I have two cell phones. One has a number I freely give out to family, friends, business associates and one that is used just for a side business. No one in my family except my brother knows about that number. Now that my parents are gone and my wife is an ex-wife my brother is my family. It rings about three times a month and when it rings I know I'm about to enjoy my work.
I look at the dashboard clock as I pull up the driveway. It reads half past eight. She must be nervous as hell, at this point. I'm never late. It was the unexpectedly dense traffic that caused me to arrive half an hour after the appointed time but as I consider it, it's not so bad to keep her waiting in anticipation, once in a while. She's used to me being punctual and this must really freak her out.
She was lying on her side between us, her face nuzzled into my lover’s breast as she sucked gently on the nipple. Her hair was somewhat damp, and all down her back and arse where markings from where she had been tied, gently whipped and spanked. I think she had enjoyed herself. She certainly seemed to have been depleted of sexual energy, as all she seemed to have the ability to do now was to nurse gently at my lover’s nipple.
Money had been tight for some time now and at 35 Jamie felt helpless in fending off the bill collectors calling each day. Her husband Tom had lost a good job some time back and was now skimming along on a mediocre wage with a smaller company.
It's always like this. He's gone for a few days or a week. When he comes back, he's so needy he can hardly wait. His cock leaps free of the encumbrances as soon as the zipper is down and the cloth parted. Hard and forceful, pushing out of the cotton embrace, pressing for her.
Cat squirmed on the hard wooden chair and watched the seconds tick by on the clock. 4:55 on Friday afternoon. Five minutes until doomsday. She worried at an almost non-existent hangnail, nibbling it smooth. Was she a glutton for punishment? Had a death wish, perhaps? She smiled ruefully to herself. Why, oh why, was it so hard to get kicked out of school?
I had been in your service for only a few months when you decided you wanted a permanent marking of some kind to denote me as yours when I was in the company of others. You considered your decision completely knowing full well the decision you made would effect me forever. That is the beauty of a master/slave relationship. It is more than a possession.
My life is very simple. Clients want someone dead, they pay me, I make the person dead. I would like to tell you I have a code of honor. I would like to tell you I don't kill women or children, but I am not a liar. I have killed women and would have no moral problem with killing a child. The subject has never come up.
I took a seat at the back of the classroom, hoping that she wouldn’t notice my presence amongst her regular classmates. While far from full, there were many students already there and I was glad that I was in time to choose the seat I wanted. I had worn a cap with the school logo on it, and I figured that with any amount of luck even if she did see me, she’d take me for one of the students that she didn’t don’t know very well.
Yesterday. Oh for the Gods yesterday. The drive down there was so intense once again. My foot sensing my desire and anticipation easing its way towards the floor again and again. My mind struggling with these same desires forcing my foot to lift time and time again. Control is all at these times, and yet it is so hard to get a hold of when it is pure anticipation.