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Lesley Douglass

Journey to a Prologue – Part II

December 11, 2017 By Lesley Douglass 1 Comment

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READ PART I OF THIS STORY FIRST – CLICK HERE

“I prefer only ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers, and as you will soon learn, ‘no’ is not my favorite.” She released his head and took a step back. “However, to give a partial answer to your initial, if unspoken question, you came here willingly.” She laughed. “No, it was more like eagerly. You were fairly drooling after we finally met in person at Tony’s Bar. Remember?” He nodded. “Good boy. I like it when you answer me, and as you will also learn, pleasing me is now your only mission in life, your very reason for living, in fact.” She smiled again.

They always are, she thought. The legs get them every time.

Noting the look of understanding on his face, she chuckled. “You were so enthralled that you couldn’t give me my fee quick enough and didn’t notice when I slipped a light Mickey into your martini.”

Shaking her head, she looked down at him, thinking how towering and powerful she must appear from his low, upside-down perspective. Turning to a small table located near his inverted form, she methodically took a cigarette out of the silver case that lay there. She placed it in a silver holder and lit it, using the built-in lighter of the case, all the time aware in her side vision that his eyes never left her as she moved. She now sensed desire as well as fear in them, an intuition confirmed by a glance at the area where his thighs met. His shaft was firm, and he was obviously aroused. Amused and intrigued by his response, she smoked and gazed again into his eyes as he leaned his head forward to see her better. There was a strong sexual tension still present between them, despite his current, painful predicament. This was unusual, as most of her former playmates (she refused to think of them as victims) were older and weaker. By this point in the game, when they realized they were totally at her not-so-tender mercy, sex was the last thing on their minds.

It is like playing a game, she thought, similar to chess…

Returning to the moment, she addressed him again. “But you are a lively, virile one, my boy, and now truly mine.” She took another puff on her cigarette and, seeking to fuel the tension, stepped close to him again, allowing the strong fragrance of her perfume mixed with smoke to waft over him while brushing against his naked skin with her skirt and blouse.

This certainly worked well enough last night, she thought, placing her free hand on his sensitive inner thigh. And sex adds a new flavor to the usual mix of pain and fear.

“Delicious,” she said, finishing her thought aloud. “Anyway,” she continued, “to keep the story short, we looked exactly as I wanted us to appear: a drunk John leaving a bar with a high-end hooker. On the ride over here, you assured me that just like in our online chats, you wanted to be my plaything and I should be forceful with you. I promised that I would. When we arrived, I made us a couple of martinis, yours spiked again, of course. We sat on my couch and engaged in what you thought was foreplay, which included my slipping on the very cuffs you wear now. Before you passed out, the drug made you very compliant and amorous, as you’re feeling right now. You do remember, don’t you? It was our tender moment.” She said this last gently, continuing to rest her hand on his thigh. His head moved uncertainly in a half shake, indicating that his memory was still cloudy.

“I’ll take that as a no. You must recall what I said about that answer?” Her voice, while still soft, was mocking in tone. Abruptly, she stubbed the cigarette out on one of his thighs, his body jerking spasmodically in response to the pain. “Maybe that will jog your memory.”

She turned and walked slowly over to the wall, where a variety of whips, chains, and other pain-inflicting instruments hung to the left of the entrance. In the corner stood a tripod. It held a large metal heating bowl that was plugged into the wall. Several long-handled implements, including tongs, branding irons, and pokers, were arranged, each with an end in the bowl and their handles protruding over the edge. She touched a button on the wall next to the apparatus, then reached for her remote control and switched on the sound system. With the volume barely audible, the soft piano tones of a gentle Strauss waltz would soothe him and energize her for their coming dance.

“Let’s get these warming up,” she commented. “We will need them later, but now you need warming up, my boy.” She removed a riding crop from a hook on the wall and walked over to him, heels clicking in the silence of the room. She touched his chest lightly with the crop and then ran her other hand over his firm abdomen, finally resting it on his chest, feeling his heart pound.

“You’re young with a strong heart and lusty body, my boy. Perhaps your spirit is as strong as your body, and you will endure what’s ahead bravely. If so, I will be pleased. If not, well…”

“But I have faith in you.” She paused momentarily, considering her next statement. “You wanted to be my plaything—now you are, just as I promised you last night. And I do like to keep my promises.”

She stroked his buttocks gently with her left hand, occasionally touching them lightly with the crop.

“I like to build on this slowly, gradually increasing your tolerance for pain. Patience is important, and unlike some other occasions, today we have all the time we need. There’s no need for me to hurry.” She chuckled softly, deliberately allowing her costume and body to brush against him again. “Let’s cherish our time together. I sense that a part of you is still enjoying my attentions. I know I am.”

She paused in her stroking, leaning the crop against his shoulder and gripping one of his powerful thighs with both hands. She gently licked the blood off his thigh, going as high as she could reach, being careful not to touch any of it with her hair. Then she did the same with the other thigh, this time resting a hand on the area between his legs. A soft moan came from the man, a moan of pleasure.

“Mmmm. That was good, and you liked it too. But the salt made me thirsty.” She picked up her crop, stepped to the small table, and placed it next to her cigarette case. “Don’t go away.” Flashing a wicked smile, she turned, walked to the door, and let herself through.

Pausing briefly in front of the mirror, she went into the kitchen area and prepared a mixer of martinis. In minutes the mixer and a full martini glass were resting on the small table. She lit another cigarette and smoked while sipping her drink. The man’s eyes followed her every move as she left and returned. He looked longingly at the martini.

“Sorry, my boy, no martini for you. We wouldn’t want your senses dulled, don’t you agree?” He nodded. “Good answer, boy.”

Sipping her martini and smoking, she regarded him approvingly. “Last night you said you had followed my pre-meeting instructions exactly. Was that true?” He nodded. “You completely voided and flushed yourself before our meeting and drank nothing except the several martinis with me for twelve hours.” Then with a stern gaze she added, “The truth, boy.” He nodded vigorously, obviously trying to convey honest conviction.

“I believe you.” She looked at her almost finished cigarette and then at him. After a short pause, smiling, she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, downed her martini, picked up the crop, and returned to where she stood before taking a break.

Stroking him as before, her hands now wandered down his back, sides, and abdomen. Occasional taps with the crop, a little sharper, but still not painful, accompanied her hand. His body jerked involuntarily after the first few taps, but soon accommodated them without further reaction. When she worked on his front side, she deliberately pulled against him, letting her hair fall into the V formed by his thighs. It brushed everything there. His breathing increased, and evidence of renewed sexual tension showed between his legs.

“Excellent, my boy. You’re responding beautifully.” Her voice was soft and soothing again. “We are going on a long journey together, one I have taken many times, but is new to you. I will show you things about yourself you never really knew.” She paused for a moment to let the idea jell in his mind.

“I usually don’t talk this much to my playmates, but you are somehow special to me, and I think you deserve special treatment. Does that please you, to know you are special?”

She looked down on his upturned face from between his legs and saw him nod. Sensing gratitude in his expression brought a kindly smile from her.

“Maybe it was your earnestness when we met. Looking back, I don’t think I even needed the drug to make you compliant. You wanted me so much, just as you do now.” Continuing her gentle stroking, she noted his increasingly virile response. “I know your ankles must ache, but that is all part of our journey. I promise not to damage you.”

Allowing several minutes to pass, she heard a muffled sob come from the man as he struggled in vain to talk.

“What? Are you begging for mercy, or possibly a release of your passion?” Laughing, she continued to stroke him, moving the ministrations of her hand and crop to his tender inner thighs, touching his now engorged shaft ever so lightly. Speaking softly and soothingly, she added: “It’s too soon for that, my boy, much too soon for either. Maybe later.” With her words, she was sowing the seed of a dream that there might still be pleasure in his future. She looked down at his upturned head again. “It’s my decision when and how things happen here. You understand that, don’t you?”

He nodded in understanding.

“Good boy. You’ll be a good, obedient boy, won’t you?”

He nodded again.

“As I was saying, our journey together will be long, and there is much for you to learn. Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin, and eventually they will merge and be one and the same to you. They aren’t now, but changing your habits of thought and sensation are part of our journey. You must trust me to be your guide. I know you don’t understand all I’ve said. It’s too much to absorb at once, but do you trust me?” She gazed directly into his eyes as he nodded. The fear was replaced with trust and a glimmer of the same affection she had seen in them the night before. Continuing to hold his eyes with hers, she gently stroked his thigh.

“You must know one more thing, my boy: everything that happens here is done out of love. Keep that in your mind when you have doubts, or when your spirit flags during our journey together. I will help you. Eventually you will come to love me for leading you along this new path, and you’ll welcome my return when I leave to rest and allow you respite. Do you believe me?”

He nodded, but she sensed a question in his eyes.

“How long?” She guessed her implication that events would be more protracted than one session begged that question. He nodded again, affirming her guess.

“Each man’s journey is different. Yours will take as long as it takes. I’ll know when we are finished. You trust me, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“Now be a brave, strong boy, and let’s begin.”

She said all of this, knowing full well that little pleasure or mercy would be forthcoming, only an occasional pause or intimate interlude to rekindle hope, his hope that she might eventually be satisfied and free him.

As long as there is hope in his heart, she thought, philosophically pondering the moment, he will endure, and this young, strong one may survive many days before hope departs.

Savoring this pleasant thought, she delivered the first stinging blow with her crop.

By: Lesley Douglas

Lesley loves to write erotic fiction. She believes there’s more to it than hot sex (though she certainly knows how to pen that very critical aspect). Her work encompasses complex plots, depth, and character development. She likes to play with elements of suspense, psychology, and the darker side of BDSM.

The Visitor is Lesley’s first venture into erotic fiction and Requiem Expiated her second. Since meeting with some financial success as a full-time mystery writer, Ms. Douglass no longer practices her original profession, accounting. She has several more stories under development, one of which will be released in 2018: IV57384. She loves to hear from readers and bloggers. Visit her website and blog for the latest in her new releases and for contact info.

http://lesleydouglassauth.wixsite.com/literotica

Tagged With: erotica

Prologue to a Journey – Part I

December 4, 2017 By Lesley Douglass Leave a Comment

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The image in the full-length mirror was that of a svelte woman with shoulder-length, dark-blond hair that covered her ears and surrounded a tan face of smooth Nordic features. She had a strong chin, full lips glistening with silver gloss, a straight, well-proportioned nose, and high cheekbones. Striking blue eyes with a slightly greenish tint gazed back at the woman in the reflected image. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she touched one of her perfect eyebrows with a pencil. Satisfied, she smiled, revealing perfect teeth.

“Just right,” she said. Her soft but husky voice carried the trace of an accent of someone who originally spoke an Eastern European language. “I look exactly as I did last night.” She quickly surveyed the rest of the image, seeing a slim body with the long arms and fingers of a pianist. Her nails were long and white. Two silver chains hung around her neck: one suspended a small Christian cross while the other held two shiny cylindrical keys. A black bra enclosed her small breasts, the garment visible through a sheer black long-sleeved blouse that let her golden tan skin shine through and covered her body from her shoulders down to her flat and firm midriff. Her slim hips were hugged by a silver satin lamé skirt that stopped at mid-thigh. Sheathed by sheer stockings, her perfectly sculpted legs ended in an exquisite pair of bright red Louboutin Pigalle pumps. The dagger-like stiletto heels elevated her stature to well over two meters. She turned to the side and gave a toss of her long blonde tresses as her slender, delicate fingers smoothed the silver lamé over her perfectly rounded bottom.

Tall, sleek, and sexy, she thought.

“Let’s go in and see if our boy is awake yet,” she said to the image. Stepping away from the mirror, a quick glance around the room revealed a modest, well-lit, uncluttered living area. Seeing nothing out of place and no evidence of the previous night, she strode to a closed door on the other side of the room. Next to the door was a keypad on which her nimble fingers quickly entered a ten-character code. The door slid open, and she stepped through the entrance into a darker room. The door closed silently behind her when she touched an identical keypad on the inside. The hard shoe soles and metal taps of her heels struck the smooth stone floor, echoing through the stillness with each step as she approached a man located in the center of the square space.

“Oh good, I see you have awakened from your beauty sleep.” Her voice, while firm, conveyed a gentle tone.

The man nodded uncertainly, obviously confused. She sensed fear in his eyes, and she smiled with the same self-assured, satisfied smile that had shone in the mirror. Her tongue darted slowly back and forth across her soft lips as she savored the sight.

“You remember who I am, don’t you? Mistress Diana, like Diana the Huntress.”

He nodded in recognition.

She gestured around the high-ceilinged, unfinished stone-walled room with her hand as she spoke. He nodded again as she regarded the man before her. What she saw was a well-muscled, trim, thirtyish man who, judging by his toned physique, must have lived in Mars’ weak gravity less than a year. He was suspended by ankles that were each tightly gripped in wide, thick, heavy steel cuffs. They in turn were secured to short steel chains which stretched to the ends of a steel bar that hung from the ceiling on a two-pulley rope hoist that ran on a track the length of the ceiling, allowing it to be positioned anywhere along the center of the room. The free end of the hoist rope was tied to a large eyebolt mounted in the roughhewn stone wall behind him. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down each of his widely spread legs below the cuffs. His wrists were similarly secured by cuffs and chains fastened to two eyebolts mounted in the rock floor. A steel bar similar to the one holding his ankles was also attached to the wrist cuffs. The steel fixtures were all plated with polished chrome and, like her skirt, shined in the dim, indirect lighting of the room. A heavy rubber gag held his mouth partially open, but rendered him speechless. His eyes were now wide awake and alert, fixed on her. Satisfied that he could be safely kept like that indefinitely, she relaxed, relishing the situation.

If he lasts long enough, his world will turn right side up. Then I could reverse his position and confuse him again. The thought amused her.

Bending over, with her left hand she held his head, which hung about knee-high above the floor, up to face her gaze directly. “You are probably also wondering about the gag. It isn’t because I’m concerned about noise, I’m not. If you recall anything of our last meeting, I live a couple of hours away from Thoropolis, and my apartment is located in an abandoned mine shaft. I have no neighbors and no uninvited visitors.” She smiled again. “It’s just the two of us here, nice and cozy. But I don’t like two-way conversations with my playmates. We did enough of that last night.”

As he looked into her amused, glittering eyes, she sensed his fear and uncertainty turning into terror.

TO BE CONTINUED… READ PART II HERE

By Lesley Douglas

Lesley loves to write erotic fiction. She believes there’s more to it than hot sex (though she certainly knows how to pen that very critical aspect). Her work encompasses complex plots, depth, and character development. She likes to play with elements of suspense, psychology, and the darker side of BDSM.

The Visitor is Lesley’s first venture into erotic fiction and Requiem Expiated her second. Since meeting with some financial success as a full-time mystery writer, Ms. Douglass no longer practices her original profession, accounting. She has several more stories under development, one of which will be released in 2018: IV57384. She loves to hear from readers and bloggers. Visit her website and blog for the latest in her new releases and for contact info.

http://lesleydouglassauth.wixsite.com/literotica

Tagged With: erotica, short story

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