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rcfcel · 5 years

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* / 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔟*𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔰 ! bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ! lol apparently i like to challenge myself and just haD to bring in my new man so yeah hi , meet raf / rj ! i'm v excited for y'all to meet him — fair warning , i'm starting from scratch with him cause i got #inspired so i apologize if the info below is a mess ! pls love us .

( tommy martinez, cis male, he/him ) i just saw RAFAEL MICHELENA walking down the streets of provincetown the other day playing CHATEAU by BLACKBEAR out loud. rumor has it that the TWENTY THREE year old is GENEROUS, but can also be AGGRESSIVE — overall they’re a MAVERICK. they remind me of LEATHER SEATS IN BLACK CADILLACS, CIGARETTES SMASHED TO ASHES IN ASHTRAYS, & MALT WHISKEY POURED OVER ICE. ( lenny the pooh, 5, antarctica, she/her )

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰 :

full name : rafael johan michelena

nicknames : raf , rj

age / dob : twenty3 / february 14 , 1996

gender : cis male ( he / him )

sexuality : openly bisexual

occupation : firefighter

hometown : provincetown , ma

label : the maverick ( an unorthodox or independent-minded person )

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 :

so dear rafael here was raised by a single father after his mother passed away shortly after he was born due to complications during labour . raf’s father never really wanted kids as he’d been wanting to focus on his paramedic career and was worried he wouldn’t be home enough to be with his family , but his beloved wife had assured him everything would work out in the end — which , of course , it didn’t really because he was left alone with a baby boy he didn’t know how to take care of .

his dad struggled for most of raf’s childhood , having to juggle both his demanding career and an even more demanding child , but with the help of close family and a very generous family who lived next door and took care of raf whenever his father worked night shifts , it all did work out in the end , just as his late mother had promised .

despite his father being away so much , raf developed a very strong relationship with his father . when he was young , his father was away a lot because he was just starting in paramedics so he got stuck with the less desirable shifts — but as rj grew older , his father moved up the ranks of his career and finally made it into a position that didn’t keep him away from home as late , allowing the two to spend some actual time together .

from a young age , raf knew he wanted to save lives like his father . fun fact : one night when he was young and staying over at the neighbour’s house , he drew a little picture of his father in uniform and then drew himself wearing a little uniform too — the neighbour showed this to his father when he picked him up and the grown man damn near cried .

raf has always been super proud of his dad for chasing his dreams and taking on each obstacle that came his way .

at first , he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a paramedic — which he did , for a short while . after his school graduation , he went to school to get his emt ( emergency medical technician ) certificate and then worked to become a paramedic , by the time he was twenty one he was working the same job in provincetown his dad had been when he was young .

after about a year and a half , raf realized he wanted more . as a paramedic he worked closely with the provincetown firefighters and had always found their bravery inspiring . he got along with the crew well and one night over drinks he confided in them about possibly following along their career path instead . of course they all jumped to say do it , while also giving raf good advice and facts about the job , but nothing they said scared raf away from it — if anything , he was even more excited .

so fast forward a few months , and a very gruelling entrance exam and training period , and he switched out his paramedic uniform for a firefighter uniform and joined his buddies in the station .

it’s been about a year now since he first put on that uniform and rj truly hasn’t looked back since . the hours are rough and the job is laborious , but it’s also super rewarding and he wouldn’t change it for the world .

currently , he lives in a cozy ass apartment in provincetown on his own , although he spends many nights at the station when he’s on duty so i have this headcanon that his apartment is like .. hotel raf lmAO like need a place to crash and get away from shit ? there’s a spare key under the mat .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 :

labels(s) : the maverick , the hedonist , the contingent

maverick : due to his father’s extraneous job , raf grew extremely independent at a young age . when he was finally old enough to stay home and take care of himself , he honestly thrived .

hedonist : working in such emotionally challenging jobs has taught raf to really live life to its fullest and treasure every moment . he never takes anything for granted and is almost always looking for a fun time during his days off .

contingent : while his independence is clear in how he can take care of himself and make his own decisions , raf is incredibly dependent on those around him for support and companionship . he struggles with being alone and is in constant need of company and friendship .

traits : generous , charming , aggressive , protective , passionate , diligent , indulgent , short - tempered .

aesthetics : leather seats in black cadillacs , thick ringlets curling around chiseled features , black jeans with a lighter in the back pocket , cigarettes smashed to ashes in ashtrays , malt whiskey poured over ice , callused hands stuffed in the pockets of a leather jacket .

soundtrack : honestly , i’ve been listening to blackbear during raf’s entire conception so you can literally just listen to his entire discography to get a feel for his vibe .

personality : while he inherited his father’s passion , drive , and general kind demeanour , raf definitely made a name for himself with his slightly mysterious aura at first glance — maybe it’s the mostly black wardrobe , the cigarette that usually dangles from his lips , or the way his brow creases whenever he listens to someone speak like they’re the only person in the universe , he’s a little intimidating at first — but honestly , anyone who really knows him would laugh at people who comment on his mystery : “ yeah , i thought he was gonna be a total asshole at first , could not have been more wrong though ” has definitely been said numerous times about him .

raf’s actually probably the biggest teddy bear in ptown . his heart is somehow bigger than his hair and he welcomes everyone into his life with open arms ( after a short trial run to make sure they’re not gonna fuck with him of course )

he truly loves his friends more than anything . i’m not kidding when i say his apartment is hotel raf cause legit if u need a place to crash , even if it’s 4 in the morning , you can knock on his door and he’ll likely even give up his bed for you .

wears his heart on his sleeve , probably a little too much for his own good , but thrives off of honesty and trust so he’s definitely your go to guy if you’ve got shit going on .

also your go to guy if you need someone’s ass kicked . he’s a firefighter for crying out loud , he drinks preworkout like it’s water and could probably bench the entire snack pack lbr .

he’s a big old hopeless romantic too — he was born on valentine’s day after all .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 :

once again , let me scream into the void that i am open to pretty much anything . lay it all on me , give me your worst and just rIP my heart out why don’t you . but ! below is a list of ideas i brainstormed up for raf

i really want someone from the family that helped take care of him when he was little !

neighbours , childhood best friends , childhood crush / first kiss

gym buddies PLS give raf a buddy he can call up to go play basketball or challenge to a weight lifting comp LOL

past / present hook ups ! raf’s an emotional guy but his job is stressful as fuck and he def needs soME sort of way to unwind .

exes ! mayhaps they dated in high school and broke up cause theY went off to college while raf stayed back in ptown .

brOS OHMYGODPLS give me joey and chandler , jake and charles , troy and chAD

a brother / sister friendship pls ! someone he can be way too protective of .

platonic soulmates ! my fav !!

an angsty flirtationship / skinny love type deal .

—— * / 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 :

his apartment is suPER masculine . like exposed brick walls , brown leather couches , stainless steel appliances , dark oak tables and shelves , probably big windows all over the place cause he loves natural sunlight . and the whole snack pack 100% knows where the spare key is in case of emergencies ( insert that one scene of friends where monica’s like “ i gave you that key for emergencies ” and phoebe’s like “ we were out of doritos ” )

he’s got a lil grey pit bull named lily that he saved a few months ago ! she’s his pride and joy .

like .. rarely uses his phone . he’s got all the social medias , but only really checks it when someone tags him in something or whatever . prefers to call over text cause texting annoys him , he’s an impatient fuck .

definitely is the pack’s lil doctor . he’ll always unwind and have a fun time , but will 100% be on alert at all times for accidents or anything bad that could happen . and if it does happen , he’s first on the scene — i mean , why wouldn’t you want a licensed paramedic that looks like tommy martinez icing your sprained ankle right ?

he’s never really travelled much , aside from the times he’s been called to neighbouring towns / cities during big emergencies and such with his crew . he’s got major wanderlust and really wants to travel to venezuela and such , but he’s also perfectly content staying in ptown for now .

he’s a celiac — idk why , i just wanted to give him some sort of weakness cause he seems too perfect rn .

#snackpackintro #—— ` . ooc !#i didn't really proofread so i apologize for mistakes

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le-petitmort · 5 years

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My ye olde time machine of smut writing

***I used to write smut with a friend of The Peep and mine, and this little piece was the very first one we put together. We went on after this trial effort to write a book series worth of material as two other characters, which was never published. Nor ever will it ever be, because it devolved into a dirty words vocabulary contest which required the reader to have a dictionary available as they read and diddled to the various scenes. That would only work if humans had three hands. Also, the whole editing books thing is too time consuming and neither of us wanted to fuck around with that or getting a literary agent or just about anything to do with anything other than writing smut.

It’s sure nice to see the growth in my writing though over five years.***

****Pardon the typos. This was some quickly done rough draft shit written on the internet for other people who were only trying to get off.***

Chapter I: The madam comes calling (Dez with Finley Strong)

March 8, 2014 at 7:53 AM

Dez Dickerson

A dominant without a submissive is like a car without its engine. It hadn’t taken long, and I was back on the prowl, if you will. The desires needed to be quenched and there was only one way to quell the thirst. It’s how I wound back up at the sex club under that fantastic Mexican restaurant I’d visited so many times before. I took a stroll through, checked out the rooms and tried my hardest to enjoy the goings on. Maybe I’m getting old? Is twenty-six too old or too young for this sex club shit? The place reeked of desperation with the vibe of a holiday vacation. Touristy dominance, Disney submissions. I walked the steps upward into the restaurant stopping to speak with Lorena, the Amazonian proprietor of the establishment who came bedecked in her six-inch spikes, too tight corset and barely there mini. No, I was not interested in Lorena. For fucks sake, she was a domme, there was nothing in it for me. The conversation did prove worthwhile though. Yes, I’m not looking for a commitment. Yes, I’m open newbies and experienced. Would I be opposed to her referring trusted individuals to me? No. Lorena sent me on my way with a promise that I would hear from her soon. The call came the very next day and here I was now, in the loft awaiting the appearance of one Finley Strong. Quite the name for a submissive. Would she prove her surname correct or would she succumb like a flower, wilting under the heat of my presence? Only time would tell. As I heard the clank of the steel outer door slamming shut I tried not to smile as if I were a lion being served fresh meat. Lorena had instructed her well. Walk into the big main room, stand at its direct center, wait. I heard her stilettos click across the grey concrete and halt accordingly. As I strode out of the kitchen I wasn’t disappointed. She stood tall and straight, eyes forward and chin raised with that touch of an overtly defiant attitude. Good show girl, we’ll break that soon enough. The question is how. How does she want it broken? Does she even want what I come to expect as natural? The agreement with Lorena called for giving them what they needed, not necessarily what Dez felt they needed. At least that’s how the bitchy Mexicano had stated it to me. Once in my clutches those tides could change, rolling back out to sea and redefining our meeting like the openness of the sea. Feel her out, do right by her. That was the last words of wisdom from Lorena, who certainly didn’t want to hazard to guess what was held in the mind of Ms. Finley Strong. Feel her out I did. One circle around and I was reaching out, two finger lightly touching at her hip, tracing over the small of her back as I walked, stopping in front with my fingers pressed at her mid-section. If I could say one thing about her, besides recognizing her striking beauty and fiery eyes, is that she was immaculately put together. I let my hand drift upward through the skin bared valley between her two succulent globes, the covered tips aroused to a point. Tasty. At least I imagined them to be quite tasty, once I was afforded the opportunity to partake of her sans clothing. I drew a single finger up her neck feeling her slight gulp as I went straight for her chin tipping it higher. Finley’s eyes remained forward to the same spot on the wall she had been fixated on. Resolve. That in itself shot a lightning bolt to my cock. “I’m Dez, but I’m sure you knew that already. When you’re allowed to speak there are a few rules. The name…Dez…is how you refer to be. I don’t play the sir or master game. Simply Dez. Get it memorized now.” A drop of my hand to her shoulder, letting it slide down her arm then falling over her curvaceous body until I was leaning forward cupping her ass in my palm. Her breath poured against my neck, heated and heavy. “Lorena made it apparent that you had a wish, some hunger you needed to feed that you’ve either been denied or have been denying yourself. A release as it were. Which in itself should be the ultimate goal when you’re with me. Release. My release.” I let go of her magnificent backside and stepped away, firmly in Dez mode one hand lifted brushing over my beard. Yes, she was definitely going to do I thought to myself, if for nothing other than the fact she had as yet shown not one emotion. Finley Strong appeared the type who demanded it be brought out of by a fierce hand. That…I could accommodate. “So, here’s where this goes Ms. Finley Strong. You tell me what your limits are and why you’re here. I will decide if I like what I hear.” I smiled at my fine use of homonyms. “None of that do whatever you want Dez shit, I don't go in for that. Open your mind to Dez. If you intrigue me in a way that separates you from the herd, I will nod towards the door. That doesn’t mean leave. That means get your ass to the entryway, remove every stitch of clothing and reenter. You will walk across this great room and follow that hallway to the first door on the right. Enter, walk to the X on the floor and kneel, open and presented. Make very certain your thighs are wide and inviting, hands clasped tightly behind your head. Back arched, those fucking tits jutting in anticipation. Got it? Go on now…with the talking. It’s the last time you’ll be saying much of anything.”

Finley Strong Well shit, she hadn't expected that. Fin had already forgotten about the seemingly insignificant conversation with Lorena two weeks ago; Lorena hadn't. They rambled on about their sex lives over margaritas--as they often did. One too many and Fin was spouting off something to the effect of 'I just want someone to tie me up and fuck me proper.' Apparently, that had stuck with Lorena, because Fin was the first person on Lorena's list when just such an opportunity presented itself. Hello opportunity, insert Dez Dickerson. Fin hung up the phone, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, a slow ache sitting steadfast in the pit of her stomach. Nerves? What the fuck should she be nervous about? Finley thought as she plucked a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater out of her closet. Because it was so completely out of character for Finley Strong. She ran a brothel for fucks sake. Which, in itself didn't necessarily dictate a personality with a propensity for maintaining control, but it did enhance every domineering quality Fin already possessed. In all honesty, she had been hard wired to run the roost. It had been that way all her life. And now what? She was going to relinquish most, if not all, of that to a perfect stranger? Fin shook her head and shimmied into her jeans, stepped into a pair of ass-jacking Louboutins and headed to the address Lorena provided. She already had fucking instructions, Fin thought with a smirk, and it hadn't even really begun. You got this, Fin. Piece of cake. Piece of pie. Perhaps the thing that worried her the most was her ability to let go. . .or lack there of. When it came down to it, was she going to be able to submit? Oh sure, the concept seemed simple enough, but when you got down to the nitty gritty, Fin feared she would have to fight herself every single step of the way. Turning a control freak into a sub wasn't going to happen overnight. Don't talk back, be obedient, leave your attitude at the door--all of which seemed like impossible tasks at the moment. Exhaling deeply, she brushed her mahogany locks out of her face, yanked the steel door open confidently, and sauntered into the main room, standing as instructed with her eyes locked on a single point in the wall. The nerves had gone, Fin had constructed her wall, the stage was as good as set. She stood straight shouldered, chin tipped up, eyes never moving from the original point. Yea, she fucking wanted this--she knew it the instant she felt that tingling sensation in her fingertips. The second Fin saw him walking towards her out of her peripherals, her pulse quickened. If she had a 'type,' Dez Dickerson fit that mold perfectly. Tattoos, check. An air of 'I don't give a fuck' masculinely unkempt demeanor that screamed 'I am who I am, if you don't like it, kindly fuck off,' check. But the nail in the coffin was his fucking voice. Low, smoky, direct, unwavering. Like warm honey dripping over every inch of her skin. The small of her back arched just slightly as his fingertips etched their way along her skin, her body instantly responding to him. Finley slowed her breathing and firmly instructed her body to get its shit together. At least as of now, Fin was in control of the way her body reacted--not him, not yet. Eyes straight forward, she listened intently, expressionless, his hands exploring as he pleased, finally resting on the curve of her ass. He knew exactly what he was doing. Every touch calculated, perfect by design, expertly placed to optimize pleasure. Fin knew one thing for sure, if this endeavor continues, he was going to play her body like a fucking flute. . .and, at the end of the day, there was nothing she could about it. And then came his questions. They had caught her completely off guard for whatever reason. What are your limits and why are you here? The first inquiry was simple: there are no limits. But the second, well, that one required a little more inward exploration. Jesus, every primitive instinct inside her was chomping at the bit to shove him against the wall and fuck him senseless. That's what she wanted. Yet, she remained silent for a moment, still contemplating her answer. That's not why you're here, Fin, she reminded herself. I want you to tie me up and fuck me proper, was the next answer that popped into her mind. Well, fucking duh, Fin. She wouldn't be standing here right now if that wasn't eventually going to happen. I want you to own my body in ways I've never imagined. Okay, she thought, that's going somewhere. Why are you here, Fin? It was something more than an orgasm. The myriad of response all led to one thing: control. In every thing she did, Fin had to have control. It was an exhausting endeavor, yes, but relinquishing control to her meant something more than a rest from decision making. She had never just /let go/. She had never experienced the imperforate feeling of subjugation. The freeing of awareness that comes only when you've surrendered everything--mind and body--to another. For the first time her eyes met his. She studied his facial expressions and mannerisms. Those fucking eyes, Finley mused. They look right into your soul, straight to your very core. Her emerald orbs held his stare for a moment before she spoke. "No limits." She paused to emphasize her seriousness with the first answer. "And what I want is to let go. Completely. To the point that it terrifies me." Make what you will of that, Dez Dickerson, but it's just about the most honest answer you will ever get out of Finley Strong.

Dez Dickerson

The first two words out of her mouth set me off like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. Either she was looking for chastising or she had no clue about my opinionated manner on all thing dom/sub. Two fucking words, that's it. I sucked in air through my flared nostrils, filling my lungs until I thought they would burst like a balloon. No limits. I exhaled out a furious rush of breath, my hand lifting and grasping at back of Finley's neck, wrapping my fingers tight as I prodded her towards the corner. "Keep your mouth shut, unless asked to speak. One hand up high on each wall. Lean forward balanced on your toes. I want that ass pointing for me. Calling for my hand." I took a step back, drinking in her form. The way her back arched in a perfect curve, a striking contrast to her straight as a board legs. the cascade of her dark hair a barrier shielding her facial expressions from me. One step forward and I was pressing my jeans covered bulge against the crack of her ass. Just enough to make her wiggle with heady anticipation. I wrapped my arm in front of Finley and began unbuttoning her shirt in the most painfully slow manner, my cock pressing harder at her backside. "No limits, huh?" I barked it out, closing in on her ear as my fingers worked at the buttons. "That isn't something you should ever say to a dominant. A lot of crazy people in the world." With her shirt now hanging loose I moved to the side. One glancing blow of my hand to her ass. "No limits?" My palm cracked downward again, an shocked audible umph of air came blasting out of Finley. "So what you're saying is that I could do anything to you that I want. I could put a collar on you right now. Make you walk around this loft like a dog. Make you bark for me. Is that what you want Ms. Strong." I lowered my hand swift and merciless on those tight as a second skin jeans of hers. A yank back at her shoulder and in on motion Finley was off the wall and shirtless. "Scat Finley...piss. You just told me those things were fine by you. No limits." I pushed her flat palmed against the walls, both hands to her stomach. Rising them higher I cupped Finley's pert round tits, my dick back to grinding on her. Yes, this was all a change of plans from my status quo. No strip down in the entryway and get to the play room today. No limits meant Dez changing things up. Maybe that's what I needed, something different, something extraordinary. I took my thumb and forefinger over what I imagined to be the pinkest areolae, taking each budded nipples for a twist and pull, both now pointing like the tip of an arrow, as if I was commanding it to happen. Which I most definitely was. "Interesting Finley. You have given me the go ahead to lock you in a cage and bring you out when I want to. Hell, I never have to let you leave this place. No limits. I could decide to own you now. Would you prefer I call you pet or bitch or what?" I kept up the manual torment on her right breast as my other hand dropped to her jeans quickly unbuttoning and dropping the zipper. My hand slid inside and over her thong, a tap tap tap of finger like her snatch was a dewy drum head. "Kick off the hooker shoes and strip down." Finley hesitated, the kind of apprehension that said is this guy for real or what the fuck have I gotten myself into. Which ever it was I wasn't in the mood for a dawdling submissive. "Now! Or else I'm going to go grab a sharpie and write "Dez's pokey ass slut" on your forehead. I can do that. No limits. You said it yourself." I wasn't waiting on her to get moving, I tugged at the band of her pants, puling them down as I heard her shoes rattle off the wall. "Good girl. Daddy likes your newfound listening skills." There she was nude before me and I wished I could see the look on her face. I would soon enough, for now I lived with my imagination and the vision of her body heaving in a combination of heart racing, breath fighting for more air, nerves edged and unsure of what would happen next. "Hands back on the wall, get up on those toes. You're getting twenty to the ass. Instead of counting them out for me like a good little sub I want you reminding me...no limits...after each one. Boom, I dropped the first one, then the second like a thunder clap. Each one in succession with a response from Finley as her uplifted ass turned a pretty shade of crimson, the imprints of palm and fingers on full display. Finished, I fisted at her hair, a rough pull that spun Finley facing me. I leaned down eye to eye, my mouth close enough to almost capture her trembling lips. I let my voice drop deep, gravelly and domineering. "Lucky for you Ms. Strong I do not believe in the theory of no limits or else this could have gone terribly wrong. Do not ever...ever..say that to any man. That's your first lesson for today. Are we clear? And don't even think of calling me daddy." I let go of her long tresses and watched her head fall. "Eyes back up. You need a safe word also. It will be..." I had to think on that for a moment. That word I purposely wanted to be slightly off the wall. "...Toyota. I will be getting myself water, because this will be a long night. While I do that I want you marching to the play room...reciting your safe word loud enough that I can hear it. Get that sweet little ass in front of the St. Andrew's cross in there. Keep reciting your word..." I dropped my eyes over Finley. "...get one hand working over those perfect tits the other strumming that tense, ready clit I haven't had the pleasure of tormenting yet." I gave a crooked smile. "I'm assuming that pussy is wet and wanting right now. Probably throbbing in need of being filled. That'll happen soon enough." I turned towards the kitchen and made an abrupt spin back to Finley. "What are you waiting for. Get going. Now."

Finley Strong

She had set him off. Like a pile of fucking dynamite a mile high. As unintentional as it had been, something sick and sadistic inside Finley was mildly pleased that she had triggered him so quickly. Fin’s jaws clenched instantly when his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, one of her hands palmed the wall as instructed as she teetered on the tips of heels and arched the small of her back as deeply as she could. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She chanted, squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling of him pressed against her. His hand expertly unfastening each button of her blouse. Her mind was spiraling, reeling at the anticipation. Of not knowing what in the fuck he was going to do next with her poised like a damn show pony. . .and no limits. What in the actual fuck had she been thinking by saying that? In her naivety, she had meant it. And then the pit in her stomach resurfaced, nerves eating at her insides like a ravenous plague. The carefully devised wall she had constructed was being torn down, brick by agonizing brick, Dez Dickerson there with a sledgehammer beating the shit out of it like it owed him money. Finley sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth at the first smack; the second had pulled soft whimper from her lungs. Immediately, she pressed her lips together, swallowed hard, and fought every urge to shake her head disgustingly at herself. Damnit! Fucking damnit, Dez Dickerson, you’ve made your point! She was an absolute amateur for saying ‘no limits.’ Her eyes snapped open, his curt tug on her shoulder snapping her back to reality. The reality that this was his world—and she, quite obviously, had no fucking clue what she had gotten herself into. Then back to the wall, both hands this time. A chill ran up her spine the first time his skin met hers. Parting her lips, Finley slowly inhaled and held her breath. Yes, even the slightest of contact sparking a deep aching fire inside her. His fingers coaxing the peaks to perfect hardness. Her back bowed, pressing herself harder into his hand. Jesus, she thought, like a fucking flute. Before she even had time to digest one perfectly placed hand, the other was buried between her thighs. Shit, Finley cursed as her knees gave way slightly under the pressure of his finger. Get your shit together, Strong. Now! Her mental reorganization had caused a seconds delay. It was happening so fast. No sooner had one command been given, then he was barking the next order, all while his hands mind-fucked her body into submission. Now! He barked. With two indignant kicks, she heaved her eight hundred dollar pumps across the room to smack against the wall. So help me, Dez fucking Dickerson, I will shove that goddamned Sharpie. . .her thought trailed off with the rest of her clothing. Two rapid movements and there was nothing left to hide her flesh from his eyes. Hands back on the wall. Fin’s eyes searched the blank canvas as if it had some unspoken answer written in the cracks, her jaw still clenched tightly, lips pursed, mentally preparing herself for the impending twenty lashes. One. The sound of smacking flesh echoed off the walls like an audible aphrodisiac. “No limits.” She spat in a seething whisper. Each subsequent smack eliciting an even louder “No limits.” Each subsequent smack striking to her core. Part of her was wildly turned on by the way his hand felt on her ass, the lingering sting intoxicatingly erotic. Her fingernails dug into the wall, as the other part of Finley fought every urge to spin on her heels and introduce his cheek to her palm. With each swat Finley found herself letting go twenty times until finally, the last stinging slap was followed with an nearly inaudible “No limits.” Point made again, Dez, she mused, the tender skin on her backside now hot and undoubtedly a lovely shade of crimson. A gasp slipped past her lips as her body was twisted like a top around his fist in her hair. Her green eyes staring daggers into his the moment they were finally face to face. Her pulse raging at this point, but her expression stoic and unwavering, her upper lip curling slightly at the instruction to avoid calling him ‘daddy.’ When he barked for her to look up, Fin’s gaze remained steadfast on his face, studying him, half-heartedly listening to what he was telling her to do, rewinding what the fuck had just happened in her mind and playing it in slow motion. You’re trying to break me. To the extent that, to Dez Dickerson ‘no limits’ was an absolute abomination to the dom/sub world, she got it. Yesterday’s Fin would have promptly grabbed her shit and walked out that door butt-ass naked just to prove a point—you’re not going to break me like I’m some wild fucking horse. But today’s Fin knew better. Because, in the end, that’s exactly what he was going to do. That didn’t mean Finley Strong wasn’t going to put up a little bit of resistance. Okay, probably more resistance than he was interested in dealing with. Finley stood there, staring at him walking into the kitchen, wondering just how much Lorena had told him about her. She was quite confident that the next thing that came out of her mouth was going to get her another twenty licks or worse. Finley waited until he turned back around to face her. She strode through the main room and into the kitchen, standing close enough to him that their toes touch, her eyes capturing his. “I know you didn’t give me permission to speak. And perhaps this will be the last time I ever break that rule, but you can lay off the humiliation bit. I get it. You’re teaching me a lesson. I’ve never done. . .” She stopped herself from completing that sentence, confident that one, her ‘no limits’ response made it painfully obvious she hadn’t done this before, and two, he, in all likelihood, didn’t care. “Just. . .That’s my limit. I’m not here for you to humiliate me. I understand there are varying subjective definitions of humiliation, but I think you get the jest. Unless you get off on having me bark like a dog or scribbling rubbish on me like I’m some insignificant piece of trash. In which case, this is probably not going to work out.” With that, Finley spun on her heels and padded towards his play room. “And yes, my pussy is wet and wanting right now.” She called back over her shoulder to him. “Toyota!” Fin shouted as she rounded the corner, cupping one delicate breast in her hand, her index finger and thumb coaxing the peak to a hardness, a pulsating throb setting in warmly between her thighs as she envisioned his hand as the maestro. “Toyota!”

Dez Dickerson

My admiration for Finley Strong would be off the charts, if she could just keep her trap shut. This was one of those rare situations where I would, in fact, break from my beliefs and jam a ball gag into her pie hole. Well, not really, I hate that shit. I must be allowed to revel in her gasps, moans and groans. Every last one of them I deserved. Yes, I will admit, she was under my skin to even make a gag a passing thought. "Toyota." I could hear it clear as a church bell chiming in a belligerent tone from her voice as I filled my jug to the brim and headed towards Finley. For the second time tonight I had a change of heart on the direction of our encounter. This time it was the crux which had fallen like a brick out of a wall from my plans. No, I had something a little better in mind for Ms. Strong. I wanted full access to her skin. Every minute curve and line that defined that magnificent, majestic body. Of course, once again I would also make each inch pay for her obstinate ways. Fall out of line and get in my face? That would come at some cost. Pain to pleasure. Earn it Finley. Entering the room I listened as she kept up her mantra, which now seemed less a safe word and more a commercial for mid-sized Japanese cars now made in America. Yes Finley, I will pound you like a Tundra being driven through a mud bog. I will make your engine red line and your tires smoke. "Enough." One simple word as I headed for the closet, grabbing a twisted bundle of rope before strolling to Finley. "Arms out, palms pressed in prayer." One hand encircled her tiny wrists, the other began the arduous task of winding the cord to perfection down her slender forearms. Her skin was vibrant and milky and my head wandered to afterward when I released Finley from her binds. The flow of blood would return full force through her veins, each ply of the rope now defined as valleys and peaks in her skin. I was feeling in a peculiar, driven to chat mood today which may be attributed to my seething anger from Finley having the audacity to confront me. Compensation. "Point taken regarding humiliation, however that is far removed from the realm of anything that would ever happen in the confines of my home. Those were...for instances." The twine was set and I ran a loop inside being certain I wanted to keep Finley well restrained. "I have a tendency to provide my point of view in an over the top style. I have always felt the strongest statement, no matter how it is taken, best proves my point. Suffice it to say, should you run across a less than accommodating dominant..." I broke my eyes from my craft and captured hers "...a shady and selfish fucker. I don't want you allowing yourself to be used. That isn't what this is about. Ever." One last cinch and Finley Strong was under my control. I looked up at the ceiling and pulled her out and away from the cross. A new device had been installed and now was as good a time as any for some usage. I had replaced the old strappado which connected to a reel on the wall with an electric hoist. Yes, I was moving into the twenty first century, forsaking manual labor for ease of use. Besides, this way I could grab the controller and have my choice of how high I wanted this lil' ol' smartass. I grabbed the controls, lowering the hook and silently raising Finley's arms straight above her. Attaching the hook to her bind, I hit the button and watched Finley rise until her toes were en pointe, the tips barely able to keep her steady, but low enough that there wasn't undue stress on her limbs. Just enough to make Finley think. To think what next and to remember who was running the show. "This is the part where that safe word comes in handy. Don't try to be too willing. Too up for anything. If you at all get uncomfortable, I want to hear it. I'm not here to ruin you. At least not in that way. I'll save that for the fucking." I lurched off towards the closet, digging through the baskets and grabbing a flogger. The right flogger. I needed to remember that she wasn't experienced, only here to give this piece of the lifestyle a try. I gave the instrument a spin in my wrist as I approached Finley, a sudden swing forward and I brushed over her taut belly, which sucked in hard at the touch accenting her curvaceous hips and protruding tits. "I want three deep breaths and heavy exhales from you Finley." I kept the flogger spinning, the black tendrils a waterfall against her ivory skin, which was now flaired with rouge brush strokes and developing a noticeable sheen. I'd have her sweating it out good momentarily, of that I was sure. "Your mind must be clear of all other thoughts. Focus. Let your gasps of pleasure ignite you into a pyre." Eloquent motherfucker. As the third breath rushed from Finley I started in, doing the counting myself one to one hundred, watching her struggle, then relax. The thought of her pussy getting worked into a fervor, dying for a frenzied explosion of exquisite sensation. "One hundred." I tossed the flogger to the floor and stalked the couple steps to Finley. My hands wandering and massaging, tempting her to writhe with delight. I dropped low, my tongue tracing the bubble of her ass, which now was heated, thoroughly covered in my marks. My hand forced between her thighs, cupping her pussy in my palm like I was holding her aloft. My middle finger dipped, stroking between her folds before diving deep, buried to the hilt. I flicked down hard on the spot I knew would bring a flowing gush of wetness from Finley and I gave my instructions. "I know what this is going to do to you. I know you will melt like a cube of if ice to my touch. I want to hear it. Tell me every detail of what you feel. But most of all. Do. Not. Let. Yourself. Come. That crashing orgasm is the one thing I own in all this. Don't disappoint me Finley."

Finley Strong

Those few seconds she waited for him in the playroom seemed like an eternity. The chanting of her safe word didn't help either. It reverberated off the walls as if it were a mocking reminder of his impending arrival. Finley wasn't sure just how much trouble she had gotten herself into by insubordinately invading his personal space. Perhaps that was the most nerve wracking part--the unknown. Strike that, it was the combination of the unknown and lack of control to dictate the next step. The sound of his footsteps behind her made her skin prickle with goose flesh. And as insubordinate as she had been with him two minutes earlier, her body was similarly disobeying her with each passing second. Finley's back arced responsively to his presence, her safe word becoming nothing more than soft sigh. "Enough." He barked from behind. Immediately, Finley shut up and ran her tongue across her lips nervously before pressing them together as she steepled her fingers and pressed her palms together in front of her. Her eyes followed his hands meticulously working the rope around her wrists and forearms, the sensation of restricting the blood flow to her hands causing her fingertips to tingle. Finley listened intently as he spoke, her green orbs tracing the barely visible curves of his lips until finally he paused in his monologue and met her stare for a second. Those eyes. . .they in themselves could wrestle a strong woman into submission. Her stomach sank, and the whole fucking room was silent except for the hypnotic sound of his voice and the rhythmic twisting of rope to flesh. Her body lurched forward slightly as he tugged on the last cinch--her mind absolutely clear. And that was it. No more Finley, or at least no more yesterday's Finley. She tipped her head up, her dark locks spilling over her shoulders and down her back, tensing her body as her arms were pulled taut above her head, the tips of her toes barely grazing the floor. Goodbye to the attitude formerly known as Fin. With a sighing moan, Finley adjusted her wrists to a comfortable position and looked down to find that Dez was no longer in front of her. She squeezed her eyes closed, tying to pinpoint his location in the room only to be awakened by the wisp of leather to her torso. One deep breath in, slow exhale, as instructed. The leather against her skin eliciting a plethora of responses from her as her muscles tensed with anticipation for the licks to get progressively harder. Oh yes, Dez would have his pound of flesh. Another deep inhale, the exhale so painstakingly slow that the sound of her breath echoed in her ears. Clear your mind, Fin, he said clear your mind, she repeated in her head, nodding to him slightly as an acquiescence to his command. Final inhale, exhale. Smack! Fin's body tensed, every muscle tightening. Smack! Her hands balled into tiny fists. Smack! Fin's toes curled as she exhaled slowly, a soft moan riding on her breath. By the forty-second smack, Fin had stopped counting. She had closed her eyes, hands still in white knuckled fists, but her body gave way, relaxing, absorbing the sting of the tassels, her mind wandering to the memory of Dez's hands. Rough, calloused, aggressive, but most of all, fantastically possessive. Smack! Finley cried out his name. It had been totally inadvertent, but it was the first word that came to mind. Jesus, those hands, Fin introverted once again, picturing his fingertips slipping past the cusp and dipping deep inside her. Smack! A low whimpering sigh escaped her lips. "One hundred." Fin's eyes fluttered open. What? No. A hundred? The warm feeling of Dez's tongue along her ass caused her to gasp and tense again, the stinging burn deliciously countered by a soothing wetness. And then his hand, Fin's lips parted but not so much as a peep came out as she tried to decipher if it was real or just her imagination playing her again. As she felt a finger slip into the wetness of her desire, curving perfectly, Finley moaned and let her head hang, her dark tendrils cascading down her torso. The anticipation of which nearly being enough to send her over the edge right then and there. No, this was most definitely real. She pulled her head up when he spoke again, trying to wrap her mind around his instructions while she her fought her body tooth and nail not to climax. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Finley tried to find his eyes, as if to ask for permission to answer his request to tell him what she felt. Melting like an ice cube was a fucking understatement. "M-may I speak?" Her lips finding it hard to form the words; stopping your body from coming when it was so close to fruition was like stopping a freight train with one hand. "I feel overwhelmed?" What the fuck, she hadn't meant for that to come out as a question. "L-like my entire body is going to explode. I um," Her mind raced, all of her thoughts now just jumbled nonsense swimming around in a murky abyss. "I um, God, I want to come, but I don't want to disappoint you. . ." She stopped herself from saying anything else for it would have been nothing more than rambling gibberish. So much for great detail, Dez, her green eyes looking down at her feet that were now perfectly arched.

Dez Dickerson

Overwhelmed? Darlin' we're just getting this dog and pony show started. I'm going to overwhelm you tenfold before this night is over. Get that hot little body quaking, those knees shaking to the point that you have nothing left in the gas tank. You'll be begging me to keep you stable, mind and body, and at the same time you'll be begging for more pleasure. Overwhelmed? I want you addicted to the process. To know the perfection of your own personal freedom. "Then don't disappoint me." I could feel her walls clench with involuntary rhythmic contractions, like she was about to let loose with a torrential pinnacle that would culminate in a whimpering climax. Her ass pressed back against my hand yearning for more. My thumb sliding over her wetness until it was rubbing over Finley's back door. A press against her opening and I was in, circling against the tight ring in her back side. My free hand went to grip her hair, ripping back to expose her neck. Head lowered, a lick of the the exposed skin, a nip, another lick back down. I caught the tight skin between my teeth and tented it, eliciting a yelp from Finley. All the while with hands raising the stakes, alternating motions, speed, pressures to both entrances. I caught a glimpse of her emerald eyes rolled back, mouth agape in a show lust filled enjoyment. Another look at those captivating eyes and I had my next move. My digits dropped from Finley and her body slumped as much as it could given the way she hung like a rag doll. I stalked to the closet and rummaged through my wares. I was back in a flash and Finley was none the wiser as to what came next. A dollop of lube to my finger and I was slipping back inside the warm sanctity of her ass. A second finger and I was getting her loosened, prepared. She wasn't fighting me now, rather ceding herself over to me. Groans being her only responses. It was as if Finley knew I would provide what she needed and it was no longer in her best interest to fight in an unneeded show of pride. My other hand grasped at her ass checks spreading her wider to my advances. Then I gave myself a smirk. "I really love the color of your eyes Finley. I think you need an accessory to match them." My long fingers slid fast from her ass and POP, I slipped an emerald jeweled ass plug seated deep and snug inside. Finley's body shot forward in an arc of semi-resistance to the intrusion, her voice piercing the room with a surprised moan. I latched onto her hips steadying her as she settled back in. "Green's one of my favorite colors." I did a bend down admiring the anal accoutrement. "You had a damn fine ass before. Now it's...it's simply fuckable Ms. Strong. Well, fillable...for now...would be the better word." I gave a little laugh as I raised my shirt up and over my head, flinging off to the side, pouncing on Finley, spinning her towards me. The granite slab of my chest pressed against her pillowy breasts. My fingers splayed through her locks palming the back of her head. A lean lower and I captured her mouth. A dart of the tongue past her puffed lips and I met hers. Hesitant at first, I felt Finley sigh against me. Her tongue giving a devilish swirl over mine as if she had succumbed to the last temptation. This is what I had strove for, Finley to make her own move. Show me how fucking bad you want it girl. Her mouth was doing just that. Mere words could not describe the fire that was burning, the ache that was throbbing inside Finley Strong. I dropped a palm cupping her ass, fingers pressed and twisting at the toy stuck full inside her. Enough teasing to work her up to the next level. The pain of my own molten member engorged and leaking was all I could take. I broke from Finley and moved across the room. Full view for her as I took my hand to my belt buckle. Snapping it open, unbuttoning my jeans and dropping them down the sinewy length of my legs. My dick sprang to attention catching Finley's eye. For my part I could only smile at her response. I took my sweet time walking back, my cock leading the way until I had the hoist control in my hand, lowering Finley flat footed. Unhooked, I grabbed her bound wrists and led her towards the tan bricks of the wall. At first I had her facing the bricks, her waist under my control. My feet kicked between her separating Finley wide. My palm went between her legs, five hard greedy slaps to her waiting entrance. I reached for her rope cover arm, spinning her facing me in a wicked pirouette. Smack, smack, smack. My hand bore down hard between her legs. Finley seemed lost to it all now, breathing jagged and body unsteady. A hot little fiery mess. In a swift motion my fingers were corseting her waist. A lift and her lithe form and tulip stem legs wrapped around me. I banged Finley off the wall and her tied arms dropped around my head, resting on my shoulders. I pressed her back against the bricks my mouth on hers, adjusting the bulbous head of my iron hard tumescence so that it was rubbing against the slick wetness of her excitement. Sliding up I hit her rigid, responsive clit, flicking my head back and forth across it, feeling her shimmy in response. "This is the part where I fuck you silly. Remember the rule Finley. No coming until I say so. It's going to be mind shattering when I allow it." That was it. One thrust and I was between the stretching walls of her body, bottoming out at the place where she most ached for engulfment. Her private satin flesh a receptive, desperate dark haven of all Finley Strong's urges.

Finley Strong

There were a million different things crashing together in the most elaborate way imaginable. For Finley, she had always been the “dom.” Perhaps not to this extent, but she was was used to running the show. If she wanted it, she took it. She fucked and was fucked when and how she said so. But now, Jesus fucking Christ. Her body was being pulled in so many directions that she hardly had time to comprehend what happened thirty minutes ago. Stop. Stop right now, Fin. Stop thinking and react. Let. Go. His goddamned hands worked her over, her hips bucked against his fingers, her breath hitching in her throat as he circled a pressure point from behind. Finley's hands gripped the rope and pulled herself up slightly, parting her thighs for him, one knee cocked to the side. The hard hand in her hair and teeth to her neck were it, she wanted to jump out of her fucking skin. Spurs to a rodeo bull, was more like it. Finley gasped a hissing breath, turning her face to Dez in an attempt to capture his mouth, but he and his magic fucking fingers were gone. With a heavy sigh, Fin’s body went limp for a second. In the second following, her body lurched forward; the penetration from behind catching her off guard. Her muscles went taut, and then relaxed, her mind trying to wrap itself around everything. With choppy breaths, Finley spiraled and writhed, concupiscent as she drank in every erotic sensation coursing through her with a raging fervor. He had done it, with seemingly effortlessness, Dez had unraveled Finley Strong from the inside out. When their lips melded together, Finley sighed heavily against his mouth, her tongue meeting his and twisted around it, tasting him fully for the first time. She leaned into the kiss, and pressed her mouth onto his hard, almost aggressively, trying to take as much of him in these brief seconds of contact that she could. His hands reached around to her ass and oh-my-god--the weight of her body proving to be a momentary hindrance as her knees gave way. Still fixated on his mouth and the way his tongue traced every contour of hers, Fin captured his bottom lip and raked it between her teeth as he pulled away. Licking the rest of him off her lips, Finley released an exaggerated exhale through her nose. Let me down, Dez, so I can rip you apart. She was ready. Dripping wet, ready, and insatiably hungry. He had teased her to the point of delirium; revving her up such that nothing existed outside the world of fucking Dez Dickerson's brains out. She had been docile for a round or two. Even asked for permission to speak. He quite literally spanked it out of her, Fin couldn't deny him that, but she could feel the finale nearing, the anticipation was unbearable, and she was going to eat him alive or die trying. He lowered her down and walked them over to the wall. With her palms flush to the bricks, Finley bent over, ass in the air, for him. Wasn't it all for him? Her skin trembling under his hands as she counted the seconds that mockingly lingered on. Each calculated move by him devised to elicit a very particular response for her. . .and it did. Every. Single. Time. Finley rested her forehead on her hands, moaning uncontrollably at the deliciously electric feeling of the smack of his hand between her thighs. A vibrating cadence rocked her shoulders forward, Fin tapping her head against her hands a few times, ardently contracting her velvety walls and biting her bottom lip, trying with unimaginable strength to keep quiet and not come. Fuck, she was so close. . .dangerously so. Don't come. Don't come. Don't you dare fucking come, Finley Strong. Spinning her like a top, Dez's hands lifted her up, Finley giving little to no resistance as her back slammed against the wall, her arms falling to drape around his neck like a noose while she vised his body with her legs around his waist. Jesus Christ, yes, Finley thought, a desperate sob exuding off a sharp breath, the feeling of his hardness slipping between her dewy lips, pressing farther up with exacting precision to message her throbbing clitoris caused her body to tremor uncontrollably with desire. Yes! At the sound of the word 'fuck' rolling off his lips, Finley's bound wrists tugged at the back of his neck as she looked up at him from behind her thick lashes with bedroom eyes. God damnit, I get it, just fuck me already! And before she could even finish the thought, with one artfully executed thrust he was buried deep inside her. "Oh my fucking God. . ." Finley whispered, her head hanging for a moment before she whipped it back up and, with a forceful yank, possessively took his lips with hers again. Raw, sweaty flesh to flesh. Rolling her hips into his, Finley held his mouth to hers with her wrists behind his neck. Her thighs tightened around him as his hands slid down the small of her back with hard fingers finally digging into the taut muscles of her ass. She arched and bowed her back, grinding her hips against his like a python slipping through turbulent waters. "Dez. . ." She moaned, his name like a fucking incantation. Curving her hips up as she leaned back, Finley pressed off his pulsing cock, almost sliding off him completely, then bucked against him, slowly lowering herself down until he was completely entombed in her milky wetness. Finley's breath hiccuped in her throat, each becoming more shallow than the last. She leaned the back of her head against the bricks and rode each of his deliberate thrusts with matching enthusiasm, small whimpering sighs transforming into cries of ecstasy. The shortness of his breath only spurring her on as she rode the prelude of her climax almost as hungrily as she rode him. I want to see it, damn you, Fin cursed him. I want to see it in your eyes, that wanting. . .that telling elation as the pupils of your eyes dilate. Give it to me, Dez. Give it to me.

Dez Dickerson

Much consideration must be given to Finley Strong, even now as she rides me like a rodeo bull. I’m blasting another fast and frantic frenzy as her hips hinge loosely in response, her quim devouring my tool like a salacious sheath. We’d avoided the chit chat upon her appearance at the loft, but I had learned enough about her from Lorena. Finley’s eyes became hypnotic as I caught a glimpse while rocking her with a measured, insistent rhythm showing the disregard one only holds for a those that can handle themselves in such a situation. She was more than capable, I knew that coming in. Lorena had intimated her profession, that Finley was a madam. For many that would be a judgmental moment. A madam? A whore? Not me, no interest in that. Actually, maybe a great deal of interest because it meant one thing. Whether or not she had prior experience with a dominant she knew how to handle herself accordingly. First on her agenda in any skin on skin scenario? Wild, uninhibited recklessness with the sole purpose of providing pleasure. As a madam how many women had been under her tutelage? Countless I’m sure learned this arch in groaning protest she provided. Others I’m sure had caught on to the way that protest abandoned to longing. With a grind Finley crushed down against me and those viridescent pupils brimmed with ecstasy, prodding me to give a slice of the power over to her. That’s her job, she knew no other way. With a rutting grunt I slammed upward lifting Finley in my final culmination. We moved in total harmony, her pressing down to meet each thrust as if it were the last. Undulating and rippling against me our mouths met fierce and relentless, her's as sweet as sugar. This is the sliver of time when you have to decide if holding out is better than relenting to pulsating waves of pleasure. With her breathing forced from her lungs deep shuddering and desperate I mounted my last stand resigned to defeat like Custer at Little Bighorn. Was it defeat? To admit that it wasn’t necessary to make her beg for that orgasm she was teetering on the brink of. Just the sound of my name gasped and falling from her tongue was serendipity. The most pleasant of surprises. Our open mouthed clash of tongues fell away impeded by the need to suck in every last lungful of air as spasms of delight began to rocket through us. It began. “Come with me.” Not my usual insistent demand for her orgasm. I felt Finley lose control, that first cry of deliverance as she convulsed in a chain of spasms, milking from me the pulsing life that flooded her like hot molten lava. My weight leaned driving her one last time against the wall, breathless and dizzy as we rocket through the universe. As fast as we started, we ended. Finley clung to me her heart pounding a beat against me that slowed to a murmur as consciousness was regained. My fingers still dug in at her ass raised her, my relieved cock firmly held in her care. I stepped away from the wall carrying Finley off to my bathroom. It always goes the same. The one thing that will never change. She had allowed me to bring her to a new plateau and now was the time to show some gratitude. I rested her thoroughly worn out ass on the cool of the granite counter. Dipping down and out her arms were now in front of me as I silently released her from the ties. One hand leading the other in a smoothing massage over each curve of rope indented skin I asked if she was ok. Satisfied, I took her hand, sliding her off the counter and spinning Finley facing the mirror. Once again my hands touched at her back assessing each mark, trying to provide a different relief than we had encounter minutes earlier. Fingers once again at her ass I jerked the plug from Finley stealing a startled gasp. I reached inside the shower running the multiple jets, letting the heat rise as I turned back to her. A lift of her chin, a brushing kiss, another question of her state. I wasn’t sending her home fucked up and unsure of what had just transpired. I could only imagine the call from Lorena. The crazy spanglish cursing me for not doing my due diligence, assailing my manhood and honor. Whisking Finley into the stall I set her in the midst of the rushing, pulsating and misting water, the soap in my hand built a lather that washed over her weary, but perfect body. “When we’re done in here it’s your choice on whether you leave or not. I’m not rushing you off.” I smiled for emphasis. “I usually build up a hell of a hunger so I’ll be making something to eat. Feel free to stick around. If you like.”

Finley Strong

When Lorena had described what was supposed to transpire with Dez Dickerson, Finley had to admit, she had sort of unintentionally brushed it off as a sport fuck. Oh, Lorena went into great detail about his um, proficiencies. The tragic part was Finley switching on her selective hearing as Lo fawned over the greatness that is Dez. Yea, yea, tie her up, spank her tight little ass, and a roll around in the hay for some mid-day cardio. Nervous, yes. Questionable ability to meet his submissive expectations, absolutely. However, her incorrigible cockiness had, quite honestly, diluted her. How sadly mistaken she had been. So utterly naïve that it was almost laughable—in more ways than one. Because as their bodies moved together synchronically, feeding off each other like ravenous, visceral animals, grinding into one another with this tenacious tempo, one thing was unquestionably obvious. . .he had owned her unlike any one else had before. Plain and simple. Owned. “Come with me.” Her eyes heavy and glassy with desire peered up at him as if she had misheard. Three simple syllables was all it took, and, as if Dez had flipped a switch, Finley came crashing violently to a climax, crying out his name once more while aftershocks surged through her body in explosive waves. She leaned into his chest, her elbows bent over his shoulders pulling him hard against her as her fingernails dug into the sinew of his back, and drove her hips into his until she felt the warm rush of his release. Panting like a thoroughbred crossing the finish line at the Preakness, Finley rested her forehead on his collarbone planting wet lipped kisses into his hot, salty skin, the haze of an earth-shattering orgasm steadily set into her tingling fingertips. Finley descended into him as he walked them to the bathroom, her head bobbing slightly with each one of his steps as she relished the warmth of his body against hers. The cold granite revived her somewhat, heavy eyelids pressed together while he unwrapped her with almost delicate hands. The lulling hum of rushing water in the background creating this sort of serenity that she hadn’t expected. Gently, she was placed on her feet and turned to face the mirror. Even now, the slightest contact of his fingertips to her back prodding at her, apparently, insatiable appetite. Finley watched him, studying him, scribbling little notes about his mannerisms into her subconscious. What a fucking anomaly he was. A walking, talking, breathing Rubix Cube. A slight tug, and Finley was fully cognizant by the time the hot water rippled down her body. Silently, Finley let his soap lathered hands attempt to wash away some of the reminiscence of the this indescribable day. Smiling at his offer, Finley just simple shook her head in the negative and let her fingertips wander over his slippery skin, following every curve and edge of his arm beneath a cascading waterfall, basking in the afterglow of amazing sex and in how pleasantly surprised she was with him. In between musing over his remarkably perfect physique and the soapy playground for his hands, something in Finley snapped. Her fingers dropped from his arm, she stood curtly on her tip-toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips before stepping out of the shower, suds still dripping down her legs. “I hope this isn’t the last time I see you, Mr. Dickerson.” She said as she ran a towel quickly over her body, making it appoint for her eyes to meet his before her next sentence. “I had an amazing time.” Mind-blowing, mountain-moving, earthquake colliding with a tornado kind of amazing time, she was begging herself to say, but couldn’t pull herself to form the words. “Amazing.” She repeated, hoping that would provide him some sort of reassurance when her body language was screaming otherwise. What the fuck are you doing, Finley? Stop. But she couldn’t. With a nimble step out of the bathroom, she blew him a kiss, and trotted to the living room to gather her clothes. A few more seconds, and half-dressed Finley was almost out the door. Stop! This time listening to herself, and dashed to the kitchen, scouring the area for a pen and paper, finding only a crumpled up receipt on the counter. Taking her lipstick out of her handbag, she scribbled her name and number on the back of the receipt. How fucking cliché, Finley. Jesus Christ, could you be any more Cracker Jack? Why don’t you just hang your panties on his doorknob on your way out? As asinine as she felt, Finley couldn’t bare skipping out without leaving her number. At least some indication that she wanted what happened today to happen again. Perhaps it was the fact that he had shown her something life-altering today that freaked her out. He had so expertly pulled from her every possible emotion a person could ever feel in one afternoon. Without even knowing she was doing it, she had revealed parts of herself that she had sworn she locked away in some dank swampy corner of her subconscious. She told him she wanted to let go, and he had given her that. . .and so much more, most likely without even knowing that he had done so. Her body was still reeling from it and probably would be for the rest of the week. Dez fucking Dickerson, with his mysterious playroom and awe-inspiring cock. A smile crept over her lips as her red soles clicked against the concrete. It would be interesting to see just how long it would be before Fin was itching for his fix again. Soon. . .very soon.

Dez Dickerson

I am a creature of habit. As with anything in my life I perform the role of dominant within a framework, rarely straying outside the box. She appears, I do my assessment of her, I provide what she came for, I take care of her after, I give the choice to leave on her terms. So mechanical in nature. Her and she is how it had always been, having placed that priority for as long as I could remember. A priority that was the definition of who I am, what I’d been taught and truthfully was all that I knew. Why deviate from a course that had thus far proven successful? Finley had opened my eyes. The way she picked up her things leaving silently into the night. The quiet retreat may have been her own version of creature of habit. I could only assume that being a madam she lived by the rule never get too close, this isn’t what we are about. Pleasure and pain was the name of the game, not some forced romantic illusion. Did it come as a shock upon entering my kitchen to find her name and number scribbled on the back of a receipt? Not at all. Finley Strong didn’t seem the type to go on a one time exploratory excursion to Dezville. Would I call Ms. Strong again? I had an impetus to place myself into a new frontier, no longer setting the expectation for when and how a submissive would return. A direct beeline towards a new style, which I hoped would begin to redefine me, broadening my horizons and leaving the potential to open my eyes to what could be. Isn’t that what a journey of personal growth entails? As for Finley? Yes, I would call her again. There wasn’t a need to question that.

©DB/MP 2015

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