You know, there’s a lot of wannabes mixed in with the genuine articles. You have to separate the wheat from the chaff. How do you do that? The same way they’ve separated the wheat from the chaff for hundreds of years: a good thrashing.
Great, now I’ve spent 20 minutes learning the history of combines on Wikipedia. 
Here, I’ll light a couple more candles. No, not the scented ones. Smell that? That’s just for you. I can’t stand the damn things but it’s there for you. Now, let’s see about untying some of this. I’ll undo your wrists first so you can shake them out.
Put your hands on top of your head. Thank you.
Ah, that’s got to feel better. I left a lot of slack but I can see where it’s left marks on your skin. I could massage them out but I want them to linger as a sign of how much we mean to each other.
Ok, that’s the last of that. lie down on the bed while I put these toys away.
Mmm, mmm, mmm. A naked girl in my bed is always such a beautiful sight. How lucky am I that you move with such fluid, feminine grace and sophistication. ‘Refinement’ and ‘finesse’ are words that come to mind. ‘Sensuality’ is in there, too. Scoot over and rest your head on my shoulder. Aaah.
You remember that time when I met you at the restaurant and told you to show up first? Did you know I was watching from near the kitchen? Well, my point is that ensemble combined with that confidence you projected made you… …radiant? deadly? All I know is I saw half a dozen heads turn to watch you slink across the room like some jungle cat. I felt ten feet tall when I joined you at the table, knowing how jealous the girls were of you and how envious the men were of me.
Now listen to me, I’m going to say something important and I don’t want you to forget. I want you to remember that feeling you had then of being cherished, worshipped, owned, worthy, sophisticated, and gorgeous. I give you full permission to feel that any time you can and to seek it out. However, I deny you permission to be the opposite: doubting, meek, small, unworthy, all all the rest of that noise. I forbid it. If you feel it coming on, you remember what I told you here and if you still can’t help it, reach out to me.
OooOoOooh, baby… I love the way you rub my back. Don’t stop… *sigh* have I told you lately how special you are to me? If you keep this up I’m going to lose voluntary muscle control and start drooling on the futon. Hm? A napkin! Haha… very thoughtful. …are you trying to butter me up for something? No? Hm… Well, you do that so good I can’t help but feel like I owe you something. -! Did I do something good and I’m too thick to have figured it out on my own? You know what, I’m just going to enjoy and sing songs of praise for you and those nimble little fingers. OooOoOoohhhyyyeeeaaaaahhh….
*SLAM*
Get over here!
Faster! HERE. Closer.
Now, take a good close look. What’s missing from this picture?
See it? No? Wrong answer! Take off your shirt. Look, right HERE, between my eyebrows. What do you see? Nothing? Oh, so you’ve gone blind, have you? Take off those pants and try again. What do you see? Skin?! Wrong again! Take off the panties. You’re running out of clothes, you better hope you don’t run out before you learn to pay attention. Now LOOK. What do you see that is not normally there? “Um Ahh Erm” is not an answer. Lose the socks and the bra. It’s not like there’s even a unibrow there. Here, I’ll give you a hint if you get down on your hands and knees. Now look. See? See? Head down, ass up.
*SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*
Now while I rub your freshly spanked ass I want you to think about what I did with my face. What did I do? That’s right, I relaxed my brow and then I furrowed it. You finally got an answer right. For that you get a finger right…. here. You like that?
*SMACK SMACK SMACK*
It’s a rhetorical fucking question. I know you like it: you’re getting my hand covered in girl juice.
… *exasperated sigh*
*SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*
Are you thinking it over? Have you figured it out? No, I guess my fingers in your puss are too distracting, hm? I guess I need to teach your ass a lesson in how
*SMACK* to
*SMACK* focus
*SMACK* as
*SMACK* well
*SMACK*.
It’s my sense of peace and tranquility. It’s missing. It was there when I left for work this morning and now it’s gone.
… Squirm all you want, you’re not going to escape this finger.
…
Aren’t you going to ask why it’s gone? Do you really want to know? Really? Then go bring me the spreader bar and two of those 30 foot pieces of rope. Good, now attach it around your ankles. Lie down over here on your stomach and raise your feet. Play with your tits while I tie each of these around your ankles.
… Good, now up and over and back through to make a rope pulley… and here we go!
“What’s going on?” What a question. Didn’t we just talk about paying attention to detail? What’s it look like is going on? I’m hoisting you upside down on my chin up bar, that’s what’s going on. Then I’m going to tie a chest harness and I’m going to raise you up and then I’m going to swing you back and forth by the tits while I use all your holes. Hmm? Of course I can – if you’d noticed that I was *angry* when I came in you’d still have your clothes on instead of being bound and suspended like the dripping wet little fucktoy you really are. Of course you are! You could have used your safeword at any time. You’re my personal slut and now you’re going to help me deal with what’s been bugging me all afternoon. Namely – zzzzip – this big, hard, angry looking thing.
Now, take a good close look. What’s missing from this picture?
My new belt doubles as an arm binder. Now I have a restraint ready in case of emergency.
PS: Bebel Gilberto was great. Pity the sound system wasn’t as good as with Pink Martini.
Amazing stuff. That’s the kind of music you only glimspe in movies that have a rave scene. Unfortunately I had to leave during the encore, I started seeing far too many drunk couples getting friendly and it always depresses me when I am not enamoured with someone.
Sophie Milman and Chris Botti at the jazz festival. 3rd row center.
Missed the show because I thought it was tomorrow night.
Hate myself so much right now I can’t even sleep. …and to top off my evening it looks like my powerbook is dying – it keeps going to sleep while I’m typing things.
Darling,
You said you wished you could feel my control all 24/7, instead of just during the waking hours. This is my attempt to remedy the problem. In this bag you will find 35′ of rope and a velvet lined leather collar with padlock. There should be enough to secure yourself at night and still get to the bathroom without needing to wake me. Please have bed secured to rope secured to collar by the time I get home. We’ll attach you in the evenings from on.
Thinking of you,
D
Pet,
You have done such a great job of grooming my whiskers and encouraging me to continue my extra exercises that I feel great about myself and I owe it to you. So tonight I plan to reward you. Put on your most elegant choker (the one with the silver chain you dangle down your sleeve so that I can hold your hand and your leash at the same time), the black skirt, and the camisole that matches your eyes, the white lace chemise and the shawl. We are going down to a store I scouted out that makes gorgeous corsets. You deserve the best on your skin to compliment your form. Next, I’ve booked two tickets on a dinner cruise. We’ll watch the sun set and get tipsy while you show off your fabulous new clothes. Last but not least, an evening’s limosine ride around the city. All this because I don’t tell you often enough what a good pet you are and how proud you make me. Be ready to go at 16:00, not a moment later.
Sincerely,
D
At the time I was 21 and she was 24. I’m sorry to say that I was always terrible with names back then, and have lost touch with her. She has become a nameless fantasy girl from my memory.
We were sitting in a dark club north of Tel-Aviv, my back to the wall. (I hate to sit any other way.) She was sitting to one side, and I lifted the calf of her leg nearest me and rested it across my knees. To anyone else in the club it looked like we were sitting and talking. To us… well, I spent an hour slowly rubbing her thigh, nudging her skirt up at the back as she slouched lower and lower, raising the back of her skirt… languidley running the outer edge of my index up and down her panty covered slit while she used both hand to keep the front hem decent… telling her about how, behind the club, there was a narrow walkway over a two story drop to a parking garage facing some apartments… saying how I was going to take her out there when I had had enough to drink, bend her over that unfinished concrete railing, and in full view of anyone that might be looking out their window at 2 am was going to take off my belt and… Later, when her panties were soaked and I couldn’t wait any longer, I took her there and made good on my promise. She held hands behind her back, gripping her elbows as my belt made a quick two-column tie. Bent over, legs spread, I stood behind her, pressing against her nearly bare bottom, letting her feel my excitement between her ass cheeks. As I untied her hair I pushed against her a little so that she could feel the concrete through her dress against her breasts. I traced my hands up the outside of her thighs once, twice, and then on the third I grabbed the hem of her skirt and slowly lifted it up and over her ass. I knelt and placed both palms flat against the backs of her thighs, my breath cool on her bare skin in the hot night air.
“Don’t move.”
I hooked the first digit of each finger under the edge of her knickers and traced the edge, first at the waist around to her belly, then from her hip bones around to the damp patch in the center, slowly pulling it back to let the breeze in. She shifted her weight as if to bring her legs together for me to remove the impediment.
*SMACK*
It wasn’t hard, it wasn’t planned, but it got her attention. “I said: Don’t. move.” I’d never smacked a girl before. The realization of the awesome power I had over this girl had me so very very hard, tempered only by the knowledge that I had to be responsible or I wouldn’t get another shot at this in future. I took a moment to compose myself and then tried to pick up where I left off.
Utility knives are wonderful things. A careful snip on each side and the useless cloth went into my pocket. Now my hands were free to roam over every inch of uninterrupted, exposed skin. I wish I could have seen her face when she felt the cold metal on her behind. I made do by running my hands from her ass down to her ankles, outside, then in. I circled each ankle with my hands. I could just imagine what was going through her mind, and voiced her thoughts. “What if I picked you up and tossed you over the edge? What if someone comes around the corner? What if I told you someone was watching from across the street?” Aha, that last made her head jerk up and twitch from side to side. Just what I’d wanted.
*SMACK*SMACK*SMACK* Fuck that was hot. She yelped but tried to keep it quiet. “Clearly you have a problem following simple instructions.” I stood up and took a large handful of her hair. pulling up and back, forcing her to arch and press into me, I lowered first one dress strap, then the other, then reached around to pull down her top. Then I lowered her back onto the railing.
“Are you going to move again?”
“No, Sir.”
“Hmm.. I like that. ‘Sir’. I like that a lot. Now, where was I? Oh yes.” I untied her arms, then pulled them back so her wrists were touching and retied them. Then stood back and told her I was undoing my shirt. Untucking it. I didn’t need to explain the sound of my zipper. She made a small whimper. I’ll spare you the… ins and outs we’re all familiar with. By the end the only thing keeping her from falling over the edge was my weight against her thighs, a hand on her shoulder, and the other wrapped in her hair. Had anyone at their car bothered to look up they would have see a pair of bronzed Bs, a slender neck leading up to a face dewey with the heat and slack from orgasm, panting heavily. I dropped my forhead between her shoulderblades and tasted her sweat, cupped her breasts, and luxuriated in the feel of her hands on my abs, pressed against the small of her back.
I only saw her once more, some weeks later. We had vanilla sex. It was only the second time I’d ever slept with a girl and I was terrible. The condom broke. I was so nervous about consequences that later I said things I probably shouldn’t have, or that came out wrong. I never saw her again. For all I know there’s a little Israeli version of me running around out there somewhere.
I left out a lot of the boring bits before hand, the opportunities I missed, the opportunities I turned down (what was I thinking? Oh, right, that I have standards) and the opportunities that were right in front of me and I told myself I shouldn’t (Why? because I was stupid, that’s why). I also didn’t mention how short the actual sex was because we were both so randy at that point it really didn’t matter.
