Cruel Wednesdays free porn video

I couldn’t have not noticed her, I realize that in hindsight. The moment my eyes encountered her, though, the fascination acted like a switch to my young brain and disrupted all the circuits but the primal ones. You’d have noticed her too, had you been in my place.

Among the sea of hectic tourists in their garish outfits, she was like an epiphany. Huge, dark eyes that appeared to look right into a different world, above high, exotic cheekbones and a finely chiseled nose drew my look like magnets. Lips that were full - but not artificially so - and darkly outlined into kissable perfection twitched slightly upward in a joke that nobody but her could hear. She wasn’t young, not by my measures, early forties if I’d dare a guess. But like expensive wine, she had only grown in beauty and intensity.

Her face was, for lack of any better term, an oxymoron to me. Something about her radiated angelic innocence, but whenever that sparkle in her eyes lit up, there seemed to be some wicked, hidden daemon bubbling just beneath the surface. I could not really shape it into words, but from the moment that I saw her, I was entranced. Her black dress was far too expensive and classy for a place like this where tourists bargained for rebate on coffee and cake, but she didn’t seem to mind. Absently, her fingers stroked the cigarette pack that lay in front of her, and a feeling, strange but oddly familiar too, bubbled up inside me. I didn’t realize it, but I sighed.

The waitress brought my Latte - my Wednesday ritual since I had finished job training and become a full employee, which meant working Saturday mornings and having Wednesday afternoon off - and I sprinkled sugar over it, took the spoon and scooped up a bit of froth. She eyed a pair of Japanese tourists who almost bumped into her because they were so focused on the cameras they were pointing all around. I took another scoop of froth, that yummy little pleasure that, this day, seemed shallow while my eyes rested on her and took in her grace and nonchalance. It was like watching a painting, one of these classics done by a world-renowned artist. Tiny wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes and mouth, and for a long, intense moment that caught me completely unawares, I felt compelled to just walk over and ask if I could run the tip of my tongue over them.

Whoever she was, it was like she was pulling me toward herself with magic. She put the cigarettes into her bag and closed it. Then she stood up, turned into my direction - and looked directly at me. Her eyes linked with mine - and I knew, knew that she knew. My tummy flip-flopped and my hands grew sweaty, but I was unable to draw my gaze away from her.

And then she walked towards me, one high-heeled, stocking-clad foot after the other, in a straight line, hips swaying, and the click-clack of her heels on the plaster grew steadily louder until it was the only sound I heard.

Her eyes never strayed. Then she was at my table and my cheeks burned. She pulled out the other chair and sat down without a word, and I had no idea what to make of it. Was she here to confront me? Was she coming onto… No! I didn’t dare to think about that.

I reached out for my glass with shaking fingers, desperate for something to hold onto and some action to hide my nervousness.

She was faster. Her lean fingers wrapped around my glass, and I brushed the back of her hand with mine, almost jerking my hand back, but the soft, warm feeling of her skin kept my fingers glued there.

The corners of her mouth twitched again, and she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure for a moment. Then she looked at me again with these deep, dark eyes that appeared to radiate magic and licked away the froth that clung to her upper lip. A butterfly wiggled its wings in my chest.

With a grin she put down the glass again. “Breathe,” she whispered, and my cheeks grew even darker when I realized that she was right, that I’d been holding my breath in painfully. It came out with a gasp when her fingers wrapped around mine.

“Now we’re even,” she told me with a wink, and her voice sounded exactly like I had imagined it, melodic and with a rough edge. “Now we’ve both stalked each other.” Her thumb trailed over the back of my hand and made goosebumps of pleasure race up my arm.

“Tell me,” she asked with a glint in her eyes, “do you like to play games?”

‘God yes!’ I wanted to shout in answer. ‘Any game you want me to play!’ Instead, my whispered, “Yes.” was hoarse and trembling.

“Let’s play ‘four questions’. I’ll get to ask you four questions that you answer with complete honesty. Then you’ll get to ask for in return, and I’ll answer equally truthful. Okay?” Her thumb never stopped brushing my hand, which made it hard to concentrate on her words.

“Okay!” I gasped though, far too quick to hide my eagerness.

“Why did you stare at me?”

This one was easy. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, and my heart fluttered. But then she grinned mischievously. “What was the last thing you thought about me before I came over?”

My heart started to hammer. I couldn’t tell her, could I? You think those things, but you never tell about it, not to anyone. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? But her hand tightened around mine reassuringly and she bent forward. My eyes flickered to the hint of the insides of her soft breasts, glimpsed black, lacy seams, and the words tumbled from my lips. “Your wrinkles. I mean,” I stammered, “they’re so cute and intriguing, and I just wanted to go over and ask you if I could explore them…” I had to pause, and I felt myself tumbling into chasm when I forced the words into existence. “...with my tongue.”

My cheeks burned, a crimson inferno that gave away the embarrassment I felt. But she didn’t flinch or look at me startled. Instead, her smile became even softer, and my heartbeat slowly calmed down.

“If I do this…” She flipped over my hand and caressed my palm with two fingers, in such a simple yet intimate gesture. “...do you feel it in your pussy?”

My breath hitched once more. And now that she had asked about it, I did feel it. Every soft stroke of her fingertips found its echo in a warm, fluttering, utterly delicious feeling between my thighs. “Yes,” I whispered, “oh god, yes!”

She had me. There was no pretending, no denying. And she set out for the kill. “Have you ever made love to another woman?”

“No,” I whispered, barely audible, and my mind began to flood me with images of her perfect breasts, her lean legs, her soft skin. I wondered what color her nipples were, and I yearned to see every little detail of her body and worship it. I almost missed her next words.

“Perfect,” she whispered, and she rolled the word over her tongue like a piece of the most delicious chocolate. “You know,” she told me, leaning slightly back, yet without letting go of my hand, and grinned once more, “I just love games. How about raising the stakes? Let’s say… you can either ask your four questions and I’ll answer them, and then I’ll leave. Or…” She looked me deep into the eyes, her own big and enchanting, “I’ll take you home with me, and the rules change to no questions at all.”

My breath started flying. The idea of not seeing her again was unbearable. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my eyes couldn’t look at anything but her. And going home with her... “Yes!” I almost shouted, but caught myself just in time so I didn’t make a spectacle out of myself. “Please. Take me home!” I knew I sounded pathetic, but I had never felt such intensity before, and tears threatened to blur my vision.

“Good,” she purred, and suddenly there was a much-too-large bank note tucked under my glass and I was following her, guided by the hand she still safely held in hers.

She was well-off. The car was one of these insanely expensive German SUVs, black and elegant, with lots of chrome and darkened windows. I hurried around the car and hopped onto the passenger seat, filled with a giddiness I hadn’t felt in ages - and an arousal that I hadn’t felt ever before.

“Do you trust me?” she suddenly asked after the doors were shut.

“Of course!” I probably did. But questions of trust had no place in my mind right now anyway.

“Lean a bit forward.” She pulled something black from a compartment under the steering wheel, some piece of fabric, and then the world was plunged into darkness and skilled fingers tied a tight knot behind my head.

“Why?” I asked.

“No questions.” Her reply was sharp. “You have to remember that.”

*

The ride took perhaps ten minutes, then we swerved and drove rather steeply downwards before swerving again and coming to a halt. There were no words between us, but a minute later I was traipsing along, still blindfolded, guided by her hand. The floor beneath us seemed to wiggle when she stopped, and for a curious moment I felt like falling. But then the swoosh of automated doors told me where we were, and my knees shook when the lift moved upwards.

When the ding sounded to announce our destination, I felt the knot loosen and the blindfold was slipped away. Through squinting eyes I took in the grand living room before me, huge and with a dark, shimmering hardwood floor. It was tinged in a soft light and ethereal music wafted through the air. A lovely scent of jasmine and sandalwood wrapped around me with an almost spiritual quality and I just stood, admiring her as she stepped towards the cubistic leather couch, accompanied by the precise staccato of her heels.

My breathing stopped when I watched her slip off her blouse and drop it to the floor. God, she was beautiful. Then she stopped for a second and slid down her skirt. Black, intricate lace panties hugged her shapely bum with absolute perfection, and once she walked on, I was mesmerized by the swaying tight half-orbs above long, slender, stocking-clad legs.

“Come.” Her voice startled me out of my admiration and I followed her, feeling clumsy and silly in comparison to her perfection.

She sat down on the couch and waited for me. There it was again, that tugging on the corner of her lips, half smile, half smirk, when I reached her and stood nervously before her, eyes drawn to her breasts which were caressed by the most intricate black lace. The rosy shape of her areolas peeked through the stitches at the center and I couldn’t help but think what a perfect fit for my lips they’d be.

“Fold your clothes nicely on the table.”

I blushed and hesitated, but she just looked at me with patience. I wanted to ask her what she expected, how I should do it. After a few seconds, she raised one eyebrow, only slightly, but enough to let me know that I was taking too long. I understood. This was her game. Her rules. I slipped off the t-shirt, self-conscious like mad and almost trembling.

She stared at my chest, at these two less-than-a-hand-fulls of femininity. I had to turn to the side to fold my t-shirt on the surely deliriously expensive artwork of glass and chrome. Then I faced her again, and she nodded imperceptibly. My fingers shook like mad, and it took me three tries to unclasp my bra, pink and soft but wholly unfitting the presence of a goddess.

“See!” I wanted to shout when I let gravity pull it away and caught it with my hands. “See what you do to me! Look at my nipples, how they yearn for your love!” I folded it neatly on top of the t-shirt.

My jeans took me even longer, as each button struggled with my wooden fingers. But, despite shaking like a leaf, I got the jeans slipped off and folded away, and it was just my panties and socks that remained - striped socks, white and pink, childish and wonderfully comfortable, and highly embarrassing.

I was burning up. And she stared, without the tiniest bit of restraint, hungrily at all the parts I exposed, and now her index finger pointed at my crotch and made short, flicking downward motions.

I think I moaned when I guided the panties down my legs. The blood rushed too loud in my ears to be sure about that. My pussy felt wet and hot. The panties joined the stack and I stood there, naked except for my socks, and she smiled. God, how kissable her lips looked when she smiled.

She unclasped her own bra in one practiced, fluid, self-assured motion, nothing like my own clumsy jerks, and put it on the table next to my things, almost - but only almost - brushing my naked thigh with her arm. I could feel the heat from her skin, and it sent sparks race over mine.

She grinned and winked, and then her thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties and pushed them down, ever so slowly. I felt her eyes on mine, reading me, watching me watch her expose the treasure between her thighs, judging my reactions to the tiny, neatly trimmed triangle above her pubes that pointed downward, then to the puffy, soft, bare mound of her sex. A hint of rosy red peeked through her lips, like a blossom about to open, and my mouth watered.

I was in love with a woman. I hadn’t thought this possible just a few hours ago, but here I was, entranced by a female twice my age.

“Sit on the edge of the table.”

This, I could do. I didn’t think I could control my shaking knees much longer anyway, and so I lowered my bum to the table, which felt cool and smooth.

My heartbeat almost shot through the roof when the tips of her fingers touched the insides of my knees and gently pushed outward, and like puppet on a string, I followed her direction, spreading myself for her, wider and wider, until it was almost painful and my pussy lips opened and laid bare my sensitive insides.

She leaned close. “Stay,” she whispered, her breath caressing my lips. “Stay like this, whatever happens.”

I nodded. I’d do anything she asked me to, no matter what. Anything for my goddess.

She winked and stood up, stepping around the table. It was part of the game, and I didn’t look behind me, somehow understanding that peeking wasn’t within the rules. The clicking of her heels faded, and a little later I heard a faint sound of glasses.

Then a gong chimed. At first, I wondered about it, not making the connection, but when the sound was answered by the determined click-clack of her heels, anxiety grew in me. This had been a door chime. Someone else was here. Someone else might - soft giggling sounded, fabric rustled, then two sets of heels played their patterns on the floor - someone else would see me naked.

I wanted to run, hide, flee. But only for a moment. The footsteps were still approaching and I was looking straight ahead. Anything, yes, I’d do anything. And it was just a game, wasn’t it?

A soft shadow fell over the couch and the steps halted. Slowly, hesitantly, I looked up, and my skin exploded in crimson embarrassment. It was a woman, a little younger than her, blonde, a bombshell, with a beautiful, even tan. She was wearing a white cotton dress that exposed a lot of cleavage, but even as I looked her over, her, my goddess’, fingers pushed the straps over her shoulders and it tumbled to the floor.

Then she handed her a glass of champagne, and they clinked them together and sipped with dreamy expressions. Dew clung to the outsides of the glasses and sparkled prettily. She turned towards me, my goddess, and with a wicked smile, put the glass down on the table and right between my thighs. She giggled when she slid it closer and closer towards that rosy, naughty flower between my legs. Cold moisture touched me, made me gasp, and she winked. “Don’t move,” she whispered, and I couldn’t, not with the glass so precariously close to the edge. Drops of water from the glass trickled down my pussy lips, tickling me.

The woman had been naked underneath her dress, and she was stunning. She grinned at me and let out a little half-lidded moan when my goddess’ lips kissed a soft trail up her neck from her collarbone. A stab of envy shot through my heart. Teeth nibbled at the soft skin, and she gasped, “Clarissa!”

“Shush,” my goddess told her to be quiet and put a finger to her lips. At least I knew her name now, and I whispered it silently.

My goddess, Clarissa, got on the couch and leaned back, propping herself up next to the corner, pulling the blonde with her. The woman breathed hard. She wanted her, I realized, just as much as I did - if such a thing was possible. I wasn’t sure.

Clarissa’s legs parted and the blonde knelt between them, right next to me. She started to plant small kisses on the insides of my goddess’ thighs, slowly, one after another, alternating, while she knelt with her pretty bum high up in the air. God, how I hated her!

I wanted to be her. I wanted to be the one to do that, to worship Clarissa’s thighs with my lips, to express my love and devotion with the softest kisses.

A soft moan escaped Clarissa’s lips, and I looked at her. She was staring at me again, her eyelids heavy with lust. I could see her lips tremble and her chest heave at the edge of my vision. She moaned again, and then her breath hitched.

The need to be the one to please her grew and grew, and she appeared even more beautiful with every little moan and twitch of lust. A growl answered whatever the blonde was doing to her, and then she started to pant, all the while still staring into my eyes with an intensity that held me tighter than any chains could.

Her moans grew louder and faster, mixed with little whimpers of delight, and I felt my own juices respond to the lust in the air and trickle from my yearning, churning, unfulfilled pussy.

“Oh god,” she moaned, “oh my god. I’m cumming!” Her body shook and trembled, and she buried her hands in the blonde’s hair. Still, her eyes never left me.

They swapped position. Watching her make love to the stranger was even crueler. But again, I couldn’t extricate myself from the lust that saturated the air, and I watched on, nipples hard like steel and my pussy leaking on the glass table, while she brought the blonde to the edge and held her there with small, teasing nibbles on her pussy lips until she begged for relief with the most vulgar expressions. She came long and hard and loud.

They cuddled for a bit, exchanging loving kisses and caressing each other. The air felt hot and the scent of arousal hung heavy in the air.

They sixty-nined afterwards and brought each other to another screaming climax, with Clarissa lying on her back and watching me once more between licks to her lover’s pussy. It was so beautiful, and my heart was chopped to pieces while my lust raged inside me like a wild beast.

And then they hugged and exchanged a small kiss, and the blonde put her dress back on and left. Clarisse looked at me through glazed eyes and smiled. “Good girl.”

My heart stumbled and a strange warmth filled me at the praise.

“You can dress now.”

That poured over me like a bucket of ice water.

‘But...’ I wanted to say. Her eyes narrowed. This was her game, a cruel game, I realized.

So I dressed. She did too. None of us spoke. The blindfold went back over my eyes, and then we were on our way again. I think I started to say something for a hundred times over the car ride, but each time my lips parted, the courage left me. My emotions spun and tumbled, and I could make neither heads nor tails of what it meant.

I found myself back at the café, and everything seemed like a dream. A bad, exciting, horny dream. It was only five minutes to my tiny single-room flat, but halfway there and with my knees still shaking and pussy burning, I was lured by the dark, narrow gap behind the transformer station.

My fingers strangely had no difficulty with my jeans buttons this time, and my hand delved between my thighs. They found slick, warm, sticky wetness. I rubbed hard, in a desperate race toward that climax that had dangled in front of me too long, and when it came, it rocked my core. I slumped to the ground, twitching and moaning, with my jeans bunched around my knees and the image of Clarissa’s eyes burned into my mind.

I masturbated again as soon as the door had fallen shut behind me, shedding my clothes and diddling my pussy at the same time, and I fell onto the bed just in time for another big one. Spent, I fell asleep, naked as I was. I think I played with myself again at least four times that night, each time waking from a sticky, intense dream that revolved around her.

*

I was back at the cafe the next Wednesday, fearing and praying that I’d meet her again. And she came, and she looked just as beautiful as last time. This time, she wore a violet dress that flowed over her body like liquid and shimmered in the light.

She made no pretense, instead she sat down on my table and looked me hard in the eyes. “You want to play again?”

I blushed and looked down at the floor, but I nodded.

She pulled out her cellphone and typed something, giving me a bright smile when a small beep announced that her message had been sent.

“Come.”

It was the same ritual, the silent walk to her car, the blindfold, the drive - until we stopped in the underground garage, that is. As soon as my feet touched the concrete floor, I was pulled to the back of the car, the blindfold taken off, and then my dress and underwear was stripped away faster than I could get my bearings.

I stood shivering in the cool air, incredibly exposed, embarrassed once more but, most of all, tingling wherever her fingers had touched my skin in her quest to rid me of my clothes. My nipples stood hard and tight, pulsating with freshly stirred need, and her beautiful face was only inches away. Her breath touched my cheeks. I read the same need that I felt in her eyes.

She pushed me back gently by my shoulders so my back touched the car’s cold metal, and we were staring again. She kept her fingers on my skin. How far would this go? I wanted to beg her to touch me more, to let these soft, lovely fingers roam all over my body in any way she wanted. But I knew the game by now.

A loud clacking sound startled me, then a whirring noise filled the air. I looked around, but she didn’t move in the slightest. A cool gust of wind made me shiver harder.

Then the sound of another car approached. A white sedan came rolling around the corner and stopped a few feet away. The engine died, and a woman stepped out of it. She had fire engine red hair, matching lipstick and nails, and she was tall and curvy. The shiny, knee-length, equally red plastic coat shimmered in the harsh neon light and made her appearance seem surreal.

The coat dropped to the floor. She was naked underneath, and her breasts were huge and creamy white. But my eyes were drawn to her pubes, where something long and thick dangled from her groin. A fake cock, large and red, strapped to her body with leathery strips, stood away intimidatingly. She grinned.

“Look at me,” Clarissa ordered, and I did.

From the corners of my eyes I saw the red woman flip up Clarissa’s skirt. It almost felt like a sacrilege, the way she casually exposed my goddess’ body.

All that paled when a ripping sound filled the air and Clarissa’s eyes tightened while she gasped and winced. The red woman had ripped away her panties! But my goddess’s eyes widened, and she grunted heavily, her fingernails digging into my shoulders.

A slapping sound filled the air and Clarissa’s body jerked forward, pressing me hard against the rear of the car. “Fuck,” she grunted, and her eyes bore deeply into mine. “Fuck! Yes!” she gasped. “It’s huge!”

The slapping picked up speed, and Clarissa’s face contorted so beautifully with every thrust of the monster into her pussy. Her lips were parted, the tip of her tongue visible and sexy, and the urge to kiss her, to join in in these moments of pleasure became almost overwhelming.

But her arms were outstretched, and all I could do was drink in every emotion flickering over her face and savor the lust in her eyes.

She moaned and grunted and pushed me hard against the car. I was sure that I’d end up with bruises. The red woman gasped as well behind her while she assaulted that temple of worship.

Their moans quickly built into a crescendo of passion and Clarissa’s nails dug deeply into my skin, but I couldn’t care, hell, I even welcomed the sensation, another little sacrifice of suffering for the pleasure of my goddess.

She came hard, gurgling, trembling, while the red woman kept fucking her relentlessly, and her moans turned to cries of pleasure, then to raspy grunts.

The movement stopped, and Clarissa’s eyes opened. Her sweaty face was filled with bliss, and she smiled at me with such an ethereal satisfaction that I felt part of something mystical.

A car door slammed. The sedan’s engine started up again and we were alone. The need inside me was worse than last time, but I knew I’d get no relief save from my own hands later.

*

Wednesday afternoons became my personal heaven and hell. Week after week I’d meet up with my goddess and watch her indulge in carnal pleasure while my own lust was denied. I watched her make love right between my legs, with a woman with the most perfect, chocolate colored skin. I watched her get taken like a common whore by a woman ten years her senior, fucked in the bum with a monster of a dildo while our gazes were linked and every little painful twinge of depraved pleasure was passed on to me through her eyes.

But then, one Wednesday, she made me an offer instead of walking us to her car. “Do you want to make love to me?”

“Oh god, yes, yes! More than anything in the world!”

She pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to me. I took it with clumsy fingers. It smelled of her perfume, seductive and mysterious, and I almost didn’t dare to open it, only plucking up the courage at her insistent nod.

A key fell out. The letter accompanying it was written by hand in a flowery script.

“Come by at six. Use the back entrance, the key will let you in. Wear nothing but a dress and don’t speak once you enter. Go directly into the bedroom. Once there, undress yourself, then take my clothes off with your mouth. Show my pussy how much you adore it.” It listed an address at the bottom. I looked up, my breath going hard, but she was already walking away, the familiar click-clack of her heels fading in the distance.

*

My heart didn’t just beat fast, it raced. A girl my age was on the bed, her arms bound to the rails at the top and her bent legs spread wide. She was pretty, with her brown hair in a cute page cut and almost impossibly big eyes that held such intense yearning. Her nipples on tanned breasts stood proud, and I could almost feel the envy radiating from her when I folded my clothes on the dresser and crawled onto the bed where Clarissa was waiting for me.

It took long to get her out of the skin-tight black dress, but I didn’t mind at all. I relished in the feeling and taste of her skin while my lips fought to pull down straps and open zippers. I could have spent ages just roaming all over her perfect body with my mouth and discovering every little nook and cranny.

Clarissa and I were both panting heavily by the time she was naked, and when I knelt between her thighs and lowered my mouth to her treasure, I was floating. The blood rushed in my ears and her scent of arousal shot directly into my core. I tried everything I had learned, and while the girl looked on with desperate, jealous lust in her eyes, I kissed my way up my goddess’ thighs and felt her tremble and shiver under my ministrations.

She was hot and soft and she tasted like autumn and berries and lemons and love. Her folds parted willingly for my tongue and caressed it deliciously in return. I licked and nibbled and sucked, and every little action was rewarded by the most beautiful moans and gasps. Her hips moved and her moans grew louder, and I was filled with giddy joy. Yet, her eyes were riveted to the girl’s face, drank in her ever-increasing despair at being denied from taking part in our intimate pleasure. I nibbled on Clarissa’s clit and she arched her back. I sucked, and she groaned her approval.

My tongue and lips became a blur as I drove her closer and closer to release, until, finally, her hands buried themselves in my hair and pushed my face close to her pussy. Moisture welled from her spring and coated my tongue, and she writhed and shook like mad, crying out the sweetest song of release.

I felt a sense of accomplishment wrap around me. But then I looked up at the girl’s face and saw the painful need in her face, the hint of moisture in her eyes, and strangely, it was now my heart that was filled with envy.

Clarissa’s eyes were still riveted to hers. She was the center of her attention.

My goddess had caught her breath and gotten up on her knees, face still flushed from our lovemaking and ever so beautiful. She nudged me to lie down on my back, whispering, “Your turn.”

I don’t know what came over me. Well, I know - I knew even then, but I didn’t want to think about it, for fear of accepting that my needs didn’t fit with society’s norms.

“Please,” I heard my voice beg, strangely detached as if I was listening to someone else, “please don’t. I want to…” My voice broke, but now that I had started to express my feelings, it felt as if there was no turning back. “...to be the one denied. I want to yearn and need and desire, and I want to see your eyes light up when you look at me and drink in my desperation. I - I want to be the focus of your need, any way you want, any time!”

My heart pounded painfully against my ribs as if it was trying to break free. Her eyes widened, and we knelt there in silence for a long time, I nervous and embarrassed and feeling like tumbling in free air, and she surprised and contemplative.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she finally whispered, and I thought I heard a note of pain in her voice.

“I don’t mind,” I reassured her quickly. “I meant what I said.”

There was another long pause. “I don’t want to get attached to you. I already am, far too much. I don’t want to go to the cafe and not find you there one day.” The vulnerability suddenly evident in her face took my breath away. “Don’t tempt me!” she hissed, schooling her features, but I had seen too much.

I couldn’t let it rest. An idea occurred to me. “I - I could live with you. You’d not have to worry about finding me. I could be…” The words rose from my tummy and filled my chest, filling me with an all-encompassing devotion and almost choking me. “...yours.”

Her breathing sped up. “Again,” she hissed, “you have no idea what you’re asking. It won’t,” here my heart did a somersault of joy when I realized that she hadn’t used the subjunctive, “be as easy like it was. My game’s about control. About controlling your desire, your climax, your need, but…” Her hand stroked over my cheek and made me melt inside, “also everything else. If you’re mine, I’ll control if and how you dress, what makeup and perfume you wear. I’ll control who sees you and touches you, and have no illusions, I will let others touch you. There will be days where I tease you, arouse you, only to deny you release time and time again without mercy. It won’t be just one cruel Wednesday afternoon a week. Do you still think you want that?”

“Yes!” God, I had no words for how much I wanted that. I lifted her hand to my mouth, and looking deeply into her eyes, I whispered, “Yours. Please, make yours, with everything I am.” I planted a tender, loving kiss on her palm and felt giddy when the worry in her eyes transformed into joy.

“What’s your name?” She inquired softly.

“Linda.”

“Good.” A mischievous smirk spread over her lips. “You’ll be something akin to a servant here, so you should have a matching name. Perhaps something French? Let me think… Oh, I know, I’ll call you Minette. Do you like that?”

My response tumbled from my lips without conscious thought. “Yes, Mistress.”

* *

Five minutes later, I had taken the girl’s place bound to the headboard, and I was back in that beautiful place of suffering for my goddess. The love that welled up in my chest when she looked at me with that unbridled, gleeful desire found its release in salty streaks down my cheeks, and when she came again at the girl’s tongue, I felt complete.

I moved in the same day. My clothes went into a locked wardrobe, and I spent the night at the foot of her bed, lulled to sleep by her even breathing and dreaming the most wicked, passionate dreams, cruel dreams of desire and need, and I felt peaceful and safe because I knew they’d come true.