I press my body to his and he kisses me. Hard. He backs
me up against a wal and pins both my arms above my
head with only one of his hands. When the other slides up
my thigh, beneath my skirt, and finds me wet and ready, he
smiles again.
Before I know it he's turned me. Pushed me. The bed's
soft and my cheek presses onto the pilow. My ass feels
cool in the breeze made when he flips up my skirt. His
hand cups each cheek, maybe measuring, maybe just
caressing. I don't know. I don't care. I push myself into his
touch.
He blindfolds me. Darkness weighs my eyelids and I close
them beneath the cloth. He ties my hands; excitement
surges in every breath from my throat, past my lips. My
tongue darts out and I taste sweat.
It's not that I can't move if I realy want to. It's that I'm
bound to his whim, that I'd have to fight and struggle
against him if I want to get free. And I can, he hasn't tied
me so tightly I can't.
I just don't want to.
His cock is long and thick. It fils me, al the way. I'm
stretched from the inside.
I don't have to do a thing. He takes control, he sets the
pace, and it's perfect. I don't have to direct him. He just
knows. Every thrust presses something sweet until I cry
out.
I ride the waves of pleasure. I lose myself in it. Up and
over, writhing on his dick as he slaps my ass once, twice.
It doesn't hurt bad enough to keep me from coming al
over his prick and al over my hand.
It wasn't a unique fantasy, as far as fantasies went. What
made it different from others I'd had was the man in it
wasn't an actor or an anonymous quiltwork of features. It
was Mr. Mystery, of course, and though my own hand
had done the work, it had been his face that set me off.
had done the work, it had been his face that set me off.
And with that in my head, I went to sleep.
Chapter 10
The next morning I woke with a craving for oatmeal.
The power of suggestion, I told myself as I mixed water
into the contents of the packet I found shoved way back in
my cupboard, formerly ignored in favor of diet soda and
junk food. That was al. But when the maple-syrupy
goodness hit my tongue, I knew that wasn't al it was.
It had been a simple command. Eat oatmeal for breakfast.
Sweeten it however you like. Straightforward and
