia, you're blushing!"

"No, I'm not!" She covered her face with both hands and turned away from me.

"You are," I chuckled. "Don't be embarrassed—"

"Listen to you!" She spoke between her fingers.

"What?"

"Don't be embarrassed . . . about being embarrassed!"

"No, that's . . ." I began laughing at myself, and at her astute comment.

"Touché, Lady Weinotia. I laughed again and heard her join me. She peeked at me from behind her hands.

"You are lovely, and I am honored you chose me to be your Florist."

Her mirth faded. Weinotia turned serious. "So, what else do we have to discuss?"

"Well, it is a bit unusual to enter into an arrangement with someone who is not at least 'leaning' towards another—"

"But not unheard of, right?"

"You are right. It is not unheard of, just—unusual. Normally I would feel compelled to determine your motives. But I think—"

"My motive is I want to experience physical intimacy because I have heard how wonderful it is. And—" she continued, holding a palm towards me to quiet my interruption, "I want that intimacy to be vigorous because, well, because it is what I want."

"Weinotia . . . do you feel that, you . . . deserve to be . . . hurt, or punished?"

She turned her head and looked at the floor. The time dragged. At last she answered, "I did. When I got here, that's what I thought I deserved, though I hadn't thought of it in those terms." She met my eyes with a calm gaze that refused to waiver.

"And now?"

"No, Kelline, I do not think I deserve punishment."

"All right. There are other ways that we may be together."

"I know, but I still prefer something more . . . physical. And I must be allowed to be an active participant."

"My training is in 'sprinkling rain', but I am familiar with other 'disciplines'." We both smiled at the word. "However, I am not schooled in anything more than 'bloodlessly force', nor will I attempt anything more with anyone. Is that acceptable?"

"Kelline, I want to be taken, to be possessed by a lover. I am not interested in being bled, injured, scarred, or worse. All right?"

"That I can do, Weinotia."

"Then I accept your terms, Kelline."

"I accept yours, also, Weinotia."

I stood and offered her my hand. She took it and I helped her stand then pulled her hard against my chest. My hands gripped the shoulders of her blouse and yanked it down her arms until it held her like a cocoon. At the same time I bent to her throat and nipped my way from her collar bone up to her jaw.

Her body pressed tight to me. She wriggled, but did not struggle to escape. The firm mounds of her breasts rubbed into my chest and her head went back to give me access. My hands gripped the small of her back. Her arms remained completely immobilized by her torn blouse and my strong forearms. I shoved her hips to me. One of my legs slipped between her thighs and her legs clasped mine. She moaned and her hips rocked.

I grabbed a handful of her thick, wavy hair and tugged back and down, baring even more of her throat.

"Is this what you had in mind, Weinotia?"

"Oh, yesss," she hissed as my teeth pinched her skin.

I bent and nipped at the upper swell of her breast. "And this?"

"Oooh, yesss!"

I pulled on her hair again and her back arched. My hand ripped her blouse once more to expose all of her chest. I watched her nipples harden from her arousal and the cool air. My mouth fastened on the nearest swell of her flesh and her erect tip dug into the flat of my tongue.

"Oooh!" She tried to reach for my head but her clothing and my grip denied her the room to move. Her hips remained free enough, though, and they rolled up and down my thigh. I ravished her swollen bud, and the wrinkled flesh surrounding it, then moved to her left side. This time I dug my tongue into the center of her nipple and pressed it deep into her yielding areola. She gasped, her body shuddered and her thighs gripped my leg.

"Is this what you imagined, Wenotia?"

"It's more than I hoped. Take me. Now!"

I sucked on the taught skin of her throat and asked, "Take you right here? Standing up?" Another soft bite on the base of her neck. "Or would you like to hang from my shoulders with your smooth thighs about my waist?"

"Oooh, ungh." Her hips convulsed.

"Or would you prefer lying back in my bed while I thrust deeply into your luscious body?"

"Here. Ungh, now. Please!"

I slid the remains of her blouse off and freed her arms. She wasted no time in pulling off my trousers, ignoring my shirt. She bent down to shove my pants to my ankles and gripped my thickening muscle in her right hand. The way in which she stroked my length was surprisingly schooled and effective. I groaned in spite of myself.

She removed her skirt and undershorts in one hasty motion and spread her palm with saliva. She applied it between her legs and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Take me, Kelline," she breathed.

I gripped her lush bottom in both my hands and her feet left the floor. Her thighs encircled my waist and I felt her wet heat envelop my tip. As I played her weight and began to enter her there was resistance.

"You are not—"

Before I could finish she thrust down onto me. I noted the flash of pain in her eyes, but in the next instant her lust returned.

"Take me, Kelline. Please!" Her low whisper was hoarse with need. Her hips met mine as I reached fully into her.

I controlled my anger, channeled it instead into fulfilling her desires. I crushed her mouth with mine, tasting her lips and tongue with ardor. As we found our rhythm I could feel her nipples harden through my shirt. Once more I pulled backward on her hair and chewed my way lower. As she leaned away from me she put more pressure on the joining of our hips. There was a hard nub of flesh and nerve endings that she ground into the top of my base and her body rocked at the contact.

"Oooh! Ungh, Gawd!"

I arched downward and took one nipple in my teeth, applying just a hint of pressure. My thrusts remained long and full, with a steady rhythm that Weinotia tried to accelerate. But I held back, opting instead for a metronomic cadence that ended each thrust with my tip firmly nestled into her very depths.

By now Weinotia's gasps had become ragged sobs of pleasure. She teetered precariously on the edge of bliss but I felt she wanted to prolong the pleasure her body enjoyed. From her responses, though, I knew she could not hold back much longer.

I stood and pressed her sweaty chest to me. "Is this what you desired, Weinotia?"

"Yee, ees, Kel, line. Oooh, yesss!"

"Deep, full, hard?"

"Yesss!" Her fingers dug into my shoulders. If not for my tunic she would have left scratches. Her legs tightened until my body hurt. My hands guided the rocking of her hips. I thrust forward each time, with vigor, to intensify her pleasure.

Weinotia was unable to speak. She clung to me for dear life as her body shook in the electric buzz of sexual union. Her pelvis sought to shove tight to me and hold still, but my hands and hips insisted that her fulfilling, intoxicating thrusts kept on until—

"Oooh, ooo, OOH!" Ungh! Gaw, aah, aah, awd!"

Her climax slammed her body in powerful spasms of joy. She hung on tighter and buried her face in my neck, sobbing and grunting her finish. Her convulsions milked at me until my final thrust enveloped me in her molten flesh. There, I bathed her with my own fiery essence. Her thighs shuddered and we melted with one another. The inside of my thighs were coated with perspiration and our nectars.

I held her tightly as we cooled and regained our breaths. My own legs began to shiver as I shrank within her.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

She kissed my neck and my jaw. "Yes, Kelline. She kissed my lips. "I'm all quite fine."

When I began to relax my grip and lower her, she said, "No, wait! Hold me. Just a little longer, please?"

"My legs—I can't. Here, come with me." I sat on the couch and she nestled into my lap. As I sat back she moved her ankles so her legs were alongside my hips rather than behind my back.

"Mmm, thank you, Kelline." Weinotia kissed my neck again "That was absolutely perfect."

"But I have to ask, you told me you had prepared—"

"Oh, Kelline," she interrupted, "please don't be angry with me."

"You told me—"

"I heard that this was the proper way, the best way, to feel taken, to feel possessed. The best way to feel my entry into womanhood. I needed to feel that way . . . ."

I tried to lean back and look at her, but she kept her face against my neck and shoulder. I felt her squeeze the muscles surrounding me. It made me twitch inside her.

"Whoever told you that is an idiot!"




The Florist Ch. 02: Weinotia



"Please don't be angry." She squeezed me again. It tickled even as it aroused. The truth was that my anger faded very quickly, but I certainly did not want her knowing it. If she thought she could alter my mood too easily it might not be to my benefit.

As I slipped from her she finally looked into my eyes. Her gaze seemed demure, seemed to seek approval. Her head tilted to one side and her lips brushed against my own.

"May I freshen myself?"

"Of course. There," I gestured.

She was gone for a short time and returned with a warm washcloth. Weinotia knelt and cleansed me. The contrast of the initial heat that faded in the cooler air focused my mind. She folded the cloth and laid it on the side table. With trembling fingers she undid the buttons on my shirt and slid the garment over my shoulders until it caught on my arms. Her kisses grew hungry.

I tasted her mouth and let my tongue explore. Her breasts pressed into my chest and I felt her stiffened nipples brushing my skin.

She left my mouth and I felt her tasting the skin of my shoulder. I stroked her wavy hair as she descended along my ribs, trailing kisses all the way. She nipped at the skin of my stomach as her hand caressed between my thighs. She hummed her approval when I stirred against her palm.

"Ohh!" I could not help but moan as she cupped my sensitive tip.

"Mm, you like that, dear Kelline?"

"Oh, yesss. Mmm, you are naturally adept."

Weinotia emitted a low, throaty laugh. "'Naturally adept?' Do you always sound so formal?"

"I was just being proper, though you may make me forget my mann—mmm, my manners. My goodness, that feels very nice indeed."

"And this?" With that she held me to her lips and began to lower her mouth onto me. My hips thrust toward her as if they thought for themselves. I cannot be sure, but I believe I may have groaned.

In one of my more lucid moments, I reminded her, "This night is for you—I should—"

She slipped me from between her lips, but her hand maintained the same intoxicating and infuriating rhythm. It was becoming difficult to think.

"You should let me have my way, then. I want this." She devoured me once more.

I lay back with as masculine a whimper as I could manage, closed my eyes and played with her hair. Her mouth and hands kept on performing their magic and I knew my ultimate response would soon follow . . . .

But the very next instant the fire of her mouth left me. My eyes flashed open in surprise.

Weinotia stood. In a fluid movement she turned away from me, straddled my thighs, lowered herself. She licked her palm, cupped my tip to wet me then guided me to her. She settled with a long moaning sigh of pleasure. My legs flexed on their own as I slipped into her depths once again.

For the next several pounding heartbeats I watch the rippling of her back, thighs and bottom. She braced her hands on my knees and moved with rhythmic purposed, driving herself toward fulfillment even as she covered me in her musk.

My hands rested on her hips and pressed her onto me a little longer each time I reached the depths of her. She had to have noticed my swelling, the hardening of my length, the tautness of my legs.

No, I had to remind myself, this is her first time. She may not realize—

"Oh, Kelline, you feel—oh!— so hard, inside, mmm, I, I think, oh, oooh!"

Weinotia curled forward and her body convulsed once, then again. A flood like lava covered my thighs. Her moans grew continuous and her hips ground onto me. That proved too much for my feeble resolve. I thrust upward to impale my beautiful lover as my own convulsions began.

Her nails dug into my legs, the pain edged with pleasure. I recognized just how consuming her peak must be, but the thought was a fleeting one as my mind numbed in our ecstasy.

Weinotia's quaking slowed to trembles and shudders. When her body quieted she rose shakily until I slid from her. She turned and looked at me with brimming eyes, joined me on the couch and nestled into my side. I wrapped an arm around her and held her to my warmth.

"Thank you, Kelline," she murmured. "It was everything I wished it would be."

I kissed the top of her head and her springy hair tickled my nose. I smiled.

"Was that, 'vigorous,' enough for you, Weinotia?"

She looked up at me with a straight face and teasing eyes. "Was that vigorous enough for you, Kelline?"

"Oh, yes, milady. I'm just thankful for oatwort, or I might be spent for the night."

She put a hand on my chest and pushed a short distance away. "You mean you are not?"

"Now just a moment, before you get any ideas—"

But it was too late. Weinotia was already on her feet and pulling me along.

"You asked earlier—stand up, Kelline—you asked earlier, so yes—stand up I said—about in your bed."

She dragged me towards the hall.

"Weinotia, stop!"

The hurt expression she wore made it very difficult to withhold my laughter.

"Kelline, have I—?"

"This way. That hallway goes to the pantry cellar."

We laughed our way into my bed.

Once there, however, there was nothing laughable about Weinotia's lovemaking. She possessed a natural talent, an insatiable curiosity, and an unflagging passion. And she participated—actively. The fact that she was not even leaning let me indulge my own little fantasy that perhaps, for one night, could I?

It was the last thought I had as I fell asleep, nestled against Weinotia and lulled by her deep-slumber breathing.

It was the fantasy of, Good night, my love . . .

* * * * * * *

I awoke to the sound of an arboreal tussle between what sounded like enormous billbirds. It made me jump. They possessed such volume that I thought for a moment they must be in the room. I worried that it might wake Weinotia, but when I looked to her side of the bed it was empty.

I sighed, and thought, Her side of the bed? What is wrong with you? Last night was for her, she received what she desired, and she left. That is not unusual. Stop being so self-indulgent.

Nonetheless, I sighed again before I rose and made my way to the toilet. I opened the door, and received the second start in quick succession.

"Wha—?"

"Ah!" Weinotia cried, as startled as I was. She sloshed water out of the tub in her fright. "Kelline, don't you knock?"

"I thought you left." My gaze landed on her glistening breasts. Whether from the scare, or the cooler air, or the playful lapping of bathwater they began to respond.

Weinotia covered herself with her hands. "Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like that. Like someone who hasn't eaten in several all-bells."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Look at my eyes."

Her gaze rose by a good three remin.

"Hello," I told her with a smirk. But she was right about the hungered look—I had seen it in her face so recently, first for the food and, later, as we joined.

She blushed at being caught. Then sloughing all remorse she murmured, "It is nice to be noticed, though."

I followed her stare and saw myself responding to her submerged nudity.

It was my turn to blush.

"So, I still excite you?"

"No, that's the oatwort—"

Her splashing was remarkably well aimed.

* * * * * * *

I took her again, in the tub. We got the water as close to unbearable hot as we could stand, then I showed her the gentler side of lovemaking. The soft delicacy of movement, exploration, and worship of a lover's body let Weinotia experience a different facet of joining that seemed to appeal to her very much. Twice.

Afterwards I dried her off and wrapped her in the fluffiest robe I own. I made her breakfast and pampered her, catered to her, spoiled her. And I fooled myself that it was all part of my professional duty.

She pecked my cheek, hugged me with longing, and left my doorstep by the ten-three bell.

The heat that her lips kindled on my skin lasted well into the evening.

But the emptiness of my home began as soon as the lock clicked into place.



The Florist Ch. 03: Laileet



Chapter 3—Laileet 

My work ebbed and flowed over the next three visits. On one trip I saw three women, one of whom was undergoing her third betrothal. While not all women employed Florists for each successive betrothal a few did, especially if they wanted to perfect new techniques. 

On this particular trip to Tsibili, however, I was expecting to see only one young lady named Laileet. What made her unique was her request to begin our session in mid-morning and continue through the following night. One night and, perhaps, into early ten-plus bells was considered a lengthy interaction. 

"Tell me, Laileet, why you are interested in prolonging our session?" 

She was a lovely woman, with eyes the hue of springbirds. Her thick, straight ebony locks and lashes contrasted with a creamy complexion. Her body curved voluptuously, from full breasts to broad hips and a rounded bottom. But her face was riveting. She could appear the girl at one instant and complex woman the very next. 

"Well, Kelline, I care for Pillome very much, and I want to please him. My mother and I have discussed prolonged togetherness and the deep, profound effects it can have on a relationship. I cherish the time I have with Pillome and want to be with him always. I just feel that this will help achieve that goal." 

"You realize that there will be more that you must do to assure the outcome you seek?" 

"Yes, of course." 

"So you do not see prolonged togetherness as the only—" 

"Oh, absolutely not," she interrupted smoothly. "I know there are many challenges that face all couples. But I want to make sure I have a wide range of abilities to give us the best chances. Pillome agrees." 

"With such a lovely and persuasive partner, how could he do anything else?" I grinned 

She smiled back and told me, "Your reputation is well-earned, charming Kelline." 

I bowed, kept my smile and stood. I offered her my hand, and asked, "Then I shall see you tomorrow at the nine-bell?" 

"That sounds perfect. Shall I bring the morning meal?" 

"Oh, no, please allow me. But is there anything you would like?" 

"Well . . ." 

"Please, anything at all." 

"I have a fondness for rice buns and sweet venison patties." She winked and said, "The combination gives me . . . energy." 

I laughed, leaned towards her, and lowered my voice. "I'll be sure to have a ready supply." 

We chuckled our way down the hall and I showed her to the door. Then I began my preparations. 

* * * * * * * 

We lingered over breakfast until nearly the ten-two bell and skipped the midday meal entirely. Laileet proved to be quite . . . energetic. As promised 

It was easy to get lost in her lush body. And she knew how to kiss very well, indeed. But there was something most alluring about her face. No . . . it was her eyes. 

Yes, when I think back on it, her eyes seemed to change as quickly as her heartbeats. One instant they looked cool and inviting, the next they appeared glinting and sage, then the next they altered once again to something else entirely. They seemed to be in constant swirl, like a deep eddy pool at the edge of an ice-melt stream. 

I remember a singular kiss. I cannot quite recall what compelled me to keep my eyes open, but when our lips met I stared into Laileet's swirling orbs. As her tongue tip traced my mouth, inviting me, it felt as though I tumbled into the whirlpool of her blue irises. I could hear the rush of the stream that swept me along—or was that the blood in my veins? I had never experienced that sensation with any other arrangement. It was frightening . . . and intoxicating. 

Laileet's skin felt soft, smooth and warm beneath my fingertips. Her flesh tasted of flowers and perspiration. Her body begged to be massaged and caressed, kneaded until she moaned. As her clothes fell away I worshiped her nudity. 

We were locked in an especially deep kiss as my hands went to her chest. Her breasts hung heavy and wanton, and they filled my hands. As I hefted them and explored their soft curves, she groaned low in her throat. When my fingertips found her nipples, I rolled them to full hardness and applied enough pressure to elicit a sharp gasp and a mild shudder. I wanted more, wanted to experiment with her responses. 

I sagged to my knees and showered her right breast with delicate kisses. I let my lips nibble across the swell of her, down to her ribs and under the full curve. I kept circling my way, spiraling towards her erect and pebbly pink-brown tip. Her hands tangled in my hair, urging and guiding all at once. She pulled me where she needed my mouth and turned her chest for good measure. As my lips slowly enveloped her luscious nipple Laileet whimpered her pleasure and encouragement. 

I dined on her breasts for at least a half-bell, pleasing her and employing every technique I could muster. I removed her skirt and reached behind and cupped the fullness of her bottom before stroking upward to knead the bands of muscles along her spine. I dug my fingers into her back as my mouth savored her sweet flesh. 

At one point I slipped one arm between her legs and squeezed her backside. She clamped her legs around my forearm and her wet heat scented my skin in the most intimate and alluring fashion. My hand slithered from behind her until I palmed her womanhood. 

"Oh, yesss," she whispered. Her hips moved of their own volition, and she pressed my face tighter to her bosom. My hand held her, despite the awkward angle, and I eased two fingertips past her thick petals. They pushed further into Laileet's buttery depths, where I curled them forward against the rough pad. My thumb found her delicate tip as my mouth devoured her nipples in soft tenacity. 

"Oh!" With a last exclamation her knees shook and Laileet seemed ready to lose her balance. I hugged her close while the climax dragged on for a delicious and lengthy interval. 

She eventually returned to me, and I suggested, "Perhaps it's time for us to make you more comfortable." I remained on my knees before her. "Someplace soft and warm, where you may fully relax into your experience." I kissed her tummy. 

"Yes, I believe I would appreciate a change of venue, Kelline." Her voice dripped breathiness, and the maelstrom of her eyes spoke of the flow of immediate needs with a strong undercurrent of raw lust. Once more those blue orbs tinged my mood with wary drunkenness. And once more I wrestled with my denial of the power in those eyes. Wrestled, and lost out, to the lust they aroused in me. For a moment I worried about my professional duties. I shook my head and stood. 

Regaining control of myself, I leaned closer to the beautiful, naked Laileet. I placed a palm upon her cheek, closed my eyes and kissed her lips. Then I led her to my bed. 

"Here, lie down and let me take care of you." I ogled her curvy figure as she lay before me and registered a fleeting thought that was both glad and uncertain. I was glad at the extra time we had, but uncertain that it would be sufficient. 

She lay back, gazing up into my face, and I gasped. Fleeting expressions rippled across her features until I grew unsure exactly who I was with. Laileet seemed to be as changeable, as emotive, as unpredictable as any greatwater, like the one that lapped the shores of Gatekey. It confused me because I could not keep up with the changes and, therefore, did not know exactly how to guide her. Then I had a thought . . . . 

"Please allow me to introduce you to a sensory exercise?" 

"Of course." Her arms had crossed over her midsection but did nothing to conceal the wrinkled, swollen tautness of two prominent nipples or the gentle parting of her labia, glistening coyly from between her full thighs. I think I licked my lips as I watched her legs part just a little more and caught sight of Laileet's pearly nub. My lids fluttered when her scent reached me. 

"What must I do?" 

Her question jolted me. "Well, when we lose the use of one sense, our remaining senses grow more acute to make up for loss. If you would allow me . . .?" I asked, removing a scarf from one of my cabinets. 

Without pause, she answered, "Of course, Kelline. My trust in you is complete." Laileet modeled perfect composure. 

I laid the filmy fabric across her eyes and reached beneath her head, where I tied the ends. "Now I want you to use your other senses—touch, smell, hearing—" 

"Taste?" 

I smiled. "Yes, perhaps even taste, to enrich the experience. Focus and relax." I saw the ample chest raise and fall as she breathed deeply. "Are you ready?" 

"Oh, yes, dear Kelline, very ready indeed." 

My heart skipped once before I regained my professionalism. 

I began at her forehead, stroking fingertips across her smooth skin. I traced the shape of her face, the curve of her orbit to her cheek, the feminine jaw line. My digits continued journeying along her throat and lower, following the curve of her collar bone to the dome of her shoulder, then down her bicep. Pebble flesh erupted over so much of her upper body and she moaned. Her nipples reacted, wrinkling to hardness. I bent to them, licking and worshiping each in turn as her breathing deepened into gentle gasps. Her hands tangled in my hair and she held me tightly against her chest. 

My fingers continued their excursion, even as my mouth became distracted. Laileet's ribs rippled beneath my touch and bits of her erogeny swelled beneath my tongue. The contrast of her soft breasts and exquisite, taut nipples boiled my blood. 

When my hand traversed her hip and began descending towards her womanhood, I found that her own hand had preceded mine. She was busily manipulating her molten folds and the tender flesh between. 

"Please, dear Laileet, allow me . . ." 

My mouth surrounded her left nipple as my hand sought out her intimate opening. I heard her moan loudly as my fingers realized their destination. Her arousal could not have been more obvious; the slick glide of fingers over her smoothness testified to her physical state. 

I felt her body tense. With a stifled, "Ungh," Laileet spasmed in fulfillment. 

"Oh, plea—Ooohhh!" Her hips rose from the bed and her grip on the back of my head tightened. Her lush body trembled and heaved as she reached her peak. My teeth placed the slightest twinge on her thick nipple and my fingers painted her pulsing tip with her own honeyed nectar. It took Laileet a very long time to stop thrusting against me. 

If her reaction had gone on for a bit longer, though, I would not have objected. Intimacy with her completely intoxicated me, thought I am not sure exactly why . . . . 

"Oh, Kelline, that was everything I wished it would be." 

My mind flashed back to Weinotia and my heart squeezed in my chest. Those were the exact words she had used after our first joining. 

"I am so glad, milady." I kissed her soft breasts and the silken expanse of her chest. My hand soothed her molten tissues and reveled in her shudders even as my ears reveled in her giggles. 

Weinotia . . . 

In a flash I realized that I needed a distraction. I removed the scarf and watched her eyes open. It happened slowly, as slowly as a sunrise, but open they did. And just that quickly I felt myself falling into the whirlpool of her endless springbird depths. 

It was my only hope . . . . 

* * * * * * * 

Laileet and I did not sleep much. We ate precious little. We lost ourselves in intimacy for another twenty bells. I spent much energy on her body, sampling and touching, inhaling and drinking her in until I lost track of her numerous alluring heights of fulfillment. More often than not her eyes bore into mine as she scaled her peaks. And though I should remain slightly detached so as to better serve my lover, I have to admit that my favorite moment with her was immersive. 

I lay between her full thighs. After long slow kisses and nibbles covered every bit of her body from waist to knees, her shudders and trembles grew more intense and demanding until I gave her relief. My lips and tongue explored her turgid topography, probing, licking, devouring as her lovely responses ramped up in their physicality. Though time had lost meaning, my ministrations coaxed a strong flow of arousal from her. It ran along her creases in intoxicating rivulets of mead. My sipped and suckled all of her that I could, tonguing and mouthing her sodden, smooth and throbbing flesh. 

I traced my way up and down the length of her feminine crevasse, repeatedly swirling into the hollow of her hooded treasure. And each time, there followed a delightful and deep thrust of her hips towards me. Soon my hands dug into the soft curve of her womanly bottom, holding her against any possible escape while I became more serious, more ravenous. 

In no time her legs wrapped around my shoulders, her hand grasped me behind my neck and she pressed my face into her. She pressed herself against me. She cried out, shaking wildly. I encircled her tiny swollen mound and suckled vigorously. Laileet seemed to lose control in a most gratifying way. 

I reached for her breast and, once more, found her hands had staked claim. I looked at her hands. They pulled and twisted her thick nipples as she shook in my mouth. Her right hand covered my left and pressed my into her pillow-soft orb. The tip, full and erect, rolled between my fingers as her intimate pearl wriggled on the tip of my tongue. 

On an impulse my eyes went to her face. I found her staring at me. Her pink face very flushed, her lips were parted and, incredibly, memorably, her azure eyes riveted me. I nearly lost my rhythm, averted that error and redoubled my efforts to drive her onward. Her body replied by spasming again, ebbing and bursting once more. 

All the while her eyes held mine. 

Although I wanted this to go on and on for much longer, Laileet began to shudder and convulse in a way that let me know she had grown overly sensitive. I lightened my touches, everywhere, and she melted into the coverlet. I drew back just as she pushed me away. 

My head rested on her thigh while she recovered her poise. 

I felt myself throbbing, very aroused and wanting to experience more of her. I moved alongside and cradled her against my chest. We leaned together, her gaze ripping into my soul, and we kissed. 

They were long, sweet and slow, those kisses we shared, with a languid heat and growing intensity all their own. My hands roamed her generous curves and her thigh pressed to my swelling. 

She broke the kiss and breathed "Oh, Kelline, mmm, I need you . . ." 

We stared into one another. I pulled her to me so we rested on our sides. My hips moved forward and I positioned myself at her vestibule. My hand curved around the back of her thigh and she raised her leg, hooking her calf behind me. The fire that boiled within her, raging and turgid, enveloped my tip. With a collective moan I plunged into her liquefied inferno. 

Laileet moved towards me, holding eye contact as she drew me deeper. But as I neared the depths of her, I watched her lose focus. Her eyes rolled back, lidded fully, and she moaned. Her arms encircled my neck and she guided my head to the crook of her throat. I felt her shudder as I nestled myself at the depths of my reach. 

"Oh, yes," she breathed. I suckled at her neck and along her shoulder until I thought she was ready. Then I set up a slow cadence and moved within her. 

"Oh . . . oh, so . . . mmm, so . . . yes, there. Please . . ." 

She pulled my hair and held me just before her face. I caught myself looking at her with a mix of surprise, wonder and lust. Her eyes blazed forth like a shore beacon and I thrust harder, off my rhythm, drawn once again into her irises' depths. I could not fathom what it was about Laileet's stares, her gazes, her eyes that held me under some spell. All I knew was the power of it. 

She kissed me with hunger, her lips slick, her tongue curious, and her breath steamy. I noticed her nipples digging into my chest as our bodies pressed together. Only our hips moved apart before meeting again and again in rhythmic bliss. 

Laileet rolled onto her back, taking me with her until my weight came to rest on her lush figure. I rose from her, still rocking my hips into hers, and reached beneath her until the ample curves of her bottom filled my hands. Now my languid assault bore two fronts; I was able to pull her to meet my hardness with every forward movement. 

Her gasps and moans grew more intense and ragged. Her legs went around me and I felt her heels lock at my lower back. Her legs urged me, unspoken signals to coax me deeper and faster. 

At the same time I bent to her chest and laved her nipples, tasting her skin as it swelled and wrinkled in arousal. Each time I switched from one rigid nub to the other, Laileet would press herself to me, pin my head to the soft smoothness of her bosom, pale hills punctuated by taut, rosy nubs. 

She flowed hot and liquid as quickfire, moving her hips to wantonly collide with mine. Her treasured pearl was equally hard, and I felt it dragging along the top of my length with each thrust. She began shuddering in earnest and I knew her peak grew closer. 

Once more I looked into her glowing face, wondering what expression I would find there. And once more her eyes were upon me. She stared through a thick cloud of lust haze, gasping through parted lips that she wet with her pink tongue. I used my own tongue to circle her stiffened tip, batting it back and forth before surrounding it with my lips and suckling on her erect flesh. 

"Oooh!" She cried out as her body gripped me. Her legs grabbed my waist until my hip bones ached. She clung to me so tightly that her hug threatened to expel the air from my lungs. My strong hands tugged her from the mattress and I held her as she arched into me. 

The shudders became quakes, and the quakes became fitful spasms. Laileet climaxed beneath me. I felt warmth pulsing from her, coating me and pooling at our joining. With a final deep thrust I held myself still and shared my own warm pulses with my voluptuous lover. 

Laileet continued with her ultimate fulfillment for many delicious beats longer. I rose, still awed by her waning orgasm, and kissed her. My thighs felt the cool of evaporation even as she held me a little longer within her squelching heat. 

Her last shudder ebbed and I rolled beside her. Laileet cuddled against me, snuggling her face into the crook of my neck. I curled an arm around her and held her to my side. 

My respite was short-lived. Laileet and I explored many positions and techniques. But after another powerful climax I slowed everything down and began teasing her. I played her body's responses, working her closer and closer before holding back. Once she cooled a little then the buildup resumed. 

It took only a few cycles before she began staring at me with a wild, unfulfilled desire in her eyes. "Kelline," she gasped, "I need more than you are offering." Her hips moved towards my hand, seeking to draw my three fingers deeper as they thrust in and out of her. My opposite thumb and forefinger slipped her hood back and forth along the length of her swollen tip in the same rhythm. I kissed and nibbled on tender thighs. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin. She shoved her hips towards my mouth. 

"Kelline, Please do not torture me," she ordered in a harsh whisper. Her fingers manipulated each erect nipple, twisting and pulling them in a merciless quest for release. 

I spoke, though my hands continued their ministrations. "Please trust me in this. I want to prolong the pleasure while delaying your release—" 

She interrupted with a moderate edge of frustration. "But why?" 

It was almost pitiful. She was more aroused than she had been all session. Her excited aroma hung heavy on the air. Slickness glistened between her legs and ran downward, coating her flesh before reaching the bedding. I increased the pressure for a few heartbeats then eased up once more. 




The Florist Ch. 03: Laileet



Her first reaction was a shudder at the precipice of bliss, followed instantly be a glare and a wrinkled brow that begged for more. 

"You see how your body betrays its need." 

"Kelline, please!" 

"Just a little longer, I promise. And if you find a worthy reward at the end of this, I'll be happy to begin your climb again, and will take you—" 

"Oh, there!" She growled when I denied her, again. Another wanton thrust of her hips as she pawed at my hands between her trebling thighs. 

"I promise you will feel more than you have ever felt during lovemaking." 

When she found her hands could not make my hands do her bidding, she resumed her nipple play. "I had better—this is killing me!" 

"Killing you?" I teased. My free thumb slithered deeper into the split of her fleshy backside. Her private opening proved to be so wet and relaxed that the tip of my finger slipped inside without resistance. 

In that moment her entire body clenched. Her grip on the fingers in her steamy core, and the thumb in her behind, clutched so tightly that I became immobilized. She pinched her breasts hard enough that I felt concerned. But when her body quaked, her gorgeous blue eyes rolled back an instant before her shoulders arched into the cushions, and she covered my hands in a wave of boiling nectar, I felt certain that she had not injured herself. Or at least if she had, she may not notice until morning . . . . 

Watching such an erotic display was truly a gift. Her legs remained taut, the gasps and moans went on and on as did the rise and fall of her spectacular breasts, and the entire expanse of her sex pulsed and poured rivulets of sexual energy. When her body began to settle it took the slightest intensification to launch her anew into another crest. 

I slowed one more time before giving Laileet a final push over the bliss horizon's edge. She bent her head toward me, holding my face for a beat or two before her expression glazed. I could not be certain, but I would have been surprised if she could actually focus on anything visual. Her world had collapsed inward until all she knew was the glorious crush of her body's release. 

Her hands reached for mine, uncertain and jerky in her aftermath. I stilled before letting my digits gently recede. With each small movement, even in retreat, Laileet shuddered like a leaf in a gale. 

For quite a while the loudest sound was of a woman's slowing gasps. I leaned forward and placed the softest kiss on her hip. She giggled and her body shivered. 

"My . . . dear . . . Kelline . . . . Oh . . . my . . ." 

I kissed her hip again. "Yes, Laileet?" Then I kissed her again. 

"Do you . . . really believe . . . you can make . . . that more, more . . .?" 

A smile before my answer of, "Yes, if you wish it." 

"Oooo, mmm." she giggled. It was a throaty, deeply resonant sound full of challenge, trepidation, longing and curiosity. 

We rested and talked in soft tones. My fingers touched her, explored softly until she appeared to want more. We kissed and I followed the wakes of my fingertips with lips and tongue. Sometimes I would nip or nibble on interesting and sensitive spots and Laileet would shiver, or giggle, or wrap around me. 

As timed passed I grew bolder. I knelt near her shoulder and offered myself to her. She smiled and took me between her lips. The caress of her tongue made me shiver this time and, once she wetted me, I withdrew to paint myself onto her nipple. She cupped a hand beneath the generous curve and pushed herself up into me. 

The second time I offered, she took half my length before getting my skin even wetter than before. Then she rolled towards me so I could reach her other succulent breast. She seemed to enjoy the new game, and her nipple grew hard as it slithered along the sensitive underside of my erection. 

The third time she stared into my eyes and pulled my hips to her. I felt her swallow more of me and my legs trembled. She moaned around my flesh and the shivers went straight to my core. 

I lay beside her and lifted her left leg. Her cleft shone in the fading light and I plunged headlong into her. She bobbed herself back and forth, varying the suction and keeping me drenched. I licked and suckled her wet skin, soft folds and throbbing nib. She held my hips and I gripped her bottom. 

We soon became engaged in a contest, each urging the other while simultaneously holding back our building peaks. I knew if I was to take Laileet higher than ever, I had to capitulate. 

I slowed, focusing more and more on the pleasure she gave me. Soon my hips rolled back and forth as I became more active. Her hands urged me to continue, and she moaned, "Um hmm, um hmm, um hmm . . ." 

The flare of my tip slipped past her tongue and into her throat. I groaned and held still, legs tight, and Laileet managed to take more of me. One of her hands stroked what little of me she could not devour. 

"Oh!" I exclaimed into the heated flesh between her legs. My body fell into the deep rhythmic pulsations of climax. Her throat milked me as she repeatedly swallowed until I could not stand any more stimulation. I jerked from her with a soft, "pop" and lay back, panting. My face turned to her and she grinned back at me. 

"I suppose," she told me, whipping her lip with a finger and sucking it, "Mmm, I suppose, I am not quite as good at the buildup-and-slow-down technique." Her blue irises glinted with teaming amusement, and we both laughed together. 

"Laileet, Pillome is a very fortunate man!" 

"Yes, yes, he is," she beamed. "And I am very fortunate woman. And now I have many ways to show him just how much he means to me." 

"Well, my dear, would you like me to demonstrate how to keep you fortunate?" 

"Oh, Kelline, that is so . . . awkward—and sweet—both at once." 

"Forgive me. I seemed to have recovered only a small portion of my reason." 

"Mmm, now that is much nicer to my ear." 

"If I may illustrate . . ." 

It took most of two bells to tease Laileet up the many tiers of plateau after plateau. When her time finally came it took nothing more than a soft puff of air across her womanhood to set the events in motion. Her climax proved even more enveloping and crushing than the last. Her fists dug into the bedding so hard that her right hand ripped a seam. Her heavy breasts undulated with each spasm of her abdomen. Both nipples turned an angry red and felt hard as pebbles under my tongue. 

In the midst of what I think was her second crest, I slid myself fully into her in one urgent thrust. She grasped my shoulders and stared at me with an impatient and haunted look. My hips moved with hers and her velvet walls constricted on my length. Her body raged through a series of orgasms that seemed to blend together into endless bliss. 

I could tell her body was growing exhausted, even as her eyes pleaded for more. I held myself above her on trembling arms, elbows locked, and thrust into her with increasing vigor. Her head thrashed from side to side as Laileet remained locked in her continuous, powerful climax. 

My own rhythm slowed as my flesh swelled ever harder, and I knew I was practically spent. I willed myself to last a little longer, to wait for her, but she looked like such a sexual goddess, she felt so slick and hot, that I lost the struggle . . . 

Or so I thought. When I buried myself as deeply as I could reach, when my body took over and my mind fogged, when I felt my essence jetting from my tip, Laileet stared one last time into my face. Her mouth formed a silent, "Oh!" Her brow wrinkled in concentration. Her body quivered beneath mine. Her nails bit into my shoulders. Her legs hooked behind my thighs. Her hips bucked up to meet my hips. I leaned down to kiss her hard on the mouth. We shared a 

At last she seemed to begin her descent. She finally settled, abruptly, in what appeared to be unconsciousness. I withdrew, slowly, as some delightful aftershocks rippled through me. If the pebbleskin on her chest, nipples and arms was any indication, I think Laileet enjoyed a few aftershocks as well, conscious or not. 

I cradled her and stroked her temples until her eyelids fluttered and she could focus on my face. She offered a weak smile, a beautiful, heart-wrenching smile. I whispered, "Close your eyes," and caressed her eyelids until her breathing deepened. Then I kissed her cheek before falling into a contented sleep alongside her. 

* * * * * 

I returned to Gatekey and my glassine works. My interlude with Laileet refreshed me . . . while it happened. But now, after just a short time, I experienced a shapeless yearning, something that defied definition, something that I could not quite put into words. My latest work helped distract me, even though it did not receive my full attention. But molten glassine tends to demand respect, even from the distracted. 

"Now that's a promising piece," boomed a voice behind me. While a person has to speak up to be heard over the rumbling hiss of the kilns, I jumped nonetheless. 

"Apologies, Dalian," Dactyon bowed. "But that work, it's inspired. Oh, don't let it sag. That's it. Yes, truly remarkable. I cannot wait to hold the finished work." 

"Thank you," I mumbled. As I sought to focus on the piece once more it struck me. I looked at the glassine, glowing, cooling, shaping as I guided it, and saw . . . Weinotia! The curved surface mirrored the girl's curves. The color recalled the tone of her smooth skin. The texture on one side evoked the ripples of her tresses. I guffawed. 

"I cannot wait, either," I exclaimed, unable to control my laughter at the private joke. 

Dactyon watched me for a beat or two, shook his head and began to walk away. Over his shoulder he shouted, "Do not burn yourself, you maniacal imp!" 

When my laughter increased Dactyon shook his head again but kept on walking. 

That night, well after the birds dreamed and the bats fed, I wondered after Weinotia. I wondered who was holding her, whether she had a betrothed, if she was working, if she was eating, if she had found a home. And I wondered if she thought of me. 

Sleep, when it came at last, was fitful and unsettled.



The Florist



By now her dress had fallen past her shoulders and I could sample the skin between her clavicle and her breast.

"Oh, Kelline, mmm, that feels, aaah . . ."

My lips touched one of her firm breasts. Tentative licks traveled the soft curve until my mouth nipped and nibbled at the crease where the lower portion of her mounded flesh met the flat of her ribs. Then as slowly as I could manage, I worked towards her small, hard nipple.

"Mmm, that is so delightful. Take it, take me. Oh, teach me, please." Saliana steered me toward the center of her breast and I let her. As my lips closed around her sensitized tip she hissed and writhed into my mouth.

My left hand massaged her right breast, kneading the firm orb and finding the stiffened tip there, too. My right hand remained in the small of her back and held her tight to my abdomen. She arched away from me to position her chest where I could easily reach it, and I continued to worship her body.

Her hands reached around and found my collar. She undid my buttons with rapid efficiency and pushed my shirt down my arms. It would not come off unless I released my grip on her.

"I need to feel your skin on mine," she told me.

My arms loosened and she stood back enough to remove my shirt. With a shimmy her dress slid down her body. Except for a tiny pair of lace-and-silk skirt briefs, Saliana stood nude and gorgeous in the flickering firelight. She reached for me.

"Wait," I whispered. I put one arm behind her bare shoulders and the other at the backs of her knees. I scooped her up and carried her toward my bedroom. Her arms went around my neck for balance and she giggled.

I smiled at her before my gaze traveled to her breasts once more. They jostled slightly as I carried her down the hallway. The enticement was too much for me and I lowered my lips to her nearest nipple.

"Oooh," she murmured in a breathy gasp. Her tiny bud hardened and she pressed herself tighter to my sucking mouth. I stood in place and raised her just a bit, lavishing her nipple with all of my skills.

Mmm, I have, oooh, never felt, felt . . . Oooh, Kelline, why does, mmm, that reach, sooo, oooh, deeeep?"

I could feel her body tremble and caught the scent of her arousal at the same time. If she had experienced what I thought she had just described, then I thought Saliana might be very near fulfillment.

With slow, purposeful strides I carried her into the bedroom and lay her on the thick quilt. It reminded me of setting a precious jewel onto velvet. She removed her arms from around my neck and guided my head to her other breast.

"Oooh, yess," she hissed in ecstasy. "Please . . ."

I gazed down her body, over her undulating tummy and to her hips hidden by the sheer fabric. It appeared to cling to her cleft and her feminine perfume filled the air. My focus was to lead her to our first peak before leaving her breasts. One hand touched her mouth and she parted her lips. I felt her tongue on my fingertips.

"Wet them for me," I whispered before bathing her soft skin and pebbly tip once more. My fingers, slick with her saliva, found her bare nipple and rolled it in slippery circles.

"Oooh!" Her body arched beneath me. I shot a glance at her face and knew just what she was feeling. Her mouth was gasping for air with a half-smile of pleasure. Her eyes rolled back an instant before her lids snapped closed. Saliana possessed a strong grip on my head that surprised me coming from such a small woman. But in her throes of physical climax that strength was understandable.

She shuddered and undulated, breathing in a ragged beat to her body's rhythms. All the while my lips and tongue caressed her one nipple and my fingertips twirled the other. I softened both of my touches as she slowed into her descent.

While she cooled I turned my face to her. It gave me a mild surprise when she kissed me. Her lips were warm and soft, her tongue curious and wily. She moaned as she felt me returning her affection. She leaned back into the pillows and pulled me with her, where we kissed some more until her breathing began to quicken.

I rose and, when she began to speak, I placed my fingertip on her lips.

"Shhh, Lady Saliana. Let me show you."

She smile, kissed the tip of my finger and relaxed into the yielding coverlet.

I situated myself on the edge of the bed alongside her. Our hips touched as I gazed at her and move to her lips. Then I moved down her body in a slow procession of mouth play. My lips sipped at her throat, her clavicle, her shoulder. My tongue painted her breasts until her nipples appeared ready to burst. My teeth grazed and dined on the smooth skin of her tummy. And all the while her responses built higher and higher.

The process was slow, agonizingly slow, to make sure she had time to fully appreciate each caress. Her sighs and, later, her gasps spoke well of her excitement. I had to rotate myself as my journey drew near her hips. Soon I sat facing away from her, towards her long legs. She let them part as my eyes roamed her form. My mouth tasted her skin and it reminded me of fruit with a ghost of salty perspiration.

When I finally reached the hem of her skirt briefs they had shifted akimbo to reveal more than a hint of her smooth-groomed womanhood. What little the material that still covered her had become soaked with her essence. The fabric that sought to preserve a last iota of her feminine modesty clung so tightly to her every contour that nothing had to be filled in by imagination.

Her natural perfume enveloped me and aroused me so that the oatwort became superfluous. As I nibbled along her waist I contemplated whether to bare her, or not.

I leaned down and breathed heavily onto her cleft.

"Ooh, myyy," Saliana moaned. "More . . ."

I blew onto her to gauge her arousal. Then my mouth moved to her and stroked across the thin, wet fabric. Her gasp was my reward. I repeated the motion several times, but each caress became a little longer, and little slower, and a little harder. I began using my tongue to explore her through the silken film.

Saliana gasped at each touch. Her hips echoed my rhythm and I felt her hands in my hair. One of my hands slipped beneath her hips to grip the firm swell of her bottom. My free hand delicately peeled the middle of her skirt briefs away from her steaminess. When the licking and suckling resumed she jumped at the increased intensity.

Her bare, glistening skin tasted sweet and luscious, and the smoothness against my lips made loving her body effortless. Saliana tensed beneath me, held her breath and began to tremble. I concentrated on her throbbing bud, surrounding it with sucking lips and fluttering tongue.

"Ooooh," she sighed in a lingering song of fulfillment. As she convulsed, small puffs of her nectar escaped her and I drank from her with enthusiastic greed. Her flavor fit her aura; light and sweet and sexual.

Her hands altered their pressure from pulling me in to pushing me away. The difference was subtle, but I expected it as her crescendo passed. I kissed her thigh and left her skin. She gazed up at me with a truly lovely smile and eyes half-lidded with partially satiated lust. I let my gaze roam her slim body.

"Dear Saliana, I believe these have outlived their usefulness." I slid my thumbs into the waist of her skirt briefs and began to ease them from her hips. She lifted herself to facilitate my task and, as the fabric moved across her, goose bumps erupted on her skin. She shivered.

"Oh, my body is so, sensitive."

"Is it enjoyable?"

"Yes, so very enjoyable," she smiled. Another shiver took her and she closed her eyes to savor it.

"Please roll onto your tummy for me, Saliana."

She did as requested without opening her eyes. Her arms were arranged on either side of her head while her hands hid beneath the pillow. She turned her head towards me, eyes still closed.

I traced my fingertips down the length of her back. As I continued to tickle her she became all giggles and gooseflesh.

"Do you like that?" I whispered to her.

"Mm hmm," the woman sighed.

"And this?" I kissed her shoulder and delicately pinched the skin between my lips.

"Yes," she sighed again.

"This?"

"Oh . . ."

My nibbles and kisses traveled the length and breadth of her back. I asked her, "How . . . are . . . you . . . feeling . . . Lady . . . Saliana?" Each word was punctuated by another play of my mouth on her body.

"Mm, this must be what it feels like to float in the summer sea," she breathed. "How can one feel so relaxed and so energized all at once?" The wistful softness of her voice brought a smile to my face.

"Just enjoy," I murmured.

The ten-ten bell tolled but I felt that we had just begun. With her back thoroughly attended, I eased my way lower. Kisses migrated across the velvety swell of her bottom. Playful nips elicited more laughter and a shimmying of hips that proved to be quite an erotic sight.

As my mouth sampled the skin of her legs I noticed Saliana's thighs eased ever so slightly apart. Her aroma intoxicated me. My eyes probed her where my tongue longed to delve so I closed them to concentrate on my voyage to her knees, then her calves and ankles.

With an exquisite patience that took an effort to maintain, my journey upward began. My nibbling and kissing shifted inward to the parts of her legs that had been neglected. As I passed her knees once more her legs drew further apart.

She must have known what lay ahead for her. As I neared her I could feel the heat. She squirmed a tiny bit and raised her hips slightly. I placed my hands beneath her and elevated her pelvis a little more.

"Oh, you are a strong one, Kel—"

Her breath caught in her throat as I tasted her. My tongue traced the length of her in languid and longing licks. Her sweetness made me want more of her, made me want to please her in an endless display of worship.

My exploration continued upward, leaving her womanhood and curving upward still. She arched her hips further and wriggled into me. But when I found her tiny rosette her body jerked.

I tentatively sampled her again, wondering if Saliana had responded from surprise or discomfort. Her soft moan and gentle press told me all I needed to know. I salved her again, beseeching permission, and she moaned again, granting it. I kissed and suckled until she shuddered.

My palm stroked her yielding dampness while my mouth worked her private intimacy. Soon her vocalizations rose until she panted in rhythm with my tongue and fingers.

Oh . . . my . . . yesssss," she groaned. Her body tightened around my digits and against my mouth. Another peak of fulfillment possessed her svelte figure as she mewled and gasped into her crest and beyond.

My grip relaxed and Saliana collapsed into the soft bedding much as a slow sun falls into the sea. Delicate kisses spread across her perspiring skin as her breathing slowed.

I let her doze and lay down beside her. My arm encircled her waist and one leg draped over the backs of her thighs. I nestled myself into her side and felt her heart beating its steady rhythm, a contralto to the rise and fall of her breath.

I must have dozed myself for her touch startled me. Saliana had pressed me onto my back and her lips and tongue were busy trailing down my chest. She sipped my left nipple and, as it hardened, she whispered, "oh . . ."

"Mm, that is an exquisite touch, Saliana."

"And profound. It makes me feel, powerful? Your reaction to such a simple thing." She traced my skin with the warm tip of her tongue and I shuddered.

"Oh, yes, Kelline. I like this very much."

"As do I."

She giggled in reply, and I laughed along with her. But as she explored, my laughter evolved into contented sighs. When she traversed the expanse of my abdomen and showed no sign of slowing, I felt that I had to regain control. My hips tried their best to betray me, however.

"Saliana, this night is yours."

"Then please let me . . ." Her hand wrapped itself around me and she cooed. My legs tightened and my hips elevated from the bed as her palm glided the length of me. She cupped my tip and slid down to the base. I shivered at the delicate touch of her gentle hand. I parted my lips to speak—

In the next instant I was being bathed in liquid fire as she put her newfound knowledge to use. My words never came, twisted into a longing groan of pleasure. Gazing downward, the sight of me disappearing between Saliana's soft lips proved incredibly erotic. My length hardened for her.

"Mmm," she murmured, moving up to my tip before taking a bit more of me. Her body lay next to mine, but her head and neck kept up their slow rhythm. At one point she turned her head slightly and I found myself staring into those mesmerizing eyes. That balanced me on the razor's edge.

"Perhaps, mmm, perhaps we should, oh, pause the—"

She released me and told me in a very firm tone, "No." Then her tongue dabbed at my tip, her lips surrounded me, and more than half of my manhood slipped into her. All the while her eyes held me in her grip just as surely as her velvet mouth.

"You are, going, to make, me, lose, control." My eyes must have been covered in a lust haze be now. I tried to wriggle upward to the headboard. One of Saliana's hands ran up my chest and pressed me into the coverlet. Her bobbing continued as her blue eye bore deep into me. Then I felt her free hand caress me between my thighs. My head fell backwards and I began to quake. I throbbed in her mouth—

As much as I had tried, I could no longer hold back and felt myself erupt. Saliana made a noise of surprise that quickly turned encouraging. She kept playing me with her lovely hands and turgid mouth as I shuddered helplessly beneath her.

I grew overly sensitive but her inexperience meant that she did not read the change. At last I whimpered and shook at her touch.

"Kelline, did I do something wrong?"

"Mm, no, oh no. I've just grown too sensitive. You, oh, you must let me return from the heavens first, please."

"Mmm, I see." She lay her head on my thigh and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my leg. "Yes, Kelline, I do like this feeling. It's so powerful and profound." She kissed my thigh and let me just feel her teeth before lying on my leg again. Her hand on me made me twitch and begin, only begin, to stir.

"I thought it would be different . . ." she mused.

"What is that?"

"Hm, oh, sorry. I was just thinking aloud."

"You thought what would be different?" I asked, looking down at her. She was truly beautiful.

If that Fralto isn't good to her, I may just have to—

"Your essence. I thought, well, that you would, that is, that, oh, I cannot speak." She hid her face against my leg and chuckled. "I feel so silly being embarrassed after what we have just shared."

I chuckled myself before telling her, "Then do not be embarrassed and say it. Please?"

"Well, I thought you would taste differently."

"Oh? How?"

"I don't know. I thought I would not like it. I've heard a man can taste bitter or salty, or— Oh, goodness, I think I'm blushing!"

With a good-natured laugh that I hoped would put her at ease, I explained. "That's probably the oatwort. It's an herb that Florists use as an aphrodisiac. It has properties that drastically inhibit pregnancy, as I mentioned at the interview . . ."

She was looking directly at me from my upper leg, and I felt her nod.

"But it also can alter a person's . . . intimate flavor."

Our laughter faded and I asked, "Will you lie next to me, please?"

She moved beside me like the flow of quicksilver and pressed to my side. She kissed my lips and laid her head on my shoulder. One arm draped over my chest and her hand ran up and down my ribs. Her breasts against my body ebbed and flowed with her breathing like a quiet tide lapping the shore.

After a time she whispered, "Kelline, have I been shown all that you think I should know?"

"Well, Saliana, there is more. Are you tired?"

"I do not want out night to be over. Not just yet."

"Well, I could demonstrate something that I believe you'll find very pleasurable."

"I would—" She turned limpid and willing eyes to me. "Yes, please, Kelline."

"Wait here."

She gave me a puzzled look as I slipped my arm from beneath her head. I grinned and began to turn to the foot of the bed. As my face drew close to her hips I snaked one arm under her legs and pulled her toward me. In on smooth motion I rolled onto my back and situated her body atop mine.

"Oh!" She gave a low shriek of surprise when my mouth found her. Saliana's hips nestled onto me in what seemed an unconscious movement. Her hands took hold and guided me between her steamy lips once more and the sensations she created in me were quick to arouse.

We went back and forth this way for some time, altering between innovating and mimicking one another. We took turns leading and following, building and slowing, edging inexorably towards our mutual fulfillment. I relished the feel of her weight on me, of the swell of her breasts tight to my torso, of the smooth shiver of her thighs beside my head. We reached her first climax this way well before I was ready, so I got to enjoy every detail of Saliana's response. She quivered through another memorable trembling before I joined with her third.

By the time we finished, the bats and birds far away in Gatekey were changing their guards. 



The Florist's Assistant Ch. 01



Part 1

I was twenty when I first started working at the florists' shop on Broadway. It was a cold, wet, clinging sort of winter, and I was hardly thrilled to be out pounding pavement, knocking on doors at business after business. It seemed as though the strip was already full of dishwashers, greasers, and clerks. When I pushed the glass door back, ringing the little brass bell above, I sighed, expecting yet another refusal. And I didn't particularly care -- flowers held little fascination for me. 

"Come in," I heard a musical voice say, ringing like the bell above the door.

Inside the walls were wrapped with greenery and flowers of all colors. Even the countertop was covered. A few old sticky notes clung helplessly to the cash register. The place was quiet, and a little dusty, but it smelled like -- well, like a bouquet of flowers. As I stood awkwardly in the center of the room, hands jammed in my pockets, I looked around for the source of that sweet, song-like voice.

She stepped out from the back room and instantly a shiver ran through my body, instinctively. I had expected the florist would be a woman, but not one like this.

From head to toe she radiated warmth. Thick, wavy black hair fell to her shoulders, a few streaks of gray betraying the years that her nearly perfect skin kept hidden. She had large, dark brown eyes, accented with a bit of liner, a delicate nose, and full, red lips. In stark contrast to the colorful walls of her shop, she was dressed entirely in black, wearing a turtleneck sweater and a skirt, both of which hugged the curves of her body. And what curves! She had a generous hourglass figure that woke stirrings in my heart -- and other places. I was speechless.

"Well," she said, arching her eyebrows amusedly at my silence. "Can I help you?"

"I -- I'm looking for a job," I said, hoping I wasn't blushing.

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Not here picking out roses for your girlfriend?"

"No, ma'am," I stuttered. "I, er, don't have one."

"Well there's no need to call me 'ma'am,'" she answered, stepping behind the counter and placing both hands atop it, wrists turned out to reveal beautiful white forearms. Her eyes narrowed, and her luscious lips pulled slowly into a smile. "I'll have you fill out an application, but that's really just for show. You seem like a nice boy. I assume you don't have an arrest record or any sort of ugly things I need to know about?"

"No," I replied.

"And what kind of hours can you work?"

"Oh, any," I said. It was true -- I had hardly anything going on. 

"Great," she answered. "I'm Angela Valletta, by the way. You can call me Angela -- there's no need to be formal around here. As a matter of fact, you'll be the only employee. I don't suppose you mind being left alone from time to time?"

"No, that's fine," I said.

"Wonderful." She reached out and took my hand, pressing it between her narrow fingers. Shivers ran through my arms again, and I hoped it didn't show. 

"I have a distinct feeling," she said, "that you're going to work out very well."

Part 2

The weeks dragged on and turned into months as the long, rainy winter kept up its miserable routine. Outside, the storefronts were streaked with sleet and salt from the roads, but inside Valletta's on Broadway, it was always warm. Angela taught me the names of the various flowers, how to cut the wires and arrange them, and dropped useful hints about the sort of things that women liked, no matter how many times I insisted that I had no one to buy flowers for. She seemed convinced that I must have a girlfriend hidden away somewhere and that I was just to shy to bring her around. I couldn't see why -- I didn't think of myself as particularly attractive. I was five-eight, brown-haired, with the sort of non-descript features that any kid from any old Catholic family in this town seems to have. Sure, I kept myself in shape well enough, bicycling to work and visiting the neighborhood gym on weekends, but in social situations I just faded into the background.

February came -- the busiest season of the year -- and as we dashed around the shop filling orders and answering the phone, time and time again I would have to slip past Angela in the narrow space between the counter and the door to the back room. Each time, her tightly sweatered breasts or her full, soft ass would brush against me with excruciating pleasure. I was terrified that one day she would catch me glancing at her curves -- most of all because, despite her overflowing sensuality, she seemed entirely innocent. She never swore, never even raised her voice, and the closest she came to talk of sex was the mushy, overdramatic sentimentality of the cards that we placed in each floral arrangement. Somehow, in her musical voice, it didn't seem so sappy.

When the final customer left -- ten minutes after official closing hours on the night of the 14th -- we both breathed an enormous sigh of relief. I locked the door before any more hapless bachelors could come knocking. Angela brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes and looked at me.

"You've done a wonderful job," she said. "I couldn't have gotten through the season without you. I'd offer you a celebratory drink, but I imagine you've got a date to get to."

"I don't, actually," I muttered, hardly thrilled. Being at the shop had cruelly driven home the point that I was permanently single.

"Well, that's just terrible," she said. "But in that case, why don't you stay a while? I've got a nice bottle of wine upstairs and no one to share it with."

My heart pounded. Angela had never invited me up to her apartment before.

"OK," I replied. As I followed her up the stairs, nervousness took hold of me. What was going on? I imagined her offering to 'slip into something more comfortable.' Of course, that wasn't going to happen. What would, then? What if, in a moment of veritas in vino, I said something offensive?

Needless to say, I was petrified. The apartment was plain enough, just a quiet living room hidden behind a nondescript white door. The decaying shag carpet was an amusing relic of the seventies; aside from that, the furniture consisted of a small leather sofa, a few lamps, and shelves full of books and other odds and ends. The kitchenette was tiny, the bathroom tinier. With the blinds tightly drawn, the lamps bathed the entire room is a fuzzy, yellowish glow. A single closed door indicated where the bedroom must be. So this was where Angela spent her nights -- alone, though I couldn't see how.

"Don't be so stressed," she laughed. "Singles Awareness Week is over. Have a seat, I'll get the wine."

I sank into the couch as she stepped briskly over to the kitchenette and poured two glasses of dark red wine from a bottle on the counter. Taking a seat beside me, she crossed her legs and offered me the second glass. As I nodded appreciatively, I stole a furtive glance at her thigh, slowly revealed to me as her skirt rode a little higher.

Then it happened.

"What are you looking at?"

I froze. "Uh, I.. I..." I stammered, but no words came out. I was doomed. Trapped. Then, suddenly, her expression of indignation melted into a smile.

"Did you just check me out?" she asked, grinning broadly. Even as she laughed, I couldn't muster a reply. I was too embarrassed. 

"Oh, come on," she said, as I turned away shyly. "I know better than that. I'm old enough to be your mother. I'm more than sure you've got some little girl keeping you all the company you need, right?" 

I still couldn't answer.

"You can tell me, you know. Are you having problems?"

Pained with embarrassment and loneliness, I couldn't bring myself to answer. I glanced at Angela for a moment, then turned away ruefully, unable to bear the gaze of her soft brown eyes. Silence descended over us, and slowly, her smile melted away again, into a focused, careful stare.

"You are by yourself, aren't you?"

I nodded.

She reached up and brushed her fingers lightly against my cheek. I flinched toward her at the sudden physical contact. She had inched toward me on the couch, and now her leg was partially pressed against mine. I could see her chest rise and fall lightly with her breath. I was shaking with nervousness.

"Listen -- do you trust me?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," she said, softly. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, I trust you, Angela."

She smiled, with anticipation, and leaned in closer, her face just a few inches from mine, eyes fixed on mine. Her voice, always so musical, seemed to drop an octave.

"If you give me permission," she said, "I'll take care of you."

"What -- what do you mean?" I stuttered.

Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in past my face, and brushed her lips against my ear, with her thick black locks falling over me.

"I'm going to fuck you."

The word was like a gunshot going off in my ear. Fuck.

"I'm going to do filthy, dirty things to you," she said. "I know you need it. I've seen how you look at me. Do you think all those times I squeezed by you at the counter were by accident? It was very cruel of me. It's a wonder you didn't explode." She was running her other hand up and down my chest now, brushing it lightly. "Of course," she added, "I always thought you must have some nice girl taking all that pressure off. I guess I'll just have to fix that myself."

She kissed me roughly, and I kissed back. Her lips were unbelievably soft, her tongue was wet and hot as she slipped it into my mouth and ran it along my teeth. I kissed her back the same way, hard and pushing. My cock was straining against my jeans. Tentatively, I began to run my hands up and down her sides, from her hips to her shoulders. She crawled into my lap and straddled me, her legs planted on either side, squeezing me between her warm thighs. Suddenly she stopped and pulled away.

"Oh come on," she said. "You can do better than that." With that, she grabbed the base of her sweater, and making a crossing motion with her arms, peeled it off in one smooth movement. Underneath, her tits shifted seductively back and forth under a white tank top. She grabbed my hands and placed them on her chest, pressed them into the soft flesh. "I may be old enough, boy, but I'm not your mother. I bet you've never had a real woman before. Come on!" With that she pulled my head toward her chest. I licked and kissed my way down the curve of her neck and into her cleavage, nuzzling against her. She moaned with satisfaction.

"Oh, that's a good boy," she whispered. "Ever felt a girl squeeze you with her pussy?"

I shuddered, and kept licking. I think I muttered the word, "No," but it was lost in the space between her breasts.

"Ever had somebody swallow your entire cock?"

I couldn't believe it. Angela -- my boss, who had never acknowledged the existence of sex before this moment, was talking to me like a whore in the gutter.

"Well, you're going to," she continued. "And then I'm going to fuck you until you beg for mercy."

She climbed out of my lap and pulled me with her to the closed bedroom door. Inside, it was completely dark -- I only had a momentary glimpse of the bed before she shut the door behind us. We kept kissing. She pushed me away for a moment and when I drew close to her again I could feel the naked warmth of her bare breasts. I bent my head down to them and licked each one, squeezing first one and then the other in my hands as I worked my way to her nipples and flicked them back and for with my tongue. She moaned softly as I continued to knead her tits, licking the space between them, sucking her nipples and then moving back up her neck again. Any pretense of our former relationship was gone. She was a rutting wild animal, and I was determined to satisfy her.

She shoved me roughly down on the bed. I heard a 'zip' noise and realized she must have taken her skirt off. Once again, she straddled me, and this time I could feel the heat radiating from the place between her thighs. I could smell the sex on her. I placed a hand on each leg and caressed her smooth skin. She leaned over me, with her hair spilling around my face, tickling. I could feel her breath, she was so close.

"First," she ordered, "you're going to eat me."

With that she grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head, then inched up my torso until she reached my neck. In the pitch darkness, I could see nothing, only felt it, when suddenly she lowered herself onto my mouth, cunt first. I was covered in warmth and I felt her wetness already dripping over my lips. Pubic curls brushed against my nose. I started lapping at her like a dog at a water bowl, pressng my tongue against the folds of her pussy, splitting them open and drawing between them, licking up high to reach her clit. She moaned appreciatively and lowered more weight onto me, nearly smothering me in her heavy, wet sex.

"Oh, that's a good boy," she groaned. "Yes, that's good. Come on, harder, harder!"

I licked harder and harder, even as my neck strained with the effort. She was getting wetter and wetter, and the hot, sticky mix of her cunt and my spit dripped back into my mouth. I swallowed it, it tasted sour and salty, but it was Angela and I relished every bit of it. She began to rock her hips back and forth now, grinding her clit and her folds against my face, each thrust making a wet sloppy noises. My tongue pushed back against her in time, rhythmically, and I felt myself sink deeper into the bed.

"Come on!" she groaned, pushing against my face. "Come on, dammit! Oh God!"

Harder, faster, and wetter. All I could feel was her soft, wet folds pressing down on me. The wetter she got, the more I swallowed, warm and and syrupy, I could feel it dripping over the sides of my mouth and onto my face. I could hardly breathe, but all I wanted to do was please her, and she kept grinding, harder and harder, fucking me into the pillows with her pussy.

"I'm going to cum," she moaned. "Make me cum!"

I licked and licked. She was moving too fast now, and I tried to push against her clit, but I couldn't stay put. It didn't matter though. She was going to make herself come on my face, no matter what I did. She ground harder and harder into me. My hands reached up and blindly found her tits, and I began to squeeze and knead them rhythmically in time with her thrusts.

Slowly but surely, her whole body began to shake, and from the depths of her chest she let out a deep, heaving moan, groaning against my face, shoving me into the bed until I thought I would suffocate, covering me with her hot wet cunt. She came and shook with the force of her orgasm, gripping me with her thighs. I lost my hold on her tits and just licked, licked, licked, pushing against her folds with my tongue as she moaned, "Yes, yes, yes!"

When she had finished, she lifted herself slowly off of me, and lay by my side. My face was covered with her sticky juices, now drying, and silently she began to lick them off.

"Thank you," she murmured. "That was very good. That was just what I intend to expect from you. I should've known. You've always been such a good boy."

Her hand found its way down to my throbbing cock, still imprisoned in my jeans.

"And I think you deserve a reward."

Slowly, she kissed her way down my chest, until she reached the waistband of my jeans. The button came undone quickly, then the zipper, and she pulled them off in a fluid movement. Underneath, my erection was making a painful tent in my boxers, and she quickly freed it, grasping the hot shaft in her hand. I gasped.

"Does that feel good?" she asked. I weakly nodded, quivering with arousal. She began to caress it with her fingers, slowly dragging them up and down. "I bet it does," she continued. "I think it's just terrible that none of those girls you know will give you what you deserve." A drop of precum leaked from my slit, and she rubbed it in gently with the palm of her hand while my back arched in perfect agony. Then, she made a fist around the base of my shaft and slowly began to jerk it up and down. 

"That's it. Lie back. I'm going to make you cum now. You've been so good to me today."

She eased herself down the bed. I felt her soft, warm tits brush against my thighs, and then I felt her hot breath on the tip of my cock.

"Do you know what's going to happen now?" she asked. I had no answer. I was struggling not to cry out as I felt her fist stroking me, over and over again. She dipped her head and for a moment I expected to be enveloped in the warmth of her mouth. Instead, she passed by my cock and lowered her mouth to my balls, licking first one, then the other. My toes and fingers curled. "Do you know?"

I still had no answer. Suddenly, I felt her mouth engulf my entire sack, her tongue running over it gently, a strange and intensely erotic feeling. After a moment, she released me to the cool air.

"Now," she said, matter-of-factly, "you're going to fuck my mouth."

She pulled me over so that I was lying on my side, and now I felt her soft lips slowly part over the head of my cock as she guided me in, slowly. It was unbelievable. She ran her tongue over and under it, and then made a swallowing motion, Suddenly, I could feel her lips near the base, the head of my dick now pushing against the hard back of her throat. I was completely inside her. After a moment, she pulled away, making a smacking noise with her lips as she did. I could feel saliva clinging to my shaft as I heard her lick her lips.

"Well," Angela said, "what are you waiting for? Fuck me."

Obediently, I began to move my hips gently back and forth, thrusting my cock into and out of her warm, waiting mouth. As her lips rolled back and forth over the head, I shook with pleasure that seemed to run through my entire body. We settled into a rhythm, no talking, just quiet, soft, wet slurping sounds of my dick fucking her perfect, pouty lips, and the occasional "mmph" when I pushed to far in and brushed against the back of her throat. I'd had blowjobs before, but never like this -- certainly never had anyone ask me to fuck their mouth before. I could still feel her soft tits against my legs -- I tried to reach down, but it was too far, and settled for running my fingers through Angela's thick hair as she murmured and slurped and sucked on my hard dick. 

Bit by bit, I felt a hot, boiling feeling building deep inside.

"I'm gonna come, Angela, I'm gonna come!"

"Mmph... that's it baby, come in my mouth! I want to swallow it!"

That did it. The rolling wave inside me burst forth, and I poured a thick, heavy load of hot cum into Angela's waiting mouth. She took it expertly, holding me still while I gradually filled her up. My mind was as blank and black as the room, filled with nothing but the sensation of fucking and cumming and the tip of my cock still firmly between her perfect lips.

When I was done, she released me, slowly, sending a final shiver of pleasure through my body. I heard her lick her lips, then swallow, twice. She crawled back up the length of my body, pressed her warm, soft tits against my chest, and kissed me. I could taste the cum on her lips.

"Thanks, baby," she said. "Did you like that?"

"Oh my God, it was incredible. I... I've never -"

"That's good. That's exactly what I wanted you to feel."

We lay there in the darkness for a moment, lightly stroking one another's bodies. Finally, she reached over and turned on the light on the bedside table. An old-fashioned clock sat beside it. It was nearly 4 AM.

"Wow," I muttered. "It's awfully late. I guess I should..." I started to sit up.

Angela laughed, then grabbed me forcefully and pushed me back onto the bed.

"You're not going anywhere, boy," she laughed, licking her lips and staring at me with her dark eyes suddenly narrowed, almost menacingly. "I'm just getting started with you."




The Florist's Assistant Ch. 01



To be continued...

(Please leave me feedback if you read this! I'd love to know what I can improve - and if I'm turning you all on as much as I hope!)



The Florist's Assistant Ch. 02



"You're not going anywhere, boy," she laughed, licking her lips and staring at me with her dark eyes suddenly narrowed, almost menacingly. "I'm just getting started with you."

My eyes blinked, adjusting to the light she had turned on. The sight was breathtaking. My boss, Angela, was straddling my naked body, her wet, hairy pussy pressing down on my half-hard cock. I lay between the softness of two thick, shapely thighs, that were gently squeezing my lower torso. She had a slight belly, but it only completed the perfect curves of her mature, womanly body. She was leaning forward on her hands, elbows turned out toward me, and the angle made her heavy breasts swing forward slightly and waver with the rise and fall of her breath. Her nipples were large and erect, and I longed to lean in and take them in my mouth again. Thick, black curls of hair, now heavy with sweat, fell around her flushed face, and I swore I saw a drop of my cum still clinging to her lips. She must have seen it catch my eye; slowly, her tongue snaked out the corner of her mouth and delicately licked it away. The sight of her tongue made me shiver again, as I thought about her licking and sucking my cock.

She must have seen the lust in my eyes. "What was that about going, now?" she asked, still licking her lips, slowly. I sat up, partially, and realized that she had placed her hands over my wrists, effectively pinning me to the bed.

A terrible feeling of panic welled up in my chest. Here I was, pinned to the bed, with Angela's juices still drying on my lips and chin, my boss... what had we done? 

I wrenched myself free of her grip, squirmed out of the bed and ran across the room, striking the closed door before opening it and falling clumsily into the living room onto the thick carpet, where I lay, panting, gripping it, ready to cry or scream or something, I didn't know what. What the fuck was going on? Fucking my boss? And her... her way of talking... demanding... punishing... I wanted to run, but I didn't know where to go. I didn't even know where my clothes were.

"Michael,"

Her fingertips brushed through my hair, and I looked up, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. It was the first time she had said my name all day. She had found a white blouse and pulled it on; now one hand held it tightly closed across her chest while the other traced stroked me hair behind me ear. Looking at her soft brown eyes, I saw that she, too, was on the edge of tears.

"Michael," she said, "I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have... it was too much, too soon... I thought, I thought you were ready, I thought you... that you needed..." Her voice trailed off as she bit her lower lip to stave off the tears. Abruptly, she turned her head, and whispered, "Go. Go ahead. Go home."

For the second time in just a few hours, I was seeing a side of Angela I'd never seen before. I sat up, reached over and touched her cheek. "No," I said, brushing her hair away from her face. "It's OK, I'm OK..." I was confused, but curiosity was getting the better of me. "You said – you said you thought I needed something. What is it?"

She sniffled and lifted her face, her eyes meeting mine as a few stray tears ran down her cheeks. She released her grip on the blouse and it fell open, revealing the dark valley between her breasts. The sight of smooth flesh stirred feelings of arousal deep in my chest, but I tried to ignore them. I had to know what she was thinking.

"I don't want to say," she said, shaking her head. "You'll probably think I'm depraved or something... God, look at me, here, a desperate old slut, practically raping you..."

"What is it, Angela?" I asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. Her face fell toward the floor again. When she finally spoke, it was in a whisper.

"I thought you needed a master."

"What – what do you mean?" I stammered.

"I spend a lot of time watching people in this business," Angela said, lifting up. The blouse fell open farther to reveal her nipples again, and unconsciously I licked my lips, thinking of taking them in my mouth and sucking. She continued, casually displaying her body to me as she spoke: "I see them at their most vulnerable, their most emotionally raw. Funerals, weddings. And I can tell you something, Michael" - at this she pressed her right palm against my bare chest, and with her left hand guided my own towards her until it rested at against the point just below her shoulders where the softness of her tits began. "Inside, right here – no matter how many books we read or movies we watch, we're just animals – hungry, irrational creatures that are terrified of the dark. We pretend to be something more than that, and I guess in some ways we are... but deep down, every one of us has a scared little animal that just wants to eat and fuck and not get hurt." She smiled, and blinked away the remains of her tears. "That's right, fuck. Of course I don't do this, but there's a little something inside me that just wants a nice, hard, velvety smooth cock, and doesn't care how I get it or who it's attached to. I'd be lying to myself if I tried to pretend I didn't feel that way sometimes, and so I feed it, little by little. You've got to feed that animal inside, Michael, or you'll lose you mind. You'll just go crazy."

"When I first saw you, you seemed like an unwanted puppy... I thought about you going home to that lonely apartment, with no one to keep your bed warm. I could hear it in your voice, that sad resignation when you said good-bye to me after work – and I started to think about what I could do for you." She laughed a little, and continued, stroking my thigh casually with her right hand. "Oh, I didn't go there – at least not at first. I started off just thinking I would ask you stay for dinner some night, make sure you got a decent meal, and so on. But then I started thinking of other things... I started thinking about you at night, when I lay in bed, touching myself. I realized that, if I was going to take you in, I was going to take you in completely." Once again, her voice seemed to drop in pitch, as she sat up straight and leaned back against the door frame. Without getting up from the floor where we were sitting, she unfolded her beautiful, pale legs and spread them wide, revealing herself. Head tilted back, she looked down at me through narrowed eyes, no trace of a smile left on her face. The hand that had caressed my leg now drew cautiously back and dangled at the entrance to her hot, wet cunt.

"Do you understand what I'm offering you?" she asked, slowly stroking herself with her index finger, just barely moving. I felt my cock stiffen at the sight. "You don't have to be lonely anymore. You don't have to be lost. I can take care of you, I can protect you from those dark, solitary nights. You won't worry about what to do – because I'll always tell you. You'll be all mine." As the last words escaped her ruby lips, she plunged her middle finger deep into her pussy, closing her eyes and sighing. Then, slowly, she drew it out again, brought it to her lips, and sucked delicately on the tip, tasting her own juices.

"What do – what do I have to do?" I asked. Her eyes snapped open.

"Submit. Obey. Come when I call." She smiled wickedly. "I'm a very kind master, Michael – but I keep my pets well-trained." 

I swallowed, nervously.

"Michael," she continued, suddenly and oddly maternal in her manner. "I care about you very much. You're a wonderful young man and I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

I nodded.

"If you don't want to do this, we can forget the whole thing. You can go home, and tomorrow morning when you come to work, it'll be like it never happened. But if you do..." Her voice trailed off, and she sighed, then pressed her lips together firmly as though she were in pain. "If you do, I need you to repeat these words, just as I say them. OK?" She drew a deep breath.

"Say, 'I belong to you, Master.'" 

For a moment, I froze. The whole scene was surreal. In the space of a few hours, Angela had transformed herself from a sweet, simple woman as pure as the flowers she tended, into an aggressive succubus demanding my surrender. She was unashamed, proudly displaying herself to me, now, full, rounded hips and breasts, naked thighs, the damp, glistening curls between them. My thoughts traveled to my apartment – she was right, it was lonely, dark, chilly in the winter nights. Worst of all, it was hardly a home, just a space for a few meaningless things... I looked back at the fertility goddess kneeling across from me, and realized that I could bury that miserable solitude in the soft curves of her body, forever. The words fell from my mouth before I even knew what I was doing:

"I belong to you, Master."

"Louder," she said, her face an expressionless mask.

"I belong to you, Master!"

"Tell me you want me to hit you," she said.

"I want you to hit me," I replied. My heart was pounding with the terrifying realization that I would do anything, anything this woman asked for. A soft, broad smile spread across her face, and she reached out and ran an affectionate hand through my hair. She leaned toward me and placed her cheek against mine, breathing lightly in my ear.

"I love you," she whispered.

A stinging smack tore through my face and in a sudden blinding wave of pain I realized I had been struck. I fell sideways and collapsed into the carpet, as the pain subsided into a burning tingle. Tears welled up in my eyes again; I couldn't possibly have imagined the force she carried within her. I felt her arms wrap around me and heard her voice once more in my ear.

"Oh, did I hurt you? I'm so, so sorry," she said, overdramatic, drawing the words out and pouting with sudden pity. "Shh. Let me kiss you." I felt her lips press against the burning slap and softly begin kissing, then licking. Cool relief replaced the pain; her lips found mine and her tongue probed into my mouth, encouraging me to kiss back, and I did. We licked and sucked at each other's lips and tongues and softly sank into a delightful darkness of flesh on flesh.

She pulled away from me. "That's a good boy," she said, caressing the place where she had hit me. "That was just to show you I mean business. I won't hit you if I don't have to, you know. But I can't expect you to learn without a little motivation, now, can I?"

Standing, she pulled the white blouse from her arms and cast it to the floor. The sight of her body spread out before me was too much; my cock sprang to attention and I threw my arms around her and pressed my face against her tits, licking hungrily at the soft skin.

The second slap was harder than the first. 

"What did I just tell you?" she demanded. "You do what I say – and nothing else!"

I was speechless. I lowered my head and looked up at her, pleadingly.

"So you like my tits?" Angela said, squeezing them together with her arms to make a deep furrow between them. "You want to play with them? Suck them? Fuck them?"

I nodded.

"Well, I would have let you," she said. "But you didn't ask. You acted without my permission. You NEVER act without my permission. Is that clear?"

I nodded again.

"You can speak when I ask you questions."

"I'm sorry," I said, "You're just, so beautiful, and I, I wanted to give you what you deserve."

Her face was impassive.

"Go lie on my bed," she ordered. "If you're very, very good, for the rest of the evening, I'll give you a little gift at the end. I've got a box of toys in the closet, you know."

I shivered at the thought. Obediently I entered the bedroom and lay on the bed, naked, with my hard dick now pointing at the ceiling. I waited, biting my lower lip, wondering what would come next. She didn't leave me waiting long. Angela straddled me, facing away this time, and slowly slid her ass up my chest and neck until her wet pussy was within my tongue's reach. I wanted to lick her, suck on her folds again, and taste her... but I knew to wait for her word. 

She gave it. "Eat me again," she said. "Use your tongue and your hands. And I'm going to suck your cock again – but you must not come. Is that clear?" She didn't bother to look back to me as she spoke; with my head beneath her, her voice seemed to come from the whole room at once. I murmured a reply.

"Good boy," she said, and settled down on me. All at once, I felt her whole body, her soft breasts and belly against my midsection, and the heavy weight of her hips pushing her hot, wet cunt onto my nose and mouth. I was awash in her musky scent as I began to lick and nibble at her velvety folds. My hands lay on her ass cheeks, slowly stroking the smooth skin there, until her mouth engulfed my swollen, throbbing dick. Unbearable pleasure shot through my body and my fingertips dug sharply into her ass, kneading and pressing her flesh as I tried to control the spasms of my body. She released me with a wet, sloppy sigh.

"Don't you dare come," she said. "I want to play with you all night."

I dived into her pussy with renewed vigor as she took the head of my cock in her mouth again. Pulling her hips toward me, I pressed insistently against her lips with my tongue, found her clit, and started to slowly flick it back and forth. She moaned appreciatively around the hard, smooth head of my cock. With one finger, I slowly penetrated her, exploring her, while my tongue continued to work on her pussy lips and clit. She was soaking wet, and her juices dripped out of her and into my mouth, and I nuzzled and rubbed myself into the soft, slightly scratchy patch of hair. I caught her clit between my lips and sucked on it; her hips bucked and she sucked my cock deep into her throat, pushing her cunt down against my face, suffocating me in her delicious warmth.

"Fuck! God damn it! Oh fucking yes!" she shouted, releasing my dick back into the cool air. I kept prodding her clit with my tongue, gripping her ass, and pushing, hoping to make her come, hoping to fill her with warm ripples of pleasure from head to toe. My face was soaking with pussy juice, I licked and pulled and pressed with my lips and tongue against her opening. "That's it, you fucker, eat my dirty fucking pussy! Make me come!" I pushed harder, my neck was getting sore, I could hardly breathe, but I didn't care, I just wanted to serve her, please her. I lapped desperately at her, dragging my tongue back and forth, up and down, across her with all the force I could muster.

"Uh... fuck! Oh my God! FUCK! I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I..." Her voice became an animal growl, then a loud moan as she reared back and ground herself down onto me. For a moment, I was utterly enveloped in hot, wet darkness as the spasms of orgasm ripped through her. Her legs twitched, her hands reached down and I felt her fingernails draw cruel streaks of pain across my stomach, as she panted and moaned and gripped my body. I was covered in her sex, a musky, sultry scent mixed with sweat. When the final tremors subsided, she released me like a rider dismounting from a horse, and collapsed into the bed next to me.

Cooing softly, she kissed my flushed cheeks and ran her hands through my hair, while I caught my breath. "Mmm, such a good boy," she said. "You're such a good little fucktoy." Her hand trailed down my chest, past the red claw marks she had dug in only moments before, to my still-erect dick, which was twitching slightly like a metronome in time with the beat of my heart. "And with such a wonderful cock. Smooth as silk, hot, hard, thick..." She giggled. "It's what every girl wants, you know. All mine to play with." She brushed me lightly with her fingers, snuggled up next to me. "Do you want to fuck my mouth again?" she asked, licking her lips sensually. "Do you want to feel me take you in my throat again?" With one finger, she slowly traced an invisible line from her full, pouty lips down her exposed neck, swallowing as she did. I could imagine being inside her like that again, and closed my eyes, bit my lip, and nodded.

"Well you're not going to," she laughed, pushing me down against the bed playfully. "Once is more than you deserve. Instead," she continued, fingering them as she spoke, "I'm going to pump every ounce of cum out of these young balls of yours, right into my snatch. Fill me up with it, all hot and sticky..."

A thought from reality found its way into my mind, and I stammered, "Isn't that... shouldn't we use...?"

She smiled slyly and put a finger over my lips to shush me. "No, honey, it's not necessary, trust me." 

Angela sat up on the bed, her tits swaying slightly as she did so. I looked hungrily at her nipples, secretly wishing she would let me lick them again, suck them, tug slightly, all the while squeezing and massaging the soft flesh behind them. She saw the look in my eyes, clearly, but ignored it. Instead, she rolled over onto her hands and knees, presenting her rounded ass to me again, and looked back over her shoulder through a few stray locks of curly black hair, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"What's the matter?" she asked, impatiently. Her mouth broke open into a wicked, devilish smile. "Does it not seem very masterly of me, being on my knees like this?" She turned around and sat up again, grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and pulled my face close to hers, glaring. "Well, guess what, fucktoy? If I want to be the one on my knees, I'm the one on my knees." Letting go, she returned to the previous position, rolling her ass up toward me, and looked back again.

"Now fuck me," she demanded.

I shifted forward on me knees and looked down at her. Her body was a perfect hourglass, from her soft shoulders, swooping down through the gentle curve of her back, spreading again into womanly hips. Everywhere, her skin was smooth, the extra weight she carried never too much for her frame, perfect accents for her pretty face. But if her body was a work of art, the way she used it was a work of raw, filthy sex. She rolled her hips again, demandingly, inviting me into her with wordless, animal gesture of desire.

I placed the head of my cock against her folds and slowly rubbed it back and forth, relishing the contrast between her wet lips and a few stray hairs, then gently pushed forward, slowly sinking in, feeling her gradually expand to accommodate my cock. Intense heat enveloped me; I gripped her fleshy hips and drove it the rest of the way home.

"Fuck," she gasped, panting. "Fuck me."

She moaned and groaned as I obeyed her command, slowly stroking in and out, grinding myself against the walls of her cunt. She kept in rhythm with me, pushing herself down around my hard cock in time with every thrust. Slowly, we began to pick up speed, going faster and harder. I was panting, threw my head back, thrilling to the feel of her hot pussy wrapped tightly around my dick. Each time, I pushed as deep as I could go, thrusting into her, balls slapping against her clit as her soft ass flattened against my thighs. 

"That's it, Michael," she said. "Oh my God, don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

I kept pounding her, pulling from her hips, wincing with the force.

"Spank me!" she commanded.

Obediently, I raised my right hand and delivered a slap to her ass. She stopped thrusting suddenly, jamming herself down on my dick, and looked over her shoulder, her eyes filled with filthy lust.

"Oh, come on, you fucking pussy, spank me!"

This time I slapped her good and hard, leaving a red handprint on her white ass. "That's it," she cried, letting out a ragged, guttural moan. I hit her again and started fucking her, as hard as I could, letting go with one hand or the other from time to time to deliver another stinging slap to her ass. Each time, the flesh rippled just slightly, and I could almost feel the vibrations in my cock, buried deep inside her body. I felt my climax building in my balls as they slapped against her cunt.




The Florist's Assistant Ch. 02



"God damn it, fuck me!" she cried, pumping me harder. Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation, like nothing I'd ever had before, a warm rippling around my dick. I stopped thrusting into her, and she looked over her shoulder again with a wicked, dirty smile.  

"That's right," she said, "I'm doing that. I can milk your cock with my pussy." The rippling was like a pair of hands gripping and releasing in time, fingers going up and down the shaft. "I told you I could milk you like this. Are you ready to cum for me?"

"Yes, yes, I'm going to cum!" I pleaded.

"Fill me with it," she whispered, dropping her head towards the bed. I adjusted my grip on her hips and started driving into her again, pounding, thrusting, going as deep as I could on every stroke. The feeling in my balls built and built until I knew there was no stopping it. A tingling sensation washed over me, my legs quivered, and I felt a hot jet shoot through my cock. I cried out, moaning, and kept fucking her, even as jet after jet of the sticky white stuff coursed through me and into her waiting, hungry cunt. Trembling, I collapsed against her, as my orgasm subsided, I felt my cock gradually go limp, still inside her velvety lips.

I winced as I pulled out of her. Cum dripped from the tip of my dick. Angela stretched like a big cat, rolled over, and faced me with her legs spread. She reached down to her cunt and fingered herself, eyes closed, before withdrawing her fingers, now coated with a mix of her juices and mine. She lifted them to her lips and sucked softly until she had swallowed just a taste of our blended sex, then smiled with satisfaction and crawled over to me.

"That was very good," she said, folding her arms around me lovingly. "I think it's time to get the toy box out."

"I don't want to disappoint you," I said, lowering my head submissively. "But I'm afraid I won't be able to perform for you again... it's just been so much... I don't know..."

"That's OK," she replied. "I just want you to know what's in store."

With that, she walked quickly to the closet, and rummaging inside, reemerged with a small, decorated wooden box – too small, I thought, to contain... I felt panic rise inside me. What was she going to do to me?

"This is my gift to you," she said, opening the box. I peered inside and saw...

Nothing.

Nothing?

Well, almost nothing. It was an old jewelry box, lacquered on the outside, crushed velvet interior. The inside was lined with a few black silk scarves. Two notches on the inside of the lid held a simple black choker, just a ribbon with a little silver clasp.

She laughed.

"You were expecting handcuffs, right? Ball gags? A cat o' nine tails, or something?" She smiled warmly, and removed the choker, fondling its clasp in her hand while she closed the box and set it aside. "Toys are fun, I suppose, but they've never quite been my game. I could tie you up and hit you if I wanted to, burn you with wax... but for what? To show you I'm in control?" Her lips were nearly to me ear again. "I don't need to. You know I'm in control. The only toy I need is this." Without another word, she clasped the choker around her neck, a single, black line accentuating her nakedness. "The rule is this, Michael," she continued, breathing heavily in my ear. "Tomorrow we have to go back to work, be who we were yesterday. I can't expect you to obey me all day, every day – you're a young man and you need to have a life of your own. But," - she tugged at the choker with two fingers now - "but, when you see me wearing this, it's time for you to stop playing and come back to your master. And when you come back to me, you will do what I tell you."

She kissed me on the lips, gently, taking my face in her hands, then pulled away. Reaching across the bed, she placed the box between us and opened it again.

"Look inside, Michael," she said. "This box is as black and bottomless as my imagination. When you see me wear this ribbon – and you never know when I might decide to put it on – you're going inside, deep into the darkness." 

She licked her lips again.

"And since you're my toy, I can keep you in there... as long as I want."



To be continued...



The Florist's Assistant Ch. 03



(Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback, everyone! Sorry this one took so long, but I had to wait for more inspiration... Be sure to tell me what you think of my work!)

*

When I opened my eyes the next morning, Angela was already awake, humming around the kitchenette, making breakfast. She was already dressed: I was disappointed to see her beautiful skin masked by her customary black skirt and a crisp, white blouse. She couldn't hide the curves, though -- every inch of her was bursting with lovely, feminine softness. Still, it made me more conscious of my own nakedness. I was totally stripped, lying in the pile of bedsheets where I fell.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she winked, as I squinted at her through the door.

The events of the previous night began to filter back into my mind, in vivid detail. I saw her naked, horny, lustful, demanding my complete obedience. A completely different creature from the cheerful lady padding around the apartment in carpet slippers. She entered the bedroom and sat next to me on the bed; as the mattress sagged slightly, I curled up against her thigh.

"How do you feel?" she asked, gently running a hand through my hair.

"Satisfied," I said, grinning up at her.

"Good," she replied, leaning down to kiss me gently with her soft, full lips. She had the most delicious lips, like ripe fruit ready to be tasted. Her left hand ran down my shoulder and chest until it rested lightly against my cock, which twitched at the sudden attention.

"How'd you like to fuck again this morning, eh?" she asked, smiling wickedly.

"Definitely," I replied, reaching for her waist.

"Tough," she said, pushing me back against the bed and slapping at my groping hand. "We've got to get the store open. Get dressed." Laughing, she strolled back into the kitchenette.

So I got dressed, and the day proceeded, oddly normally. We went downstairs and opened the shop and bustled around like always as customers trickled in. As the day wore on, I began to question my own sanity. Maybe I had dreamed it all... maybe, in a fit of terrible loneliness, I had convinced myself that Angela wanted me, that she was the perfect slut that every man secretly desires. The sore muscles in my legs were no dream, though, and every time I dropped to the floor to open a cabinet or lift a box, the slight pain in my thighs reminded me of the night before, kneeling, driving my cock into her wet snatch over and over again. Every time, I shivered.

If she was thinking of it, she gave no sign. At lunch she sent me down to the corner for carry-out sandwiches, like always. When I returned, I nearly dropped the bag. 

Angela was wearing the choker.

But she wasn't naked, or sprawled across the counter, or wickedly grinning at me. She was casually sitting behind the desk in the back room, chatting with a younger woman over coffee, about the business from what I could hear.

"Oh, there he is," Angela said, leaning to look over her friend's shoulder. "Michael, come in the office! I want you to meet somebody!" 

I stepped into the messy pile of papers and cut bits of flowers that composed Angela's "office," really just a corner of the back room with its boxes of stock. I really couldn't believe my eyes. Despite the choker, she was still the picture of innocent cheerfulness. The two of them had been going through a catalog of decorative bags for small flower pots, checking off the prettiest ones with a purple gel-ink pen.

"Michael, this is Katie," she said, gesturing with her coffee mug. "Katie, this is my assistant, Michael."

Katie lifted her own mug and gave a little wave while sipping from it. I stood there dumbly, sandwich bag in hand. Katie was a willowy blonde, with blue eyes and long lashes. She had an unusually strong, almost Roman nose, but this little imperfection only made her more charming in my eyes, just like Angela's slight belly made her all the more alluring. She was conservatively dressed, in a thick gray sweater and jeans, but hints of a lithe, feminine figure still showed.

I remembered I was supposed to talk. "Hi," I said, setting the sandwich bag on the desk.

Angela gave me a stern, disapproving look, but only briefly. "Katie used to work for me here," she explained. "She may be coming in to help from time to time, since we've been so busy lately. We were just looking at the new Stevens and Bell catalog. Do you know they're charging ten dollars a pack for those purple foils now?"

"I don't remember them," Katie answered.

"Look behind you, there should be some in the lower drawer," Angela replied. Katie turned in her chair: to reach the drawer, she was obliged to lean away from me, over the arm. I got a perfect view of her ass, athletic and tight underneath the denim. The sweater shifted up slightly above her waist, and I got a glimpse of smooth, pale skin as well. 

"Take the car, Michael," Angela said sharply. She was glaring at me, holding out the keys with her arm rigidly extended. "Go to Ollie's and pick up three boxes of wire and another pad of sticky notes."

I was so stunned I left without speaking. As I went out the door, I heard Angela's voice, faintly: "I guess they must be in some other drawer."

----------------------------------------

As I drove back to the shop from Ollie's, my heart pounded in my chest. Angela had been absolutely furious with me. She had clearly seen my eyes slide down the length of Katie's body, and she wasn't happy about it. What was I in for? Had I blown the whole thing? All she had asked for was my... obedience, and here, less than a day later, I had been caught gazing at another woman. 

It was nearly closing time when I got back to the shop. When I came in the door, the place was empty. Angela was standing behind the counter, arms folded, unsmiling. 

"Close the door behind you and leave the wire on the counter," she said. "And when I say 'close', I mean LOCK. Turn the sign around."

I did as I was told, and waited nervously in the center of the room for my next instruction.

"Come upstairs," she said, and marched out of the room.

I followed her to the back room and up the stairs to her apartment. We stopped in the half-lit living room, where she turned and glared at me again.

"What was that all about this afternoon?"

"I, I don't know what you mean," I answered.

"You don't know what I mean?" Angela echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean to tell me you just accidentally got a hard-on while staring at my friend's ass?"

"I didn't mean to," I protested.

"Why would you do something like that? Didn't you say this morning that you were satisfied? Or are you lying?" She drew the last word out slowly, like a knife. "Or maybe," she continued, closing in on me and whispering into my ear, "Maybe, it's because you're just a dirty-minded boy and all you think about is fucking. Is that it?" While her left hand pressed into my back, her right trailed down to my crotch where, against my will, my cock was straining against the fabric of my jeans. She groped the lump and sighed. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you? Tsk, tsk. What a slut."

"Close your eyes," she said, gripping me tighter. I did. "Who is it? Whose hands, whose mouth, whose hot cunt are you fucking in that dirty little fantasizing mind of yours? Is it me? Or is it Katie?"

Deftly, she unzipped my fly, and reached inside, encircling the shaft of my cock with her hand. 

"It's you," I said, holding my eyes shut tight and wincing with pleasure as Angela began to squeeze and massage my hard dick.

"Is it?" she asked. "Don't lie to me, Michael."

I nodded my head, eyes still closed. Despite my desire to bar her image from my mind, I saw Katie. I imagined her lips covering my cock, her blue eyes looking up at me expectantly, sucking.

"It's her," I confessed, voice breaking. Angela's grip tightened around my erection, hard, and her nails dug into me painfully.

"You dirty little fucker," she muttered, releasing me in disgust. My head and shoulders drooped, my eyes stayed closed. I had ruined everything.

Suddenly, I felt her mouth cover my cock. She swallowed my erection, taking it deep into her throat, then released it just as quickly. I gasped and opened my eyes. She licked her lips, then rose to her feet and looked me in the eyes.

"If I catch you staring at Katie one more time, I'll never do that again. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded.

"Answer me," she demanded.

"You're clear," I replied.

"Go home," she said. "Come to work at the usual time tomorrow. And don't touch yourself. I don't want you to cum again until I give you permission."

----------------

For the next week, Angela didn't wear the choker. Nor did she invite me upstairs. Indeed, everything was like it had been before. The only difference was that I no longer lay in bed at night, stroking myself to orgasm while dreaming of her soft body. Instead, I lay there frustrated, the memory of it as painfully real as my throbbing cock. The occasional brush with her in the tiny shop was all the more excruciating. I nearly came every time. 

Making matters worse, Katie had joined us, filling in on Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons to help keep up with the orders. She wasn't a conventionally beautiful woman, really, but her trim, athletic build didn't take away from her femininity, either, and something about her sharp facial features made me shiver. Bound to obey Angela's command, I did my best to avoid looking at her, but one glimpse of her tight ass could set me on edge for a whole day. I crossed my fingers and hoped Angela would forgive me.

Another week went by. The need between my legs had become so pressing that I thought of sex constantly. It wasn't just Angela and Katie anymore; anytime a woman came into the store, my thoughts turned to soft lips and heavy breasts and hot, wet folds of flesh gripping my hardness. I became more timid, afraid to speak, afraid that in a moment of weakness I might betray the crushing desire for sexual satisfaction. I was like a hungry animal.

On Friday afternoon, as we locked the door, Angela turned to me and said, "You've been very good, Michael. Very good indeed. I'm impressed by your devotion."

Then she reached into her pocket, retrieved the choker, and delicately encircled her neck. It was so silent in the shop that I heard the clasp snap shut.

"Come here," she said, arms open.

We kissed, passionately. She licked and nibbled at my lips and shoved her tongue insistently into my mouth. Without another word, she led me through the back of the shop, up the stairs to her bedroom, and began to undress. I watched, trembling with anticipation, my cock already rock-hard and straining. First the sweater, then the white blouse beneath it, then the sapphire-blue bra. She stood there for just a moment, as if posing, still wearing her black business slacks below, tits proudly jutting beyond her white belly above, dusky nipples erect. Clasping her hands and raising them above her head like a ballerina, she arched her back, pushing her breasts out even more, and shook them from side to side slightly.

"Get undressed," she ordered. 

I stripped, quickly, my hard dick springing from the confines of my boxers as I pushed them to the floor. She peeled away her slacks to reveal her naked pussy to me -- she must have been like that all day, no panties, separated from the world by just one thin layer of fabric. Reaching down, she parted her glistening folds and gently stroked them.

"Come and fuck me," she said.

We fell into bed together with me on top, sliding comfortably between her soft thighs. My cock found her opening easily and I thrust deeply into her. After the weeks of deprivation it was even more heavenly than the first time. She was hot and wet and soft and smelled of dirty female sex, everything I dreamed of, and I fucked her unconsciously, driving myself further in with each stroke.

I hardly lasted a minute before moaning and falling against her as my knees buckled with pleasure. I tried to pull out, but her hands gripped my ass as I shook and pumped two weeks' worth of pent-up cum into her. Panting, I collapsed against her, suddenly aware that I was covered in sweat.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I just, it's been so long, and I couldn't -"

"Shhh," she replied. "Don't pull out of me. Stay in me." Once again, I felt her muscles constrict around my softening erection, rippling around it gently.

"I love that feeling," she continued. "When you cum inside me. I can feel it, little liquid pieces of you... I like the thought that I've got you in there, you give me part of yourself, and fill me with it." 

She must have seen the troubled look on my face, because she guessed exactly what I was thinking.

"There's nothing to worry about, Michael. Let me tell you a story." She laughed. "It'll probably help you understand a lot about me, actually."

I rolled over and curled up next to her, draping my arm across her belly, laying my head against the side of her breast. She ran her fingers through my air, absent-mindedly, as she began to speak. It never once struck me as odd that we should be so comfortable. Already, my new life was seeming normal.

"I was married once, you know," Angela began, gazing up at the ceiling. "To a wonderful man. He had thick, chestnut-brown hair and these deep-set brown eyes that were just absolutely arresting. I was twenty-one, barely out of high school when we met, but I loved his deep voice and the way he made me feel so secure. He was quite a bit older than me, already past thirty, and people whispered about us behind our backs. But I didn't care. I loved him and I wanted to do everything I could to please him, to make him happy."

"Almost as soon as we were married we started trying for a baby. At first we figured it would just happen, you know, if it was so hard, why was anyone ever an accident? But as time went by, and I still didn't get pregnant, we began to wonder." For a moment she smiled, but her eyes still gazed into the distance. "At first we just tried harder, if you catch my drift. When he was home from work, we'd do it three times a day. But it didn't work. Eventually I went to see a doctor about fertility treatments, and that's when I learned I was sterile."

"Joe -- that was my husband -- he took it really hard. I always wanted children, but he was older, and didn't want to wait. Now it looked impossible. They tried to talk to us about all sorts of other treatments I could have, all that awful test-tube stuff -- but he wouldn't have any of it. Something about the whole thing just shocked him to the core. I tried to talk him out of it, but he just sank deeper and deeper into this sadness. Eventually, he started coming home from work late, and drunk. I blamed myself. I felt like I had failed him."

"It's not your fault, Angela," I said, craning my neck to look up at her.

"I know that, now," she replied, sighing through a smile. "But I didn't then. One morning I came home from the store and found a note on the kitchen counter. He was gone, and I knew I was never going to see him again."

"I couldn't stand to stay in that house, alone, and so I moved down into the city, away from that life, away from the few people I had left. I found a little apartment and a job at this, sort of upscale bar, where they kept me on as the late-night hostess. It was everything I needed -- simple, anonymous, a place where I could have cheap drinks after hours with the bartenders and try to forget Joe. I was friends with all the waitresses, we'd sit around and chit-chat when it was slow. And it was slow a lot, but somehow, the place stayed open. More than that, we started to notice that even after certain customers left, we'd see their cars parked down the block, hours later."

"I thought some sort of awful criminal business was going on, and because I was young and stupid I decided to investigate it myself. So, one night, at closing time, I followed the last of the regulars out the door. It was a middle-aged couple, well-to-do... his wife was so glamorous, or looked it to me at any rate. Sure enough, they walked right past their car, around the corner, and into the alley. There was a side door back there that nobody used, you could hardly see it from the street. They went right in. After a moment, I screwed up my nerve and followed. The door was unlocked, but it led directly to a long, dimly-lit staircase. When I got to the top, I rounded a corner a plowed right into a big, burly man in a suit. I thought for sure I was dead."

"I must have said something like that, because he laughed at me, this big masculine chuckle. He looked down at me, and I shivered as I watched his eyes travel up and down my body."

" 'You sure you know where you're going, miss?' he asked me. I nodded and he laughed again. 'Don't be nervous,' he said. 'They'll be happy to have someone like you here.' It was then that I realized he was guarding a solid steel door, with a plain sign on it that said 'The Alexis Club: Couples, $50. Single Ladies, Free.' "

"A swingers' club?" I asked Angela.

"More than that," she continued. "The swingers seemed to be the main business, but there was more than just that going on. It took me a while to soak it all in... the whole place was well-decorated, simple and subdued, but the walls were red, and everything inside seemed more sensual, somehow. I suppose that's the idea. I wandered down the halls, peering in the doors that stood ajar. I'd never seen anything like it. In one room, three women lay sprawled on a king-size bed, moaning softly, each licking another so that their bodies formed a perfect triangle. In another, a statuesque black domme was pushing her man's face into her chest while spanking him. Up and down the hallways, the customers wandered, singly or in pairs, wrapped in simple bathrobes, while servers, male and female, whisked through with bottles of champagne, or other things..."

Angela's hand left my hair and trailed downward, where she let it hang loosely around my stiffening cock, gently stroking me with one finger.

"Eventually I found the wealthy couple from the bar. They were in one of the smallest rooms, with just a mattress on the floor. The wife was on her hands and knees, shiny with sweat -- she had the glazed look in her eyes of someone who's on another plane -- and while her husband pounded her from behind, another, younger man knelt before her and slipped his dick between her lips. I just froze in the doorway, staring. They were so different: the husband was barrel-chested and hairy, with huge, strong hands and a wide jaw, while the younger man was crafted out of smooth muscle, thin and young and tan. The wife was lost, gone, covered up in pleasure that I could only imagine as I watched the two cocks drive in and out of her in time, one set of hands pulling at her hips, another at her shoulders... I felt myself getting wet immediately, I hadn't had a man since Joe... I'd forgotten why."

"Now I remembered, and I wanted to be that woman. I wanted to be hot and sweaty and disappear into a kaleidoscope of physical sensations... I wanted to be fucked and kneaded and worked over like soft clay on a potter's wheel, just disappear, turn into whatever they wanted to make me. Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken off my top and bra and approached the bed. They weren't the least bit surprised. Instead, the threesome stopped for a moment, and the young man moaned loudly, growled, and I realized he was cumming."

"I expected one of the men to grab me first, but it was the wife, who reached for my neck and pulled me down to the bed, where she kissed me roughly. Hot seed spilled from her lips into mine and I churned it around with my tongue... the younger one had really filled her, there was just loads of it, sticky and... I'd never kissed a woman before, certainly not like this. I was afraid to swallow, so I pulled away and let the warm, white liquid drip from my lips, down my chest, over my tits. The husband smiled appreciatively and withdrew from his wife, who traced her fingers across my breasts to scoop up a bit of cum. While she licked at her fingertips delicately, I felt the young man's hands reach for the waist of my skirt. That's when I noticed the mirror leaning against the wall. I looked really silly, I'm afraid -- twenty-two, sitting on the floor with my tits hanging out, legs splayed sideways, still wearing my work skirt, even my 'sensible' black shoes with the bottoms like sneakers."