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From: "E.Z. Riter" <ezriter@pdq.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} {EZ}VW - Sonya (MF BDSM Rom)
Date: Fri, 15 Mar 2002 20:10:03 -0500
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This is fiction intended for legal adults readers. If it is not legal, DO
NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any other use strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,
except may be posted as part of a review or posted to my pre-approved
archives.

Copyright 2002 by E. Z. Riter

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please!        Give me your comments!

The works of E.Z. Riter are archived at www.storiesonline.net and at
www.asstr-mirror.org (http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/E.Z.Riter) and at
www.ruthiesclub.com

The works of E.Z Riter writing as Ezra Zane are archived at
www.ruthiesclub.com which is a fully illustrated pay website.

Dear Reader,

Since June, 2001, I have been writing stories under the name Ezra Zane for
Ruthie's Club (www.ruthiesclub.com). Michael D, DrSpin, Al Steiner, Mat
Twassel, Shon Richards, and other writers also have stories appearing
exclusively in Ruthie's Club. A cadre of professional artists beautifully
illustrates each story.

Part of my writing has been VINNIE'S WORLD, a series about Vinnie Costello,
his friends, his women, and his world. This story  is the second in the
series and concludes The Sunset, which was posted to ASSM on March 13. It
appeared in Ruthie's Club in August, 2001.

Story Codes for Vinnie's World in general are M+F+ Cons Non-Cons BDSM Rom
Viol and probably most other codes, including Slut Wife, depending on the
episode. The intent was to create stories with sex in them, not sexual (or
stroke) stories.

I hope you enjoy these stories. As always, I do appreciate any feedback from
any reader.  E.Z.


VINNIE'S WORLD

SONYA

By Ezra Zane
Edited by Ruthie


Phyllis Green brought Sonya into my life.

Phyllis was sixty, but she looked forty, thanks to good genes and a helpful
surgeon. When she was younger, she'd been the best call girl in town. Now
she was madam of an elite call girl ring. She usually had six to eight girls
who were in it full time and another twenty or so housewives who did it part
time. The housewives were interesting. They claimed to do it only to help
the family budget, but they liked the thrill of fucking someone other than
their husbands and they liked fucking for money. I've done all of her
regulars and some of the housewives.

While Phyllis was as attractive as a surgeon could make her, I'd never
fucked her. Phyllis was a lesbian and didn't do men any more since her
stable brought in big bucks, but she was a friend. I've got a lot of
friends.

"Vinnie, where have you been?" Phyllis asked over the phone one day.

"Trying to make a living, Phyllis. How's your business going?"

"Couldn't be better. Thanks again for sending new customers my way."

"You treat them right. That's what counts with me."

"Say, Vinnie, Claudette's daughter is coming to work for me."

Claudette, one of her regulars, had been married when her husband realized
neither of the kids were his. He threw her ass out. One of her girlfriends
brought her to The Sunset one night. When I first saw Claudette as she
squirmed on a bar stool with men buzzing around her, I knew I wanted to fuck
her. I eased my way beside her. When our eyes met, I gave the inside of her
thigh a not-too-gentle squeeze.

"Let's go fuck," I said.

"I may not want to," she replied with a delightful twinkle in her eyes.

"You came here to find a big hard cock to fill your pussy. You found him.
Follow me."

I walked away without looking back. In a few seconds, she took my hand and
accompanied me to one of the rooms. Claudette and I were an item for a short
while before I tired of her and introduced her to Phyllis.

Claudette had been with Phyllis a long time. She was over forty, but damn
good looking and she knew how to please a man. Claudette was one of the
fortunate people in this life. She loved her work.

"Her daughter? How old is the girl?" I said to Phyllis.

"Sonya's nineteen. Claudette says she's been giving it away since she was
fourteen so she told her she might as well charge for it. I thought you
might like to be her first professional customer."

"Sounds like fun, but you know I don't pay for sex."

"I've never charged you, Vinnie. This'll be on the house, like always. What
do you say? Sonya's a good looking girl, and she's got her mother's smile."

"When?"

"Friday."

"Let me keep her overnight," I said.

"Keep her for the weekend," Phyllis replied.

"Anything special?"

Phyllis chuckled. "She's going to be a whore, Vinnie. A high priced whore,
but a whore nevertheless." I waited as Phyllis decided how to phrase what
she wanted to say. "Remember how girls are at that age, Vinnie, particularly
the beautiful ones. The boys have been fawning over them so they think the
world revolves around their pussy. It'll be good if someone brought her down
to reality."

"How far down?"

"Enough. I'll let you be the judge of that."

"It might be easier on her if you talked to her," I commented.

"I've tried. So has Claudette."

"Why me, Phyllis?"

"Claudette recommended it."

I'd wondered if she had. "I'll do it my way," I said.

"We knew you would, Vinnie. You always do."

Phyllis and I made arrangements for me to pick up Sonya at Claudette's house
at eight Friday evening. Then I called Claudette. We talked for an hour.

On Friday, Mica drove my limousine and Bigun was in the front seat beside
him as always. When we arrived at Claudette's house, Bigun walked to the
door with me. Claudette greeted us and gave me a hearty hug. We followed her
to the parlor where I met Sonya.

Sonya was picture-perfect. Elegant. Classy. Heart-shaped face. Blonde hair
roped on her head and held by a single diamond-topped hair pin. Floor
length, form-fitting black dress with a square-cut bodice showing the tops
of her ample breasts. It was tight around her long and narrow waist, and
open to the waist in back, tight over her rounded rump, which was high and
firm and oh-so pattable. A slit up the side ended slightly above the knee,
revealing a shapely leg. Black open-toed stiletto-heeled pumps over sheer
black stockings completed the picture.

I recognized the jewelry. I'd given it to her mother as a present one
holiday. A gold strand with a carat diamond solitaire tucked in the hollow
of her throat. Matching earrings with a diamond dangling half an inch below
her ear lobe. A gold bracelet sparkling with diamond chips gently
encompassing each wrist.

Sure, she was beautiful. So what? In Vinnie's world, beautiful women are a
dime a dozen and women with big tits are everywhere.

Sonya had that something extra. That something that took her out of the "I'd
like to fuck her tonight" category and put her at the top of the more elite
"This is a special woman" group.

It's her face. The angle and tilt of her head. High cheekbones. Flawless
skin. Lips of medium thickness with the corners softly curved with a hint of
a smile. And, most of all, her eyes. Sonya's sparkling, sky blue eyes.

A woman's face sends the tiny signals, some given but for an instant, that
let a man see her and what she thinks of him.

I read Sonya's face. Apprehension and fear were there, then a subtle
pleading with me to like her followed by a shy, warm smile, and a tiny
twinkle that told me she liked me.

Had the signals stopped there, I would've been pleased beyond expectations.
What I saw next was an insolent sexuality. You know that look. It says: "I
got the pussy so I'm the boss."

My face expresses what I want it to express. My expression said: "I'm always
the boss and I don't like bitches." She blanched, her eyes widened, and she
stepped back.

"I'm Vinnie Costello," I said, extending my hand.

"Sonya Simpson," she whispered in a throaty, sexy tone as she took my hand.

Her grip was firm and ladylike. I wrapped my other hand over hers. I applied
pressure where I knew she'd feel it all the way up her arm. The pressure was
light, just enough so she'd know it'd hurt like hell if I wanted it to.

Sonya's frightened eyes jumped to stare at Claudette, who was watching her
daughter intently. There was a knowing sadness on Claudette's face, but no
fear of what was going to happen. Claudette was an old pro. She knew the
score and she knew her daughter needed to learn it.

When I extended my crooked arm to escort Sonya to the limo, she hesitated. I
took her arm and put it through mine with my hand around her wrist.

"Vinnie, can I talk to you?" Claudette asked.

"Certainly. Bigun, escort Sonya out please."

"Sure, Boss," he replied with his ever-present grin.

After the door shut, Claudette said, "Vinnie, I know what she is, but she's
my daughter." She spread her hands with the palms up and shrugged. "Please,
Vinnie."

"I'll be as gentle as she lets me be, but no promises."

"Thanks," she said gratefully. She kissed me lightly on the lips.

I put my arms around her and crushed her to me for a long, deep kiss. If the
circumstances had been a bit different, I would've fucked her there in her
hallway. She would like that and so would I. Claudette would've made someone
a great woman if he could've taught her to say "no" once in awhile.

Sonya was in the back and Bigun was waiting patiently when I joined him at
the limo.

"Sit in back with us and follow along," I said to him.

He grinned and nodded. Sonya was surprised when Bigun sat next to her and I
sat opposite. I thumped the interior window and Mica eased the car from the
curb.

"What were you and mother talking about?" she asked.

"She told me you're an arrogant bitch and asked me not to hurt you too
 much," I said in a neutral monotone.

Sonya blanched. "What do you mean?"

"This weekend is a rite of passage for you. Like Marine boot camp. You'll
change from being a girl to being a woman."

"I thought that happened when I lost my virginity," she countered
defensively.

"You're kidding? A fourteen-year-old girl who's not smart enough to use
birth control?"

She gasped and pulled away. "How did you know that?" she asked. Her eyes
were disbelieving.

"Your mother and I are old friends. I know the baby went up for adoption. I
also know your I.Q. is 140 and you flunked out of school because you refused
to study."

"It was boring," she sneered.

"Is that why you got into drugs?"

"I like coke."

"It cost your mother ten grand to bail you out."

She started to say something, but thought better of it.

"How many boys have you fucked?" I asked.

"That's none of your business," she said. Her voice had a slight bark but
there was no bite in her eyes. They were uncertain.

I slapped her. She recoiled and her hand covered her cheek.

"This isn't high school and I'm no boy. This is the real world and I'm your
first man. We'll do it my way," I said.

I learned long ago that the voice is a masterful instrument in dealing with
people. It can soothe or shred. I'd spoken in the cold, fear-inducing voice
well-known by my enemies. Sonya heard that voice for the first time and
quaked.

"Take me home," she said, but she was near tears and not at all challenging.
Her neck was splotched in red, and goosebumps covered her arms.

"No, Sonya. You're mine for the weekend."

I watched the emotions play on her face. Those emotions started to harden
into resistance.

"Don't do it, Sonya. Don't fight me. You'll lose," I said with the quietness
of a snake.

Her lower lip was quivering as she fought for control.

"Didn't your Mother tell you about me?"

"Yes, she did," Sonya said. Tears welled in her eyes and her voice quavered.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"That I'm a whore and that you're the man who's paying for me. You deserve
my attention, appreciation, and a happy attitude."

"Not about men in general and your new profession. About me."

"That you're a gentle man if the woman deserves it, but that your bite is
worse than your bark so be warned. Most of all, she said to trust you."

I could see her relax as she remembered what her mamma had said.

"And that's all?"

Her eyes twinkled. One crinkle of a laugh line appeared beside them. "She
told me to keep my 'damn smart mouth' shut unless you wanted to stick your
cock in it."

"Good advice," I said.

Her face changed again, this time to a solemn questioning.

"Did you really spank Mother until she couldn't sit down?" she whispered.

"She could sit, but it was painful."

"What did you spank her with?"

"A wooden ruler. When it broke, I used my hand."

She flinched and squirmed in her seat.

"Why did you do it?"

"She needed it."

"Will you do that to me?"

"If you need it."

"She thinks I'll need it. She thinks I'm a bitch."

"Are you?"

Her lips pursed as she fought a smile and that twinkle was unmistakable.

"Sometimes," she said.

"Good. I wouldn't want a woman without any fire in her."

"You like that?"

"I love the fire, but. . . I am going to control the temperature."

She studied me intently before she relaxed and her face became a picture of
sweetness, but with the hint of the devil in her eyes.

"You didn't answer my question," I said.

"Boys? I never counted them. Maybe ninety or a hundred."

"It sounds like you enjoy sex."

"I love it, and I'm damn good, too."

"I'll be the judge of that."

She rose to the challenge. Her eyes flashed with a sardonic humor and her
lips twitched in a sexy smile.

"Anytime you're ready, Mr. Costello," she said.

"Are you wearing pantyhose?" I asked.

"No. A thong and thigh high stockings," she replied.

"Let me see," I said.

She hesitated and her eyes flicked to Bigun.

"Have you ever had sex while someone watched?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Tell me about it."

"I pulled a train once," she murmured as she turned a scarlet red that
colored all her flesh not covered by the dress and probably some I couldn't
see.

"How many guys were there?"

"Seven."

"A lucky number," I replied with a grin.

"For them and me," she said with a musical laugh.

I touched the soft inner flesh of the inside of her left thigh just above
the knee. She scooted her ass toward me and opened her legs. The fire my
hand caused as it slowly trailed up her leg was reflected in her eyes. I
stroked her pussy through the sheer material of her thong to find her wet
and her lips bloated.

I wanted to fuck her, but I wanted that since I first saw her. There'd be
plenty of time. I stroked her pussy until I saw desire rising. I sat back
and she gave me a nasty look. She started to sit up, but a waggle of my
finger stopped her. She waited like that, with her legs spread and her
soaked panties clearly visible, until I told her to sit up. We looked at
each other, not speaking, until the limo slowed and stopped.

Dinner was in my private dining room at The Sunset Restaurant. We talked as
we ate salmon steaks with rice and a vegetable medley. We adjourned to The
Sunset Bar where J.D. had reserved my favorite booth. When we danced, she
was light in my arms. We talked on the dance floor with our bodies pressed
against each other. We talked in the booth with her breast against my bicep
and my hand on her thigh. We didn't drink, and she objected to that, but I
wanted us both clear-headed for what was to follow.

She was intriguing. She was naive, fresh, and new to the world, and
apparently uninterested in it except for sex. Sexually she was older, with a
broad experience that included women as well as men. She wasn't tarnished by
it. She sparkled like a diamond and pleasure bubbled from her.

The other men in the bar noticed her, of course. Strutting for the crowd,
she caught the eye of several. She was enjoying flirting with one in
particular and egging him on. It was subtle, like a cheating wife when her
husband and her lover are in the same room, but I don't miss any signs.

I motioned and Bigun joined us. In a moment, he escorted the young man she
was flirting with to our booth. The fellow's skin color was a sickly gray
and sweat beaded his forehead.

"Hi. I'm Vinnie Costello," I said extending my hand.

"Mr. Costello, I didn't mean any harm. I didn't know it was you," the guy
whimpered.

"No problem. The little lady's been giving you the come-on, hasn't she?"

Sonya was red-faced with humiliation. I suspect she was frightened, too. I
knew the guy was.

"Eh, yes, sir," he said.

"She's a three thousand dollar a night whore," I said.

He looked at Sonya with loathing, which is a typical response from the
hypocritically pious. If a woman cheats on her husband, that's romantic and
sexy. A woman who puts out after the guy gives her a lousy trinket is
someone special. But if she's an honest working girl, she's not worth
spitting on.

Sonya's humiliation rose to a bright and shiny hue. She was rigid and tears
floated in her big, blue eyes.

"If you'll give your name and number to Bigun, I'll arrange for her madam to
schedule her for you," I said.

"No woman's worth that kind of money for one night," the guy said
disgustedly.

"She's probably not worth it," I said, looking at her. Her mouth dropped
open in surprise before snapping shut. Her eyes blazed at me as she seethed
with anger. "But she will be after I give her some training," I continued.
"Tell you what I'll do. I'll see if I can get you a discount."

"No, thanks, Mr. Costello. Look, I'm sorry I bothered you. Can I go now?"

"Wait a minute. Bigun, get our friend a voucher at the restaurant for dinner
and champagne for two, and pick up his bar tab tonight. Come back and visit
us, will you?"

"Sure, Mr. Costello, and thanks."

The guy hadn't looked at Sonya since he learned her price and he didn't look
at her as he left.

"Sit right here. Don't get up for any reason," I said to her.

Bigun sat in the booth with her to keep the wolves away from my ewe while I
went to the bar and visited with the patrons. That's good for business. And
stewing in the booth was good for Sonya.

About fifteen minutes later, I called Bigun over and gave him some
instructions. In a moment, he escorted her out. She looked back at me with
big, frightened eyes.

I schmoozed the patrons for another half hour or so before heading for my
suite. I knew what I'd find there and I was anxious to get started.

I was walking through the steel security doors to my quarters when I
realized this sexy, slutty little bitch had hit some chord in me. Something
deep that I didn't understand.

Strange, isn't it? They've all got tits and asses and pussies, but those
things aren't all that important. It's their faces that get to you because
faces reflect feelings and personalities, and those are what are important.
My mother would've said it's their souls.

You can fuck as many as you want without your gut aching for that special
one. You can leave them crying when you walk away, or with their bellies
growing with your child when you send them back to their husbands. Then one
comes along. You don't know why, but she reaches you and something inside
you pops.

That hadn't happened to me in a long time. It felt good.

My instructions to Bigun were specific. He was to escort Sonya to my suite,
and have her remove her jewelry, dress, panties, make-up, and let her hair
down, leaving her only wearing thigh-high stockings and high heels. He was
to pull the heavy straight chair to the middle of the floor facing the door
and have her sit with her feet flat and together. Her hands were to rest on
her thighs with palms up. Then he was to lay my leather strap across her
hands and tell her not to move. And I'd told Bigun if he had to tie her up
to keep her that way, to do it.

That's how I found her and she wasn't bound. That pleased me. She'd been
crying but the waterworks had ceased. Her vulnerability and helplessness,
her waiting submissively for me to tell her what I wanted, was erotic. My
cock and I had been thinking about her for a long time.

I stood a pace away from her. "Anything you want to say?" I asked.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was toying with him."

"And with a few others."

She nodded.

"Why?" I asked.

"Stupidity. Immaturity. Whatever it was, I won't do it again."

"I'll hold you to your word."

"He was frightened of you," she said.

"Yes. Were you?"

"I was angry at you. You humiliated me."

"No, I didn't. You humiliated yourself by coming on to him. I only pointed
it out."

She reddened a shade or two.

"Are you going to spank me with this strap?"

"You earned it."

She nodded again. "I know," she said softly. "But will I get it?"

"You don't think you can seduce me out of it, do you?"

"No, but can you blame me for trying?" she asked seductively.

She lowered her eyes slowly, letting them trail down my body. When she got
to the tenting in my trousers, she stopped and a tiny smile flickered. Her
eyes flashed up at me and I liked what I saw.

"Stand up and put the strap on the seat of the chair," I said. She did it
and waited for further instructions. "Come undress me."

"Yes, Mr. Costello," she murmured sexily.

I was ramrod straight and still as a cigar store Indian. Sonya knew time was
an ally of great sex and she took her time. Each stage of my undressing,
beginning with my suit jacket, was leisurely, accompanied by touches,
caresses, and her sexy expressions.

With each item of clothing, she swayed to the closet to hang it up. She had
one hell of a sway. Her lower half was pressed against me when she undid my
tie. Again, I watched her sway to the closet. Fingers teased my skin as she
unbuttoned and removed my shirt.

She didn't start on my trousers immediately. She examined my torso with eyes
and hands and, occasionally, mouth. She was good, damned good. My need was
rising like a thermometer on a hot day. I felt her fingertip in the small,
hollow scar on the left side of my back just below the rib cage.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Exit hole of a .38."

Her fingers slid around me to find the entrance hole scar. Gently, she
kissed me there. Electricity flickered over my body.

She knelt in front of me to dispatch shoes and socks. She looked into my
eyes as she fumbled with my belt. My trousers slid down my legs and I
stepped out of them. She took them to the closet.

As she twitched back toward me, her Cheshire cat smile and cool eyes told me
we were playing a game. It's called: "I'll bet I can make you lose control."
 I like games.

She suppressed a smirk as her hands slipped around my waist. She flattened
her breasts on my chest and her diamond-hard nipples were hot on my skin.
She raised her head to be kissed, but I tangled my hand in her long blonde
hair and pulled her head away.

"Are we playing a game?" I asked.

"No," she lied.

"I have a pet peeve. It's being lied to. You didn't know that, but now you
do. The next lie will cost you dearly."

She looked confused and trapped, afraid to say or do anything because it
might be the wrong thing. She remembered her Mother's story of being spanked
and the strap she held as she waited for me.

"I've never met anyone like you. You frighten me, Vinnie Costello. You
frighten me to my core."

She lay her head against my chest and held on to me for dear life. I folded
my arms around her and gently roamed her body with my hands.

"And you excite me," she whispered.

I didn't answer. None was expected. I enjoyed the feel of her against me.
Her heat. Her smell. All of her. She sighed and tilted her head back. Her
lips parted and her eyelids fluttered as I kissed her.

"Finish undressing me," I said softly, but in a tone she knew was a command.

She took a long time to slip to her knees. She tasted my nipples, teased my
chest hair, and stroked every inch of skin before she knelt with her legs
spread. When she dropped my trousers and let me step out of them, she seemed
to ignore the bulge in my boxers. She gracefully stood and hung the trousers
in the closet. Her face was alive with anticipation as she returned to kneel
before me again.

She tugged on the hem of the boxers and they slid to the floor.

"Oh, my, he's a big boy," she murmured. Her eyes flashed up at me.

"Do you like sucking cock?" I asked. I retrieved the armchair, set it down,
and splayed my legs on each side of her.

"Yes."

"Are you a good cocksucker?"

"Of course."

"Let's see how good you are. Put your hands behind your back, right wrist in
left hand." I yanked her golden hair and her face contorted in pain. "I said
right wrist in left hand. If you let go, I'll use the strap on you."

She knew then what the new game was. More importantly, she accepted it.

How erotic she was on her knees working on my cock. When her long hair fell
to block my view, I gently pulled it aside. Seeing her effort was a major
part of the thrill. It always is.

Her cheeks hollowed and expanded. Her eyes closed as her lips slid down to
take me in as far as she could. Twice, I held her head and pushed my cock in
her mouth until she gagged. The third time it lodged in her throat, she didn
't gag. Her sky blue eyes watered and her face reddened as she stared up at
me, but she made no attempt to move until I released her.

Her jaws tired. She nibbled down the shaft with tiny little kisses to let
herself rest. My cock slid along her cheek, leaving a trail of her spittle
along side her nose. When she felt the first beads of sweat on her forehead,
she looked up at me and sat back. It was the first time some part of her
wasn't touching my cock.

"You have absolute control, don't you?" she said hoarsely.

I yanked her up. When my palm met her ass cheek, it sounded like a rifle
shot. I pushed her ass back against her heels.

"I didn't give you permission to speak," I said.

Passively happy eyes. Eyes that said, "I like being the woman between your
legs." Eyes that twinkled at me before she closed them and wrapped her lips
around my cock again. She sucked me until her skin was red and
sweat-covered, and rivulets ran down to fall from the erect tips of her
nipples.

She squeaked with surprise when I lifted her in the air. I lay her in the
center of the bed and guided her arms over her head. The restraints were
attached to the top frame of the bed. Two locking leather wrists bands. She
turned back to see as I locked the first one in place. She smiled as I
locked the second.

"Feel free to talk," I said in response to her unasked question.

"Are you going to fuck me now, Vinnie?" she said. Her tone was lyrical.

"Yes."

"Are you going to make me beg for it?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Other men have tried that and failed."

"I'll succeed."

"Yes, you will. You're not like any other man I've ever met."

I pulled her toward me, stretching her arms. I was going to give her what
she'd given me: slow, tortuous, sexual pleasure.

"Don't play with me, Vinnie. Fill me with your cock." Soft, loving eyes.
"That's begging. I'm begging you to fuck me until I can't take anymore."

It would've been so easy to jump on her, to drive my cock into the hot
wetness of her woman's soul and flood her with cum, but I wanted more. I
wanted her forever.

Slowly, I rolled her stockings down her leg, and my caresses made her twitch
and whimper.

"Now. Fuck me now," she pleaded.

I lodged my cock head in the bloated and dripping entrance of her sex, and
she squirmed to get me in her.

"Please, please," she whimpered.

With my hands on her thighs, I forced her legs wide and back until her knees
touched the mattress. I pinned her there. She strained to move, to draw my
cock where she so desperately wanted it, to fill herself. But I controlled
the rhythm, the depth, the fucking.

I fucked her as a man should fuck a woman to make her belong to him. By
wrenching orgasms from her yet never letting her cool. By maintaining her
need until she lay soaked with sweat and her muscles were limp with
exhaustion. By giving her pleasure until her eyes were glassy and dazed, her
voice incoherent, yet, like a creature with its own heart and soul, while
her pussy throbbed around the stiffness pleasuring her.

She shivered as I pumped her full of cum with my cock hard against her
cervix. She sighed as if in death and her eyes closed.

I removed her restraints, lay down beside her, and covered us over.

The next morning, I awakened her by swatting her lightly across the ass. "It
's a bright new day. The sun's shining and the birds are singing."

"You're insane," she grumbled as she turned over and put her pillow over her
head.

I lifted her dead weight from the bed, carried her into the bathroom, and
stepped into the extra large Jacuzzi tub that was full of bubbling, hot
water.

"Oh, this feels good," she murmured as she slowly sank into the water.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

I gave her coffee before joining her in the tub. When she was sufficiently
awake, I said, "Let me explain how it is in my world between a man and a
woman."

"Your world?" she asked.

"My world, Sonya. Vinnie's world. It's not like the white picket fences of
suburbia."

"Somehow, I knew that," she replied as she sipped her coffee. She looked
well-fucked and sleepy, with puffy eyes. She wore no make-up. The tips of
her golden hair floated in the swirling waters, which covered her breasts
and left only her shoulders and head exposed.

"I want a special woman. A woman who's mine."

"She'd be lucky," she said and her eyes shone softly.

"Would she? I'd expect her to do what I said when I said it. If she
displeased me, I'd punish her. I'd dress her the way I wanted to see her and
mark her as mine. I'd use her when, where, and how I wanted, and I'd have
other women when it pleased me. I might share her with my friends, but if
she ever cheated on me, I'd throw her away and get another. Or I might kill
her."

She put the coffee cup on the tub side ledge and slid toward me. Her legs
went around my waist, her arms around my neck.

"Vinnie, would you look at her like you looked at me last night? Or talk to
her like we did? Or fuck her until she's inert? Would you take pride in her
and show her off? Would you let her enjoy your life, too, by being with
 you?"

"Yes."

"Then she'd be a very lucky woman indeed."

We shopped that day, buying her new clothes and jewelry. The most important
jewelry was from my old friend, Mort Cohen. Mort had made a pendant in the
shape of a V an inch high. It was in twenty-four carat gold and the V points
were half-carat diamonds. The necklace was a twenty-four carat gold chain
with a screw-type fastener. It was snug around her neck and the pendant lay
over the hollow of her throat. Before I put it around her neck, I dipped the
male end of the fastener in adhesive. The necklace would have to be cut from
her to take it off.

That's how Sonya became mine. For thirteen months, we laughed and played and
fucked. I thought we had something special until she betrayed me.

When I awakened in my bed at the warehouse with a half full bottle of Makers
' Mark beside me, the anger was gone. I knew what I needed to do. As much as
I wanted her, I am what I am. A woman's all mine or not mine at all.

I showered, shaved, and dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. Mica,
Bigun, and Prissy were in the dining room eating when I walked in.

"Morning, Vinnie," Prissy said. "Bacon and eggs?"

"Please. Lots of toast and coffee, too, Prissy."

"How are you, Boss?" Bigun asked solicitously.

"Fine now. What happened last night?"

"We put her back in the cage just like you said."

"Nobody used her?"

"It didn't seem right," he replied. He shrugged. "She's yours, Boss, even if
you've decided she's not."

Breakfast filled my belly and dulled the throbbing hangover. After I ate, I
went into the cage room and opened the door of the cage. Sonya didn't move
until I motioned for her to get out. When she crawled out, she didn't try to
stand. She knelt at my feet.

"Stand up, Sonya."

She stood and faced me.

"I love you, Vinnie," she said.

"It's over. Hold still."

When I removed the wire cutters from my pocket, she screeched. She lunged at
me, digging her nails into my shoulders until my shirt ripped and the blood
came, pounding her fists on my chest with all her strength, as she wailed
her sorrow. I didn't try to stop her. It was a release for me, too. She
sobbed and cursed and thrashed until she collapsed and slid down me to lie
in a lump at my feet.

"Turn your head, Sonya."

She didn't protest. She sat still as I used the wire cutters to snip the
necklace, the thing that marked her as mine, from her neck. She watched as I
filled a syringe from a medicine bottle.

"What is it?"

"It'll make you sleep."

"Forever?" she asked.

"No. For a couple of hours."

"I love you, Vinnie. I love you, Vinnie."

She said it over and over, like a mantra, until she lost consciousness.

Bigun helped me get her naked body into the trunk of the limo. As always,
Mica drove. When we arrived at the convent, we went to the back entrance
used by carters and porters.

Sister Mary Brigid, the Mother Superior, greeted us. When I opened the
trunk, Sister smiled. She squeezed one of Sonya's breasts and let her hand
trail down her body to feel the flesh of her ass.

"A little contribution to the order, Sister," I said.

"Very nice, Vinnie. She'll be a wonderful nun for us." She smiled that oiled
snake's smile. "Why hasn't she been whipped and bound?" she asked.

"I'll let you do it. She was given a sedative instead."

"I've got a ripe nun who's finished her training. Twenty-four. Redheaded. A
small, lean body. Would you like to try her out?"

"No, thanks, Sister. I've got to go," I replied. "Maybe in a week or so."

"Vinnie?" a voice behind me said.

"Kate. What are you doing here?"

"I brought over a girl from the high school who decided to enter our order.
How have you been?"

I shrugged. Sister Kate watched Bigun lift Sonya from the trunk of the limo.

"Good heavens. It's Sonya. Is she yours?" Sister Kate asked.

"She's ours now. Vinnie's giving her to the order," Sister Mary Brigid
interrupted.

"She's a slut, Vinnie. Oh. I see you know that." Sister Kate smiled
knowingly and put her hand on my arm. "Vinnie, you need to take them young
and train them like you want them. The girl I brought in is a
fourteen-year-old virgin who's developing nicely. Brigid will train her for
six months to a year and then we'll give her to you, if you like."

"Thanks, Kate, but, right now, I don't know."

"Sonya bit you that bad, huh? All right, Vinnie, but let me know if I can do
anything for you." She felt my cock through my trousers. "And call me,
Vinnie. It's been a long time since I've seen you."

As I rode in the back of the limo toward The Sunset, I forced myself to
think about all I needed to do and about all the women who were available.
Tall women. Short women. In all the hues of the rainbow and with standard
equipment in varying sizes and shapes. But my subconscious kept forcing one
woman into my conscious.

Men don't cry. Particularly not macho Italian men who live in the dark
otherworld people with white picket fences don't see. So it must have been
someone else who cried in the back of my limo that day.

Poor bastard.

The End

Please!  Give me your comments!

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

The works of E.Z. Riter are archived at www.storiesonline.net and at
www.asstr-mirror.org (http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/E.Z.Riter) and at
www.ruthiesclub.com

The works of E.Z Riter writing as Ezra Zane are archived at
www.ruthiesclub.com which is a fully illustrated pay website.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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