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I can feel her. Her presence is defining. I have pull to it, the kind of gut feeling when something just doesn’t sit right with you, except I want this pull. It feels right. An unhealthy obsession I have to her.
Warm breath washes on the back of my neck as small fingers weave their way through my shirt.
“Do you want me to stop?” A husky voice penetrates my ears. The voice sends chills down my spine it’s effeminate and burly at the same time. My breath catches in my throat as my lips part. My heart thuds. I shake my head left in a subtle way signifying that in no uncertain terms should she stop.
The fingers now touching my bare skin stop the soothing motion, and grip themselves in my flesh causing slight pain.
“Speak” It’s the same voice, that same voice from before, except it’s become hard. A soft cold whisper.
I swallow and lick my lips. “No.”
The fingers grip tighter. I gasp in shock.
“Good. It’s not a difficult game.” The voice says back to its normal smoky tone. “These are the rules. Rule one: You will do as I say when I say for the next 5 hours. If at all should you feel uncomfortable you will tell me with a soft word. Now pick one.” It’s a solid command.
I rack my brain for a soft word. “Best.”
I feel a small smile form on her lips against my neck. “Best. Good. Now I need you choose a hard word.”
I shift my foot from my left foot to my right and exhale a shallow breath thinking about it. I bite my bottom lip picking the skin in between my front teeth. I change my view from the carpet to the nearest window in time to see a bright red car sports car pass by.
“Mercedes. Now I’m going to explain the difference once do you understand?”
“You are to only use the soft safe word when you feel uncomfortable with any of the following ministrations I am doing. The soft safe word is just a formality in the new relationship. Once boundaries are set and understood, this word is not going to stop me. The hard safe word is only to be used when the feeling of ministrations are too much for you to handle at said time, this includes pain and pleasure.” She whispers in a firm business tone.
She stops talking for a while letting her fingers learn the path of my stomach. The breath on the back is gone, replaced by a warm tongue flicking its way across my pulse, teeth nipping on veins. Lips press against my ear lobe. Words flitting through.
“Let the games begin.”
I wasn’t always submissive, in fact I don’t think I ever was but, now as I get older I have the need for someone güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri else to be in control of what I do, how I do it, why, when and where. It’s not like a master and sub type submissiveness. I just need guidance. I can pick out what I want to where and what I eat, I just need someone in my personal life who tells me I don’t want you to go out or, you shouldn’t have worn that. I want to have the normal adulthood features with someone willing and waiting to punish me when I screw it up like a child.
I’m Loyal. Yes that is my name Loyal Breese. No, I am not a porn star nor do I aspire to be one. I’m an accountant at a local firm. I stand at about 5’3 with short reddish black hair. I have a Mahogany skin color with auburn eyes framed by a round face. I’m average in weight, average in life. I’m told that lips are my best feature. I’m known for splitting hairs in an argument. My mom once told me I choose the wrong career field and that I could make a killing at being a lawyer. I fight about being right when no one said I was wrong. I’m not shy, at all. I’m outspoken, I’ve been called rude, but I call it being blunt and, I love my whirlwind best friend Kayen Hale. So imagine my surprise when I have the need to be dominated, or controlled. I could blame on that stupid erotica book trilogy that I read, because everyone said it was so good, but I would be lying — and honesty is always the best policy. Oh, and I’m a lesbian. Ha ha. Let’s not forget small details.
So let’s be honest. We all dreamed about this BDSM thing. Whether you just want to be spanked a little while doing the nasty, or you want to do it full blow chains and whips, you thought about it. The thing is when I think about it I don’t just imagine a fleeting experience. I imagine a relationship that evolves beyond the flogging and canes, and when I imagine that I get the sensation deep in the pit of my stomach like when you relive a sexual encounter in your head. Then, all I want to do is imagine it all over again just for that feeling.
“You do realize I could have your parent backing on getting you institutionalized, Right?” That would be my best friend Kayen. Smug bitch. Who asked her anyway?
“I’m still sitting right here, I can hear you inner thoughts” She’s making those ridiculous air quotes by the way.
“You cannot have me institutionalized. Why? Because if you told my parents about this, there would be no way to find your body after I’m done with you. Not even Cal Lightman would be able to tell if I’m lying or not. You will die. Besides it’s not like I want to wear a Chain and Collar. I just want a little control. I want someone else to take over for a while you know?”
“No, I don’t güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri know! I’m normal. I like penis, ones that are attached to actual males, and I wish he would tell me I couldn’t go out. He’d never want to see a girl in heels again.”
“Oh. Aren’t you just a riot? You big ball of sunshine! Penis is penis, attached to a male or female. Some females have penises and where born with them. I just happen to like penises that are made in china in vibrant colors like “lick me twinkle” and –“
“Oh, eww stop talking.” Kayen says while she sticking her perfectly manicured fingers in her ears and singing Adele at the top of her lungs. Come on now, how old are we? Despite my inner matureness I can’t help but laugh at her off key and lyrically incorrect interpretation of the song. And when I say laugh I mean ball. Worst. Singing. EVER!
Though she is my best Friend Kayen Hale and I couldn’t be more opposite even if we tried. She stands at about 5’7 with no shoes on. She has skin the color of dark caramel and chinky eyes that, when she squints you can’t tell if she is actually squinting or if she has her eyes closed. Her hair is the same color as mine the reddish black cause we got it done at the same time but, her hair reaches her shoulders when straight. She is a dress wearing, heel loving diva. I, on the other hand only wear dresses where it is strictly stated I do so. How we became friends, the world will never know, but hey here we are.
Weaning of my laughing spell I forgot to check the caller Id to my ringing smartphone. Dumb. But the voice that came through was enough to make me wish I had, and make me stop laughing. Noa.
Everyone knew Noa Best She was about 5’5 with melted chocolate skin. She had hard brown eyes -and raven black hair that reached the middle of her shoulder blades when straight. She had a commanding presence about her. You wanted to pay attention to her. Wanted her to notice you or, at least I did. She was what some would consider butch or a stud. She wore men’s clothing that flattered her in a small way. She wore diamond studs in ears at all times and always had girls falling to her feet.
To me she was the girl I went to school with but never knew. Literally, I went to school with her for years and never recognized her until graduation. We sat in the same row. Not a lot of B’s in our school. 98 Williams and 126 Jacksons though. I counted. Graduation was the most boring day of high school history. Noa and I work at the same company. She’s my boss. How this happened I don’t know. She’s younger. So what magic powers did she possess? (Her uncle owns it, the company that is). So I being who I am, an Administrative Assistant to her, güvenilir bahis şirketleri am on call for her day I don’t even know my measurements. Ugh. Caller Id.
“Now that you have replaced your caller id, can we move past who am to what I want?”
“Well, what do you want Ms. Best?”
“Sir. What do you want sir?” She preferred I call her sir. Why? She said that Ms. Best just didn’t fit her. Nutsy Crazy if you ask me, but I call her sir. If you didn’t know that Noa was gay well then you were blind. And I for one wasn’t blind.
“I want to know why you haven’t called to check in.” she stated matter of fact, like it was normal for me to check in on my day off.
“Because today. The day on your calendar marked in pretty teals’ and blacks’ my favorite colors by the way, signify that I don’t have to call, fax, email, text, respond, fix coffee for , pick up lunch for, address you. I am off. Sir. And, I’ve never checked in with you before, why start pointless habits now?”
A deep chuckle meddled with my ears. A sound that had my lions clenching in anticipation of what was to be said, just to see if it made me as wet as the laugh. Okay to say I had a crush on my boss would be the worst cliché thing I could spew. So I won’t say it was a crush, it was a fantasy. I had a fantasy on my boss. I wanted her to be the one to give me my guidance. I wanted her to be the one to tie me to her wooden headboard with rope and whip me until my ass was the color of Mario’s hat. It was her I wanted to tell me to stay home or be punished. It was her. I wanted that guidance counselor. I needed her.
“Be careful for what you wish Ms. Breese, you just may receive.”
OH SHIT! I didn’t say that out loud. I know I didn’t. I couldn’t have. I’ve had this fantasy in my head for years. Why now? Don’t speak. Shh, maybe she is just being intuitive. Intuitive my ass. I’m arguing with myself, I look crazy.
“You looked like that before you started doing that.” That’s not my voice. Kayen.
“Shut Up! Why didn’t you tell me I was talking out loud?” I’m pacing back in forth of the teal couch in my living room decorated with black throws. It’s my favorite piece of furniture. I love it.
“I thought you were doing the whole creative process.” She says waving her hands doing those mentally ill air quotes again.
I hear someone call my name in a distant. I look out the window, and step out on the porch. I hear the voice again. I step back in the house.
“Do you hear that Kay?”
She’s giving me this really retorted face. Like ‘Bitch, if you weren’t my best friend, I would choke you and bury you 12 feet under.’ “It’s your phone. Your boss. You counselor.” Air quotes.
“Oh, FUCK! Hello sir?? Sorry.”
“Be here in 25 minutes Loyal. Don’t be late. I don’t like tardiness and I punish. Is that understood?”
In a barely audible whisper I reply with a meek yes sir and she disconnects the call.
What did I get myself into? And do I really want it?
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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