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“Not often.”
He’s likely right. But I do love. I loved Anna, and always gave her what she needed. She knew that I could do no more.
***
Delia’s heard about the divorce and my prurient lifestyle and can’t wait to wiggle into my affections. I send her my charm every opportunity I can, and then intersperse it with a chill that keeps her perpetually guessing. She won’t understand where I’m coming from, her delicate brain is easy to toy with, and so I do. Even Anna was never this naïve. I can imagine having Delia in chains and leather within weeks—but it will take months to cultivate what I really want. It wouldn’t be worth it if it took less time. She wouldn’t be dampening her panties at the thought of me. Or going home to masturbate thinking of being under my rule. Or absently scratching our names together as though I’ll make her the next Mrs. Keller. One wife is quite enough for me.
Delia’s femininity is quite different from my wife’s. Where Anna is slender, this one’s voluptuously robust. Her features are less demure, her attitude exuberant and infectious. Her chest is full enough to bury a face, and her thighs ripple beneath the short skirts she wears. Her long hair is quite unruly, a mass of dark curls. And her black eyes would seem to bore into a night like candles in the darkness. But then, I’ve never seen her at night—or how the attitudes and costumes of my nighttime activities would wear on her. I imagine quite well given her fondness for clothes of cryptic colors. Every day she wears her cashmere purple sheath, and I watch how the tight knit clings to the curve of her hip, I think of how that hip will take a whip cutting its side, or coiling around that hip, slicing into the tenderness along her lower abdomen. Or, when I see the two spheres that define her ass into such succulent melons, I envision the way they’ll be swathed with crimson, burning richly with such intensity she’ll have to fight me, regardless of the fact that she won’t win any war we wage. I’ve found myself too many times eyeing Delia’s body parts, noting the tiny protrusions of her nipples, the allure of her eyes, and the elemental parts of her lower body that speak to me every time I pass her at work. She’s waiting for me to crack her ass with the palm of my hand, but she will wait some time for that to happen.
Once the eye contact screams for something to happen, then I’ll make my move. Until then, I’m content to let the little bitch stew.
***
Needing to let off steam, I spend some time at Tethers. The joint’s too damned smoky, but the promises are good for some reasonable sexual diversion.
I can tell what’s going to happen the minute I step in the door and the little seductress, Leah, is climbing on my side, her wet naked cunt pressed to the leg of my blue jeans. She wears too much eye makeup on her pretty face, but makes up for it with her open smile, all colored in red. She wears her bleached hair short, in silver/white spikes. Other than her overly painted eyes, there’s little else but a harness of straps, a fat black collar with silver rings and ankle boots with rings to tether her. She’s a walking advertisement for this establishment, and I’ve always liked the look.
“Heard you kicked Anna out?” she says with a fake pout like she’s always the last to know.
“Heard the whole story?” I ask her.
“No, none of it. Bernard won’t breathe a word.”
“Good man.”
“So, was it messy?”
“No. I don’t let things get messy. It’s simply over.”
“My, you’re short on details? I’m disappointed.”
“You won’t be after I flog your ass. It’s been some time.” I look down at her bright limpid eyes, the brown a lovely chestnut hue. She’s tight to my side, the little thing, not so little. She may only be a small five feet three, but she packs power in her velvety form. She’s not as voluptuous as Delia, but she certainly has assets any man would treasure. What’s better yet is that I have no vested interest in her, nor she in me.
It’s so hot in the smoggy lounge that we move directly into the cavern. Leah’s eyes light when we reach the circular rack.
“Has your pussy been beaten lately?” I wonder aloud as I think of her legs splayed for me, blood pouring to her head as she’s bound for me upside down.
She smiles, while I feel her firm body wilt on my arm.
“My ass always loves you, Heinrich.”
“But it’s your pussy tonight or nothing at all. I’m feeling especially mean.”
She stares into my eyes for some seconds as though she’s deciding if I really mean what I say. She wonders if she will change my mind. As many times as we’ve played together, she should know better than to question me. I dispassionately watch her decide. There’s always a sub on the floor, or in the cavern, that likes it rough. Leah knows this too, knows what she’ll give up being coy, cute and manipulating. I extricate myself from her warm grasp and move on, only to have her catch up with me seconds later. “May I reconsider?”
“You can decide to be a bitch or be submissive, but the decision better be now.”
She looks meek, and I grab a naked breast.
“Yes, sir,” she submits so willingly I wonder what made her balk to begin with. “On the floor, sir?”
“No, on the rack. And don’t say another word. Better yet, I think I’ll gag you.”
“Is that safe?” she asks.
“Hasn’t it always been before?”
“But you’re breathing fire, sir, and I wonder…”
