incredible amount of
gentleness.
“How
fitting a man like you owns the Gates of Hell. I saw all your gear and toys.
Looks like you bought one of everything.”
Compton ’s penis actually looked rather nice adorned with
the metal rings and leather. X appreciated the juxtaposition of different
mediums, of leather and steel, of flesh and metal.
She decided
to unlock the head cage and release him. As soon as he was free from it, he
looked down at his penis and its rings that encircled it.
“Kiss my
boots and thank me for putting that onto your pathetic penis,” X said.
Compton dropped onto his knees and started giving little
kisses to each of her boots.
“Thank you, Domina , for this wonderful adornment.”
She allowed
him to continue his kisses for a few more moments before taking a few steps
back and out of the cage.
“May I
speak, X?”
“What do
you have to say?”
Compton averted his eyes to the floor as he asked, “Is
there anywhere else you would like to be kissed?”
The woman,
sublime, entered the cage and bent over next to him, picking up the nipple
clamp and releasing his cuffs before tossing these into her bag.
“Go over
there and stand with your nose against the wall,” she commanded, and he obeyed.
She went
over to him. As she stood directly behind him she whispered, “There is
something that you need to understand, Worm. I’m not a whore. I might never
fuck you. If you want somebody to fuck you or you want to eat some pussy, I’m
sure there are plenty of women just waiting to throw themselves at a wealthy
man. I am your Domina , not your lover.”
“Forgive
me,” he said.
“I didn’t
tell you to speak!”
“May I
speak, X?”
“What is it
now?”
“Please
allow me to masturbate,” he said.
X laughed.
“Why should I? Do it after I leave.”
“I’ll pay
you. A tribute for the goddess.”
“You are
already paying me to be here,” X said.
“I’ll give
you more.”
“To
whack-off?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A thousand
dollars.”
X stepped
away from him and considered, remembering the image of the money on her kitchen
counter.
“Make it
five.”
“Of course,”
he said. “Please allow me to go behind the bar.”
“Fine. Do
it.”
Compton left her, naked as he was, and went behind the bar
where he kneeled down, opening a safe, she supposed, and then he returned with
fifty $100 bills in a simple white business envelope which he handed to her. X
pulled out the bills and counted them as he watched before placing them back
into the envelope, licking it, sealing it, and burying it deep within her bag
of gear.
“Get onto
your knees and I will sit here and watch as you do so.”
X sat onto
the simple wooden chair where Compton had been sitting when
she arrived. Compton spit into his hand and
started to rub his penis, moving his hand repeatedly over the metal rings that
encased it.
He looked
over at her briefly, and she scolded him, “Do not look at me, do not think of
me,” and as soon as the words had been spoken, Compton moaned and came onto the
floor in front of him, the genetic material of one of the wealthiest men in the
world dropping onto the radiant-heated wood floor below, splattering to the
ground like Onan’s seed in Genesis.
“Get onto
your hands and knees,” X said, and he obeyed. “Do not move until I am gone.”
She put on
her coat and picked up her bag, then went to the intercom and said into it, “I
am ready to go to the car,” and soon after, X was gone.
5.
For the three weeks since X had seen Compton , it had become her habit to go to her studio in
the afternoons. The only relief she could find was at the small studio space
that sat above a gallery owned and run her friend Anne, a space which she
shared with another artist, a German sculptor who had been out of the country
for the last several months. It was an open space with lots of light and wide
plank floors, a space conducive to creative energy.
X threw
gentleness.
“How
fitting a man like you owns the Gates of Hell. I saw all your gear and toys.
Looks like you bought one of everything.”
Compton ’s penis actually looked rather nice adorned with
the metal rings and leather. X appreciated the juxtaposition of different
mediums, of leather and steel, of flesh and metal.
She decided
to unlock the head cage and release him. As soon as he was free from it, he
looked down at his penis and its rings that encircled it.
“Kiss my
boots and thank me for putting that onto your pathetic penis,” X said.
Compton dropped onto his knees and started giving little
kisses to each of her boots.
“Thank you, Domina , for this wonderful adornment.”
She allowed
him to continue his kisses for a few more moments before taking a few steps
back and out of the cage.
“May I
speak, X?”
“What do
you have to say?”
Compton averted his eyes to the floor as he asked, “Is
there anywhere else you would like to be kissed?”
The woman,
sublime, entered the cage and bent over next to him, picking up the nipple
clamp and releasing his cuffs before tossing these into her bag.
“Go over
there and stand with your nose against the wall,” she commanded, and he obeyed.
She went
over to him. As she stood directly behind him she whispered, “There is
something that you need to understand, Worm. I’m not a whore. I might never
fuck you. If you want somebody to fuck you or you want to eat some pussy, I’m
sure there are plenty of women just waiting to throw themselves at a wealthy
man. I am your Domina , not your lover.”
“Forgive
me,” he said.
“I didn’t
tell you to speak!”
“May I
speak, X?”
“What is it
now?”
“Please
allow me to masturbate,” he said.
X laughed.
“Why should I? Do it after I leave.”
“I’ll pay
you. A tribute for the goddess.”
“You are
already paying me to be here,” X said.
“I’ll give
you more.”
“To
whack-off?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A thousand
dollars.”
X stepped
away from him and considered, remembering the image of the money on her kitchen
counter.
“Make it
five.”
“Of course,”
he said. “Please allow me to go behind the bar.”
“Fine. Do
it.”
Compton left her, naked as he was, and went behind the bar
where he kneeled down, opening a safe, she supposed, and then he returned with
fifty $100 bills in a simple white business envelope which he handed to her. X
pulled out the bills and counted them as he watched before placing them back
into the envelope, licking it, sealing it, and burying it deep within her bag
of gear.
“Get onto
your knees and I will sit here and watch as you do so.”
X sat onto
the simple wooden chair where Compton had been sitting when
she arrived. Compton spit into his hand and
started to rub his penis, moving his hand repeatedly over the metal rings that
encased it.
He looked
over at her briefly, and she scolded him, “Do not look at me, do not think of
me,” and as soon as the words had been spoken, Compton moaned and came onto the
floor in front of him, the genetic material of one of the wealthiest men in the
world dropping onto the radiant-heated wood floor below, splattering to the
ground like Onan’s seed in Genesis.
“Get onto
your hands and knees,” X said, and he obeyed. “Do not move until I am gone.”
She put on
her coat and picked up her bag, then went to the intercom and said into it, “I
am ready to go to the car,” and soon after, X was gone.
5.
For the three weeks since X had seen Compton , it had become her habit to go to her studio in
the afternoons. The only relief she could find was at the small studio space
that sat above a gallery owned and run her friend Anne, a space which she
shared with another artist, a German sculptor who had been out of the country
for the last several months. It was an open space with lots of light and wide
plank floors, a space conducive to creative energy.
X threw
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