Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Designated
   by Nysidra
   Erotica (MF, power play)
   Summary: Melody is adrift in the world with only recent step-family to
call her own.  Morgan latches onto her and gives her an anchor firmly
rooted in sexual euphoria.
   <->
   How long had she been searching the crowd for his face?  Half an hour?
Longer?
   Melody looked down to hide her smile as soon as she noticed him.  Her
nerves settled.  She didn't know him, never met him, but the sight of him
improved her dour night as the designated driver.
   "Put this in my purse." Her cousin muttered as she buzzed by the table.
   They always sat her in the back.  'Out of the way.' Their purses, bags,
and coats occupied the chairs around her and would for the remainder of the
evening.
   At first, she did this as a kindness, a way for all of them to have some
fun.  She thought it would endear her to her new step-family.  It did, just
not in the way she hoped.  Her kind offer had become an expected service. 
   Which brought her back to him.  He wasn't all that tall, not all that
dark.  He had a lean body, fair brown skin, closely trimmed scruff along
his jaw-line.  Women loved to touch him, stand near him, dance with him. 
She enjoyed watching him with others, because she could imagine being in
their place.
   He was a good dancer, energetic, but respectful.
   Where did he get to?  She scanned the dance floor, the bar.  No matter
where he went, even if his back was turned, she could always find him.
   Maybe he went to restroom.
   "May I?"
   Her eyes felt as wide as saucers.  Her breath stalled.  "Me?  Are you
talking to me?"
   "I am.  May I sit?"
   "Yes, um," The only free seat was beside her in the booth.  She eased
over and made room for him.
   He slid in the booth and sat back.  His arm around her shoulders, over
the back, but not touching her. "Are you always the non-drinking one?"
   Could he see how fast her heart beat?  The sweat building on her face?
He noticed her?  How many times?  Did he know she'd been staring?
   Mortification froze her throat.
   "That's a shame." He sighed heavily, but instead of getting up to go
find someone else he leaned closer.  She nearly cried out from nerves, but
if she had, she wouldn't have been able to listen.  "One day, I'd like to
have your eyes on me without an entire room between us."
   "You don't even know me." Her voice squeaked.
   "I want to know you.  Have I made a mistake?  Don't you want to know
me?" This close, she realized how young he looked, but how much older he
must have been.  Mid-thirties?  Early forties?  Very handsome for any age.
   Her lips parted.  His eyes lowered.  Instead of speaking, she licked her
lips.  They had gone dry.  What that must have looked like?!  "I, yes, I
want to know you."
   "Hey!  Excuse me.  Who are you and why do you have your arms around my
sister?" Trisha had both hands on her hips. 
   Under the table, he slipped a card under her thigh.  "Your sister and I
were talking."
   "Please, go.  You don't have any business talking to her.  I can assure
you of that." When he didn't move, Trisha snapped.  "Now!  Go!  Christ,
Dee, don't let any predator just sit over here.  You're supposed to be
watching our stuff.  He was probably trying to distract you while someone
picked our coats." Trisha inspected each jacket. 
   Melody frowned.  "Sorry, I didn't think of that."
   Trisha rolled her eyes.  "Of course you didn't.  Everything looks okay.
Don't get distracted.  I thought you wanted to do this for us?  Should I
just leave you home?  You don't have to be here."
   Melody shook her head.  Trisha had claimed her as her sister.  A rare
inclusion, usually when she was trying to keep her from doing something. 
It told Melody that deep down, Trisha cared about her.  "When one of you
get tired, can I dance for a while?"
   The question trailed off.  Trisha was back to the dance floor before she
finished asking.  Maybe another day.
   She fished the card from under her thigh.  White card, black lettering.
Morgan J.  Cole, his email and a phone number.  Nothing else.  With a
frown, Melody put the cell into her phone sent a text.
   "My name is Melody Winters."
Morgan: "What did she say?"
   "I can't let any predator just sit beside me."
   "Predator."
   She looked across the room.  He looked back to her, a smirk on his face.
He didn't seem offended at all.
Morgan: "I'm not just any predator."
Melody didn't look up that time.  She stared at her phone.  A bit of a
smile played on her face.  "I know."
   Minutes passed.  She set her phone aside and cherished the brief
encounter.
   Her phone buzzed.  "They are using you."
   "I know that too." She sent back with a sigh.  Was she that transparent?
   "Just trying to be nice?"
   "Yes.  New step family."
   "I make sure to reward such generous service.  Do they reward you?"
   Melody blinked at the text.  Was he flirting with her?  Flustered, she
held her phone between her thighs, looked up, around.  He was in the same
seat at the bar, his phone in hand, a beer in the other.
   She typed.  "How do you mean?"
   "I would not take you for granted."
   She emptied her glass of water and wiped her sweating palms on her
jeans.
Morgan: "When can I see you?"
Melody buried her phone in her lap as her other step-sister, Regina,
walked over. 
   "I found something fun to do for the rest of the night," she said.  "I'm
going to bring my small purse.  Take the rest of this stuff to my room when
you get home."
   "Okay.  Are you having fun?"
   "Hell yeah," she chuckled.  "If Trish gets her shit together she might
get laid too.  Just close the tab and go home if you see her leave.  She's
about tanked anyway."
   "What about Silvia?" That was her cousin.
   Regina laughed.  "Silvia's long gone.  See you tomorrow, Dee."
   Melody waved her off, while getting Silvia and Regina's belongings into
a neat pile.  Maybe they did take advantage of her, but they were family.
She never had siblings before they showed up.
   ***
   Melody had to use the bathroom.  Half an hour ago, Trisha grabbed her
purse, but didn't say anything.
   She rang her phone.
   The call ended.  Seconds later, a message.  "I left; go home."
   Melody buried her head in her arms on the table.  At least Regina
bothered to say goodbye.  Tears wavering in her eyes, she gathered their
things and pulled out enough money to pay their bar tab.
   Someone held the exit open.
   "Thanks," she mumbled.
   "You're welcome."
   She held her breath and hurried toward the car.  Was he behind her? 
Following her?  "What are you doing?"
   "Walking you to the car, then I'd like to walk you back inside.  You
don't have to go."
   She didn't.  They were gone.
   'Not just any predator.'
   A warning?  A joke?
   Damn it.  She really had to pee.  She tossed everything in the trunk and
hurried back to the club.
   "I need to go," she dodged the people between the entrance and the
bathroom, mortified, embarrassed, ashamed, and confused.
   She looked down at her shirt, jeans, and running shoes.  Why did he care
about her?
   The stream of urine seemed to go on forever.  Had he been watching her?
Would he still be there.
   She checked herself in the mirror.  No make-up.  No hair dresser.  No
bra.  Ugh.
   Melody nearly ran into him on her way out the bathroom.  He was much
taller than her, though that didn't take much.  Her head came to his chest,
and she got another lungful of his cologne.
   "Better?"
   "Yes, thanks."
   "Good.  Let me get you a drink." Morgan put his arm around her waist and
walked with her into the thick of the club.
   "I have to drive."
   "I will be your designated driver tonight." He kissed her on the head,
then spoke to the bartender.
   The bartender came back with a tall, red, yellow, and orange frozen
drink, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.
   "Let's go up to the booth." He carried the drink in one hand, and guided
her with the other.
   Once up the metal stairs, the drum of the music and the roar of the
crowd faded.  He walked her around a corner and pulled open a gate, leading
her to a small couch and table.  She'd seen him up here before, with other
women.  She had imagined herself in this place.
   She sat and he put the drink down in front of her.
   "What is it?"
   "It's called a brain washer."
   "Ominous."
   "How do you like it?"
   She leaned forward and took a small sip, another, then a long pull - so
much that the area between her eyes hurt.  "Wow.  So good." She picked up
the cherry, swirled it in the whip cream, and put it in her mouth.
   Melody had taken sips of wine, champagne, beer, even one of the drinks
her sisters left on the table.  Nothing tasted as good as this.  She looked
up and out at the crowd and chuckled to herself.  The person she was about
to look for was seated beside her.  She smiled at him over the rim of her
quickly vanishing drink.
   "How long have you had your step family?"
   "Almost two years now.  My father went to prison with his new-wife's
brother." She sighed heavily and eased back on the drink.  Her cheeks felt
tingly.
   "Take it easy."
   "Sorry.  It's so good.  I haven't tasted anything this good ... 
alcoholic."
   "Do you have a bra on under that shirt?"
   "Um, no.  Why?"
   "Lay down on the couch.  I want to rub your back."
   "That's weird." Melody sipped from her drink and stretched out on the
couch.  "You didn't seem this weird when I was watching you."
   "Says the person watching me, what, months now?" He lifted the back of
her shirt.  "That's weird."
   She giggled at his imitation of her voice, then quieted as his thumbs
rubbed circles down her spine.  "You smell good.  Is that cologne?"
   "You like it?"
   "Yeah." That wasn't the only thing.  His fingers worked the tight
muscles of her back, but also warmed her.  This was literally the man of
her fantasies, touching her, massaging her.
   "How did you get this scar?" His nail whispered over her rib.
   "Fell off my skateboard."
   He leaned down and kissed it.  Melody nearly came off the couch.  He
didn't stop there.  His kisses traveled toward her back, placed soft kisses
along her spine.  She was stunned, yet turned on.  Did he know what he was
doing to her?  This wasn't normal.  It couldn't be.
   Just as quickly as he began, he sat back, and pulled down her shirt.
   Not knowing what to say or do, she reached for the drink.  Almost done.
   "When you're ready, I'll take you home."
   "I think I'm not sober any more."
   "Oh yeah?  How does it feel?"
   She giggled and rolled onto her back.  "Really..."
   Massive tent in those pants.
   What was she saying?
   "You're above average." The straw in her cup sucked only whipped cream.
   "Are you a virgin?"
   "No."
   "That's good.  Can I take you home now?"
   "You can take me."
   He smirked as he helped her to her feet.  "Flirty lush.  I like that."
   ***
   Melody must have told him how to get her home.  They were pulling into
the driveway, under the tree limbs, blocking the street light.  The car
went dark when he killed the engine.
   It wasn't that she was 'that' drunk.  She had stopped paying attention
to his driving or the world around her after he put his hand on her thigh.
It eased further up until his fingers nestled between the heat of her
thighs, blocked by denim.
   She shouldn't let him do that, but she had on jeans.  She shouldn't let
him touch her, except she wanted him, liked him.
   But now she was home.
   "I better get going." Then she looked at him.  "How are you going to get
home?"
   "I'm a resourceful man.  Don't worry about me." Morgan got out of the
car and walked around to open her door.
   Once she stepped out of the passenger side, he took her into his arms,
her back to his chest and hugged her tight.  "Do me a favor?"
   "What's that?"
   He undid the front of her jeans and slid his hand down, under her
panties, right to her pussy.  Melody gasped and held her breath as his
finger dipped between her slick labia.
   "Before you go to sleep, think of me touching you, licking you." He
kissed her neck.  "Kissing you.  Make yourself come." He pulled his fingers
away and locked the car.  "Get inside.  Drink a tall glass of water before
bed.  Understood?"
   Melody hummed.
   "Repeat it back."
   "Drink a tall glass of water."
   "And?"
   She blushed.  "Think of you touching, licking, and kissing me while I
masturbate."
   "I know.  You were going to do that anyway."
   She giggled, but then covered her mouth and looked around.
   "Later."
   The house was empty, lights out.  Melody took the glass of water into
the shower with her, knocked it back as she washed up.  She rushed to get
into bed before anyone noticed she was drunk, tipsy, and dazed with lust.
   She spread her legs and the rest went exactly as planned.  Her phone
buzzed moments before she fell asleep.
Morgan: "I knew you were a good girl."
   ***
   Melody thought about her weird encounter with Morgan all day.  Was that
why she never saw him with the same woman at the club?  Did they freak out?
   From the moment she woke with a smile on her face, she knew she wouldn't
be like them.  But what would she do?  How should she act?  She didn't have
a mother to ask.  Her father had last been responsible for her in high
school.
   Her step-sisters Trisha and Silvia?  No.  Melody did not want their life
or their advice.  Her cousin, Regina, wasn't much different.  Her
step-mother spent most of her time between work, lawyers, and casinos.
   So, she suffered her question in silence as she picked up her sisters,
dropped them off, and went back into town, to her tiny apartment.  In an
effort to have some family, any family, she had been staying with her step
mother, partying with her step-siblings.  In return she got to stay in a
large, beautiful house, and ate well, and pretended to have a family.
   Morgan saw through the lie immediately.  Did everyone?
   She pulled out her phone.
   "I have an apartment.  It's not very nice."
   She frowned at the stupid text.  No hello?  Why would she even tell him
that?
Morgan: "Where?"
Another bonus of living with family, not being alone, having built in
protection.
   She set her phone down and went about the rest of her day.  Occasionally
she paused to check her phone.  He never said anything back, didn't call.
   She sent the address.
   Another hour passed with no response.  She'd spent so much time at the
other house, that her own place had gone dusty, stale.  The sun set on a
cleaner place.
   Knock on her door.
   "Coming." She looked out the spy hole and her breath caught.  She opened
the door and the delicious smell of food wafted in from the hallway.  "Hi."
   "Dinner?"
   "Yes, sure."
   He walked in, a bag in each hand.  "So, this is your apartment?"
   "Yes." She hung her head.  "It's easy to afford, and..."
   "You don't like being alone." He set the bags down and looked through
her kitchen cabinets.
   "How did you know?"
   "You'd rather play chauffeur to people who barely acknowledge you."
   "I'm sure they will, some day.  They're all I have."
   "That's not true." He found the plates, silverware, glasses, and
napkins.
   "Can I help?"
   He smiled, deepening the laugh lines around his eyes.  "Yes.  Get a
blanket and spread it behind the couch there."
   Weird, but she was curious.  So she went and grabbed her winter quilt
from the closet.  Her couch, more a love seat, separated the kitchen from
the great room.  She lay the blanket down.  It crossed the arch-way into
the kitchen.  "Should I fold it?"
   "No, that's great.  Get two dish towels to use as place mats, and
pillows to sit on."
   While she ran back and forth, excited and giggling.  He prepared their
plates.  She paused in her bedroom, checked for errant underpants, mess, or
anything else that might embarrass her.  "Should I change?"
   "Not unless you're taking things off."
   She stifled her laugh as she joined him on the blanket.  He had taken
off his shoes, sock, and pants, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs
and his gray cotton shirt.
   The food smelled delicious, she sat on the other pillow across from him.
A small, wooden table held their plates.
   "This is really nice.  Thank you."
   "Enjoy.  This is from my favorite take out spot, Anrio's."
   That was a ten-minute walk from her apartment.  How close was he?
   "And this?" She picked up her glass, sipped from it.  A lot more than
just juice.
   "Rum punch."
   Not so fast.  She learned that much from last night.  She sipped her
drink and ate with him, the best meal she'd had since moving into her
humble apartment.  It was even better than being at a restaurant - that had
more to do with the way they were dressed.
   Afterward he helped her wash up in the kitchen.
   He poured her another drink and fixed a bowl filled with a slice of
chocolate layer cake and scoop of ice cream topped with syrup.  They had
settled onto the blanket when her cellphone rang.
   Her step mother said, "What time are you coming to the house?"
   Melody attempted to stand, but her legs weren't as steady any longer. 
She sank to the pillow across from him.  "I'm staying in tonight."
   "She's staying in."
   That must have been good enough for her, but Trisha's voice rang out in
the background, and then she was on the phone.
   "I need you to get me to work in the morning.  You'll be here by eight,
right?"
   Trisha always yelled into the phone.  Morgan must have heard her. 
Melody didn't want to see the look on his face.  She closed her eyes.
   Another kindness, taking Trisha to work so that she didn't use the bus,
running their errands.  Taking advantage of her fear of being alone.  She
wasn't alone now, but what about later?
   Morgan turned his phone around to show her the display.  "If they can't
accept that you have a life outside them, they were never going to be there
for you."
   "I'm not going to be there."
   Silence.  The timer on the call ticked away.
   Trisha hummed.  "What are you doing?"
   "Nothing.  What do you mean?"
   The call ended.  Melody pulled the phone away from her ear.  What was
Trisha going to do now?
   "Sorry." She turned her phone to silent.
   "Nonsense." He held out a forkful of ice cream and cake.  Using the same
fork, they finished off the dessert with soft moans and sighs of delight.
After the second drink, she was far more comfortable in his presence.
   He pulled her into his lap and pulled off her shirt.  He did the same
with his own.  The muscles of his chest felt firm along her back.  "What
can I do to earn your devotion?" He kissed along her neck and massaged her
breasts.
   She blushed.  "I think you have already."
   He hummed low in his throat.  "Then I'll prove I deserve it."
   Melody got up and put the dishes away, poured out the last of her drink.
She was already more drunk than she had been the night before.  Certainly
due to the kinds of thoughts she was having.
   Morgan was still seated on the blanket with a bemused expression.  She
took his hand and led him to her bedroom.
   She pulled his boxers down causing his dick to jump at attention.  He
stepped out, but didn't move, the curl to his lips said that he liked where
she was going.  She sat him on her bed and rubbed his thighs up and down.
He pointed his dick down toward her.  The flared mushroom head weeped a
single drop of clear liquid.
   She descended on his cock, taking all of him, licking along his shaft to
lubricate her way down.  The alcohol washed away any shyness or hesitancy.
All Melody wanted to do was thank him, make him feel good, let him know
that she appreciated his kindness, however short-lived it was going to be.
   He grew harder inside her mouth.  His thighs twitched, and he groaned in
encouragement as she sucked on him.  "Just like that."
   The amount of ejaculate that filled her mouth, took her by surprise. 
Melody nearly gagged, but pulled back in time to swallow.  Tears ran down
her cheeks from the strain, but she felt only pride.
   He lay back on the bed.  "Get naked and get up here."
   She stepped out of her bottoms and crawled onto the bed beside him.
   "Do you have any scarves?"
   "In the drawer beside my bed."
   He got up and opened her drawer.  Given the soft hum, he also found the
vibrator she kept in there.  He placed the scarf over her eyes and sat her
up to tie it.
   Her heart raced, but she tried to wait, to see if her fears were
founded.
   He leaned down on her and kissed her, both hands caressed her body,
especially her breasts and nipples.  Blind, she smelled him, felt his
warmth more clearly.  Melody touched him as well, her hands rounded his
backside.
   "I want you as my own, Melody." Morgan said as he rubbed the head of his
dick up and down her wet slit.  "I want you for my little girl, my lover,
my pet."
   Her face was buried in his neck, his voice went into her ear.  Her pussy
throbbed with want and anticipation.  "You can have me, Morgan."
   "Say it again.  Mean it.  Tell me."
   "I want to be yours."
   He moaned and pressed inside her.  "Take my cock, Melody.  Fuck, you're
so wet for me."
   Her nails dug into his back as he penetrated her.  She relaxed and
opened to him, allowing him to thrust deeper inside her.  His.  What a
treasured concept.  What would that be like?
   "Thank you," she whimpered as her orgasm approached.  She was so close.
He reached between their bodies and strummed her clitoris, giving her the
extra push over the edge.
   Blind, she made out with him, kissing him as he fucked her through the
orgasm, hers and his.  "I'm not done.  I told you devotion has its
rewards." He reared back and her legs rested over his thighs.  His fingers
slid into her wet pussy.  He fucked her with two of his fingers, filling
her bedroom with a sloppy sound.
   Melody made short, high sounds as her hips ground down on his fingers,
seeking that next release, blind to what he thought of her, what she looked
like.  All that mattered was coming, reaching that next orgasm.  "Please,
please."
   "I want you to come.  I want to make you come on my fingers.  That's it.
Fuck me back.  You look so beautiful right now.  I know you need this.  I
can see it."
   She was so dazed that she didn't bother to answer verbally.  Her pussy
dripped with arousal wetting the sheets under her.  His finger curled
upward and a new sensation filled her.  One that turned her whimpers to low
grunts.
   Morgan shifted and then his mouth was on her pussy, sucking her clitoris
into his mouth.
   That was the end for her her.  She came, hard, gushing fresh liquid onto
his hand.  She held his head down and her hips writhed, wringing the last
bit of her orgasm from him.  Then she pushed on the top of his head when
her pussy became too sensitive.
   He backed away and Melody used the time to catch her breath.  That
orgasm was so hard.  She nearly pulled a muscle.
   His voice was in her ear, low, husky.  "Who do you belong to, Melody?"
   "I belong to you, Morgan."
   He kissed down her neck toward her breast, sucked on the nipples.  "Only
me, Melody.  Understood?"
   "I understand."
   "Good girl."
   ***
   Melody had been too drunk at the time to understand the importance of
that declaration, but she learned a week after that night.
   Morgan and Melody communicated through texts, a few messages a day. 
Melody went back to what had been familiar: running errands, helping around
her step-mother's house, supporting her sisters.
Morgan: "I want to see you tonight."
She received the text at work, and wasn't able to answer until the end
of her shift.  "Have to pick up dinner for fam," she wrote back.
   "Be back at your house by nine."
   "I'm not going to be at my house."
   No response.  Melody chewed her thumbnail wondering what that meant. 
She sent, "???", but got nothing in return.
   Off work, grocery store, her step-mother's house.  Melody dropped the
groceries off and did a u-turn toward her car.
   "You got more to bring in?" One of them yelled at her back.
   Tears of uncertainty running down her face, Melody pulled out the
driveway and made record time in getting to her apartment.  8:57, she was
taking the stairs two at a time toward her door.
   Morgan leaned on the wall in the hallway looking at his phone.
   She opened the door and he followed her inside.  "Morgan, I--"
   Before she could say another word, he pinned her to the wall and
smothered her with a kiss.
   She missed him.  That's all she had in mind as she returned the
impassioned embrace.  She missed him and wanted him just as much.  It had
been too easy to forget their night together, to write it off as a moment
of chance.
   He went under her blouse and pulled her breast free of her bra.  He
kneaded and twisted on her nipple, all the while kissing her, fucking her
with his tongue.  She squealed and writhed against him.
   He reached under her skirt, pulled her panties down and rubbed her
pussy. "Did you forget who you belong to?"
   "No."
   "No, you didn't.  You're so wet." He mumbled before returning to their
kiss.  For a while, he played with her, kissed her, then pulled away. 
"Ride my cock, Melody." He walked to her couch, peeling his clothes along
the way and she did the same.
   Melody had only the dress and the disarray of her undergarments.  She
followed him to the couch and straddled his hips.  Reaching between her
legs, she guided his cock into her pussy.  The pleasure of being filled by
him caused her to shiver.  This time she was able to look into his eyes,
see the pleasure as her pussy swallowed him.
   "You like the way my cock feels inside you?"
   "Yes."
   "I like the way your pussy feels, Melody.  Tight, wet cunt.  Sucking on
my cock.  Ride me, baby.  Fuck, been thinking about this all week." He
groaned and his head rolled back.  "You belong to me, remember?"
   "I remember."
   "All mine.  Only mine," he rasped.  He grabbed her by the hips and
bucked up into her, ramming his pelvis upward faster, slamming into her
pussy.  Melody closed her eyes and chased the sensation, she reached
between their bodies to press on her clitoris.  Like a trigger, she went
off and pulled him along with her.
   "That's it." He groaned.  He pulled her sweaty body close to his.  "Such
a good girl.  My girl, not theirs."
   "I don't like being here alone." Melody decided he had to know.
   "Don't be here.  Come to my house."
   She stared at her bare wall.  Her heart was still going hard, but not so
much that she didn't doubt what she heard.  His house?
   "I had a key made for you this week.  Use it when you get off work."
   She sat up so that she could look him in the eye.  "We barely know each
other."
   "That's not going to be true for long, is it?"
   She shook her head.
   "Good.  Lay back down.  I want to hold my girl."
   ***
   Melody didn't tell anyone about her move.  She didn't stop keeping her
apartment.  Despite what he said, she couldn't be sure Morgan wanted to be
with her that much longer.  Her father promised to always be there for her,
after all, and ended up an accomplice to his new family's criminality.
   She put the key into the lock after checking the address several times.
The house was lovely, in a clean, quiet neighborhood.  The lawn cut, paint
fresh.  Where did she expect him to live?  Mostly like her, in a small
place in a dingy part of town.
   The key went in without trouble.  Should she knock first?  Why would she
knock if she had the key?
   She pushed open the door and stepped inside.  A large screen television
had a pornographic film on display.  A woman on her knees, a series of
black straps held her arms behind her back.  A bright pink ball in her
mouth glistened with saliva.  Her tear stained eyes looked up at the camera
as she grunted and moaned.
   Morgan was reclined in a large cushioned chair with a beer on one side
and a bag of chips open on the other.
   "Um, hi."
   He looked up, smiled, and paused the movie just as the camera panned
down to the device the woman kneeled over.  It looked like a vibrating
seat.
   "Have a seat.  There's plenty of food and drink in the fridge if you
want anything.  Don't spoil dinner though."
   She perched on the edge of the couch.  Unsure how comfortable she should
get.  She'd never met anyone so brazen about watching such graphic
material. Didn't he expect her to show up?  Was he going to apologize? 
Turn it off?
   Neither.  They sat in silence.
   "Are," she twisted the end of her skirt, "Are you into that kind of
thing?"
   "Into what kind of thing, exactly?"
   "The uh," she gestured toward the screen.  "Whips and chains and stuff."
   Morgan grinned and looked at the screen.  "I don't see any whips or
chains."
   She huffed.  "She's tied up."
   "Restraints.  Ah, yes, Fabric, leather, maybe a treated cord, but not
chains.  I don't use whips."
   "Then what do you do after the restraint part?"
   "You should know that already, my dear.  Pleasure.  Teasing.  It
heightens the sensation.  Are you into that kind of thing?"
   "Well," she hedged.  "I like pleasure, but I don't know about ...  the
other stuff."
   He emptied his beer and stood.  He placed his finger under her chin and
lifted until she was looking at him.  "Think about the other stuff.  I'm
listening.
   He seemed so honest, not saying words just to say them.  Focused on her,
not the screen, his food, or his own thoughts, only her.  "I did like when
you had the scarf over my eyes last time.  It was like you said,
heightening the sensation, and I did enjoy it.  I think I'd like it more if
it were you, but I don't know much beyond the painful stuff."
   "Painful stuff is for bad girls.  That's not for you."
   She swallowed thickly.  "Have you ...  been with a bad girl?"
   "Not for long.  Do you want to be whipped?"
   Her eyes went wide.  "No.  Why?"
   "Pain is not always punishment.  Like when you scratch my back during
sex?  It stings, but feels good." His hand slid back behind her neck,
cradled the back of her head.  Not all pain is physical either.  I do enjoy
a bit of stress." He let go and took a step back from her.  "You look
beautiful today."
   "Thank you."
   "Are you familiar with the concept of power play?"
   She shook her head.  "Like playing with electricity?"
   "Stand up."
   She did.
   "Turn around."
   Melody faced the couch.
   "Hands over your head."
   Nerves ticked up, but she lifted her arms high in the air.
   "Spin around."
   She turned in a circle once.
   "I didn't say stop."
   "Sorry." She stiffened her arms and continued to turn in a slow circle.
   "No need to apologize.  Obey and remember."
   Obey.  She could do this.  At least for a while longer, her arms were
beginning to ache.
   "Stop."
   She stopped spinning, but did that mean to lower her arms?  Just to be
on the safe side, she kept them in the air.
   "Lower your arms." He stepped forward and massaged her arms, shoulders,
and neck.  "That is power play.  For that moment, you gave your power to
me. How did that feel?"
   "Odd.  Easy when I knew what you wanted."
   "I'll get you a drink.  Take your shoes off; get comfortable.  What time
do you need to be at work tomorrow?"
   "I'm off tomorrow.
   "Even better."
   That movie was still on the screen, taunting her with the scene in
limbo. Melody picked up the remote, studied the buttons.  Could she push
play?
   He returned to the living room with two drinks and a kitchen knife.
   She stared at the knife, not even the sound of the woman's moan on
screen could get her attention.
   "Are you worried about that knife?"
   She nodded.
   Morgan kneeled on the floor in front of her and set the knife in her
lap. "This is my kitchen knife.  I use it to slice, dice, and mince.  I
keep it sharp and handle it with care."
   The blade was cool on her lap.  Suddenly she wished that racket on the
television would shut up.  Why did he have the knife?  Did he say yet?  Why
was it in her lap?  She wasn't a vegetable.
   He slid her shirt off and removed her bra.  On his knees, between her
legs, the knife between them, he leaned forward and kissed each of her
breasts.  "No sudden movements, Melody.  I don't want the knife to cut
you."
   "You don't?"
   He grinned.  "Of course not, not unless I am making the cut." He sucked
a nipple into his mouth and played with it, then moved to the other.
   She couldn't see the knife anymore, only the top of his head, but there
was a movie playing in front of her.  The woman was strapped to a board,
her legs open, arms wide.  A man dressed in black held a vibrator to her
pussy, but removed it before she could reach orgasm again.
   Morgan leaned back and picked up the knife.  Tapped her on the
shoulders, traced her collar bone.  She was so nervous that she could
barely breathe.  How sudden was a sudden move?  Part of her wanted to tell
him to stop, to make this madness end.  Only part, the rest wanted to be
the good girl he saw in her, the obedient one that could follow
instruction.
   "Remember to breathe, Melody."
   The cool blade drew a line under her chin.  Did it hurt?  Sting? 
Through her strained breath, she fought for any sign that she would soon
bleed out.
   "Do you know why I want you here with me?" He said after several minutes
of silence.
   "No." Her heart thumped wildly, but she retained her composure.  The
knife continued to play over her skin, but nothing hurt, her skin remained
in tact.
   "Your fortitude, humility, and dedication.  I want that for myself.  I
want you and the treasure you offer for my own.  You have a profound level
of trust, even for me, a stranger when we met.  I'm going to trust you in
return.  Trust that here is where you want, that I am what you want, and
that if I do something that is too much for you to take, you will tell me.
Okay?"
   "Okay."
   "Is the knife too much?"
   "Maybe earlier, but ...  I think I'm used to it now."
   He chuckled and rose to take the knife back to the kitchen.  Melody
rubbed her forehead, unsurprised by the level of perspiration on her
fingers.
   "Close your eyes." Morgan said from behind her.
   "I need to use the bathroom." She blurted in a rush.
   "Down the hall on the left.  Return naked."
   "Yes, sir." She hopped up and hurried down the hall and to the bathroom.
She didn't really have to go until he told her close her eyes.  It went
from a distance urge to a pressing need.  She kicked out of her socks,
skirt, and panties and carried them out with her.  She only kept her eyes
open enough to see the floor under her feet.
   "I'll take that.  Are you trying to close your eyes?"
   "I was."
   "I like that.  You're a clever little girl." He rubbed her head as if
petting her.
   The television was off now, or paused.  She didn't look up to see the
screen.
   "I'm going to fuck you, Melody.  It might be a bit rough.  I want to see
how much you can take, how wild you can get.  Fuck me back, all right,
beautiful?"
   She nodded.  Her skin flushed thinking about being wild with him.
   ***
   Having her eyes closed made giving in to his offer of wild abandon
easier.  With her eyes closed, Melody could pretend to be a full woman, in
command of her body and sexuality.  These were illusions.  He issued the
command for her to be free and she was, for him.
   They fucked throughout the afternoon, then dinner, a movie, and they
made out like teens.  Though he was several years older than her, he had an
energy that matched her own.
   The voicemails and messages reached a critical mass.  She tried
listening to most of them at work, away from Morgan, so that she didn't
shame herself with making excuses and promises.
   "I don't know what's going on with you girl," said Tasha, "but it sounds
like someone is fucking you over.  Come over tonight.  We need to talk."
   "Okay." Melody had no intention of going anywhere but to Morgan's house
after her shift.
   She opened the door and stepped inside.  She froze just inside the door.
   Morgan had company, a young, large man with blond hair and green eyes.
   "Hello," said Melody.
   Morgan pointed to the couch, and went back to talking with the other man
seated beside him at the high table.
   "That should be plenty." Morgan opened his wallet and peeled off several
large bills.
   The other man whispered his question, to which, Morgan replied, "Long
enough to be sure." Followed by, "Melody, come here."
   She hopped up and went over to stand beside his stool.
   He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it back, revealing the lace sky blue
bra she wore just for him.  It displayed her dark nipples and barely
covered the swell of her bosom.  "You're off for the next two days, yes?"
   "Yes."
   "Pour yourself a glass of juice and take one of these." He pushed the
light violet pilled to the center of the table.
   She got the glass of orange juice, but had to steady her hand before she
could hold it and grab the pill.
   "Does being around him make you nervous?"
   "A little."
   "Because he can see those gorgeous perky tits?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "Can you see her tits?"
   The green eyed man grinned.  "I see her bra."
   "Me too.  Shame.  She's got a nice set."
   Melody took the pill and emptied the glass.  If he wanted her to take
the bra off, he would.  The phrase repeated itself in her head.
   "Have you masturbated today, Melody?"
   She swallowed the last bit of juice in her mouth.  "Yes, sir."
   "What were you thinking about?"
   "You, touching me."
   "When did you do this?"
   "During my lunch break."
   The other man nodded and grinned.  "Fair point.  Enjoy her."
   "See yourself out?"
   "Not a problem.  Call me if you need more."
   They were silent as the mystery man left the house, locking the door in
his wake.
   "Show me what you did." He pointed to the vacant stool.
   Melody rounded the counter and perched on the stool.  Just as she had in
the women's restroom, she widened her stance and fingered herself, head
rolled back.  Her body tingled.  A wave of disorientation and euphoria
pulsed with each beat of her heart.
   "Stop.  Eyes on me."
   She snatched her hand out, but her breath was ragged, uneven.
   "Good girl.  No matter what.  No matter what you feel, you always focus
on my voice.  Always let it anchor you."
   "Yes, sir." She tightened her grip on the counter.  "Morgan."
   "Yes, my girl?"
   "Please, fuck me.  Hard.  Please, tell me what I can do."
   "Suck my cock, Melody.  Get me hard and wet."
   She tumbled into him, her hand fumbled to free his cock.  "What is
this?"
   "What you're feeling?" He kissed her neck and unzipped his pants.  "A
bit of fun.  Remember to anchor to my voice, and you will never be lost."
He groaned as she took his cock in her mouth, licked and sucked him with
the abandon of a mad woman.  But not lost, not as long as she was with him,
as long as she surrendered to him.
   He lifted her in one arm, and held his pants up with the other as he
practically dragged her to the bedroom.  He set her on the bed and slid
inside her.  The action of his cock penetrating her expanded more than her
vaginal walls, but also her soul, her mind.  The effect seemed harrowing.
   "I love when you fuck me," she moaned.  "So good." She had asked for
hard, but any harder than his languid pace and he would have shattered her
fragile psyche.  She found herself lost in the motion, the intensity, and
the totality of the orgasm as it overtook her.
   "I'm right here," Morgan moaned in her ear.  "Ride it out."
   For that moment, and the rest of the evening, Morgan consumed her entire
world.  He became her motivation.  If Melody had to identify a point when
the rest of the world and its demands on her fell away, it would have been
that night.  Lost, but anchored by him.
   ***
   Melody stirred in Morgan's arms.  She ducked down and buried her head in
his chest to block out the light.
   "How are you feeling?"
   "Perfect," she mumbled.  "Thirsty."
   He chuckled and brought a glass of water over to her.  "Drink up."
   She sat up and looked around.  That was a lot stronger than morning
light.  "What time is it?"
   "Almost noon."
   Stillness.  "What day?"
   "Thursday.  Yes, you've missed going to work.  I called and told your
manager that you would not be in."
   "Was he upset?"
   "Probably.  You don't have to work, Melody.  If you enjoy your job, if
it brings you fulfillment, then you should pursue it."
   "But I have to pay for my apartment, my bills."
   "Not if you want to be here with me."
   "For the rest of my life?" She set her empty glass aside and looked down
at him.  How long had it been already?  Days?  Weeks?  Much of it seemed to
blur, broken only by the times she forced herself outside him home - into
the world of responsibility and judgement and obligation.
   "Yes, Melody, and you can use the time to find what you want to do, what
you would enjoy.  If it's just the money, we can find something better
suited to your schedule."
   It sounded so reasonable at the time.  They went through the motions of
shutting down her life.  She gave up her apartment, quit her job, changed
her phone number.  The phone number happened as a result of unwanted
pestering from a step-family that only cared what she could do for them. 
Now they pretended to care about her.  Morgan actually cared, showed his
affection.  He made her feel and experience things others could never
understand.
   ***
   Melody rocked, propelled by the rhythmic penetration of her body.  Her
wrists were secured on either side of her, legs stretched and bound.  Like
that woman in the pornographic film, except this was a bed, not a wooden
plank.
   "Feel so good," he purred in her ear.  His voice sent a warm tingle
through her body.  "Are you my good girl, Mel?"
   "Yes, sir, I'm your good girl." The words seemed to float from her.  "Am
I ...  did you give me something?"
   "I did.  Does it feel good?"
   "Yes." The awareness, sensation of her body extended beyond her skin. 
Their bodies melded together.  She was him as well as her.  Fucking
herself, wrapped around her body.  She wanted to wrap her arms around him,
envelop him, but the restraints denied her the embrace of her other half.
   A fiery burn spread from her backside, through her body.  It didn't
hurt, but it was unexpected, lingering.  Her mouth opened, but no sound
followed.
   His fingers traced a wide circle around the place where he'd hit her. 
Igniting the burn further, and adding a element of arousal.  Her pussy
clamped down on his cock, confused by the pain.
   Two clicks and her arms were free.  Two more freed her legs.  He pulled
out and rolled her over.  The room seemed to spin instead.  The world
turned on end until everything was upside down.
   Slowly, he pressed back inside her, stretched her open.  He massaged her
back, scratched down her sides.  "Pain and pleasure can be twisted. 
Remember when I told you that?"
   "Yes, Morgan."
   "Tell me what you are, Melody."
   "I'm yours ...  your good girl." The scream found its way out her mouth
then.  The vibration of it rattled the air.  Everything became pain.  What
caused it?  Her mind couldn't hold still long enough to search for the
source.  He reached under her and rubbed her clitoris in furious, tight
circles.  The pleasure erased the pain, her screams were that of an
oncoming orgasm.
   It was the beginning of a long, disorienting ride.  Intense pain,
maddening pleasure.
   His voice.  "Chase the dragon, my girl.  Ride it out." He alternated
between fucking and lashing her body.  "Your pussy hasn't stopped
throbbing, clenching on my cock, milking me.  Everything you are belongs to
me.  I am your world."
   No resistance to his claims.  He was her anchor, where he pulled, she
followed.  What he wanted, she gave.
   "Keep coming gorgeous." He held her tight, fucking her, and strumming
her clitoris.  No pain for now, only pleasure, only his demands.  "Bring me
over with you."
   She stopped thinking clearly enough to keep track of things like time.
Events tumbled on.  She was a ball of sweat and flesh, a rag doll under his
control.  Tears and saliva and sexual fluids covered her face.
   "Look in the mirror."
   Her puffy eyes opened to the stranger's reflection.  Who was that woman?
What was wrong with her?  The image shimmered with each beat of her heart.
   He lifted a warm, damp cloth to her face and wiped her clean of his
ejaculate, her tears, her spittle.  "We're going to go sit in the bath
now."
   She mouthed, "Thank you," to his reflection.
   "Nothing less than what a good girl like you deserves."
   <->
   Epilogue: In truth, I wrote the intro to this story over a year ago.  I
knew the general direction I wanted.  Decadence and depravity.  It wasn't
until 2014 that I figured out how to get there.  Happy depravity, if you
will.
Written: March 2013
"My sexual interests are like my eating habits.  I'll try anything once,
twice, if you prepare it differently." -Bianca Lee
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
Designated