collar business man; he is a lawyer. From the moment I laid eyes on him in his office, I knew there was something very different about him. He looks like the typical, harmless executive, but the intensity which brews beneath his surface is something that cannot be hidden. Starting with our very first meeting, he commanded my submission, as he still does to this day.
I remember looking into the chocolate brown eyes peering over his glasses at me and being unable to hold his gaze. That same magnetism grips me today as powerfully as it did that first day in his office. His voice pulls me from my daydream as he stares down at me and speaks. Though his tone is low, it holds the power to intimidate me nonetheless.
“Even when you kneel before me, you are so full of passion.”
He leans down, taking my chin in his fingers and rubbing one finger beneath my jaw line as he speaks to me, “So very spirited. Yes, little one… many Doms do not wish to have a spirited sub such as you.”
He squeezes and the twinge of pain causes me to whimper.
“But then there are those Doms who crave a sub exactly like you. A passionate sub takes the mundane out of life. She adds zest and fire to the monotony of everyday living. You vacillate from passion to fear as if you are as wild as a mustang. What is it that you fear, little one? You fear connection, you fear separation. Such a contradiction of terms you are, my little slave.”
I listen intently as my Master speaks; he knows his slave very well and all he is saying is truth.
My mind ponders the thought that Master is the only man I have not subconsciously run off due to my inability to bond. I have a very hard time maintaining any kind of relationship with the opposite sex, with anyone really. I simply don’t connect with people on any level. Men either love me or they hate me, and there is no middle ground with them. My Type A personality is a force to be reckoned with.
Master is right; I truly am a contradiction in terms…
Kansas
I eye the story in front of me, thinking about what I have just written. Unknowingly I have done exactly what Trent mandated; I have inserted a piece of me in the essence of the story line. All of those therapy sessions that never accomplished anything and here is Trent, achieving what a licensed psychiatrist couldn’t. I was learning more about myself through writing than I had ever learned in therapy.
As dominant as Trent is, he isn’t threatened by my success. He is actually pushing me towards accomplishing something good with my talent. It dawns on me that I would love to write full time. How is it that this man can see things in me that I am not aware of? I can’t help but wonder if it is going to be hard to go back to my mundane life of paperwork after this month with Trent is up. I also can’t help but wonder if he is going to let me go…
Executioner
My cock hardens as I watch her bite her bottom lip while she types. I forbid her to wear clothes and I wonder if her pussy gets wet when she writes those nasty little bedtime stories. It isn’t only the aspect of the sex in her stories that excites me, it’s her obedience. I get off on making her obey me, I get off on taking her whenever I feel like it, and I feel like it right now.
I stand, pushing the chair out of my way with so much aggression that it rolls from the plastic sheeting it sits on to protect the carpet.
My strides are long and they hold purpose as I make my way down the hall and into her room. She looks up at me, sees me entering this early in the day, and the fear in her eyes feeds the predator in me.
I stalk across the room and grab her by the throat, growling like some primitive Neanderthal.
“Get your fucking ass laid across that desk.”
She’s trembling as she moves things over like she is scared I am going to clear the desk with just a swipe of my hand. I kick her legs apart with my boot and bend down to look at her pussy. It’s
I remember looking into the chocolate brown eyes peering over his glasses at me and being unable to hold his gaze. That same magnetism grips me today as powerfully as it did that first day in his office. His voice pulls me from my daydream as he stares down at me and speaks. Though his tone is low, it holds the power to intimidate me nonetheless.
“Even when you kneel before me, you are so full of passion.”
He leans down, taking my chin in his fingers and rubbing one finger beneath my jaw line as he speaks to me, “So very spirited. Yes, little one… many Doms do not wish to have a spirited sub such as you.”
He squeezes and the twinge of pain causes me to whimper.
“But then there are those Doms who crave a sub exactly like you. A passionate sub takes the mundane out of life. She adds zest and fire to the monotony of everyday living. You vacillate from passion to fear as if you are as wild as a mustang. What is it that you fear, little one? You fear connection, you fear separation. Such a contradiction of terms you are, my little slave.”
I listen intently as my Master speaks; he knows his slave very well and all he is saying is truth.
My mind ponders the thought that Master is the only man I have not subconsciously run off due to my inability to bond. I have a very hard time maintaining any kind of relationship with the opposite sex, with anyone really. I simply don’t connect with people on any level. Men either love me or they hate me, and there is no middle ground with them. My Type A personality is a force to be reckoned with.
Master is right; I truly am a contradiction in terms…
Kansas
I eye the story in front of me, thinking about what I have just written. Unknowingly I have done exactly what Trent mandated; I have inserted a piece of me in the essence of the story line. All of those therapy sessions that never accomplished anything and here is Trent, achieving what a licensed psychiatrist couldn’t. I was learning more about myself through writing than I had ever learned in therapy.
As dominant as Trent is, he isn’t threatened by my success. He is actually pushing me towards accomplishing something good with my talent. It dawns on me that I would love to write full time. How is it that this man can see things in me that I am not aware of? I can’t help but wonder if it is going to be hard to go back to my mundane life of paperwork after this month with Trent is up. I also can’t help but wonder if he is going to let me go…
Executioner
My cock hardens as I watch her bite her bottom lip while she types. I forbid her to wear clothes and I wonder if her pussy gets wet when she writes those nasty little bedtime stories. It isn’t only the aspect of the sex in her stories that excites me, it’s her obedience. I get off on making her obey me, I get off on taking her whenever I feel like it, and I feel like it right now.
I stand, pushing the chair out of my way with so much aggression that it rolls from the plastic sheeting it sits on to protect the carpet.
My strides are long and they hold purpose as I make my way down the hall and into her room. She looks up at me, sees me entering this early in the day, and the fear in her eyes feeds the predator in me.
I stalk across the room and grab her by the throat, growling like some primitive Neanderthal.
“Get your fucking ass laid across that desk.”
She’s trembling as she moves things over like she is scared I am going to clear the desk with just a swipe of my hand. I kick her legs apart with my boot and bend down to look at her pussy. It’s
Similar Books
Bastion Science Fiction Magazine - Issue 4, July 2014
Alex Hernandez George S. Walker Eleanor R. Wood Robert Quinlivan Peter Medeiros Hannah Goodwin R. Leigh Hennig
