I, the Phoenix

Welcome!

If you made it here, you were a tagging entrant in my December "Love Yourself First" giveaway.

As a participant, you get to enjoy a little short scene I came up with two weeks ago about a woman who finds her inner strength after befriending a sensual Dom. This short fun scene boasts a little kink and a lot of reflection on bettering one's self. 

Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to share you thoughts by emailing me at awclarkenovels@gmail.com, or follow me on Facebook.

Enjoy!

I, the Phoenix

                I sat at the end of the bed in my little black dress and looked out the hotel window, taking in the fire red of the evening sky. For months, all I could do was recite a single line in my head that one of my author friends had written in a book about tragedy and rebirth:

“Poised and brave, she looked on,

and stepped boldly from the darkness

that imprisoned her life.”

                Arduous memories of some of the most difficult moments in my life flooded my mind and I lowered my head. With hands at my sides, my eyes drifted across my body, taking in the curves of my dress as it hung snug to my body in its newest form.

                The depression I grew up with, never feeling like I fit in… stabbed my ego like a knife. The body I was given never fit what I had hoped to see in the mirror. And the emotional abuse from my closest companion had me to the edge of life’s end more than once…

                But then I met Mr. Bradley.

                At a work convention not long ago, I met the sweet, older gentleman. His Richard Gere silver locks and handsome blue eyes froze my thoughts when we backed into each other at the bar that night. He was quiet and sweet mannered, and bore a soft smile that had me spilling my soul to Him after sitting in the lobby for an hour.

                There was something about him… or rather… His effect on people.

                Over the years, we became good friends. Chatting online, we got to know each other more. There was something delightful about Mr. Bradley. He never seemed to want too much from anyone. Rather, He always wanted to see those around Him happy. He was there for His friends, whether it be to lend an ear or just a few words of advice. Whatever it was, He always ended His statements of influence with that soft smile.

                For His smile, He drew many close, including myself. And for His kindness, I knew I’d never leave His circle.

                Fast forward to now. My eyes leave my dress and peer over to an opened white box, staring at its contents with a proud smile. A smile, not for what I’m about to wear, but for the powerful journey I’ve committed myself to so I could reach this point.

                “A simple gift,” Mr. Bradley wrote on the card that accompanied my birthday present, “for completing YOUR wonderful journey of rebirth. Congratulations, my friend.”

                I reached over and plucked the gifted pair of shoes from the box. I felt a fire inside me as I set one down and slipped my foot in. Four-inch tall heels that tie around my ankle… I’ve been a flats girl all my life. Footwear this tall and outrageous was reserved for what I thought were the skinniest and prettiest of model types.

                But I was wrong. Dead wrong.

                Mr. Bradley made me see that ANYONE could be the GREATEST version of themselves. And there were no boundaries that limited one’s potential. Only the pain of a well fought journey would fleet in one’s memory as they reach their personal goals. His words warmed me and confirmed that MY effort and dedication would always lead me to the true happiness I seek.

                I slide the other shoe on and place my feet together, then push off the bed to a standing position. Adjusting to the balance I need in my new shoes, I close my eyes and take a breath. I knew the journey would not be easy. But reaching each goal I set in life would fill me with more joy than I could ever imagine.

                “Wear them to the next convention, now that you’ve reached your personal goal. Never stop pushing yourself. You never know where your personal best lies until you push it.”

                I take a step and steady myself as I go. I’ve practiced walking in these before, and now I’ve mastered walking in heels. But never in public. I step smoothly over to the large full-length mirror and stand in front of it, peering at my reflection… and bear one of Mr. Bradley’s contagious quiet smiles.

                With the help and support of He and my friends, I was able to work on being a better version of myself over the past year. I worked hard to lose the weight I wanted. I managed my time so I could juggle time between the hectic life I’ve created and the family that loves me. I’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff and ignore those toxic around me. Rather, I’ve learned to love myself first, and take the time to build the best version of myself that I could.

                I scan my reflection, all dressed up in the mirror…not the typical sight for someone who is so busy with life and responsibilities. But every once in a while, I’ve learned that it’s okay to show your shiny side to the world. Let the world know you are strong and confident and pleased with yourself.

                This journey hasn’t been easy. But before I head out, I close my eyes for a long minute, and recall how having a good friend in my life means you are never left alone in any journey…

                My mind revisits last night’s events…

                I arrived at the hotel just after rush hour and unpacked my bags. A text on my phone indicated that there was a meet and greet starting in an hour. I began an anxious discussion with myself, debating whether or not to head down and mingle with the other guests. But the more I thought about it, the more my nerves amplified. As I stood in my undergarments trying to find something to wear,  my thoughts scrambled a mess of possible scenarios, from being judged by strangers, to being laughed at by other guests for not being witty enough, or pretty enough, or….

                My chest heaved with the weight of anxious breaths and I scrambled for my phone. I texted my good friend Mr. Bradley, who was also attending the convention this year.

“I don’t know if I can do this.

Can’t breathe.”

               

                Moments later, the phone rung and I picked it up.

                “What’s wrong, my friend?”

                “I don’t think I can go through with this. There will be so many people here. I can’t tuck away the anxiety. I know you told me I could do this, but…”

                “Listen to my voice, baby. You can do this. You are stronger than you know. Now, just slow down. Close your eyes, and breathe…”

                I tried to stand in one place and void the light from my eyes, but my chest still felt tight and heavy.

                “Do you need my help?”

                I bit my lip and nodded. “Yes, please… Sir…”

                “Okay. Head to your door and unlock it, then I want you on your knees facing away, relaxed, and waiting for me. Focus on your breathing. I’ll stay on the phone the whole time.”

                I did as was told and unlocked the hotel room door. This was one of the strongest anxiety attacks I had ever felt but having Mr. Bradley’s calming voice was by my ear immediately began to soothe me. I stepped away from the door and took to the washroom. I grabbed a towel from the rack and laid it on the floor, then knelt down, awaiting the return of His voice.

                “Breathe. Just, breathe…. That’s it. I’m almost down there…. Just listen to my voice.”

                “I trust you, Sir.”

                I’ve always trusted Mr. Bradley. Since we got to know each other, I knew He was a little different. Not weird different, but rather, considerate different. I knew from the times we spoke, and the few times we interacted, that He wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to take from me for His pleasure. But since getting to know what type of unique Dom He was, it was both intriguing and comforting to know that He was the type of person who wanted to see those close to Him happy and pleased. A Dom who gave…. What a beautiful concept, from a beautiful man.

And I trusted Him without any doubt…

                The doorknob turned and I instinctively hung up the phone, eager to hear His voice in person.

                “I’m here.”

                “Come in, Sir. I would like your assistance,” I whisper humbly, between thick, anxious breaths.

                “I’m happy you listened to me. I’m here to help you. Tell me how you feel, little Phoenix…”

                Phoenix...

…The cute name He gave me as He walked with me through my months of self help and rebirth. I loved it. When He spoke my special name, it made me feel both valued, and valuable; and instantly melted the entire world around us. In that moment, when He was around, nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered…

                “I feel anxious, Sir. I don’t know how to focus.”

                I saw Him come to stand in front of me, my head still down.

                “Look at me, little Phoenix.”

                I waited, as trained, for the touch of His soft finger below my chin, lifting my head to see His handsome face. His smile melted me. His eyes became a blanket of warmth around my body— a thick soothing gaze more powerful than any other man’s stare. His warm and gentle touch on my skin was the firm grip of assistance I required to step out of the rut my mind cast me into…

                “Now close your eyes and breathe. You’ve always had it in you to be strong. Listen to my voice…”

                He slowly counted from ten to one, and as I heard Him count down, His hand did the thing I loved… His open palm cradled my cheek, and I nuzzled it, feeding off the heat of His welcoming contact as I slowly stepped out of my anxious space, and I waited for His thumb to graze my lips.

                I opened my mouth to His touch, and let His digit slip inside. With the last of my exhales reaching the end of His countdown, I suckled His thumb lightly, enjoying the comfort of His presence.

                “I knew you could do it, little Phoenix.”

                “Thank-you Sir.”

               

                In the quick slip to sub space, I felt timeless and captive. To Mr. Bradley’s voice, I was malleable. Trainable. Dynamic. I wanted more. I wanted to be extra strong for tomorrow’s event.

                I did not want to falter. So I begged to be strengthened…

                I looked to my valued friend and whispered. “Show me strength, once again.” I then awaited His approval as the sun set and the room darkened…

                “Certainly, sweet Phoenix. Your heart will always find what it seeks. You need only to ask it for direction…”

                A smile crept across my face as I waited to be strengthened. Mr. Bradley showed me how to find my inner confidence. Often, it was through kind words over the phone or deep discussions online. But tonight, I knew it was going to be different in person. Special. Unique.

                From His suit jacket He pulled a roll of black electrical tape and help it for me to see. Instantly, my heart skipped a beat, unsure of how He would use it to amplify the faith in my own soul.

                “Remember your safe word, sweet?”

                “Fire… I whisper eagerly.”

                “Thank you,” Mr. Bradley politely conceded.

                “Up on your feet,” He commanded.

                I did as asked and took His outstretched hand to help me to my feet. Mr. Bradley was the kindest of gentlemen. The fact that He never left my side reassured me that I had nothing to fear when I was at my worst. He was the voice in my head, the warmth to my soul, and the spark that brought my confidence to life whenever I felt threatened.

                Standing in front of him, I saw Him kneel in front of me.

                “I’m going to bind you with this tape. It will be a symbol of all that restrains you.”

                He unravelled a length of the stretchy black tape and slowly wound it around my leg, from the ankle to the top of my inner thigh. I was curious about His idea but entertained His actions. He bit off the end and folded it over at the top, then slowly wound a length of tape up the other leg.

                “It’s a little snug.”

                “Breathe, baby…”

                I did as He requested, and my anxiety settled for the moment as He wound more tape around my chest in a beautiful symmetrical path around my torso, between my panties and my bra. To complete His work, He wound a path of tape around each forearm before affixing a length of tape lightly around my neck, reminding me of my place in His presence.

                “Now where are your new shoes?”

                “Over there, Sir.”

                “Have you practiced?”

                “Yes, Sir. Every other day since I received them.”

                “Good girl.”

                He knelt at my feet. Such a powerful display of humility and respect, from a sensual Dom. This power exchange was rarely seen in the lifestyle. But Mr. Bradley knew that respect was always reciprocal. It’s just how He liked it. And it pleased me.

                “Foot up, little Phoenix.”

                I raised my foot and placed it on His thigh. He slipped my new shoe on and affixed the strap around my ankle. I never owned shoes like these, so tall, and strappy. I was unsure I’d ever be able to walk in them, let alone even like them. But I was soon convinced otherwise.

                He spoke to me after I set my foot down and placed the other on His leg for my other heel.

                “These shoes are a small part of your strength. They are tall, representing every new challenge you face. You may struggle at first, but you will gain your balance in the face of insecurity, and stand tall… Your feet will be poised forward, reminding you of the first action you take as you step out of any struggle, and find new footing with every confident stride forward. He looked at how beautiful I looked in them as He set my foot on the floor. “Lastly, the straps that wrap around your ankle are the security I send you, a comforting grip, to hold you every step of the way.”

                It was then that I realized that His gift wasn’t simply a pair of shoes. His thoughtful present was a symbol of strength that always resided inside me. All I had to do was rise to the challenge and take a step forward.

                “Step to the window.”

                “It’s open Sir. Everyone outside can see in.”

                “I know. But you need not care about the presumptions of others.”

                “Yellow.”

I whispered my soft limit word, struggling to grasp the intent of His actions as a burst of anxiety flooded my chest again.

                “Do you trust me?” He whispered with a soothing growl, hoping I could push just a little further into my danger zone.

                I took a long breath to calm my nerves, and nodded. “Yes sir. I do.”

                “Good. Let me help you.” I saw the light to the hotel room shut off, revealing only the large window several feet in front of me. Suddenly, the outside world wasn’t so uncomfortable.  So apparent. So judgemental.

                “Now step to the window, baby.”

                I nodded and let out a smooth exhale, then stepped carefully to the hotel window, several floors above the now nighttime cityscape below. I let out another breath to settle the percussions in my chest.

                There I stood, laced in an elaborate labyrinth of black electrical tape. The feeling was new and unusual, but interesting on my body.

                “How do you feel?”

                I stood there in the window, peering out at the tiny people below, everyone unaware that I was standing near naked above them. I ran my right hand up my left arm, touching the coils of smooth tape binding my arm.

                “I feel tight. Constrained.”

                “But can you still move?”

                “Yes Sir.”

                He stepped toward me and came to stand behind me. The sound of His voice comforted my nearly naked body as we both looked out at the world that scrolled us by. He then spoke beautiful words to me…

                “I want you to know that you are strong beyond any measure you’ve known. See the world out there? People may look at you. Evaluate you. Judge you. Make you feel constrained, like all this tape on your skin…” Mr. Bradley ran a hand along my arm, the heat of His fingers charging the tape that bound me. “But no matter how much you think the thoughts of others may hold you back, you can always move. You can always be free to do as you wish. You are never a prisoner to their thoughts. Your inner soul knows no bounds…”

                With those reassuring words, Mr. Bradley swept the hair from behind my ear and kissed me softly on the neck. I stood there, eyeing a world of humans below, suddenly feeling more comfortable in our quiet space.

                His kiss unravelled me. Perhaps it was that I never felt more than a hug from the kind older gentleman. Or maybe it was that I had long awaited the touch of His lips on my skin. Nothing more, and nothing less. Just one reassuring moment that proved to me I was more than I thought I could ever be.

                And with that kiss, He set my confidence ablaze…

                I slowly shifted my weight from one foot to the other, gently flexing the snug coils of tape around my legs. With each movement, I was reminded of the restraint on my body. But as I responded to the pecks on my neck, my body tingled, and flexed, gently loosening the tape on my legs.

                My one arm reached up and flexed loose another coil of tape as I cupped Mr. Bradley’s head and drew His face closer to my neck. I tilted my head back, inviting His lips to greet my skin once more.

                My other arm ran down His leg, feeling His suit pants, and the muscles lining His leg. I’d never been so close to Him as I have now, and I just wanted to let Him take me.

               

                But for reasons I’ll never know, He kept His cool, and maintained His purpose. He remained a comforting soul, holding me gently, and kissing my neck graciously, as I found my strength. He knew He could have me right then and there, in front of the window, for all the world to see…

…But Mr. Bradley vowed to be my strength, and care for me. All He wanted was to show me the strengths I had deep in my soul. And for the next few minutes, He did just that…

                My chest heaved as I found my confidence. The tape once wound snugly around my torso lost its tension and fell loose. The more I came to know the value in my own skin, the more my confidence shed away the misconceptions that bound me.

                “Step back, baby… Let me free you…”

                I felt Him pull away and I turned on my heels. I saw Mr. Bradley motion me to the edge of the bed and I stepped to him. He extended a hand and had me sit on the bed’s edge. I was aroused as all hell, but His sweet movements steered me wisely through the intents at hand…

                He outstretched my arm toward Him and slowly peeled away a coil of tape. I felt it unwind from my arm, slowly tugging at my skin as it left like a reluctant snake’s bite from its prey. He freed my other arm, then eyed me to make sure I was alright.

                After a quiet moment of meeting my eyes with His gaze, He moved to my torso. I sat up straight, and He unwrapped my body, then my neck, the last of the tape leaving the space just under my bra.

                Finally, He knelt at my feet again, and slipped off my shoes before taking my foot in His hands and unwrapping the tape from each leg. His movements were slow and sensual, but I understood His actions as liberating to the recent cluster of negative speculations that had now left me.

               

                At last, He offered me His hand and lifted me to my feet. I looked over my body, eyeing the long red bands that now trail the surface of my skin.

                “They’ll all be gone tomorrow,” He reassured me with a smile. I send Him back a grin for all His help tonight.

                “Thank you, Sir.”

                “You’re very welcome, my sweet friend.”

                Mr. Bradley leaned in close to me, and I looked down, respectful of His presence.

                He kissed me softly on the forehead and lifted my chin to meet my eyes with his.

                “From now on, that chin stays up, beautiful lady.”

                Understanding the power of His words, I issued a silent nod and smile. He returned me a quiet hug, then walked past me and whispered a “Good night,” in my ear before slipping out the door.

                Remembering all this, I look at myself once again in the mirror and pep myself up with a nod to my psyche.

                I am the fire. Let’s do this…

                An hour later, I’m in the hotel’s grand ballroom, perusing the crowds of the meet and greet for familiar friends and new contacts. I remember last night’s interactions and draw from it small doses of confidence. I keep my chin up and walk gracefully from person to person, making small talk and listening intently to their pitches.

                Needing a drink, I excuse myself from the conversation and head to the bar.

As the bartender whips me up a pink vodka lemonade, I hear a voice behind me.

                “You look great.”

                “Mr. Bradley!” I whisper, surprised by His presence.

                My often silent friend issues me His signature quiet smile as the bartender slides me my lemonade across the bar. I take it with a nod and turn about. Mr. Bradley and I stand together for only a minute as we gauge the mood of the convention.

                I’m too nervous to speak any further, but He pulls a few words out of me before He leaves.

                “I saw you the moment you walked in the door. You’re doing great.”

                “Thank you.”

                He turns to me and for a quick moment pierces deep into my soul with His gaze.

                “I’m proud of you,” He whispers in a soothing tone.

                I look nervously to the floor, but soon lift my chin up again, standing poised and brave. I send Him a simple smile, radiating all the confidence I’ve fought for and won this past year.

                Mr. Bradley raises His glass to mine and we clink.

My old friend returns to the convention floor and soon disappears. I then carry on myself, meeting the crowds and the challenges, purposeful and alive,

…no longer a prisoner to the past.

Bound for Business

Mr. Brogue and Miss M. are back. Enjoy another hot interaction between the two at a luxury hotel on the weekend, where business can certainly lead to pleasure...

                I’m at the wheel of Mr. Brogue’s midnight black Jag this evening, my foot on the accelerator, windows down.

Zipping along the highway a few cities over to the Grand Pearl Hotel, I’m excited to see my boss. We haven’t seen each other in a week. Mr. Brogue has been away for several days at an international level financial strategies convention at the Grand Pearl. When North American and Asian markets want to create a five-day conference for top market and business consultants, Mr. Brogue was first on the list of people to have present for the worldwide audience.

                I’ve missed him so much these last few days. His presence in the office behind my desk when I work in the tower makes me feel happiest and eased. Our relationship has drawn us closer than I could ever have dreamed of. A lonely temp administrator comes to run a multi-millionaire’s business handlings, and in turn, the laws of attraction peel back his stone demeanor to reveal a soft-spoken gentleman, eager to share his deepest and darkest feelings with the only woman he could find safety in opening up to.

                And here I am on a Saturday evening, booting along the highway in one of the cars he leant me…my favorite of them all, in fact. The jet-black Jaguar with its sleek lined body and powerful engine, a classy English beast of a carriage to carry me to my prince charming.

                Brogue called me at work yesterday and asked me to join him for the remainder of the weekend at the hotel, once the convention was over. He’s still at the penthouse suite until Monday, and suggested we both enjoy it. He reminded me to finish up any paperwork for the week and lock up the office then make my way over asap.

                An hour of monotonous traffic has passed and I pull up to the front steps of the Grand Pearl. I am suddenly greeted by a valet driver.

                “Good evening Miss. I believe this is Mr. Brogue’s Jaguar. My name is William. He has instructed me to park it for you and we will assist you with any suitcases up to the penthouse.

                Wow, what service… I’m not used to this.

                “Oh, okay. Here you go.” I hand him the key fob and he waves over a bellhop at once to open my trunk and take the single overnight case for me.

                “It’s fine, I can take it myself. Really.”

                The bellhop nods and escorts me to the front desk where a receptionist welcomes me and hands me my room card.

                “Have a lovely evening. Can we get you anything else?”

“No thank you.”

                The bellhop interjects again. “Are you sure I can’t take that for you?”

“I’m sure thank you. Just point me in the direction of your elevator, thanks.”

                Once in the far elevator, I’m whisked to the penthouse suite on the thirty-fourth floor.

The doors slide open and I’m at the foot of a long hallway lined in Spanish Emperador marble. I follow the hall to the last door on the right.

                PH4

                I swipe my card and the door clicks open with a green light. I open it slowly.

                “Sir? Sir, it’s Mary. I’m here.”

                Stepping through the doorway I’m met with an empty penthouse. The place is beautiful, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city below. Marble floors continue throughout, past the kitchenette and into the luxurious bathroom with gold fixtures and a huge whirlpool jacuzzi not far from a private balcony.

                As I step to the window to admire the view, I wonder where Mr. Brogue is. Suddenly, my phone dings through a text message.

Like the view, Miss?

I look about and see no one in the suite. Perplexed, I respond quickly.

How do you know I’m here already?

-Because I saw you head into the elevator.

Why didn’t you stop me? I’d like a hug Sir…

Mr. Brogue loves my playfulness. He told me after our first date, when I captured his heart so hard, to “Never lose my playfulness, and I will have his loyalty forever.” I thought they were awful strong words to end a first date with. If it was anyone else, I’d push them away. But coming from Brogue, I knew he was letting me in real slow, because I discovered early on that he’d never let his hard exterior down, ever…until I came along. And I swear his quiet words made me feel like the most special lady on earth!

He texted back moments later…

Never mind how I saw you. How was the ride? You get in safe and sound?

-Yes Sir.

Good. Now I want you to head into the bedroom. There’s something there for you.

I make my way into the lavish bedroom to see a beautiful wrought iron canopy bed layered in plush Egyptian sheets. At its foot I see two giftwrapped boxes. One is blue. One is red.

Another text dings in at a time appropriate enough to quench my curiosity.

See the boxes?

-Yes Sir, I do.

How do you feel tonight? Tired or Playful?

                Truth be told, I’m exhausted from the busy day’s work at his office, and the hour-long mess of traffic didn’t help my patience. But I haven’t seen my wonderful man in a week, and just his hint at some fun interaction has my mind kicking into overdrive, craving his presence. His touch. His warmth…

I feel…playful :)

                I hit the Send button and wait, assuming he’s going to drop from the ceiling and surprise me with flowers or something. Seconds later, my phone lights up with another message.

Great. Then open the red box and go relax in a bath.

Meet me in a half hour in the bar downstairs on the seventh floor.

You know what to do.

                The text fades away as my phone screen goes dark and I lift a finger to a curious smile as I lean over and set my phone down on the bed. I wrestle free the ribbon from the red box and lift the lid.

                Inside I find four things… A brand new black trench coat, a red lacy bra, a pair of lacy underwear to match, and finally, a pair of four inch Louis Vuitton red-soled pumps.

                The items are beautiful, each made of rich materials. I’m sure the shoes and coat alone are over a thousand dollars! But my heart beings to hammer my chest. Mr. Brogue has upped the game hard. I admit I’ve always adored our playful games and scenes. He’s seen me and had me in more ways I can count, but to meet him half naked in public… pushes my envelope hard.

Nevertheless, I trust him. I know he would never take advantage of my feelings, and never do anything to hurt me inside. After all, he’s allowed me to meet his soft inner self, behind the usual bold façade that the worlds sees. In that there is trust. And with that, I hop in a quick bath and let the water’s heat soothe my tiredness away and recharge my spirits.

I step out of the massive tub and towel off. I pull some body lotion from my overnight case and apply it. The coconut fragrance is his favorite, and I make sure he will smell it on my soft skin once I encounter him downstairs.

On go the bra and panties, both just my size. I slip on the shoes and take a moment to adjust to the heel. I take a few slow steps and soon master my balance as I reach the bed for the trench coat. Slinging it over my shoulders, I slide my arms through and fold the lapels over each other, tying the coat up with the soft material belt into a bow.

I take a moment to check my hair and apply some lipstick and eyeliner in the washroom. I have never worn so little outside of my house, except for, of course, a bathing suit in a public pool. But walking into a bar in an overcoat is begging the worst of stares and presumptions from the most keen of strangers’ eyes.

I exhale and run my hands down my sides, feeling the soft material of the coat hug my skin. It is now the shield to my own naked inner self.

I got this…

A minute later I’m down the hall and in the elevator. I cross my fingers that it descends straight to the seventh floor, but no luck. The elevator stops at the twentieth floor and a family walks in. A couple with their young son, all of about ten years old.

I hold my breath as I issue a polite smile their way and they seem to not notice my person as they casually turn around to face the closing elevator doors. As the motor whirrs away, the elevator feels like its descending at half speed, my face likely red as a tomato from the anxiety.

As it nears the seventh floor, I see the husband in front of me grab his wife’s hand and give her a quick kiss on the cheek without their son seeing. Perhaps he knows why I’m in a trench coat and heels. Maybe he’s just playing along to make me feel more comfortable. I don’t have long to ponder as the elevator comes to a stop at the seventh floor. The couple quickly move out of the way and I pass them out the door with a polite Thank you.

The doors close in front of them, reassuring me I won’t see them ever again. I walk along the lobby and see an entrance to Landmark’s Bar. I step past the entrance and look for a welcomer but see no one.

Are they closed?

Confused, I turn around to head back to the hallway in search of someone when I hear a voice call out behind me.

“In here, Mary.”

I turn on my heels and head back in, hands in my pockets, nervous as hell.

“Hello?” I yell out again.

“Over here!”

I turn to my right and spot a massive bar in the distance, lit with soft light accents behind the counter. Behind it, I see my Mr. Brogue standing in a suit, hands on the countertop, arms apart, and a big smile above his loosened tie.

“So nice to see you finally. Come. Let me make you a drink, Miss M.”

I navigate through the slew of empty tables and find it odd that the place is empty and the lights are dimmed down. I slide onto a bar stool and hook my ankles one behind the other below me.

“Where is everyone?”

“Likely at the restaurant on the main floor.”

“But it’s early. Why is this place closed?”

Mr. Brogue fixes me a watermelon mojito and slides it across the counter into my open hand.

“Because I rented it for the night.”

My eyes open wide in surprise. “You RENTED an entire hotel bar for an evening? Is that even possible?”

I soon see the deep hues of his magnetic eyes arrest me with his convincing speech.

“Because when my team brings a hotel this much business from all around the world for an entire week, they’ll do anything for me. Anything for business. And right now…you are my most valued personal business.” He raises his drink to mine. “Cheers, Mary.”

We sip our beverages while eyeing each other and engage in a bit of small talk. Work at the office was good. His seminars drew double digit growth in business development and purchasing commitments. The usual small talk. But then his eyes turn a shade darker as he can’t hold his hunger back for me anymore. He is always strong and stoic in the board room. But when our eyes stay tuned for longer than normal, he crumbles and wants me to hold all his pieces close to my heart.

“So, I see that you wore what was in the red box down here. I’m pleased.”

I set my drink down and stand up from the stool, doing a little spin for him to see. Mr. Brogue’s eyes thirst for what’s underneath, which I can tell by the warm yet devilish smile linking his cheeks.

I see his gaze fall into a deep, curious stare, almost undressing me at once. His fingers rap against the countertop in sequence. The silence between us is thick and tense.

“Show me your beautiful assets, Miss M.”

Mr. Brogue knows exactly how to entice me. He speaks with class, yet adds just enough of a filthy mind to get me started.

I slide a hand under the cloth belt that holds my coat together and slowly push out, loosening the knot at my waist. My eyes don’t leave his, as they stare at my body, eager for the gifted sight of my skin. I let the belt fall open and just stand there tapping the toe of my heel for a few moments to rile him up. He calmly swallows. I watch him Adam’s apple sink before it comes up again, and he stands up straight, his hands ready to remove the suit jacket from his back.

I grab the lapels of my coat and part them, revealing the beautiful lacy bra and panties, the only items of closing on my body, covering my most private of parts. The titillation is powerful, as I let the coat slide off me in the huge empty bar, void of patrons…except one. My handsome Mr. Brogue…

“Do you like my presentation, Sir?”

“Indeed,” he nods slowly. He slowly removes his suit jacket and then removes the cuffs from his sleeves and sets them beside his drink. As I stand there almost naked for his pleasure, his hands gather each sleeve of his dress shirt and rolls them up a few inches, revealing his tanned forearms.

“Do you know, Miss M., how hard it is not to see you in the flesh for days? How difficult it is to complete a day of work without feeling the touch of your skin next to mine?”

Fuck. Those words…

I shake my head slightly, eager to understand just how fervently he longs for me. Mr. Brogue steps around the bar and approaches me with a leisurely stride. The sound of his dress shoes as he nears me riddles my chest with pricks of curiosity.

I remain still as he slowly undoes the loop of his tie and slides it out from beneath his collar with a slow pull. He comes to stand inches in front of me, and I look at the beautiful divot above the center of his stubble lined lips before my eyes lock in on his again.

“Still feeling playful?”

“Yes Sir, I am.”

“Good. Then I will make you understand just how hard my senses burn when I can’t feel you.”

Brogue steps behind me.

“Have a seat,” he commands.

I obey and step forward, planting my posterior on the stool again.

“Back just a bit, Miss M…”

I slide my butt back a touch, to where most of my glutes are positioned teasingly off the seat as he wishes.

“Perfect. Now hands on the counter. Open, face down, and flat as possible.”

I straighten my back and place my hands face down on the bar top, fingers wide apart and palms firmly against the surface.

“Good. One more thing….”

He stands behind me in silence, and as I see a hint of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, I hear the clinking of steel as he unlatches his belt and slides it slowly through the loops of his dress pants.

Fuuuuckkk…

 The muscles between my thighs are all but ready to twitch from the sound alone, and it isn’t long before I clench hard seconds later… I look down and see Mr. Brogue slowly drape his belt across my legs, letting the warm leather dangle across my lap, almost as if to hold it for him in case it were to be needed later…

He returns to his position behind me and speaks in a soft but firm tone.

“Now. You will not move a muscle. I want you to feel me, but not move on it. I want you to know just how imprisoned my heart is when I think about your every touch but cannot act on it.”

I see his arms extend out in front of my face, with his expensive tie drawn gently between his hands. He hovers it closer and closer to my face and soon I see nothing but darkness as he gently blindfolds me with his tie and slides it into a knot behind my head.

“Comfy?” he whispers next to my ear.

“Yes.”

“Playful?” he repeats in another breath.

“Very.” I respond, with the adrenaline rushing through my veins, casting me into the unknown. God, this man is incredible. Every time we connect, he takes me down a new road of experience with him. The paths to pleasure are numerous, and this handsome, powerful gentleman makes it a point to send me down a new one, exploring every twist, dip and turn… hand in hand.

“Excellent.”

It’s the last word I hear from him as the seconds that follow isolate the two of us in silence. My sense of touch magnifies exponentially, awaiting any stimulation, gentle or otherwise.

I quietly count up after his final word, and it does me no good. The ten seconds feel more like ten minutes in the dark under his control. My heart races through the unknown, letting me know that I’m likely going to react hard to the next thing that falls on my skin.

Finally, I feel my lover’s touch…

…His warm hands land lightly on my shoulders and gather my hair into his one fist. He gingerly lifts it aside and I feel his lips land at the base of my neck.

Immediately, every ounce of adrenaline in my body races upward and my right arm and shoulder are covered in goosebumps. I try hard not to flinch but the sensation is too intense. I curl my neck to the side with a smile, then suddenly, his lips are gone...

A moment later, I feel the leather belt being drawn away, across my lap. My curiosity heightens as the silence in the room becomes unbearable. Then it happens.

Brogue’s folded leather belt flies through the air and lands across the bottom of my globes, sending me into a startled panic. The sudden warm burn across my cheeks elates me once I hear his comforting voice.

“I said, NO moving, Miss M. I want you to understand my torture.”

“Yes Sir. My apologies.” I keep my back straight, chin up, and hands flat on the countertop.

Brogue lets go of my hair and his hand finds itself on my ass, rubbing it soothingly before continuing. I tune into the warmth of his hand but not being able to wriggle about under his grip makes me sad. Now I start to understand how he feels when I’m gone. And for this beautiful yet tragic lesson, I love him even more.

Overcome with emotion, I steady myself and let out a long, controlled exhale, continuously focussed on staying still.

I feel his presence behind me as he stands at my back. Seconds after, his fingertips land on my fingers, and trail softly toward my hands and up my forearms. Slow as fuck. Intense as fuck.

Holy shit… My mind becomes a blistering ball of chaos, tormented by his boundlessly creative eros.

Instinct rushes to rescue my sensations without my permission and my one hand flinches off the countertop.

He is again, suddenly gone…

A snap then breaks the silence as his belt lands a second imprint across my ass. I flinch again, but quickly resume a still position, hoping for his satisfaction in my obedience.

“My apologies Sir,” I whisper, before biting my lip to vent the intensity in desperation.

His presence draws close again, his lips near my ear. He growls his next words…

“Do you see how hard it is to control my body when I think of your touch and can’t have you?”

“Yes Sir, I do.”

I swallow hard, my lips dry, my core wet, and I make my submissive feelings known.

“Then please take me, Sir.”

“What?” he responds, egging me on…

“Enjoy me, Sir. Right now. I am here for you,” I whisper into the darkness.

Suddenly, the blindfold is yanked from my eyes and I am spun around on the stool to face him. Brogue’s lips crash on mine, the stubble of his jaw charging my skin as I reach around and dig my nails into his back. I claw at him so hard that he lets out a muffled growl.

“Fuuckkk….”

“I’m sorry Sir.”

He pulls back and eyes me with an inexplicable mixture of desire and discipline. I grin and he meets my gesture by taking back his tie and securing a knot on my left wrist. He spins me back around toward the countertop and slings the tie around one of the steel beer towers. Seconds later, my other wrist is tied and my arms are secured helplessly across the counter.

A single word interjects my adrenaline rush.

“Comfy?”

“Yes, I whisper back with a pant.”

“Good. Now stand for me, so that I may have you.”

I edge forward and as I get to my feet Brogue grabs the stool with one hand and throws it aside, crashing to the floor several feet away. The force of his movement heightens my senses and the rush of excitement is back and accelerating beautifully.

I trust the man whom I fell in love with not long ago. His persona is more powerful than that of anyone I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. But when he enters my personal space, care and caress line his every intention for pleasure. To be taken and owned by Mr. Brogue’s love is a resounding pleasure. Our trust yields me no limits to my surrender. And in turn, he cares for me with an affection that warms my heart beyond words.

Brogue lifts my one knee up onto an adjacent stool, my other foot balancing carefully on my four-inch heel.

His body sinks down and it isn’t long before I feel the touch of his masterful tongue on my slit. He toys excitedly with my core, his hands landing on my waist, drawing my body gently into his face and I gasp, my mind popping while I’m bent over the bar.

“Oh god, Sir…” I whimper, finding it hard to focus on balancing myself while being pleased by his talented tongue.

“Sir…”

“Do you want fucked, Miss M.?”

“Yes please!”

Mr. Brogue lingers on with his tease, ensuring I’m good and wet for his ensuing penetration.

“Now!!!” I cry out, my breath rough and ragged, my soul eager.

My lover stands up behind me and brings my left leg back down to the floor so I’m back on my feet, shoulder width apart. The strain of restraint is both arduous and beautiful. The impending orgasm is going to push beyond my control with my body already shaking from standing on my tip toes and being tied over a countertop. With a swift yank, he drops my panties down a few inches and growls at the sight of my posterior.

Finally, I hear his pants come undone and his cock is soon positioned at my lips. He gathers my hair in his hands and draws my head back just enough to plant kisses all over my forehead and cheek as he pushes in, landing his thick cock deep in my sex.

Fuuuuckkkk….

I close my eyes for a moment as he consumes me, and all I see are swirling balls of colour in the darkness. Elations run fast along my body as I feel him in me and I let out a long, filthy, guttural groan.

I feel trembles soon surge up my legs as my feet have nearly had enough of their position while my hair is held firmly in my lover’s grip. He rocks my head about gently by the hair, searching for fresh skin to land his hot kisses on. I am his and he is mine as we remain connected, tumbling toward a glorious orgasm together right there in the empty bar of the Grand Pearl hotel to no one’s eyes but, perhaps, those of the darkened city just beyond the window panes…

Brogue thrusts into me with a smooth, enticing pace, building me up for the moment that seeks us sharing our love for each other, and as my moans get louder, I get close, really close, and tense my fists around the beer tower…

Timed perfectly, Sir reads my addictive expression, drifting close to the edge, and with one powerful thrust, he lands me square in the center of a perfect orgasm…

                Speech leaves my thought, and all I can do is swim in the bliss of the unknown and the known. Waves of orgasm slam into me and my knees buckle finally.

                Two big arms wrap around me and let me hang in my selfish elation for as long as I desire the mad joy to jostle me about. My orgasm punches through and I ride it out, panting over the countertop as my man undoes the tie with a single tug and collects me.

                I shake my head while reorienting myself, trying to stand up straight again, and take in a deep breath. I turn around and look to my handsome man.

                “That. Was. Incredible!”

                One last twitch leaves me as he draws me in for a hug and a soft kiss on my lips.

                “I always knew you were crazy about me, when I’m around. But I didn’t know you were crazy about me when I wasn’t.”

                Brogue looks at me with a tiny smile and nods slowly. He loves me to no end, and proved it again, in one of his many imaginative ways. I smile, letting out a tight exhale with a hand to my chest.

                “Is it chilly in here or something? Oh right. I’m pretty much naked.”

                “Here sweetheart. Let me help you.” He bends over and lifts my panties back into place before kissing my cheek. Seconds later he draws up his pants then fetches my trench coat, helping me into it.

As I tie it up tight again, Brogue saunters behind the bar and fetches his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, leaving it at the cash till.

                “That should cover cleaning the fingerprints off the counter,” Brogue words with a guilty smile.

                “Let’s head up to bed, Mary.”

                Once in the penthouse, we enjoy a glass of champagne in the jacuzzi together. Stepping into the bedroom, he sits on the bed and lifts the blue box into his lap and eyes me.

                “I’ll bet you’re tired by now.”

                I look at him on the bed and admit the truth. “I sure am.”

                “Good. Here you go.” He lifts the blue gift box to me and I take a seat next to him. I undo the ribbon wondering what he desires of me now and lift the lid.

                I bring out the smile of a kid inside me as I lift the gift out of the box and hold it up.

                “A Disney Princess onesie?!”

The gift melts my heart again, now twice in one night. I reach over and kiss the man to my left on the cheek and run into the washroom to try it on and see myself in the mirror. Brogue follows me to grab the champagne and glasses.

“I love it. Thank you so much!” I turn on my heels and kiss him again. My smile meets his beautiful eyes and he leads me back to the bed.

                “Let’s have another glass before bed.”

                “Sure. But where are your pajamas?”

                Brogue walks over to the closet and reaches in, pulling out a hanger with the most unusual onesie I have ever seen. I light up and giggle at the sight.

                “The Iron Giant?”

                “Custom made. The only one like it in existence.

As Brogue puts in on with a hidden smile, I wait until he zips up and tackle him to the bed.

                “You’re the only one like you in existence, you know that?!” I kiss his lips softly and pull back with a warm smile. Brogue looks at me, taking a moment to formulate his words.

                “And you’re all I could ever want, you know that…” Laying back, he runs a finger gently along my face, from temple to cheek to chin. “A lady who works hard each day. A woman who plays hard each night. And a girl who holds her heart with esteem, to be admired by the most deserving boy when the time comes.”

                I look to him with pleasure in my heart. “The time did come. And I choose you.”

                               

               

The End

My Dirty Bloke

Enjoy this inspired hot scene between Lola Josephine Priestly and Artur Vaag, two captivated young lovers in The Shambles of York, England.

                The clank of an old copper bell sounds as I pass through the door of one of England’s oldest tattoo parlours. The door closes to the tiny establishment, nestled along a narrow, cobbled path in The Shambles.

The parlour owner told me once that this place starting inking patrons over a century ago, when a Viking descendant visited England’s rocky shores to see the land his ancestors invaded at the turn of the millennium. He fell in love with an English peasant girl in Aberdeen but was beaten and banished from the town for his Norse heritage. He spent the rest of his life single here in York and opened a tattoo parlour, a depressed renegade after hearing news of his lover’s death a year later. Men and women of all walks of life from all over the world sat in these old leather chairs, sharing stories of battle and loss through ink and ale. The place’s current owner is the great grandson of that Norseman.

His name is Artur. And he is my boyfriend of two wonderful years.

                The outside noise is now muffled with the door closed, and all that permeates the air in the little shop is the buzz of a vintage Danish tattoo machine and the smell of sandalwood and steam, surrounding the old autoclave as it keeps the shop equipment sterile between uses.

                Artur is leaned forward, his broad back to me as I step toward an old lounge chair several feet behind him. He hears the click of my spiked heels, his favorite on me, and judging by the tempo of my pace instantly knows who’s behind him.

                Still focussed on his work, on the client hunched over in the seat in front of him, he calls out before lifting a quick eye to the mirrored walls.

                “Josephine.”

                I ease back in the chair with a smile as my eyes catch him looking at me for a moment as he sits up.

                “Artur,” I nod back with a quick grin.

                Aside from the client in the chair, we are the only people in the parlour.

                “Busy day today?”

                “Not bad, pet. Had a leg piece to do earlier and William finished a sleeve this aft, before heading home.” Artur keeps his focus on the subject the whole time he speaks.

                I rise from the chair and come to stand just behind my man, looking past him at the beautiful blackwork he’s setting down for a dragon on his client’s right shoulder.

                “Looks amazing sweet.”

                Artur lets out a faint grunt as he finishes outlining the dragon’s scales on the big man sitting in front of him. The patron looks in the mirror and eyes me up and down.

                “That you’re lady, Artur?”

                “Yea.”

                “Blimey!” The old man turns his head with envy. “I’d fancy inked up legs like that on Meredith.”

Artur calmly sat up and wiped his back with a cloth, taking the cocky compliment all in stride.

                “Argh. Go home to your wife shag her good. Then bring her here tomorrow and I can ink her up for ya.”

                The client gets up and looks at the artwork in a set of mirrors. “Great work, as always, mate. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

                After bandaging the new work, the client throws his shirt back on and gives Artur a handshake before heading out the door.

                Artur steps outside and inhales the evening breeze before returning back inside. He looks at me with hungry eyes and smiles.

                “Fuck me Josie.” His eyes loiter on me before he turns to lock the parlour door and flips the little hanging sign to CLOSED.

                He’s called me by my middle name twice this evening. It’s always Lola, but lately, when he wants something…something only I can give him, he calls me Josephine, and it melts me. Every time.

               

                Artur cleans up the equipment and sets his tattoo machine on a clean cloth for the night before unbuttoning his shirt and removing it to reveal a black singlet underneath, now covering only a few of the numerous brightly coloured tattoos wrapped around his chest and arms.

                He pushes open a gate that leads to the backroom… a more relaxed area with a refrigerator, an old leather recliner and a vintage Roberts console radio on a benchtop alongside his more esteemed tattooing equipment.

                “Drink, babes?”

                I nod, and he grabs a couple of Green Jacks from the fridge and hands me one.

                He twists off the cap and leans in to place a soft kiss on my lips before taking a swig. He tosses the cap in the garbage and walks over to a small but comfortable padded table.

“Get on now... Let’s see that arse.”

I walk over with a smile. I love the words that come from his mouth. A month ago, for our two-year anniversary, he offered me a gift. I told him I wanted a tattoo of two words on my arse. After whispering my request into his ear that night, he was more than happy to oblige. Tonight he is checking my new tattoo to see if it needs any touching up.

                I take a swig of ale before placing it on his workbench and drag my finger along its steel edge while eye fucking him all the way to the table. I can see the muscles in his forearms tense as he devours the sight of me. In the depths of his beautiful ice blue eyes, there lies the confession… that I’m the only one who melts away his strong, stoic demeanor. To everyone else he appears carefree and uninterested when he speaks. But when he hears my soft voice, something inside him kneels at my feet and surrenders to my presence. And god, is it ever fucking hot…

I step up on a small side bench and straddle the small table, leaning forward onto my belly.

                “How’s this?” I purr warmly…

Artur stands at the rear of the low hung table and grabs my waist, and with one smooth motion, slides me back a couple of feet until I’m off the end of the table from the knees down. The motion catches me off guard and I giggle nervously. Artur is slow and unpredictable, like a wolf in the forest depths at dusk.

                I brush my hair to one side of my head while propped on my elbows and try to catch the evening crowds far past the counter and front window of the parlour. It’s not easy to see inside this time of day, but I enjoy people watching when Artur has me in his hands, laying here on his table in the back room.

                He turns the knob on the old transistor radio and to my delight, my favorite Chris Isaac song comes on, raising the temperature in the room. I reach for an old embroidered pillow and tuck it under my head, giving my arms a rest.

                I feel the edges of his torso between my calves as he stands there and I swing up my feet, waving them lazily about so he can read my playful mood.

                “Those spikes, pet,” he growls in appreciation, in a low tone past his lips. The rasp of his voice takes me like a hand around the neck… Harsh. Sudden. But controlled. Always in control…

                I feel his warm hands land on my thighs and work slowly up my legs, hiking my miniskirt up past my round bum. The hem of my skirt rises past the two simple words he’s drawn on one of my tender spheres and I know time stops…

                I melt him further….

                “Aargh, pet. Your perfect arse makes those words look so good…”

               

                “Well, I love your artwork on me, baby.”

                “Now let’s have a look…”

As I feel his thumb graze over my tattoo, I bite my lower lip, ready to tease him further as he leans in close to examine the linework on my cheek.  Not wearing underwear, I spread my legs slow and count backwards in my head.

3…..2…..1…..

                “Fuck me, princess! You’re so fucking naughty.”

                I twist my head back just enough to see the look of surprise on his face, realizing that there’s a little jeweled plug sitting neatly in my arse, shining all pretty for his enjoyment.

                “How’s a man supposed to focus when his woman teases the fuck out of him like this?”

                Seconds later, a firm hand lands on the cheek opposite of my tattoo and I flinch, knowing I’ve pushed him past his envelope of control.

                “I know you can focus on me, baby. Your hands have such control,” I tease back.

                I hear Artur let out an exhale, knowing he’s somewhere between trying to get his work done and attacking me to the point beyond both our pleasures!

                “Well, let’s get these shoes of yours off. You know I can’t focus with them on you.” He gently pulls my spiked stilettos of my feet and tosses them out of view. Next, he rubs the soles of my feet, massaging them with his thumbs until I surrender to his hands. The smile spreads harder across my face with his touch. I love this man so much…

                His digits glide along my calves and up my inner thighs until each hand fills itself with a butt cheek. My flesh is squeezed, prisoner to his every move. He releases his grip and swirls his palms around my arse, heating it slowly.

                He slides a finger down the crack of my tush and nudges the plug, wiggling it around in my butt, sending random tingles throughout my core.

                But before adding a few touch ups to my new tattoo, Artur decides to tease me just a bit more. He walks to the table, takes another swig of his ale, and scans my body, from head to toe like an animal before it pounces. I keep my playful demeanor on point, and cross my feet behind me, being coy in the moment while our eyes lock.

                He steps to me and places his free hand on my hair, pulling it aside to reveal more of my neck, and kisses it with a slow burn that forces my eyes closed to savor it as a princess would drown in the hold of her prince.

                Artur then disappears from sight and saunters slowly to stand behind the table again. Then there is silence. He knows how test my patience when he has me half naked, forcing me to wait for his next action, and it’s one of the sexiest things I enjoy.

                I feel a hand splay across my butt cheek, holding me down firmly, and before long the shock of a cold beer bottle tickles my skin as he drags its base slowly down my thigh and speaks.

                “I think we should put something on your leg one day, right along here, pet. Something big and detailed.”

                “Anything you desire,” my lips return to his ears, fighting the desire to flinch as the condensation trails across my skin.

                “Very good. Now…”

                He sets the bottle aside and grabs his old vintage tattoo machine from the table…his favorite one from New York with tall twin coils and a high precision armature. I hear the snap of latex gloves after he slides them on his hands.

                “Just have to fix the tip of the one letter.”

                I slow my breaths and await the touch of his hands on me. A minute later, the old machine is dipped in ink and comes to life with a buzz. He presses into my soft skin and instantly I am his…

                Nothing emulates that pleasant sting on my flesh like the skill that flows from my lover’s hands. Perhaps, only the naughty tingle of his open palm when he heeds the words on my bum and gives me a well-deserved spanking.

                I pick up a small mirror on the table not far from my reach and lift it to see his pensive reflection over my shoulder. He notices and grumbles.

                “Stop that.”

                “Why? I love looking at you.”

                “You’ll get to look at me all you want in a few minutes…”

                “Ohh?” I inquire with a playful smile.

Artur stays silent for the next while, focussed on the last of his work on my body. The sun is disappearing further behind the mess of stores that line the narrow road outside the window. I can see only the odd pedestrian walk past the parlour, unaware that he or she could see me laying half naked in at the rear of the shop, being inked by the handsome owner, should they only lean against the window and peer in carefully…

My appointment on his table this evening has become a constant rush of adrenaline…

                “All done, pet,” Artur exclaims, getting up to look at his work. “Have a look.”

I get up and hold the small mirror to reflect his artwork into a second mirror.

                Looks perfect.

                “Thank you babe. I love it.” I slip my skirt down over it and turn to him. “Now what would you like to do tonight, now that’ work is over.”

                “I’m taking you to a pub, Josie.”

                “Sounds good. But I was hoping that—”

                “But first…” Artur cuts my conversation after pulling off his gloves and washing his hands. He turns to me and scoops me off the floor, careful to support me just below my arse. “First, I will enjoy my princess. Come with me.”

                Artur steps back with me in his arms, and sits down in his recliner, my dainty body set effortlessly atop his huge lap. I lean forward, our eyes connected, and I wrap my arms around him, and take his lips with mine. I seduce his mouth every few seconds, teasing him closer to the point of no control. The Norse in him eventually takes over as he’s been dying to taste me for the last hour. He grabs my hair and pulls me back, then gently bites me just under my jaw, his way of tasting my sweet skin just before he comes undone. I know him well and invite his tongue on my skin but not without reaching for his belt buckle.

                I hurry to undo it, as our breaths deepen, wanting to feel him inside me. My legs tense as I rise slightly, pulling his rock-hard member free of his jeans and give it a few slow, lengthy strokes. He’s big and likes touch as much as I do, so I grip his cock hard as my palm plays it before setting it at my lips for a slow, steady plunge.

                Artur growls at me. I place my free hand on his shoulder and slip it under the strap of his singlet, eager to feel the definition in his traps. Fuck… The lines on his body are my weakness. He is his own artist…years of a man building his own shapely canvas, then the same man, a marvel of artistry with all the intricate artwork adorning his muscular physique.

                His hands travel up my shirt and find my breasts, instantly hardening my nipples with the heat of his touch. I melt on him, and slide down onto his shaft, inching my way past the stingy pain that pleases me when he edges in a little dry. I come to rest at the base of his torso and reach behind him to find the elastic that holds back his mess of long hair and bust it loose, freeing his locks for my hands to get lost in.

                “Fuck, my prince,” I moan between our lips, before letting his tongue find mine.

                His fingers leave my nipples and his grip finds my waist, ready to take me for a ride on his cock. He lifts and lowers me, to get me started, and I fall into a rhythm we both seek, my legs buried in the chair at either side of his body.

                I love mounting Artur. The penetration is intense, as is the ability to see him and kiss him, just as he eluded to ten minutes ago. I cradle his bearded chin in my hands and rock back and forth, our breaths becoming deep and ragged. My eyes cast a lewd evil at his icy blues, begging him to give me his skilled hands.

                He comprehends my stare and lets me turn around, taking position on his recliner to reverse cowgirl. Slowly, his hand slithers up my chest and sits at my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek, awaiting the entry I seek… I lean back and rest on his chest, and drown in my fantasies…

                I place a hand on his massive forearm and let his two mid fingers slip close to my mouth, swirling about my lips as I sway on his cock. I want more of him to penetrate me. With eyes shut, I open my mouth, and let two tattoo covered fingers enter me. The warm, salty taste of his skin on my tongue stuns my senses into addiction. Having him in me at both ends is the most arousing means of being owned by the man I love, and my sense of logic crumbles as I become more an animal, a frenzied mortal racing toward complete lustful consumption.

                God, the sensations this man brings me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before in my life. With Artur, we understand each other’s fantasies, each other’s darkest desires. With Artur, I can let myself go, and he will be right there to hold onto me and ride out every beat of pleasure that blasts through my heart. Every moan. Every singular touch. It’s a fast ride up a mountain of bliss to the cliff’s edge before you are thrown weightlessly over the edge and feel free from restraint, becoming yourself a moment of timeless energy that defines elation!

                My tongue slithers about his warm fingers as his body holds me tight. He stays an anchored steed in the chair and lets me ride his cock hard as I feel my crest of pleasure quickly nearing. I clench hard to keep my little toy inside as my arse rubs tight against Artur’s groin, and the fullness taking over me accelerates my ride toward an incredible impending orgasm.

                Nearing those last few moments when everything tightens before the wave hits, I suck his digits one more time then open my mouth and arch my back tight against him!

I feel a blast of energy wanting to lift my body off his as the pulses of pleasure slam through me. The muscles in my thighs and calves tremble viciously, and I curl myself up until I’m sitting straight up on him. I flinch up and lift from his cock, wetting him as my juices meet his seed, and I turn around and sit on his lap, wriggling about for the next few seconds as I wave goodbye to the last of my jubilations.

                “Goodammit Artur.”

                “My princess,” is all that emerges from his lips as he runs his fingers through my hair with a perfect smile.

                We seal our evening on his chair with a long kiss.

                “Most perfect way to end my workday.”

                “Indeed.”

                “Now go hop in the shower upstairs, so we can go to the pub.”

                I smile and dismount him before pulling my skirt down and bending over to fetch my shoes. A hand lands firmly across my one arse cheek, and I turn about, startled. I stare down my lover with a furrowed brow.

                To my smile I’m met by my tight-jeaned handsome bastard of a lover, pointing at me over an owning grin.

                “Hey… You asked for it!”