and all for a peanut butter sandwich.

      I'm broke again.  Unfortunately, I realized this a little too late this time, and now find myself selling possessions, and looking for dirt cheap rooms to rent, including storage spaces.  My friends no longer let me stay on their couches.

  

      The rentals I'm eyeing are short term; they tend to be the least expensive.  Which means, the rest of tenants are there short term as well, meaning anything from students, to recent immigrants or exchanges, to people that have serious trouble with money and holding down living accommodations, due to a variety of reasons, including drugs, alcohol, or mental disorders.  Unfortunately, these rooms are also slightly out of my financial reach.

      Which is why I'm looking at this room today.  I know it's going to be bad, at $300 a room, furnished, cash only, and immediate occupancy, but it's the only thing I've come across that's actually in my price range.  I called the landlord, and he hurriedly said that I need to come right now to see it, and that he'll be waiting for me. So, I leave immediately, practically running there. 

      On the outside, it doesn't look too bad, and even as he takes me through the main floor, towards the stairs, I find myself pleasantly surprised.  Apparently those were his quarters, because upstairs is a different story.  The grungy bathroom and kitchenette, I'm told, are shared with three guys, all foreign, and here temporarily.  There are yellowing, handwritten signs posted everywhere, aggressively telling the tenants everything from shutting the fridge door properly, to not touching the thermostat, to cleaning up after yourself.  Foil covers much of the walls in the grimy kitchen, the rest by peeling paint, and I spy both mouse, and cockroach traps.  He continues upstairs.  Four bedrooms, all with heavy locks on each.  He unlocks one, and we step inside the tiny space.  It's a mess of garbage, dirty laundry, and rotting food.  I think I see a cup full of urine.  The landlord says the last tenant left in a hurry, and bends to pick up some of the clothing and toss it in the corner.  
     "I'll clean this up a bit before you come," he says offhandedly.  No window, a thin mattress on the floor for a bed, and the ceiling cuts at sharp angle.  I sigh, depressed just looking at it.  But, despite obvious reservations, I am forced to say that I'll take it.  We exchange funds, and he tells me to come back in a couple minutes, while he puts the room together.  It's already dark outside, so I sit on the sidewalk curb with a cigarette, relieved that I've finally found a place. 

      That night, I meet one of the other tenants in the kitchen.  He has a large build, and is quite tall.  Fair hair with a slightly hooked nose, perhaps Polish or Danish.  Starving, and now completely drained of cash, I ask him if he has anything to eat.  He thinks about it, then smirks, and throws me the peanut butter sandwich he just made himself.  I devour it, with him watching me the whole time. "Thank you.  I get paid tomorrow," I lie. 
      "Uh huh," he replies, walking out of the room.

      

      Late at night, there's a knock at my bedroom door.  Foolishly, I open it.  What good's a lock, if all they have to do is knock?  It's him; Polish or whatever, large, and intimidating.  In the dark, he backs me into my room, until my heels hit the bed, and I fall into a sitting position.  He looks down at me, saying nothing.  I'm frozen with fear, wondering exactly how much trouble I'm in.  He reaches down and cradles my face in his hand.  I look up at him, trying to read his face, but seeing only the outline.  Then, he slowly unzips his fly, and pulls out his cock.  I don't move a muscle.  His hand again touches my face, squeezing my cheeks, so that my mouth opens.  I look up at him while he does it, and I think I can faintly see him smirk again.  He quickly puts his cock inside my mouth, like he's trying to hide it from someone.  It almost gags me, touching the back of my throat, but he holds my head there.  He begins to slowly thrust into my mouth, his head tilting back in response.  He reaches through the neck of my shirt, and fondles my breasts with his other hand.  The room is silent, other than the creaking of the floorboards as he shifts his weight back and forward, and the wet sound of me sucking his cock.  I hear him grunt, almost under his breath, while continuing to fuck my mouth.  He wants to speed up, but I reach to take it out for a moment, only to breathe.  I'm not going to stop him; I'm willing to do what I have to do.  Nonetheless, he takes his large hand out of my shirt, and after several attempts, and slapping sounds in the otherwise silent room, manages to grab both of my wrists in his one mighty grip.  
      He tries to pull down my pants, but I firmly say, "Just blowjobs."  I'm not about to let this guy get me pregnant, no matter how much he protects me while I stay here, or what food, or other perks he gives me.  He stands up straight for a moment, still holding my hands in his, perhaps mulling it over.  Then, I feel his hand on the back of my head again, pulling me close to him, his cock reentering my mouth, and moving in slow, long thrusts now.  His hand grips my hair, moving my head over his cock, suddenly speeding up like before, my hands instinctively trying to reach up again, but him pressing them into my lap with all his weight.  Going faster now, I close my eyes, and wait for it.  The huge, hot burst hits me, and I almost gag swallowing it all.  When I have, I look up at him again.  Any parting words?  He silently stares down at me for a moment.  I can hear his breathing return to normal.  He zips up, and watches me all he way out of the room.

      I light a cigarette.  I hope he has something better tomorrow than peanut butter sandwiches. 

the diary of a dominatrix.

      I going to make my next client crawl in.

      He's been obstinate, and needs to be broken down.  I've also asked that he remove all his clothes outside, in the lobby, before coming in.  Both punishments for not doing what he's told.  Last week, he wouldn't heed my commands.  Every time I told him to do something, he protested, rather than uttering the desired response, "Yes, mistress."   It was his first time with a domme, so I understand his ignorance.  Today, I will teach him what it means to submit.  

      I hear a knock, and if it's possible for a knock to sounds disobedient, then it does.  I open the door, to see him, nude, covering his crotch with his hands.  My secretary is seated at her desk behind him, smiling.  I give her a nod, tell him to step inside, and shut the door behind him.  "On your hands and knees," I command.  

      "Can we just ..."  

      "The proper response is, 'yes, mistress'.  You will not say anything during our session, except these words, and only when prompted.  Do you understand?"  He rolls his eyes, but nods.  "I want to hear it."

      With reluctance, he answers, "yes, mistress."

      "Good.  If you behave, you will be rewarded.  If you do not, you will be punished.  Understand?"

      "Yes, mistress."

      "Get on your hands and knees."  He does so.  I leave to get his collar, and he starts to follow me.  I abruptly turn.  "Did I say to follow?"

      "No, mistress."

      "Turn around."  He turns in a circle, so that he is now facing the door.  I smack him hard across his backside, to which he cries out; more from surprise than anything, I'm sure.  "Now, stay."  I get his collar, and affix it to his neck.  I attach the leash.  "Now, crawl."  He crawls towards me, as I guide him with the leash.  We enter the playroom, which is probably unlike any playroom most people have seen.  There are various platforms with the appropriate belts and fastenings, hooks and attachments hang from the ceiling and walls, and a large bookshelf displaying a variety of sex toys, most large and intimidating.  "Stay.  Sit."  He sits like a dog, on his haunches.  "Put your hands behind your back, and keep them there, understand?"

      "Yes, mistress."  I bend over in front of hin.  "Lick my pussy from behind."  He leans forward, his tongue slithering between my lips, until I feel a hand on my ass.  I was counting on this.  This position is quite difficult without the use of your hands.  I turn around.  "What did I just say?"  His face reddens.  "Not to use my hands, mistress," he says through his teeth.

      "Get up on the platform."  He reluctantly does, but sits on the edge.  That's not what I want.  "Stay on your hands and knees.  Face away from me."  He resents it, but does what I say.  

      "Yes, mistress."  I smack him hard on the ass, and he grunts.  Then, I rub it lightly with my hand.    

      "Poor baby.  Do you want me to be nicer?"  

      "Yes, mistress."  I touch his ass lightly, lightly brushing the back of his thighs, I let my hand drift slightly between the cheeks.  The men that come and see me, both love and hate this position.  It's a secret love, that they're not supposed to feel; and they hate themselves for it.  I can his boner starting to develop.  I smack him again, across the ass, and he yelps.  I rub the red area.  Hit him again.  He cries out.  I retrieve an ice cube from my water glass, and let it melt over the cheeks of his ass.  "Is that better?"

      "Yes, mistress."

      "Stand up."  I lead him over to the wall by his leash, and restrain his hands so that they are pulled out to each side.  His cock is standing straight out at me.  He looks embarrassed by it, and avoids eye contact with me.  I lick his nipples, another gesture most men are afraid to have done to them.  I move from one to the other, pinching the other harshly with my other hand.  His cock strains, bouncing up and down in the air in front of me.  I take my time walking over to the bookshelf, and choose a ball gag for his mouth.  I put it on him, he momentarily submits while I do it.  I stand back and behold him; naked, bound, and gagged.  "This pleases me," I say, choosing a small riding crop from the array of toys.  

      "Do you know what would please me more?"  I whip him.  He grunts, then shakes his head.  I lick the red spot, which is just below his hip.  "If you behaved for your mistress."  I whip him again.  He makes a guttural sound from his throat.  I kiss the sore area again, this time near his left nipple.  "Do you want to behave for me?"  I whip him; he nods, desperately.  I take his face in my hand.  "I would love it if you would be good for me," I say, sensually.  I lick the mark just near his cock, on his leg.  "Do you want to please your mistress?"  More nodding.  I smile, removing the gag.  

      "Yes, mistress!" 

      "You'll be good?"  I say sweetly, unlocking the restraints.

      "Yes, mistress!"  He is able to drop his arms, and he rubs his wrists.
      "Get on the platform.  Lay on your back.  You're going to make your mistress come."  

      I restrain him, and ride him, until I do.  Then I get off, before he does.

    

discovering anal pleasure.

      "Today, we're going to penetrate your ass," Ted announces, as I enter the bedroom for my session. 

      He sees the pained look on my face.  I've tried anal sex twice before; on both instances the guy did it on impulse, without consulting me, and though I went along with it at the time, it was uncomfortable, and I felt violated and untrusting afterwards.  Being a sex therapist, this is the kind of thing Ted helps me work through.  His goal is to prepare me to have pleasurable, meaningful sexual relationships in the future. But, how we got from simple body awareness exercises, to this; I can't tell you. 

      "I know you've had some bad experiences in the past," he continues, "but, we've identified that your ass is a real source of physical pleasure for you.  And, that it's the mental and emotional walls we need to break down.  So, let's get started." 

      I take off my clothes as slowly as possible, procrastinating the inevitable.  "As usual," he goes on, while removing his own clothing, "I won't do anything without asking you.  And the moment anything isn't pleasurable, tell me. Don't tolerate anything. Ok?"
      "Ok," I sigh, lying on the bed, as he's told me to do in previous sessions.  I don't know if I'm ready for this.  And as if reading my mind, he continues.
     "I know you may not feel ready for this, but the point is to push your boundaries.  How would you like me to start today?" 
     "I don't know," I confess, overwhelmed.  He smiles, recognizing it. 
     "How about here?" He kisses my breasts, moving up to my neck, over to my shoulders, where he raises my arms submissively above my head, and kisses the underside of them. 
     "That's nice," I say, beginning to relax.  He goes back to my breasts, where he tongues the nipples until they're hard.  His hands graze my torso, and back up to my arms, where he encourages them to relax in the position above my head.  This is to give him full access to my body.  He lightly touches my breasts, brushes me all over with his hands; this is residual from earlier lessons in which he would do this, read my body language as to where I enjoyed being touched, and then asked if I would like him to linger there for awhile. More, less? Faster, slower? With my tongue, finger, or cock? If I seemed to be enjoying it but wouldn't answer verbally, he would tease the area until I was practically begging him for more.  

      He kisses down my stomach, and I let my legs fall to the side, as he kisses my clit.  His hands lightly brush over my thighs, the back of my knees, the cheeks of my ass.  From doing this, he started touching my asshole, a few weeks ago.  He would take the moisture from my pussy, and lightly brush the outside of it with his finger.  He would also wander down to lick it, which I very much enjoyed, especially if he played with my clit while doing so, but I've been afraid to give the go ahead to go further.

      When he sees me spread my legs and relax, I feel him rubbing the outside of my asshole again.  I immediately tense up.  "Now, just relax. I'm not going to go inside until you tell me to. Relax it for me, and I promise I won't go inside yet. Ok?"  I relax my ass, letting his wet finger play with it's soft opening.  "That's nice, see? That's much better."  He licks my pussy, to help my relax further.  He teases my asshole with his wet finger, this time letting the tip of it tease the opening until I'm bearing down, straining for more.  "See? You're already opening it for me. You want it inside, don't you?  Just a bit?"
      "Yes," I admit. 
      "Play with your clit while I do it.  I want to look at your beautiful asshole."  This gives me the confidence to let him continue.  "Let's see your pretty asshole open up for the tip of my finger.  Can you do that for me?" 
      "Ohhh. Yes."  I feel myself wide open for him, wanting it very badly. 
      "Let's see. Oh, it's so nice and open. I can move the tip in and out of it so easily."  He does so, licking my asshole as he does it.  He grabs the cheeks and spreads them, exposing it even more.  "Oh, it's so pretty. I want to see my whole finger in it. Can you do that for me? You want it, don't you? I can tell."   I nod.  He spread my cheeks again, and I let my asshole relax, feeling it stretch a bit as he pulls them apart.  "Oh, that's gorgeous. Look at that asshole," he says.  "Get on your knees. I want you to really lean back towards me, and show it to me."  I do as he asks.  My pussy is fiercely wet, as I stoke it.  I can feel it dripping on the bed beneath me.  I love the way he is worshipping my ass.  It makes it all feel so sexy.  He plays with it for awhile, as before, in this new position.
      "You like being on your knees don't you? You're opening up so nicely for me like this."  He moves the tip of his finger in and out like before, while I hold in open, but he goes a little deeper each time.  "You're doing so well. Hold it open for me while I do this, ok?  Push towards me."  
      "Ohh, yes," as I do as he says.  I almost reach out to his finger, pulling it inside. It slides in easily. It feels long and thin inside me, going quite deep.  I'm not crazy about the feeling, and I retract a bit.
       "Do you prefer that, or this?"  This time, I don't know what it is, but it feels nice and full in my ass.  It doesn't go very far in. "Thin, or thick?"
       "Thick," I reply.  He lubes me up, puts it back in.  It's a short, thick plug, and he massages the outside of my asshole as he works it in. 
       "That's it. You're really opening up for me. Do you like to stretch it for me?"
       "God, yes."
       "Do you want to open up a little more? I think you can ..."  He squeezes something else in there, perhaps a finger.  I love the full feeling. I love that he's trying to cram more in there. I love that my ass feels like it's stretching.  My pussy is dripping as I play with it, and I feel the urge to come.
        "Yes! Just like that!" 
        "I'm going to put the tip of my cock in, ok? Just the tip. It's going to feel a little bigger than this. But I need you to stretch your ass for me, ok? Do you think you can do it?"
        "Oh God, yes!" I feel his cock fumbling around my ass, as I strain towards him.  The tip is rubbing against me, sliding around, just like when his finger was teasing the opening.  It's driving me wild. I want it so badly.  He then pushes the tip against it, like he's trying to get inside. 
        "Just open up for me. You want the tip of my cock to stretch your ass open? Do you?"
        "Yes!" He pops it in, and when I trust that he isn't going any further, I really relax, open it up, bear down. The urge to come again. "Oh God, oh God!"  I explode.  He waits for me to finish, then takes out his cock, and lays beside me.  

      "Oh wow..." I breathe. 
     "See? Nothing to be afraid of," he says with a smile. "Next time, we'll get the whole thing inside."

a love letter.

      I miss you. 

      I miss you so terribly that my body aches.  My skin is crawling, it yearns so badly for your touch.  My breasts alert, waiting; my neck, exposed, and anticipating.  My heart is full, growing more and more swollen with every laborious beat.  My pussy is wet and wanting.  The cool breeze coming through my bedroom window is nearly orgasmic for me. I would give anything to have you here. 

      I lay on my bed, with my laptop on my chest, searching for an appropriate porn to watch.  Nothing seems to fit, because it's love I'm after, it's your love I miss, your love I'm craving.  I want to see love.  I settle for a porn in which the guy kisses the girl on the head each time they change position.  It's a small, heartwarming gesture that they perhaps are entirely unaware of, but suggests that there's some sort of relationship there, besides two people being paid to fuck on camera.  It says, love you sweetheart.  Or, good job baby.  Maybe she's having a bad day, and he's consoling with, it's almost over. It's just a peck on the side of her head, near her temple, but it feels like the language of love, even if it's between two friends, or two coworkers. 

      I don't get off while watching it, but it inspires my own fantasy in which you and I star.  It's the middle of the night, and I am fast asleep, here in my bed.  I wake with the sound of the door opening, and footsteps coming toward me.  "Baby?"  I say with sleep in my voice, and in my fuzzy head.  You answer by laying beside me, stroking my hair, kissing my face, then passionately on the mouth.  Your hands softly hold my face, your tongue driving into my mouth.  
     "I couldn't sleep," you say between kisses.  "I had to come over. I missed you."  Fully awake now, and overcome with desire, I pull the covers off of me, and wrap my arms and legs around you.  You hold me tightly in your arms now, like we are trying to blur our outlines, and become one. Our hungry mouths can't get enough.  Yours drifts sweetly down to my breasts, then back up to my lips. "I love you baby," you say while doing it.  Down my stomach, to my pussy, which you kiss as passionately as you did my mouth.  Feeling the absence of your body on top of me, I pull you back up.  I want to be completely enveloped by you. I want you everywhere, all over me.  I reach for your cock, and want it just as badly.  I want it in my mouth, I want it in my hands, my pussy.  I go down on you for a moment, but you pull me back up just the same. We want to be wrapped in each other tonight, our hearts nearly touching.  I guide your cock into me, and we kiss each other more fully and deeply than before.  I don't want it to end; I want you forever this close, forever connected like this.  I feel so happy, my heart so full, like it's going to burst any minute. With your cock sliding so deeply into me, and your tongue plunging similarly down my throat, it feels like they are trying to meet.  Like they are trying to complete the circuit. And I will be complete, as well.  I come over your cock, and only then, will you allow yourself to do the same, into me.  Apart from you now, I still feel whole, having taken a piece of you with me.  And you, having gotten what you needed: me, my love; curl around my back and breath softly into the nape of my neck. 
      "I love you, baby," you say, before we both drift back to sleep, happily, in each other arms, this time. 

      Here in my bed with the window open, I come, releasing all the endorphins I need to fall asleep alone. I hope I dream of you. 

lunch break (part two).

    **This entry has been removed, due to impending publication with House of Erotica**


SPICY TEASER:
      

Back in my cubicle, I think of yesterday, when Dana caught me masturbating in the washroom stall.    I picture it in her perspective; what she saw, while silently watching me through the crack of the door.  Me, with my stockings around my ankles, skirt lifted, blouse intact, but with hard nipples visible through it, sensually rubbing my clit with my eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth slightly open.  Did she see my orgasm approaching; my breath quicken, my body tensing?  Did it excite her; was she wet, couldn't she pry her eyes away?  

     

lunch break (part one).

**This entry has been removed, due to impending publication with House of Erotica**



SAUCY TIDBIT:


It's coming, oh god, oh god!  Nothing but a small sound escapes my mouth; my body shuddering and convulsing for a moment, then is still.  Time again appears normal.  I quietly take a deep, slow breath, to recover.  
I open my eyes, to see Dana staring at me through the crack of the stall door.  

I gasp, my heart in my throat.  Her jaw is dropped open, her eyes wide.  I scramble to pull up the tights from around my ankles.  "Dana!  It's not what it looks like!  Wait!"  I burst out of the stall.  But, before I can say anything more, she rushes out the door, leaving it swinging behind her.  

Oh god.  I am truly fucked.

cheating.

      I’ve been unhappy with Peter for so long now.  It’s over.  I’ve already checked out of the relationship.  That’s why this isn’t technically cheating.

      I know Eli from work.  We aren’t really friends; acquaintances perhaps, at the most.  It’s hard to describe.  I don’t know anything about him, to tell you the truth; I can’t say that we’ve spoken more than a couple times, about anything other than work.  But there is an elusive air of familiarity lately, as if he sees into me, or knows something something about me.  Or, as if we have a common understanding about some important matter, but haven’t yet discussed it out loud.  He’s almost been acting as if we’re old friends.  Still never conversing directly, he’ll put his arm around me while in a conversation with other colleagues, for example.  Not that’s it’s completely one-sided.  I flirt, but only because nothing will ever come of it.  He’s a safe choice. 

      I’ve actually had people approach me, and ask where I know Eli from.  Because it’s so obvious that we have a past; and not only that, but an interesting, and possibly life altering one.     

      Lately, perhaps to escape my marital unhappiness, I’ve been going out with the gang after work, for drinks.  As much as this is usually unlike me, as I’m actually quite anti-social, I’ve been showing up to work hungover, more and more frequently.  Eli has taken interest in this, and for perhaps the first time, questions me directly.  “Late night last night?”  He laughs.  I grunt, and he erupts again.  “I might actually join you guys tonight.”  As if I’m supposed to know that this is also uncharacteristic of him.  

      At the end of the shift, my coworkers having already gone to the bar, Eli says that he’ll lock up, if I want to get started.  Forgetting that I’m usually completely anal, especially concerning work matters, I casually give him my key, and call, “First round is on me!”  I don’t even know what he drinks.  

      When Eli arrives, I don’t even get up to greet him.  We remain at opposite ends of a long table, only crossing over to do round, after round of shots.  After each one, I quickly retreat back over to my side of the table.  The whole time, I watch him; not paying attention to the conversations happening around me.  It’s almost like I’m afraid of him.  At the end of the night, I say into the air, to no one in particular, “I’m so not ready to go home yet...”   A group of women are in front of me, crawling into a cab.  Eli appears out of nowhere.  
      “We could go to my place for a drink.”  I look to my right, and another cab pulls up.  
      “Sure,”  I say offhandedly, like it’s all just happening.  Like it’s all out of my control.            

      In the cab, he holds my hand.  I’m shocked by the warmth of it, the intimacy of it.  Like he’s assuming we’re already lovers.  Like he’s assuming I’m even actually attracted to him.  He kneads it methodically, like he’s trying to warm it up.  I keep my hand lifeless; unresponsive.

      He shares an apartment, and his roommate is still up, so we have to go into his room.  Now, I realize what this must look like.  What this potentially, is.  I get nervous about what’s going to happen, and drink more.  I sit on the bed, and he’s on top of me.  
      His tongue is warm, his body warm, and crushing.  He removes my blouse, kisses my neck, my breasts.  His mouth is so inviting, I want to crawl inside, but I don’t let myself.  I lay still, except for my spinning head.  He kisses a line down my stomach, unzips my fly, removes my pants from under me.  He lifts my legs onto this shoulders, almost like I’m a doll with moving parts, and he’s posing me.  He moves the crotch of my underwear to the side, and pushes his mouth and tongue into my pussy.  I feel how wet I am, but can’t imagine how I got that way.  He goes down on me for a long time, but I am not going to come.  
      “Don’t want to come, honey?”  He says, assuming now that we’re dating, apparently, with the pet name.  His familiarity makes me recoil further.  He removes my underwear, most of his own clothing, and crawls on top of me.  He licks my nipples, pushing his dick against me, through his underwear, while he does so.  I don’t want it.  I’ll tell Peter that he forced himself on me while I was drunk.  If I can just lie here, then I have nothing to feel bad about.  Soon, his warm body presses against me, and his cock finds it’s way in.  He lifts my legs again, and he thrusts in and out of me.  I feel numb; I can’t feel his cock.  All I can feel is his warmth on top on me, surrounding me, and I want it everywhere, I want to be completely enveloped, suffocated by it.  I suddenly feel the urge to cry, and a desperate need.  I flip him around, and hastily get on top.  I work myself over his cock, building myself up until I’m frothing; boiling.  I bounce myself on it, at the perfect rhythm; every time he interrupts, I slap his hand away, tell him to stop moving, don’t touch me.  “It’s coming, oh god, don’t move, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!!”  I scream.  Take a few breaths.  I take him out of me, and fall down on the bed beside him.  I want it to go away.  I want to sleep forever.  

      But I lie awake, here beside Eli, like I have so many nights beside Peter.  I never let myself reciprocate anything, never let myself really let go, really enjoy anything.  I won’t even remember most of it tomorrow, so there won’t be a whole lot to tell.

      I recall that time when Peter said he ‘made out’ with someone from his work while he was drunk, and I believed him, forgave him, never thought about it again, until now.  I picture Peter sleeping in our bed, at home.  I wonder if he told the whole truth about kissing that girl, and determine that he probably didn’t.

      Sooner or later, I fall asleep.