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Saturday (continued)
Tom sat in his desk chair, lost in deep thought. A plethora of emotions streamed through his mind, each one taking hold momentarily before yielding to another, seemingly in endless succession.
He sensed relief that he had salvaged a potentially bad situation with his wife Lisa a few hours earlier. In her moment of peak arousal, he had failed to get hard – seemingly due to Lisa’s deficiencies, but actually due to the hypnotic pronouncement of their daughter’s friend Sophie:
your tiny cock is Mine
it is useless without My permission
She said it, then wrote it to him; repetition pounding the command into his brain. She referred to Herself in the upper case; capitalization emphasizing Her superiority over him.
He managed to turn the moment with Lisa to his advantage by giving her a mind-blowing orgasm, performing cunnilingus on her unexpectedly shaven pussy, more passionately than he had thought himself capable. She seemed to forget his impotence in her ecstasy. In his mind he had dodged a bullet, uncertain if his recent infidelity was somehow telegraphed through his lack of arousal.
Anxiety rotated next through his head as he thought of Sophie’s almost-otherworldly control of his erections. She was his muse, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on – and the most cunning. She played him like a fiddle, bowing and plucking, legato to spiccato, fortissimo to piano; his libido – and life – becoming a concerto of her own composition.
Her 6’5″ stature and athletic physique lit the fire of his Amazonian fetish fantasies. Her libertine sexuality and deviant genius fueled the flames. The 18-year-old’s presence seemed to take all the air from around him, leaving him in complete thrall, waiting on her every word and action.
She had burrowed deep into his psyche, somehow causing him to have his first wet dream since adolescence, then making his hand incapable of pleasuring his cock, and finally taking away his ability to have erections altogether. Her absolute hold on him seemed to know no bounds.
He recalled the timeless minutes he had spent with Her earlier that day as She arrived to pick up his daughter Lauren for the Homecoming dance. While their dates waited outside, Sophie had teased him relentlessly in her revealing burgundy dress. She had even forced him to expose his cock to Her at the risk of being caught. He recalled the floating sensation as She lifted him on her knee, then encouraged him to rub himself off on her stockinged thigh before slapping his cock into disappointed retreat. He had seemed out of control in that moment and it was in the immediate aftermath that Sophie declared his cock useless. Almost in self-flagellation, Tom lowered his hand to his crotch to confirm the absence of feeling.
Yet despite his unease, Tom also experienced inner peace, as if a great dilemma had finally been resolved. His love for Sophie had been a vine wrapping around his heart, entangling on itself, layer upon layer, until no part was left exposed for anyone besides Her. Provoked by her gibes, he had wantonly declared his love for Her in his front hallway, with Lisa just out of earshot upstairs. Minutes later, as he pleasured Lisa, Sophie’s commands had played on a loop in his brain:
love your beautiful wife
worship and obey Me
The words were distinct, yet the sentiments seemed inextricably linked. He was struck by an epiphany that his world need not be binary, that he could love both women, each in different ways. Clarity seemed to come in complementarity, with Sophie filling the gaps that had always existed; where his love for Lisa never ventured – or couldn’t. Sophie wasn’t working to destroy his marriage, rather oddly She appeared to be trying to salvage it. He could feel Sophie in his head, guiding him – driving him – as he pleasured Lisa. And to his surprise, he could sense Sophie in Lisa, in her uncharacteristic arousal and rabid aggression. Besides her shaved pubis, something was different about her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
In a darker turn, his sense of self wobbled, consumed by instability, insecurity, and iniquity. Their debut seemed recent, yet somehow he knew they had always been there, below the surface, repressed. With each touch, tease, taunt and humiliation, Sophie shook the truth loose from its psychological bonds. Every foundation of his confidence seemed to crumble into insignificance. Every touchstone of his manhood suddenly became weak and impotent. Despite growing up with religion, his steadfast morals had alchemized from a hard iron bar to a soft copper wire, spun and stretched thin to its ultimate ductility. Sophie became his morality; anything was righteous in the service of her pleasure.
In his ingrained religious guilt, he imagined himself in Dante’s Divine Comedy, climbing Mount Purgatory. The order of the terraces escaped him, but he remembered clearly the seven deadly sins. With görükle escort a deep sense of penitence, he placed his own life and failings in context.
He could see now that pride had been his original sin. He had once thought himself a brilliant and sophisticated man capable of anything. Overconfidence in himself and ignorance of his mentors led to a professional downfall he still struggled to fathom.
Sloth had taken root as his motivation and effort waned. He let his ambitions wither. He neglected his wife Lisa, replacing sex with masturbation as he sought refuge from self-pity.
Beneath his unassuming facade, he was punishing himself, withdrawing from the world, wallowing in blame. Tom’s wrath was his self-loathing, directed inward instead of toward others. He took perverse pleasure in his own indignity; and left a door wide open for humiliation by those he felt inferior to.
Then Sophie arrogantly strode through that door. With a face and a body as if custom-made for him, forged in the furnace of his fetish fantasies. She was a siren, tempting him into the abyss, baring his shame, corrupting his soul. Lust for Her had pulled him over the edge, dragging him into depravity. Yet he was helpless to fight Her. Instead, the deeper he got, the more he wanted Her.
To his shame, envy of his own daughter Lauren soon followed. Manipulated by Sophie, Tom resented his daughter’s physical strength exceeding his. He became jealous of her budding womanhood. And somehow, Sophie channeled his insecurity into more lust, torturing him with the temptation of that, the most forbidden of fruits.
Yet in taunting him with one thing, She showered him with another. The night before, Sophie served her friend Gina to Tom as an extortionate dessert. Gluttony had overtaken him as his lips and cock feasted on her sweet young mouth. His trysts with Sophie were anything but appropriate, but until last night he had not penetrated another woman since Lisa came into his life. With Gina, his infidelity became complete.
And only hours later, he consummated his seventh sin, succumbing to the temptation of greed. Not for earthly possessions, but for possession nonetheless. In proclaiming his love for Sophie, he attempted to take something unearned, undeserved, unreciprocated: Her love. And despite her rejection and castigation, he still loved Her. He would do anything to make Her love him.
Yet sin became sacrament at the altar of Sophie. The world turned on its head around Her. She built an alternate reality where only She mattered, and everything and everyone was in the service of Her.
worship and obey Me
His obsession had become a religion unto itself, his submission an act of penance for his own failings in life. Unrealized dreams, unsatisfied cravings, forgotten ambitions, suppressed passions lay like open wounds in the presence of Her Perfection. She truly seemed capable of anything; unlimited in her potential, uninhibited by convention, in complete control of her destiny. She seemed to transcend everything that limited him. Despite his advanced education and career achievements, the teenager far surpassed him in understanding the world, and how to make it bow to her will. Her superiority to him felt absolute.
you are Mine
Yet he relished in his inferiority, feeling blessed that this Goddess would deign to bestow attention upon him and claim him as Hers to own. She controlled his life. And he loved Her for it. Every encounter with Her seemed to add a new dimension to his reverence for Her, and a greater level of anticipation that even more lay beyond. His best comparison was the feeling of visiting an exotic country, with new and exciting discoveries around every corner. But in Sophie’s case, he had barely left the airport.
Finally, deep below it all, a panic was forming, consciously suppressed lest it consume him: That one day Sophie would grow bored with him and cast him aside like a chewed piece of gum. The idea that Sophie found him worth her time struck him as preposterous. Any redeeming quality he could list about himself, She had in spades — along with another ten qualities he lacked. Perhaps She enjoyed the challenge of taking control of him…? Yet it didn’t seem like a challenge. He was too easy. He had completely submitted. What more could he offer Her?
Tom’s head whirred, pin-balling between emotions, lost in thought. He might have been caught in a loop all night had his phone alarm not gone off, signaling the start of his workout routine. Sophie’s workout routine. Every evening after dinner he went to the outbuilding that served as his office and fitness room. Like clockwork, at 8:00 PM sharp he began the Peloton ride that Sophie had assigned him, on the stationary bike She had ordered for him.
He walked over to the Peloton and, to his consternation, found that he had been logged out with only two minutes to go before his ride time. He typed in the suggestive password that Sophie bursa merkez escort had provided for him:
4LilMe££e£
A red error message appeared.
Tom closed his eyes. She had made clear that he couldn’t be late for his rides. He had never been tardy before. What message was She sending him by changing his password?
it is useless without My permission
His stomach dropped. The answer was obvious.
0LilMe££e£
Zero. Little. Messes.
To his relief, the home screen popped up and he quickly opened the “Movie Buff” ride Sophie had selected for the week. Tom’s head temporarily cleared as he focused on his pedal cadence and the rhythm of the music. Eventually “You Never Can Tell” by Chuck Berry came on, an homage to the iconic dance scene from “Pulp Fiction”. Then “The Time of My Life” from “Dirty Dancing” followed by “Take My Breath Away” from “Top Gun”. The order and tunes had become more and more familiar throughout the week, evoking memories and imagery of Lauren and Sophie each time he heard them.
When the ride finished, he switched to his floor exercises which seemed incrementally easier than the day before. Upon completion, he perfunctorily stripped, showered, and weighed himself. Then he slipped on a grey New Balance t-shirt and black sweatpants, skipping underwear since he intended to sleep in the outfit. He stole a glance in the mirror and was briefly impressed by the way the shirt hung over his thinner stomach.
After updating Sophie’s tracking spreadsheet, his mind seemed to click forward from the formality of routine. His thoughts drifted back to Her. What was She doing right now? His heart ached. His cock was listless. Yet he could sense his balls still percolating, needing release. Somehow.
An idea struck him. Was She posting stories of her night on Instagram? He picked up his phone and opened the app. Sophie’s unwatched story was at the front of his feed.
The first frame was a picture of Sophie and Lauren that he had sent to Lisa. She must have sent it on. The girls and their dates on his front lawn followed. He was struck by the immense size difference as Sophie and Dirk dwarfed Lauren and Evan by at least a foot. Evan appeared to be about Tom’s height, a couple inches shorter than Lauren in her platform heels.
The story continued with a video from the limo, with Dirk, Evan and Lauren bouncing and waving their hands to a hip-hop song. The segment ended with Sophie turning the phone to her face as She sang vulgar lyrics about being a badass bitch. In the next segment, the limo had more familiar faces from the volleyball team. Sophie’s camera panned across the group, finally ending on Gina sitting next to Her. Tom’s heart briefly leapt as he recalled their encounter the night before. Somehow in his head it felt like a long time ago, but seeing her face made it fresh. He imagined the taste of her bubble gum lip gloss. The camera zoomed in on Gina’s luscious DSL’s as she blew a kiss. Was it possibly meant for him?
Abruptly, the story moved on to a wide pan of the school gym, music blaring, lights flashing as the crowd of teenagers bobbed to a dance song, egged on by a DJ. The next scene was a slow dance. Lauren and Evan swayed awkwardly in front of the camera. The obvious lack of sexuality brought Tom a sense of relief. He knew Lauren would eventually have more experience, but he wanted her innocence to last as long as possible. The camera panned to the side. Gina stood in a flowing baby blue dress and black Mary Jane shoes with tall chunky heels. She towered over a shorter boy who looked almost pre-pubescent next to her. They French kissed with her head tipped down ninety degrees and his neck bent all the way back. He stood on his tiptoes just to reach. Her hands were on his head, pulling his mouth up to hers. Her kiss looked strong, aggressive; the way Sophie kissed him. The boy humped awkwardly at Gina’s white stocking-clad knee. It was clear Sophie meant for him to see. Tom wished he could be hard as he watched.
To Tom’s disappointment, the frame ended, and the school principal stood on stage with an envelope. He announced Dirk and Sophie as Homecoming King and Queen. He could hear Sophie squeal behind the camera. The next shot was a repost from Gina’s feed of Sophie and Dirk being crowned. Tom’s heart leapt as he saw her cleavage in the burgundy dress. There was nothing She couldn’t do.
The story ended and Tom sat back. As a shy nerd, he hadn’t even gone to his Homecoming dances. Sophie was the Queen. His Queen. He looked back at his phone intent upon re-watching the story. A message had appeared. From Sophie.
S: hey
S: I need your help
Tom’s heart skipped a beat. Anything for Sophie.
T: What’s wrong?
S: Dirk and I left the dance right after we were named king and queen
S: we got to the hotel and then he totally ditched Me to party with his friends
T: I’m so sorry, Sophie.
T: bursa sınırsız escort Do you want me to call you an Uber?
S: no
Tom pondered. What was She angling at then?
S: besides you saw how I’m dressed
T: Good point.
Tom agreed out of respect. However, a part of him knew it didn’t make much sense. He had seen her body used as a weapon. She had nothing to fear from an Uber driver.
S: come to the holiday inn off the interstate and message Me when you arrive
T: OK.
Then he thought for a moment and added:
T: Is there anything else You need?
S: no
(pause)
S: just you
Electricity ran through Tom’s body as he read her words. She needed him. She had never needed him before. He only needed Her. The possibilities tantalized him. His breath quickened at the idea of being her hero, her knight in shining armor, earning her gratitude…maybe her love?
He jumped up to leave and looked down at his clothes, remembering his casual attire and lack of underwear. Sophie was dressed to the nines. His only other option was the just-worn workout clothes balled up in the laundry basket. He considered running back to the house to change, but it was after 9:30 PM and Lisa would already be in bed. He couldn’t risk waking her and having to explain his mission to “rescue” Sophie. Besides, he would probably just pick Her up and take Her home. The fashion police don’t make traffic stops, he reasoned.
Tom finished putting on socks and tennis shoes and jogged across the lawn to the driveway. There was a chill in the air, and he was only wearing a t-shirt, but he didn’t plan to leave the car. Once embarked on the 15-minute drive, he thought about what he would say when he saw Sophie. Should he just play it cool and follow her lead? Or should he proactively apologize for his earlier transgressions; rudely declaring his love for Her and trying to rub himself off on her thigh without permission? Or was apologizing taking it back? Should he explain that he could love both his wife and Her, separately and uniquely?
Tom turned into the Holiday Inn driveway and proceeded to the valet area by the entrance. He pulled out his phone and messaged Sophie.
T: I’m here in my Tesla, just outside the main entrance.
S: park and meet Me in the bar
T: I’m not really dressed appropriately.
S: it’s a fucking holiday inn bar
S: and what part of do everything I say don’t you understand?
T: Sorry. I’ll be right in.
Obediently, Tom parked in the closest spot in the nearly empty parking lot. He jogged to the entrance, scolding himself for making bad assumptions and questioning Her. She never told him to pick Her up, just to come to Her.
He pushed through a set of revolving doors and found the entrance to the bar off the lobby. It was a typical hotel watering hole, dimly lit with a couple televisions flashing Sportscenter and CNBC. He was familiar with the suburban hotel from attending a few business meetings there. It focused almost exclusively on business travelers and was virtually abandoned on weekends. The bar seemed eerily quiet. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust after the brightness of the lobby.
As the room came into focus he saw Her, half-seated, leaning on a stool at the bar, facing him. Two impossibly long, stocking-clad legs extended down in front of Her, slightly bent at the knee. She wore her Homecoming crown. His Queen.
Tom unconsciously stopped in his tracks. He could feel his heartbeat quickening. A bead of sweat appeared on his brow and began to gradually meander down his temple.
Slowly and simultaneously, her arms raised straight toward him and her knees moved apart. Little by little her legs spread, and Tom stopped breathing, remembering that She wore no panties underneath her dress. Just when he thought her great mystery would be revealed, the wispy pleats of her skirt dropped between her thighs, forming a protective veil. He raised his eyes and saw her arms, now perpendicular to her body, palms open, beckoning him. Her lips parted and her tongue protruded slightly, as if tasting the air. They locked eyes.
Tom’s feet began to pace slowly, deliberately, with a will of their own. It felt like he was floating to Her, his Goddess. Within a few feet of Her, the air seemed to change, like it was charged with static electricity. He was suddenly awash in a cloud of her perfume. His progress slowed and his hips brushed her extended thighs. Abruptly, her arms closed around him, pulling him in tight. Like a rabbit in a trap.
His face mashed into the top of her cleavage and his crotch met hers. His heartbeat slowed and his body relaxed. He was in his special place, his sanctum. He longed to be hard, her opening just beyond the wispy fabric. But by her will, he felt nothing.
His senses instead concentrated where his nerve endings remained active. Her skin felt like silk on his face; his nose and tastebuds were overwhelmed by her perfume. Despite being tight up against her body, he felt the urge to be closer to Her. He raised his arms and wrapped them around her torso, squeezing his body into Her as hard as he could. The only emotion he felt was pure love.
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