Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Breaker and the Mountain
   by Nysidra
   This story contains several erotic concepts and explicit sexual
descriptions.
   Erotic Romance (MF, BDSM)
   <->
   -_ The Auction _-
   Tony leaned toward Adrian causing the metal chair under him to squeak.
"Thank you." This was the tenth such mention of gratitude since they
arrived, but Adrian wouldn't dare claim it was unnecessary.
   A single, terse nod.  That's all his business partner was going to get.
This place wasn't his crowd, his scene, or his preferred method of spending
a Friday evening.  This was just a favor.  The money would go toward a
charitable cause and earn him some good will.
   The large overhead lights dimmed.  Side conversations came to an end. 
All the men took their seats, chairs shifted, throats cleared and programs
rustled as a tall, matronly woman stepped to the podium.
   "Hello and welcome..."
   Adrian went back to the crossword app on his phone.  He only needed to
listen for her name.  Occasionally though, he glanced up to catch a look at
the offerings.  All of the women were quite lovely, if a little too heavily
plastered, tucked, and polished for his taste.  This was expected given the
audience and the formal nature of the event.
   He smirked.  His lifestyle had spoiled him.  He was used to seeing a
woman in far less, naked of adornment, stripped of social grace, relying
only on personality to shine through.  His smirk morphed into a reminiscent
grin, well, not solely her personality.
   He thought he heard the host call out the name Tonya, Tony's younger
sister.  He looked up and his gaze fastened on obscenely wide hips, thick
and muscular thighs.  The clinging wine colored dress had a split from
which smooth, long legs peeked as she walked.  Her substantial body had all
the grace of a lady ...  but damn.  Hers was the kind of feminine shape
that convinced pious men that there was indeed evil in the world and it lay
nestled deep in the valley of her luscious thighs.  He looked up to the
other valley created by her breasts.  He could drift off to sleep on those
bountiful mounds, covered in the smell of her.
   What did she smell like?  Taste like?  What noises did she make as
arousal short circuited her brain?  Did she know how what bounty her curves
promised?
   His gaze traveled up along the crimson brown of her neck to her face,
framed by thick, dark curls.  Obscene: her full lips, large expressive
eyes, dark lashes, round cheeks.  She turned slightly and her the caboose
was the perfect finisher of the seduction train.  This woman was a monument
to lust.
   Tony nudged him.  "What are you doing?"
   Adrian lowered the placard to his lap.
   Bidding.
   He had bid on her without conscious thought.  He hadn't felt his arm
move, but there it was, in the air as if filled with helium.  That dress of
hers was covering too much and yet hugged her body in a way that informed
his imagination.
   Others outbid him.  He frowned, looked on either side of him.  The
bidding was down to a trio of men.  Why wasn't the entire room in a frenzy?
   Her bright eyes begged him for mercy.  Did she want him to bid again or
did he imagine that?  She was nothing like the other women, those former
beauty queens, cheerleaders, socialites, and cultured, hopeful housewives.
This woman had an easy 50 pounds on them, probably carried in her tits and
ass.  Thank goodness for that.
   She was so out of place among them.
   He wanted her.  The hand holding the placard twitched in agreement.  He
folded his arms to keep it from floating in the air again.
   "We have a winner.  Congratulations, number 27.  Enjoy your data with
Raja."
   Two women later, Tonya walked onto the stage in all of her painfully
average glory: blond, blue eyed, slim, pale.
   Tony fidgeted in his seat as Adrian competed with seven others for the
winning bid.  He was looking at Raja, and Miss Walking Obscenity 2012
stared back with a confused expression.  Adrian knew what his own
expression held: frustration, irritation, petulance.
   Fifteen thousand dollars later, he was swallowing a low boiling disgust.
   "Do I actually," Adrian pretended to clear his throat.  "Does she want
to go on a date?"
   "Are you kidding?" Tony laughed.  "Of course, you have to be.  She's
obsessed with you.  I mean, if you wanted to settle down and start a family
tomorrow she'd be all in."
   Adrian's skin crawled but he only nodded.  "She isn't my type."
   "I know, and she isn't your type either, but you know, if you ever get
interested in a long term commitment.  You won't have to look far."
   Adrian was never not interested in such a thing, but there was no way
Tonya would last a single date.  He sighed and waited.  It would be useless
to explain it to Tony, even now.
   The auction ended and everyone got to their feet.  As they filed off the
stage Adrian scanned the room for Raja.  He wanted to get near her, hear
her speak, perhaps catch a whiff of her perfume.  Would she sound as
haughty and polished as the others?  A cool disdain in her tone would
dampen this fantasy and put out the fire of disappointment in his belly. 
She was so fucking gorgeous.  He would have gladly paid fifty thousand
for...
   No, Adrian smirked.  If he paid that much, he wanted much more than a
date.
   A cry of high pitched mirth pierced his irritable mood.  "Mr. 
Blackridge!"
   She was behind him.  Adrian remembered to smile as he turned to face
her. Somehow this woman managed to squeal when she talked.
   She beamed and extended her hand.  "Tonya Daschel.  I've heard so much
about you."
   Focus.  Just one date.  One night.  One favor.
   For charity.  For his friend.
   ***
   Raja expected nothing from the audience.  She didn't bother building up
fantasies of young, virile men with pockets full of money just waiting to
be spent for the chance at a date with a beautiful woman.  The was many
things that didn't belong together.
   Rich males.  That's all she expected.  Men of means bidding for a date
wasn't the stuff of fantasies.
   A wave of giggles broke out around her back stage.
   Not her fantasies.
   Constance convinced her to sign up.  "We need all kinds of women," she'd
said, "for variety.  It's a good cause.  Please consider it."
   Raja understood the need for variety, but Raja was the only one.  She
stuck out like a sore thumb - a fat sore thumb.  She knew she was
beautiful, that she could turn heads.  That much was never in doubt.  Yet,
standing next to these women made her feel ...  bloated.  She was taller,
wider, darker, curvier, thicker, stronger than all of them and all at once.
She felt more like their bouncer at a beauty pageant rather than a fellow
participant.
   She didn't feel slighted by their lack of enthusiasm or appreciation for
a big girl like herself.  She'd heard plenty about her body all through
high school and college.  She knew what she looked like, knew what other
people saw.
   Raja didn't have to crane her head to see the audience when the girls
parted the curtain.  She was able to take her peeks behind them.  She
scanned the audience, wondering who she would have to date, whom she wanted
to bid on her.  Her odds were on graying, balding, or softening.
   "Raja."
   She walked onto the stage.
   The scruffy man near the back leered at her, his eyes devouring her
without holding back.
   Now, this was the kind of attention to which she was accustomed.  The
stranger's open leer made her feel the best she had all night.  Other men
appeared surprised, afraid, almost bashful.  Her dress did not conceal or
tone down her flagrant shape.  This dress was made for her body, made to
show it off and set her apart.  The slimmest part of her was tucked away
behind her bra: tiny reddish brown nipples, the cutest most dainty thing on
her whole body.
   Constance wanted variety and recruited an Amazon.
   Mr.  Scruffy had cold eyes.  Cold, but impassioned, like those of a
hunter catching sight of prey.  His eyes narrowed in irritation when the
blond man beside him made him stop bidding.  He didn't stop eye-fucking her
though.
   Raja wondered if he had the body for it, the stamina, the strength.
   Probably not.
   She smiled politely at the graying, rube-faced man who won a dinner date
with her for $2000.  It was just a date.  The date would take place in the
hotel's restaurant, and she would meet him in the lobby.  He had already
paid for the meal with his bid.  All that was left was to agree on a time.
   She stood along the back of the stage with the others as the other girls
walked the stage.  Mr.  Scruffy earned a new name: Mr.  Dark & Stormy.  His
wolfish gaze intensified, and now he looked so ...  cranky.  Like a rich
boy told he couldn't make the maid act like his pony for show and tell at
school.  She imagined he was quite physical when he didn't get his way,
that his voice took on a serial killer's edge.
   Fantasies, of course.  If he was here, it meant that he didn't have the
social grace to find a woman by traditional means.
   The buzz around the 'crown jewel' of the evening halted Raja's
daydreaming.  Tonya Daschel, former teen beauty queen, heiress, socialite,
sister and co-owner of...
   Oh.  Tonya bore a striking resemblance to the man nervously poking at
Mr. Dark & Stormy.  He outbid them all, looking bored and hostile, and
staring at Raja the whole time.
   Once the bidding was over Tonya nearly skipped to stand in line with
them.
   "Do you know him?" said Angeline.
   "Oh my god, I will soon!  His name is Adrian Blackridge.  He works with
my brother, but he's always so busy.  I haven't been able to meet him yet.
He's going to be my husband one day.  You just wait.  I'm what he needs."
   Blackridge?  Raja pitied the squealing ball of snobbish hell.  She
wasn't even his type.  He didn't even want to bid on her.  Why didn't she
see that?
   It didn't matter.
   This whole event did not matter.
   Raja nearly convinced herself until the bidding ended and everyone
stood. Her belly fluttered and body temperature spiked.
   Holy Fuck.
   Mr.  Big & Tall and Dark & Stormy and oh so deliciously Scruffy.  She
needed air, and to sit, to fall in his arms.  Was that a swoon?  Oh, yes,
swoon away.  Damned weaknesses.
   She hurried down from the stage to find her date.  She overlooked far
too many faults when she could stare up into a man's eyes.
   No trouble here.  She smiled down into the beaming face of her future
date.  He was probably a respectable 5'9" or something, but Raja was
wearing her good heels.  Even if he'd been six feet tall, he didn't stand a
chance.
   "A pleasure, Miss."
   The pleasure was going to be all his.
   -_ The Club _-
   "You tend to find more fresh faces with this crowd," Stefan said.  "That
group of yours is filled with too many jaded wash outs."
   "A lot less foolishness, too." Adrian nodded in thanks to the bartender
as she set down his drink.  He eyed the sway of her skirt as she walked
away.
   "I'll concede that, but I enjoy a bit of silliness."
   Adrian sipped his rum and coke and turned to check out the rest of the
room.  Small, but comfortable crowd.
   "Anyway, you need to fish from a different pond."
   He grunted, but Stefan had a point.  No one had run in the opposite
direction or scattered to look busy.  Not that Adrian didn't deserve it. 
His reputation was a ruthless one.  Anyone woman that had not been with him
was too scared to try.  If seasoned women took cover then a group of
novices...
   Ass.
   Snug cotton sea green boy shorts hugged the upturned rump.  Bountiful,
lush, jiggling ass.
   Fuck.  What was it with him and asses lately?  Not just the ass, but
that creamy mahogany color was also a familiar lure.
   A large open hand smacked the proudly wiggling ass.  He heard he blow
from his seat at the bar.  The partial hand print left a faint blush in its
wake.
   A resulting giggle rang clear as a bell across the room.  She sounded
light, girly, jubilant.
   "Come one.  Put your back in it.  Enough with the warm up." She wiggled
her ass again.
   He slapped, but his back was not into it.
   She turned and Adrian sputtered into his drink.  Raja!  No fucking
wonder.  A body like that had to be unique.  She switched places with
another woman.
   Where Raja had giggled, this woman yelped.  She cupped her ear and
scowled at the would-be Dom.  Listen, her expression said.
   "You haven't heard a single word." Stefan laughed.
   Adrian didn't take his eyes off her for a second.  She was in her
underwear and a heather grey tee.  No bra, heavy breast just hanging in
there, swaying with each movement.  "Not one."
   "I'm trying to help you out.  Her name is Regina.  She's either the
dungeon monitor or instructor depending on the evening."
   Adrian turned slightly toward Stefan, just enough to glance at him and
keep her in his field of vision.  The red-boned glory in cotton lounge
wear? Regina?  Raja?  Instructor?  "This is her job?"
   "No, more like her hobby.  I know Marcus doesn't pay her.  She's here
almost every night."
   "Top or bottom?" Bottom, please say bottom.
   "Not sure.  Woman like that?  Probably beats men for breakfast and
scrambles them for lunch.  Sad to waste that kind of stature on her knees."
   This time Adrian did look at Stefan, the former college line-backer with
all the stats to match.  "I'm sure women think the same thing about you."
   "True," Stefan waved him off.  "Go on, man.  Find out for us both.  My
mistress will be along soon enough, and I'll forget all about you.  See if
a little fresh-faced foolishness is your style."
   It was not.  It never could be.
   Adrian set his drink aside and paid the bartender before heading outside
to his car.  He popped the trunk and grabbed his bag.  He set it aside, and
approached his beauty.
   Good thing he hadn't been able to bid on her.  It pained him to think
they may have wasted an evening pretending to be people they weren't,
subverting their true desires.
   "I didn't hear that." She had a soft voice, womanly, rich.  When she
laughed it seemed buoyant.  She didn't notice him until he was a few feet
away.  He saw the recognition in her eyes.  "Excuse me." She turned to him
in her heels.  Not that they helped her much.  She barely made it to eye
level.
   Yet, she gave him the rare pleasure of facing a woman so tall.  Adrian
made adjustments in his mind.  She wouldn't whimper in his chest when he
held her.  He would feel her tears roll down his shoulder.  She might use
up the last notch of his bench.
   She extended her hand with a smile that lit her whole face.  "You don't
seem so out of place this time."
   "Likewise.  Adrian Blackridge."
   "Regina Milton," she winked.  "Raja invites all kinds of questions about
my personal life that I'd rather avoid."
   "Later then." Adrian nodded to the vacant wooden cross.  "May I?"
   The light danced in her eyes as her smile broadened and cheeks flushed.
"Is there ...  a particular instrument you want instruction on?"
   "No.  I want to smack that gorgeous ass of yours."
   "That's all?"
   "For now?  That's all."
   Her sigh was both wistful and filled with doubt, put patient.  Jaded and
foolish.  Adrian had to admit, it was a heady combination.  Hope lived in
this one.  "I'll agree to that."
   Adrian led her over to the cross.  "Take off your heels."
   "Okay"
   He grinned at the purposely casual reply.  He delighted in the bounce of
her bosom as she arched to step out of her shoes.
   He took her wrist in hand and cuffed it overhead.  "I'm glad I couldn't
buy my way into your life." He whispered as he caressed her arms.  Her skin
felt cool, supple to his touch.  "The money would have been happily spent,
but it would have only bought one night neither one of us would have
enjoyed." He gathered her shoes and set them down within her line of sight.
   He took her other wrist and fastened it on the opposite side.  "Fate has
given me a chance to touch you," he smacked her ass, watched it bounce. 
She was firm under all that bounty, muscled, strong.  "Feel you," another
warming smack on the other cheek, "show you." He smacked her again, rounded
her skin with the tips of his fingers.
   "Show me what?" She smirked at him.  She'd already assumed he was trying
to hit her as hard as possible, but her grin faltered when he took the whip
from his bag.
   "I'll show you." He promised as he moved behind her.
   ***
   No, no, no.  Not again.  Fuck!
   What if he doesn't know what he's doing?
   What if he doesn't know what he's doing?
   What if-
   Raja keyed in on the sound of the long leather whip hitting the floor.
She heard it over the music and conversation.  She stared at the bag beside
the cross.  Where had that thing come from?  Whips were not available for
public play.
   Her stomach knotted with worry.  This was bad.  Public or not, this was
just some rich boy with an expensive red and black toy that could do some
serious damage.  She didn't know anything but his name.  He didn't ask her
permission for this.  Well, yes, the cross was for being whipped but she
didn't think he'd do this.
   Of course she didn't think.  When her neck was craned back, the only
thing going through her mind were school girl crush fantasies.
   Think about the others.  This would be a good learning ...  teaching
opportunity: when to use a safe word.  One cut.  She could take a cut to
teach that.  One wrong blow on her back.  She'd taken it before.
   He spoke to someone behind her, giving directions.  That sultry
late-night radio voice of his sent skitters along her spine.
   A fat drop of sweat rolled down her cheek and gained momentum as it
joined the others on her neck.
   Fuck Tall Men.  Fuck them.  Fuck her willingness to let a man she hardly
knew strap her to a cross.  A single tail was not a toy.  She let that firm
hand on her ass sway her.  He wasn't dangerous, that tap said, he just
looks strong, that's all.  It was a lie, he'd only been teasing and she was
too caught up to see that.
   The whip cracked like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.
   Raja belted out a scream worthy of a horror movie scene.  She jumped and
jerked against her restraints.  Mentally, she searched her body for the
pain.
   She sucked in a ragged breath.  Whispers, muted giggles.  Music no
longer played over the speakers.
   "Anticipation is its own torture, wouldn't you say so, Regina?"
   Another loud, painless crack in the air, the other side of her body.
   She twitched, stiffened, and her heart did the hundred meter dash. 
"Yes, Sir."
   That bastard, Gus, still hadn't started the music.
   Raja didn't want to play anymore.  This wasn't cute or fun.  He was
about to make an ass out of her.
   Crack!
   Her breath hitched as she felt a burn on her thigh.
   Crack!  Burn.
   How was he managing a touch so light?  Talk about a bark being louder
than its bite.
   Crack!
   Raja's thoughts stuttered, stumbled, and fell flat on their face.  Each
time she formed a thought, another blow sent the notion flailing.  The
blows were varied, off timed, then measured.  Soon all she was doing was
listening, feeling, breathing.
   "Where are you, woman?" His voice in her ear as his finger tips grazed
the whelps on her thighs.
   "Right here with you," she answered.
   He stepped back and picked up the pace.  Her moan rose as an echo to his
strikes.  Rising to her toes, she begged with her body: harder, please,
harder.  She had feared he would harm her with a single blow, and now she
wished for a heavier hand.  Her heart thundered, body pulsed, soul
expanded. A stinging whelp blazed over her right buttock and she felt it to
her bone.
   Another lash.
   Fuck!  That hurt!  She screamed, but her hips angled back.  Like that,
another one like that, please.
   The applause pulled her from the fog.
   She was in public, not some private masturbatory fantasy.
   Who did this to her?
   Raja's eyes fluttered open.  He unfastened the cuff on her left wrist.
   No!  Not yet.  So close.  She scowled as he unbuckled the other wrist.
   He kissed her forehead and wiped the sweat from her brow.  "This is not
the place for me to drag you over the coals," he said.  "You don't want
them to see that side of you.  Do you?"
   She didn't, but how did he know that?
   He took each of her wrists in his hands, massaged them and then her
shoulders.  He shielded and supported her with his strong, tall body.  Raja
looked at her heels and laughed.  She would have busted her fat ass trying
to stand in those right now.
   Her whole body ached.  Her sweat turned her shorts and flimsy shirt a
shade darker and several degrees cooler.  She felt like she was in the
midst of a thrill ride that was canceled due to mechanical failure.  The
scene was dreadfully incomplete.  She needed more.  Her body was so close,
nearly there, but he had been right.
   Not here.  Not now.  But where?  When?
   The music streamed through the overhead speakers.
   He sat her in a chair and put a glass of water in her hand.  A spotlight
highlighted his muscles as he walked back toward the cross.  Dear Fucking
Lord.  He'd taken off his shirt.  Her tongue wanted to get acquainted with
the grooves in his body.  He put his bag at her feet, shirt in her lap. 
His whip lay on top of the bag.  She wanted to crush the shirt to her face
and breath deep, but didn't, because she was still sweating.
   Raja was crashing, falling: fast and hard.
   He'd set her aside with all his other belongings.
   Belonging.  She covertly caressed the material of his shirt.  Before she
could chide her girlish infatuation, he returned.
   He crouched down in front of her and pulled a dark cloth and canister
from his bag and began to wipe down his whip.  She wanted those hands on
her so badly.  A small sound turned over in her throat.  Why couldn't she
talk?
   Raja dumbly drank more water.
   He needed water, too, and a towel for all that sweat.
   Watching him care for the whip hypnotized her.  Each movement of his
hands, the way the leather moved soaking in the oil.  It looked so soft,
supple, well used.  She held out her glass of water, but he shook his head.
   "How are you feeling?" He asked.
   "Teased," she whispered.  "Thank you for respecting my ...  pride."
   "This is your territory," he coiled the whip and slipped it into a
pouch. "I want to finish you off on my territory."
   Yes, please, finish me off.  Raja thought the compliant words, but
tipped the glass back to her lips to keep them to herself.  It was one
thing to give into his bold request in a public place, but leave with him?
That wasn't smart.  She needed to think, not react.
   He pulled a towel from the bag and pat his face and neck dry.
   Raja looked around the room.  Friends, acquaintances, and students
danced on the periphery, waiting to speak with her, interrogate her.  She
wouldn't be able to handle the questions.  Who was he?  Did that hurt?  Are
you a submissive?  Will you teach me how to use a whip?  How long have you
known him?
   She didn't feel like a friend just then, not a teacher, not a confidant.
She felt like a stranger, reminded of who she was and where she belonged,
what she'd been missing.  She had been so powerful and respected with the
novices.
   She'd also been allowed to delude herself.  When everyone around her was
still learning, it was easier to accept that she would never meet her
match. In the more 'hard core' clubs, dominant men viewed her as a
challenge: a mountain to climb, a bitch to break.  Not for a single second
did Adrian ever assume she was anything but a compliant, willing
submissive.
   It was just a moment, a tease.  She didn't know how he would change.
   And she'd never met a man like him before.  "Where is your territory?"
She kept her voice low, for his ears alone.
   He zipped his bag and sat beside her on the couch.  When he reached for
the shirt in her lap her hand clenched around the fabric a moment before
she made herself let go.  Not hers.
   He shrugged the shirt on without a word or smug smirk.  It was usually
so warm in the club, but now a shiver worked through her.  She eyed the
locker room door.  She needed to put on her pants, a jacket.  She felt
naked, alone ...  lonely.
   Raja turned back to him.  Did she ask him a question?  Didn't he hear
her?
   "Sit back and talk to me."
   "I'm cold.  I--"
   "Sit back."
   She bristled, but leaned back.  He put his arm around her shoulders and
turned her toward him.  Her backside stung slightly as she moved, and but
she turned willingly.  Adrian was as warm as a furnace.  She nearly crawled
into his lap.
   "When you're back, I'll give you my address and phone number."
   "Back?"
   "Your eyes are still glassy." He looked at her for a moment, as if
searching for something in her expression.  "I almost regret taking you
this far."
   "Why regret?"
   He took a deep breath and released a slow, pensive sigh.  "When was the
last time someone topped you, Raja?"
   "I'm not sure anyone has."
   "Are you baiting me, girl?"
   "I hope so." Raja shook her head and broke free of his grasp.  What in
the world was she thinking?  She leaned forward, grabbed her heels and
slipped them on.  "I might be a little stuck right now, but when I clear
up, I'm going to be irritable and bitchy.  You should probably head out
before that happens.  Thank you, though, seriously.  Thank you so much. 
I'll be all right."
   "I bet.  Did you drive?"
   "Taxi."
   "I'll pull my car around front.  You have ten minutes."
   Raja's eyes went wide.  Didn't he hear what she said?  She readied her
protest, but his harsh whisper cut her off.
   "You aren't the only one feeling incomplete and irritable.  I'm going to
take you to my home, beat you till you cry, fuck you till you scream, and
hold that lush body of yours next to mine until ...  I haven't planned
further than that.  Remain barefoot.  Get your things.  Meet me out front.
Yes or no?"
   "Yes, sir." She didn't think about his question.  She responded as a
reflex.
   -_ Territory _-
   Adrian groaned as he thought about the way she trembled, twisted.  He
replayed the way her body accepted the kiss of his whip.
   Please, he begged, please let me get her home with me tonight.
   The woman smelled like cinnamon and sex.  He used her fear more than the
whip, barely touched her at all, preferring to pick a few spots to warm
repeatedly.  The last two lashes he turned up to a medium, just to be sure.
She begged for more rather than shied away, and he was hooked.
   He was in love with that fucking body, a woman's body: soft, solid,
formidable and curvaceous.  Her shape inspired religions, initiated wars.
Bombshell - see Raja for details.
   He imagined all the ways to make her scream, cry, beg, moan.  A wry
smile pulled at his lips.  Foolish hope.  Always with the same idyllic
dreams in the beginning.  A time for hope, then.  He wouldn't let
pessimistic thoughts intrude.
   She was his forever, for now.
   "I'm going to take Regina with me," Adrian explained to the bartender.
He pointed to Stefan, currently under the boot of his mistress.  "Stefan is
a friend of mine as well." He pulled his business card out and slid it over
to her.  "This is my place of work."
   She glanced down to his card, looked over to Stefan and nodded.
   The heavy metal door of the club swung open and his regal beauty
emerged. Fuck, she made yoga pants look illegal.
   ***
   Raja had made quite a place for herself as a hybrid dungeon monitor /
instructor for the community.  She had the presence to garner respect from
the tops and her gender made it easier to teach a few finer points of kink
play to submissives.
   This was the best method Raja had to get a taste of the life she craved,
the life she was sure she would never have.  She was the cook, standing in
the doorway, tasting the food as it went out to the other diners, never
able to sit at the table.
   Then Mr.  Dark & Stormy came along.
   Raja grinned like a bashful school girl as she peeled out of her damp
shirt and pulled on another.  The boy shorts had to go.  As she pulled them
down a clear thin thread of liquid stretched from her body to the seat. 
She wiped herself as dry as she could manage and pulled on her dark blue
yoga pants.  The cool fabric brushed along her fresh whelps.
   She was going to have more than a few red lines on her ass if she left
with him.  And what else?  She didn't even bother to ask.
   ...  till you cry ...
   That was supposed to be a red flag wasn't it?  Should have been, but she
wondered what it would be like to reach that kind of emotional release. 
That's if he talking about emotional crying.  What if he meant pain, real
pain?  What if he was like all the others, viewing her as a brick wall to
demolish?
   She squashed the doubts, shouldered her bag, and exited the locker room.
She resisted the mental questions, the negative inquiries.
   She didn't want to think about the future, the things that could go
wrong - how they would eventually stop seeing each other.  This one night,
for better or worse, she would get a little more acquainted with his whip.
   "I pity the parents of a woman like you," Adrian moaned as he looked her
over.
   Raja laughed.  "It was a stressful time, but my fathered managed me
pretty well.  I think he started preparing when I was the tallest girl in
middle school.
   "No." He head shook briskly.  "I can't think of you in high school.  So,
the single tail, never been introduced?" He held the door open for her as
they left the club.
   "Not before tonight.  I was once hit with a cat, but that was more a bar
fight and less a pleasant introduction.  By the time most people know how
to handle a whip - and with enough confidence to bring it to a public
setting - they have moved beyond our rag tag group."
   The trunk of an Audi popped open and Adrian placed his bag inside and
reached for hers.  "Why haven't you?"
   "I tried." Flashes of shit memories: pain, tears, hatred.  "You don't
seem the type for public play.  What brought you here?" Raja laughed at her
own words.  Here she was judging him, when she wasn't sure any type of play
was suited to her, but tonight she was going to take this risk and learn.
   They stood on the passenger side of the vehicle, but she hadn't heard
him pop the lock and he didn't reach to open the door.
   "What?"
   For a moment, she thought he'd kiss her, but he reached over and opened
the car door.
   By habit, Raja reached in to move the seat back.  She didn't have to
move it far and she had no problem getting in.
   He started the car and they were on the road.  "Pure accident.  Stefan
is a friend of mine.  He dragged me out here."
   "Get dragged a lot of places you don't want to be?"
   He chuckled, and nodded.  "Seems like it."
   Raja rolled onto her hip, both to ease the sting of sitting on her rear
and not wet her pants.  "How do you know the Daschel siblings?"
   "Tony is a business associate and friend.  We went to the same college
and we work with several of the same clients.  We have an unofficial merger
of talents, pooling our resources and consulting one another on strategy."
   She toyed with the idea of asking about Tonya, but who he dated wasn't
her business.  This was just ...  a moment.  They weren't exclusive.  They
would never date.  She kept her frown from reaching her face.  That's not
what she wanted at all.
   All this foolishness behind a man who had a few inches on her.  When the
sun rose tomorrow, she'd be thankful that there wasn't anymore than this.
   He asked, "How did you end up at the auction?"
   "Constance.  She was the first woman they called out.  I gave her
self-defense training a few years back, and we've been friends since.  She
recruited me to add variety."
   "Indeed.  Did you tell anyone where you would be tonight?"
   Raja balled her hand into a fist.  That's what she'd forgotten.  Her
phone was in her bag in his trunk.  Why did he ask that?  Should she lie?
   "I gave the bartender my information, and told her that Stefan knew me."
   She let out a rush of air.  "Thank you.  I can't believe I forgot that.
If you ...  I'd like to make a call anyway."
   "Of course." He turned the car into a long driveway.  There was four
times more land than there was house.  The house itself was elegant,
modest, two floors and an expansive upper deck.
   "Welcome to my home." He parked and retrieved the bags from the trunk.
   "It looks lovely," Raja said.  The walkway felt cool under her feet as
he led her to the door.  Inside, the decor was warm and inviting, cozy. 
All of the furniture begged to be touched, used, curled on, bent over,
enjoyed.  The metallic chime of a collar drew near and a black and tan
hound pranced into the room, circled around Raja, sniffed her, then looked
to Adrian.  Seemingly satisfied, the dog turned to Adrian and butted his
thigh with her head.
   "Missed you too, Belle." He murmured as he pulled two bottles of water
from his fridge.  He offered her one and reached into the pantry to get a
treat for Belle.  He pointed to her bag.  "Make your call."
   Raja nodded briskly and set to do just that.  What in the world was
wrong with her?  She called her own voicemail, pretending to talk to a
friend, someone she knew, as if she did this sort of thing all the time
rather than only advise others.
   Adrian refilled the jug on Belle's gravity bowl, and set out fresh
kibble.
   Raja ended her call and he led her down stairs.
   The decor barely changed.  It was a large den fit for use by several
couples.  She could almost see people lying about, drinking, laughing,
playing.  Did he host parties?  Raja imagined he knew enough experienced
people to have quite a good time.  Unfortunately, they were probably as
critical and impatient as most.  Was he going to be that way?
   She admired the futon frame bolted to the wall, the painted eye bolts
that blended into the paneling.  She paused at the tub, wide and deep
enough for even a big girl like her to relax.  It was positioned in front
of a sliding opaque door.  What lay on the other side?
   She looked back toward Adrian.  He hadn't moved from the entrance.
   "You are welcome to continue browsing.  Take off your clothes and leave
them here by the door."
   Raja peeled out of her top and stepped out of her pants.  His mouth
twitched into a grin as she walked toward him.  She folded her clothes and
set them on the platform by the door.  She took his offer and continued to
browse the room.  She'd never seen a homemade playroom and she doubted
others were so elegant that it could be featured in a catalog.
   Preoccupying herself with these small details bought her time to raise
her courage.  She could not go along with whatever he wanted.  She had to
assert herself, say what she would and would not do.  They had to lay
ground rules, come to terms.  That's what she taught all the submissives
she coached.
   She preached all those rules, but Raja never wanted to follow them
herself.  This was her problem, her curse.  How long before he hurt her for
it?
   ***
   What was it that Stefan said?  Fresh and hopeful?  Raja certainly had
it, but so much more.  She exuded the kind of sad innocence and nervous
energy that probably graced the opposite side of cynical and cold.  Adrian
liked it after all.
   "Stand here."
   She whirled from her inspection of his bench and stood between the
pillars.
   "Spread your legs.  Put your arms up, out to your side, a bit higher."
He used his hand to guide her along until she was exactly how he wanted
her. "Beautiful.  Perfect." He pulled down the leather handles suspended
from the ceiling until they reached her wrists.  He let his hand glide over
her form.  Solid and soft.  Healthy and strong.  Two of his fingers paid
special attention to the strip over her ass.  He stood behind her and
cupped her breasts, smoothed his hands down her stomach.  "How long do I
have you?"
   "I don't understand the question?"
   "Do you have somewhere to be in the morning, or are you able to sleep
in?"
   She smiled and squirmed as he tickled the sides of her waist.  "In that
case ...  you have me ...  as long ...  definitely all night and all
tomorrow."
   His kissed her on the shoulder.  "Do you remember what I said I wanted?"
He didn't wait for her answer.  He lowered her arms and left her standing
there to select a flogger to warm her up with.  He set it on the table
alongside the six foot single tail.  He reached into a polished wooden
chest and pulled out bottled oils and a safety kit.
   Adrian took slow, deep breaths as he set all these items out for her to
see.  He knew how he wanted to evening to go and for a moment he warred
with his habit.  Maybe he should take her easy, but how would that be fair?
She was shy, but her silence didn't seem born from fear.
   He pulled his shirt and pants off, changed into his a comfortable,
fitted dark boxer briefs.  She looked at him with a smirking blush, a blush
that deepened when he set the condoms on a table near the bench.  "Come
here." He adjusted the bench to her.  Yes, the last bolt.  He placed the
restraints in position for later.  "Stand up." He walked her to the rack
and began to strap her in.  "Safe word?"
   "Apricot."
   "Yellow, if you need to pause or bring something to my attention."
   She nodded and looked at her bound wrists.  Sweat dripped down the sides
of her neck.
   "Do you cry easily?"
   "I don't think I do." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
   "Good.  Thank you."
   "Are you ...  were you serious about making me cry?"
   "Yes." He brushed the flogger along her back.  "I don't plan to tease
you." He placed a firm kiss to her cheek.  "Thank you so much for the
opportunity to spend this time with a woman as gorgeous as yourself."
   He left her with a grin on her face and began to warm her caramel skin.
Snick, snick, snap.  He varied the pressure, position, and pacing. 
Sometimes he waited several seconds before striking her.  Back, ass,
thighs: he left each bit of skin warmed by his hand.  It also had the
effect of calming her nerves.  She was a reticent one, and he liked that
far too much to have her regret it.
   Adrian set the flogger aside and rolled his shoulders as he walked back
with the whip.  He delighted in the way she trembled with each warning
crack.  He let her anxiety simmer than began to turn her pink skin red.
   Now they would begin.
   "Who does this body belong to?" He questioned as he caressed her back
and checked for any broken skin.
   "You ...  sir."
   "Convince me." He stepped back and landed a blow to her ass.
   She shouted, shivered and danced at the sudden increase in pain.  "My
body is yours, sir."
   "I want my name on your lips, woman.  Do not forget who beats you."
Another lash.  "Who?"
   "My body belongs to Adrian Blackridge.  This body is his to whip."
   Adrian grinned.  His next blow was light, just a kiss.  "Have you ever
played with someone alone?"
   "Not like this, Adrian."
   He struck her again.  "Not like this?"
   "Not restrained."
   "You're restrained now." He stopped to check her skin again.  "Why is
that?" He whispered.
   "I," She turned to look at him.  Something like adoration shone in those
eyes.  "I don't know."
   Adrian fisted her hair and kissed her.  "You're mine, that's why." He
walked back to his position.  "How do you like my whip?"
   "I like it."
   "Good." He lashed her again, harder.  Her scream faded over several
short pants.  "Now you will respect it." Strike.  "You've never felt true
pain," strike, "true release," strike, "true submission."
   She trembled in her restraints.  "Please."
   "Please?  Ah, that's so pretty." He paused a beat, then struck her
again. "Please, what?"
   "Please, Adrian.  Please show me.  Make me yours."
   She certainly knew how and when to use those words.  He ramped up the
lashes, the intensity, the pace.  Her words disappeared into moans and
screams.
   He got what he wanted after all.  It started as several short screams,
wails, and then softened into the soul wracking sob that gave him leave to
set his whip aside.
   She keened and sniffled as he unfastened her wrists.
   "This way, girl." He led her to the bench and lay her face down on the
cool, brown leather.  He strapped her down and spread soothing balm on her
backside.  "Let it out." He knelt beside her and smoothed her hair back
from her face.  "I'm right here with you.  Take your time."
   Each time she attempted to shy away from him, turn, he held her in
place. Forced her to show him her sorrow.
   After a while her cries subsided and she looked at him with a sad smile.
"I'm sorry.  I don't know what--"
   He put a finger to her lips and wiped her face, wiped down the bench.
   "Whose body is this?"
   Her back and shoulders relaxed.  She smiled and answered.  "This is
Adrian Blackridge's body."
   He kissed her, stood, and removed his boxers.  "Again." He stood behind
her and rolled the condom onto his erection.
   "This is Adrian Blackridge's body."
   He hummed.  "We'll see." He forced himself to sound detached and
nonchalant as he slid into her heat.  Her body gripped him, welcomed him.
She was on fire, wet, tight, lush.
   Forget detachment.  Yes, goodness yes, she was his.
   ***
   They're just words, Raja told herself.  She didn't mean it like that. 
They were merely words, a bit of play.  None of it was heart felt.
   Her body felt it, warm and buzzed and fluttered each time she made the
oath.  Her mantra of sanity became harder to remember once he had her
screaming, just like he promised.
   "I belong to you, Adrian!" It was a prayer, an oath, a promise.  It was
his unending kindness that devastated her.  She had been waiting for the
typical show of venom or maliciousness that came default to most men she
gravitated towards.  He didn't even go for the usual epithet of slut or
bitch.  Adrian had nothing but praise and tenderness to go with the pain.
   He was big, even after she adjusted there wasn't a moment that she
wasn't aware of his presence inside her.  She strained against her binds
because she wanted to touch him, see him, but she couldn't.  She was his to
use.  Her body's purpose was to get him off.  She existed to bring him
pleasure.
   Just the thought had her screaming and moaning through a second orgasm.
   "That's exactly what I want," he growled as his thrusts slowed down. 
She grunted each time he slammed into her.  His hands grabbed her ass,
digging into the burning whelps.  "Fuck you feel amazing when you climax."
   Raja thought the crying had drained her.  Adrian had only scratched the
surface.  She had so much more left for him to take, and take he did.  The
volley of orgasms left her an empty husk.
   "You are a profoundly beautiful woman," Adrian professed as he
unfastened her restraints.  He walked her over to the tub.
   She followed his lead like a puppet: pliable, posable, silent.  She
floated in a fog.
   'I want to serve him.'
   She let that foreign concept surround her.  'I need him.  I love him.'
   More foreign thoughts, post orgasmic high.  Or was this the drop that
others talked about?  Whatever she was feeling it was wonderful and caused
all kinds of insane notions.
   "I keep the disinfectant and cloths in the cabinet beside this tub." His
voice had a gentle, deeper quality to it.  She wished he'd spilled inside
her rather than a condom, but that was just another silly thought.  "I want
you to sit here while I clean up.  When I'm finished, I'll join you.  Yes?"
   "Yes, Adrian." Had she satisfied him?  Did he enjoy using her?  Raja
concentrated on his body, his words.  She watched him wipe down the
furniture, the toys.  He put everything away as methodically as he'd taken
it out.
   "How does your back feel?"
   "Stings."
   "Muscles?"
   "I'm fine."
   "That wasn't what I asked you, girl."
   The bite in his voice filled her with a flutter of fear.  "They feel
rubbery.  I don't think I could stand on my own."
   "Thank you.  Are you sleepy?"
   "I'm not sure."
   He stepped into the tub with her and began to wipe her down and clean
her as methodically as one of his toys or a piece of his furniture.  He
washed her, rinsed her, dried her, and laid her on a soft bench covered
with a bath sheet and oiled her body.
   That's when the nonsense and insanity spilled from her mind and
overflowed from her mouth.  "I need to serve you."
   "As my submissive?"
   "However you want me."
   "I would want a lot from you."
   "I have a lot I'm willing to give you."
   "I hope you're as able as you are willing." Once he was finished, he
helped her to her feet and walked her upstairs, led her to his bedroom.  He
set a new toothbrush and pointed to the floss.  "Get ready for bed, girl."
   "Yes, Adrian."
   A spare toothbrush.  He's used to having women over.  Keep it in
perspective, Raja.  Stared at herself in the mirror.  The perspective was
purely intellectual.  If he had other women, then why was she here?
   Once they were in bed he held her just as he promised.  She fell asleep
snug in his large, warm arms, her head cradled on his chest.  She listened
to his steady, strong heartbeat.  She felt new tears stinging her eyes, but
she fought them back.
   "Thank you, Raja." He squeezed her tight and kissed her on the cheek.
   She smiled, squeezing fresh tears from her eyes.  "Thank you, Adrian."
   The kiss they shared was her last memory before drifting off to sleep.
She'd fallen so deep, so quickly.  She hoped to find the strength to pick
herself back up in the morning.
   -_ The Morning After _-
   Raja opened her eyes and initiated the process of reorienting herself.
Her whole body ached, a dull throb, stinging, low burn.  It was like the
first day after a hellish new work out.  Nothing dangerous, but worn thin.
   His warm body lay behind her, heavy arm draped over her side.  Large,
deep breaths of a man sleeping peacefully.
   Goodness, what had she done?  How many times did she warn others about
going home with a partner without building a good foundation?  What about
the stages of negotiation?
   Anything could have happened to her.  Technically, it had.  She'd made
promises, sworn allegiance, begged.  This wasn't how a person behaved
during a one night stand, was it?
   It was all just a game, the heat of a private scene.  These kinds of
things happen all the time, especially in private.  Right?
   Raja knew she was making excuses.  No scene she'd ever supervised, even
between committed couples had the kind of fevered passion and insanity
she'd felt with him - a complete stranger.
   But damn, this was better than her fantasies, her warped opinion of what
a dominant male should be.  He was more: bigger, taller, sexier.
   Raja eased out of bed and went to the bathroom.  She stopped by the
mirror on her way back to bed.  Her body had been worked over.
   "Let me see." Adrian pushed himself up and she walked over to his side
of the bed.  He looked with his hand, brushing his finger tips over her
arms, shoulders, down her back side, along her thighs.  "How did you
sleep?"
   "Very soundly." Her breath began to quicken, her heart thundered,
responding to his touch.  "Your bed is really comfortable."
   "Get up here."
   She crawled over him onto the bed and he put her on her back.  He
continued his tactile inspection with her legs.  He pressed a spot on her
thigh.  "Does that hurt?"
   I'm okay.  She didn't want to hear that sharp reprimand she got last
night.  "Yes, Adrian," she whispered.
   He leaned over and kissed the spot.  He finished with her right leg and
set the foot down on the bed and started with her left.  A few spots on the
back of her left thigh brought last night back.  This man was good,
perfect, everything she wanted.
   Careful.  He was good because he had practice.  He did this all the
time. She was not the only woman in his life.  When she left there would be
a line of others to take her place.
   Raja hammered all these statements into her head to help her face the
day.  She'd need to leave soon.  She gasped as his fingers slid along her
slick outer lips.
   "Tender?"
   "Very barely." He eased his fingers inside her, moved them in and out,
building the arousal that had been a low hum until now.
   ***
   "Stay just like this." Adrian removed his fingers and went to bathroom.
He came back with a condom in hand.
   Now that he'd satisfied his curiosity: beat her, fucked her, held her -
he found that none of her charm had faded with the morning light.  She was
just as magical, sexy, and alluring to him.  Thank goodness he had nothing
planned for today.  She'd been in a fever last night: raw, honest, open and
giving.  Did she remember all the things she promised him?
   Adrian would not dare ask her for fear that she would take those
precious declarations back, withdraw the totality of her promised
submission.  He wanted to hear those words again.  Part of him, a growing
part, wanted to hold her to each of those promises.
   He crawled between her towering thighs.  She spread them wider, and he
cupped her ass with his hands.  Breakfast of kings, Adrian thought as his
tongue lapped up her fresh arousal.  She could be his, and his alone.  She
was a strong woman, forthright, open.  Maybe she would be able to handle
him.  He wouldn't break her spirit.
   Be damned if he wouldn't try though.
   Did she deserve that?  No one had ever topped her before, and after him,
no one would ever get the chance.  Adrian moaned as she began to whimper,
small tremors coursed through her body.  He took his time, coaxing her out
of her morning shell, peeling away what little armor sleep had provided
her.
   The Breaker, that was Adrian's well-earned nickname in the jaded circles
he traveled.  He tended to snap a submissive's will in two given time, very
little time.  Less harsh was his tendency to cause them to break their
character, their facade.  A few unlucky submissives left the scene
entirely, others merely avoided him, several more still desired to be back
under his command.
   Adrian had no interest once a woman had broken her word to him, or once
he had broken her spirit.  There was no satisfaction in a dejected soul or
a fair-weather sub.  It was the fire, the strength and fortitude that
seduced him.  The honesty and dependability that captivated him.  And yet,
it was the act of breaking that Adrian found addictive.  "Do you want it?
Do you want to cum?"
   "Yes, Adrian.  Please."
   "Beg me, woman."
   "Please, Adrian, please.  I want to come apart for you.  I want to feel
the way only you can make me.  I love the," Her breath caught as he speared
her with his tongue.  "Please, Adrian, please.  Yes, oh, you feel so good."
   He did so love to hear her trembling voice beg.  She purred his name,
pledged her adoration.  When he finally pulled her over the edge she
screamed and shuddered.  Adrian sighed and rested his head on her thigh. 
How long did he have before she took it all away?  Until she had nothing
left to offer him?
   Carol, his last partner, had turned into a husk after he beat her.  It
took longer and longer for her to return to the woman he found so
interesting, so creative and vibrant.  All he ever wanted was for her to be
herself, all she ever gave him was a vanishing act.
   Raja stirred under him, pulling him from his memories.  She rolled him
onto his back and grabbed the condom on the bedside table.  She set his
arms over head and straightened his legs, then stretched out over him. 
Making tiny purring sounds, she kissed him, dragged her gorgeous tits down
his body.
   She worked her way down his body until she had her mouth and both hands
full of him.  The tables had turned so quickly that all he could do was
watch.  She rolled his balls, gently tugged on them while her mouth
worshipped his cock.  Not a single word of instruction from him nor a
question from her.  She sucked him, stroked him, took him all the way to
the back of her throat.
   Adrian moaned and his hips jerked as her luscious lips held tight, her
throat widened as she swallowed him, just slow enough to make each
sensation worth savoring, but not quite enough to get him off.  He
considered offering some word of praise, some assurance that he enjoyed her
offering, but she stole each word from him, left him speechless, moments
away from crying out or begging.
   With a long, thick lick from the root of his dick to the head, she rose
off him and began to slide the condom on.  "Adrian Blackridge, may I ride
you?" She placed a kiss at the top of his thighs.
   "You may." His heart did some kind of ...  was that a flutter?  Was that
healthy?
   She looked powerful, regal as she straddled him.
   Yes, indeed.  She could ride him all morning.  He closed his eyes as she
sank down, so warm and tight.
   "Thank you," she leaned forward and kissed his neck, working those broad
hips, built for fucking, on his dick.
   He was close, very close.  The tightening of his balls warned him that
he wasn't going to be able to take much more of this woman.  His fisted his
hand in her hair and brought her lips to his.  She moaned as he kissed her:
aggressive, hungry.
   "Fuck me, woman." Adrian growled.
   "Yes, Adrian." She braced her hands on his shoulders and slammed her
body down on him.
   Yes, a thousand times, yes.  He was so close.  Too good.  Fuck.  She was
perfection.  He loved her body, her hot, powerful body, fucking him, riding
him.  Adrian roared as he thrusted into her.
   ***
   Finally, Raja's own advice had come into play.  Find the thing you want
the most and put everything into that moment.  She wanted to please him, to
serve him.  If only for this moment, then it would be the best moment of
her life.
   What did Adrian want?  What could she give him?
   Was wasn't she willing to give him?
   She dismounted and found a cloth in the bathroom.  He was still on his
back, sedate and relaxed as she removed the condom and washed him up.  She
put everything away and curled up beside him.  A masterful man like him was
probably used to getting his way.  He had plenty of women fawning over him.
No wife, no full time submissive in his home.
   Why did Raja care?  She wasn't looking for that.  No man wanted a woman
like her as a submissive.  How many times did she need to be told that she
wasn't giving enough, not small enough, not woman enough.  She didn't even
know him.  He could be abusive, manipulative, and those were the last
things she needed.  He was the last thing she needed.
   She brushed her fingers through his chest hair, let her palm graze over
him as he breathed.  Men like Adrian could ruin her.  He'd probably fallen
back asleep.  He earned it.  She was hard work, plenty of people had told
her how difficult it was to get a reaction from her.
   Clearly, no one used the correct instrument.  Raja had the answer now.
She just needed a man who was good with a whip, not intimidated by her
size, not out to treat her like a challenge.  That's all.
   She'd start with the whip.  Maybe she could find someone to give her a
session, to help her reach that bliss later.
   What now?
   Raja hadn't been with anyone in years, not in any context.  After her
ex, she'd given up hope of anyone treating her the way she felt inside.
   Adrian wrapped his arms around her and rolled on top of her.  "I'll
bring your bag up.  Use this shower.  I'll take the one downstairs."
   ***
   Adrian checked his cell as he walked Belle.  Tonya called, probably an
attempt to wrestle a second date out of him.  Talk about fragile.  Just one
look at his play room would set her to screaming.  He looked forward to
that day.  It would be an entertaining breakup, moreso if he honored her
with the chance to give it a try.  An interrogation would be perfect. 
Bound and blind while he twisted the truth from her terrified body.
   Adrian snorted as he walked Belle back to the house.  What was he even
doing thinking about that?  He wasn't going to let that woman in his house,
much less show her the playroom, not now.
   Raja leaned over the kitchen counter sipping from a mug of coffee.  She
wore a dusky red house dress that would have looked pedestrian and homely
or slim figure.  One-hundred percent weapons grade woman.
   How would she fare in an interrogation?  Nah, none of that for his sweet
girl.  "What are you wearing under that?"
   Her cheeks flushed.  "Nothing."
   Food, Adrian reminded himself.  Get food.
   -_ The Drop _"I'm not sure I'll be available this weekend," Raja
explained to her friend, Andre, as she talked over the sound of her
cooking.
   "I understand, honey.  Going through a rough patch?"
   "It's not that.  Leave me as a maybe.  I'll know closer to the end of
the week whether I'll be available."
   "Closer to the end of the week?  Raja, girl, did you, are you dating
someone?" Andre barely left time for an answer.  "Is this a normal guy? 
Are you bringing him?  Is it someone I know?  When were you going to--" Two
rapid tones over the phone line interrupted her chatter.
   "Another call.  Let me take this."
   "I want to hear back from you."
   "Yeah," she switched calls.  "Hello?"
   "This is my work number.  Save it."
   "Yes, Adrian.  I will." She did a little dance in her kitchen and turned
down the eye on the stove.  It was a Tuesday, and while Raja had steeled
herself for an explosive one night stand, she was hopeful, greedy.  She
wanted more of him.
   "Do you have plans this weekend?"
   "No, Adrian." She did a small fist pump.
   "Good girl.  I'll pick you up Friday at 6pm, your house.  Wear a formal
evening gown, undergarments, accessorize however you wish.  We will have an
early dinner.  Don't hurt my body this week.  While I know you can make a
ratty tee and thongs look amazing, I want you to look glamorous."
   "Yes, Adrian." Raja took the skillet off the flame.  She couldn't pay
attention to that.  "Is there a particular color you prefer?"
   His low hum warmed her heart.  "A warm burnt orange, closer to red than
yellow.  Be careful when you ask me for restrictions.  I am only too happy
to give them."
   "I will take the greatest care.  Friday, 6pm, warm burnt orange,
glamorous and formal, well rested."
   "I will hold you to it, woman.  Good bye."
   ***
   "Mr.  Blackridge?" Tonya wore a smile as bright as her blonde hair as
she entered his office.  "Tony asked me to drop these off." She set the
pair of tickets on his desk, then lingered, that smile never fading.
   "Thank you, Tonya." He set the tickets in his bag.
   Oh, it was cruel to watch her squirm.
   Ten more seconds.
   Tonya turned as if she would leave then halted, looked back.  "Adr--,
Mr. Blackridge?"
   "What, Miss Daschel?"
   Her smile lost a bit of its luster.  "You can call me Tonya."
   "I know."
   "You haven't called me since our date.  Have you been to The Brick?"
   "Close my door."
   She pushed his office door shut.
   'Come over here, bend over my desk and hike that skirt over your narrow
ass.  Tell me how desperate you are to feel my dick deep inside your
unworthy cunt.'
   Adrian closed his eyes and took a breath.  "Miss Daschel, it was a
single date.  You were lovely company, but I have no interest beyond that."
   "No, Mr.  Blackridge, please." She took a small step backwards.  "I'm
sorry.  It's just ...  you paid so much for me, like you didn't want anyone
else, and," Tonya frowned suddenly and her face turned a deep shade of red.
"My brother made you."
   "He requested, and I agreed.  These tickets are not for you."
   Tonya glanced to the door and closed the distance between them. 
Thinking she deserved a hug, he stood, but she placed a hand to his desk
and went to her knees.  "I'm not a prude, you know?  I know you're a little
different from other men.  Linda told me you were free.  I could ... 
learn."
   Adrian fell back into his seat with a thump.  "Don't you have
appointments, Miss Daschel?"
   "I worked this morning.  I was off when I delivered the tickets."
   "You're willing to spend the rest of your day in my office, on your
knees, no matter who comes in, who I have on the phone, no matter what I
tell you to do?"
   Tonya looked up at him with her wide blue eyes.  "Of course not!" She
laughed nervously.  "I just thought you'd want," She waved at his crotch.
   "You're talking about a reward you've done nothing to earn."
   She shot to her feet.  "Reward?" She chuckled and rolled her eyes.  "All
right.  I'm done being teased.  I am not that kind of woman.  It's nearly
lunch.  Take me to Millstone?"
   Not at all, Adrian thought with a smirk as he turned back to his desk.
Broken in less than a minute.  He'd never wrangle her into an interrogation
room.  He wrote down his lunch order on a slip of paper.  "Hand this to
Mrs. Paulson on your way out.  Have a good day, Miss Daschel."
   She spun around and left with a huff.  His phone rang moments later.
   "She looked red as a lobster," his secretary, Mrs.  Linda Paulson
whispered with a stifled chuckle.
   "Better than running out, screaming for her brother in tears.  Last
thing I need.  And you, you know better."
   "I'm a bad girl at heart, what can I say?  Mark my words.  She'll be
back."
   "What makes you so sure of that?"
   "She wants to have your babies," she sang.  She laughed at Adrian's
groan.  "So, who is the other ticket for?"
   "Someone I haven't managed to run off yet."
   "Lovely."
   "Sit up." Adrian teased.  He could just see her leaning over the desk
waiting for details.
   "I am."
   He heard the tale tell groan of her chair as she changed her posture. 
"If she lasts past a second date, I'll bring her by.  Maybe third."
   "Nothing I can say could convince you to be gentle with this one."
   "Nothing."
   "I'll bring your lunch when it arrives."
   "Thank you, Mrs.  Paulson."
   On her knees, no matter who stopped by, what he was doing, what state of
dress.  Adrian adjusted his chair and imagined her head resting on his lap.
He could reach down and play in her soft black curls, put a finger to those
lush lips.  Perhaps he'd learn the secret to making her laugh.  How would
she bid her time at his feet?  What would they talk about?
   These were things he might learn if he didn't drive her away first.
   No.  Not this woman.  He let his mind drift back to her scream, the
spikes of terror, her apprehension.  The way she sweat bullets anticipating
his next move, pain of the whip or the stroke of his hand, how much, when,
how much longer.  Most, no, every single woman he'd met could not handle
that fear, the vast unknown.
   Trust was a word they played with, pretended to give: over promised,
under delivered.  I'll let you blind fold me, but I want to know what
you're doing.  For others, trust was synonymous with repetition and
routine. If Adrian did not have a woman's genuine trust then he saw no
reason for her to stick around.
   Adrian wanted something that didn't exist: faith, devotion, loyalty.  He
didn't want it from a conditioned slave, beaten into submission through
constant punishment.  He wanted the adoration of a willful woman, a woman
who gave her faith over, who offered her soul.
   No, no more of that.  He could be satisfied with play, with the dance,
especially with her.  He almost felt bad about setting her up for
punishment.  He chuckled, thinking of seeing her dressed in red or orange,
maybe something brown.  All a close approximation to complete failure.
   She'd learn.  Maybe he could have his interrogation scene after all. 
New submissives were always writing checks their asses could not cash.
   "That's how they end up broken," he muttered as his thoughts finally
returned to work.
   ***
   "All right," Drew scowled as he opened his door.  "Where is the damn
fire?"
   Raja set six hundred dollar bills in his hand.  "Less attitude, more
cooperation."
   Drew beamed and theatrically put his arms around her.  "Girl!  It's been
so long.  I was just thinking of you."
   Raja rolled her eyes.  "Dial it back.  I have a fashion emergency."
   "Time?"
   "Friday at six."
   "Another charity ball?  Getting that desperate?"
   "No, the ...  28th Annual, well, some kind of Gala.  I forgot the name,
but Friday at six?  The only event at that time was--"
   "Hoyer Gala?  The Annual Hoyer Gala?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I need to sit down.  Green.  Very green.  Thank you so much for this
honor. Girl, you eating off that good china.  A top?"
   "Yes."
   "Tell me his exact words." Drew went to his notebook on the table. 
"Exact."
   She gave him the words by heart, right down to his instruction to look
glamorous.
   "How long have you known him?"
   "I met him last weekend.  We had a fling, but before that he saw me at
the charity ball."
   Drew's head snapped up.  "He saw you in my dress?!  Man catcher!  What
did I tell you?  I can catch a man with a bolt, baby girl." Drew grabbed
another sketch book and began flipping through pages.  "Glamorous, burnt
orange.  Need to call Jane.  I was designing this for Francis, but she can
eat my pussy.  She hasn't finished paying me for the last dress.  Her hips
are too narrow for these lines anyway."
   Raja curled on the couch and listened and watched.  Drew made his living
making costumes for drag queens.  Being as 'big and beautiful' as a
linebacker made her an easy client.  Any time she needed a gown she could
count on Drew not to make her feel like a side show freak or medical
oddity.
   Drew looked over his shoulder to her.  "Does he enjoy you?  Appreciate
you?  He's not like," He left the question hanging.
   "They all start out liars," she said.  "Currently, he seems unusually
pleased with all of me."
   "All?  Every inch?  Every ounce?  What does he look like, how tall?"
   "Easy six five.  I can look him in the eye with my heels on."
   "Is he skinny?"
   Raja grinned.  "Broad side of a barn.  Scary strong.  I've never felt so
...  female."
   "Name?"
   Her grin widened.  "Adrian Blackridge."
   "Good thing you called.  Strip.  You would have fucked this up alone. 
It's Tuesday, right?  Okay, I have time.  There will be dancing, so I need
it to flow.  Do you know your dances?"
   "I..."
   Drew tsked and grabbed his phone.  "Mark.  Hey baby, still putting it to
the dance instructor?  What's his height?  That'll do.  Bring him to
dinner. No, bitch, you are.  Regina needs her faggity godmother so clear
your calendar and get with the program."
   Raja laughed into her arm.  "I don't think it's that big a deal."
   Drew held his hand up as he dialed another number.  "I ain't ask you. 
When was the last time you got laid, hun?  Don't answer.  You know when it
was, and I know better than to let you think for yourself.  Next time, he
will too." Drew turned his attention to the phone.  "Close your eyes. 
Think of warm ...  burnt ...  orange.  Stray to red.  Got it?  Mark the
bolts for me.  I'll be around later this evening.  Um hmm, I know.  Regina.
Hey, you know people in the straight kink scene?" Drew laughed.  "No, girl,
that's baby kink." No offense, Drew mouthed to her.  "Adrian Blackridge. 
What's the tea?"
   Raja frowned as she realized what Drew was up to, but there was no
stopping him.
   He paced the floor as he listened to the conversation, his face
revealing nothing, humming and nodding the whole time.  "Thank you." He
looked from her naked body then back to his sketch.  He hung up.  "Will
there be marks?"
   "No.  I'm to rest."
   Drew made a high pitched noise as he started clearing his work table. 
"Better be glad I love you.  I'm going to be blind.  Blind!  Get dressed. I
need to get you some jersey, maybe some silk if we're lucky.  This project
runway shit is my fucking wheel house, girl.  Lesser bitches would perish.
Straight up and die!" Drew snatched his keys.  "Come on.  Time to go
shopping."
   "Is there anything I need to know?"
   "No." Drew pantomimed a zipper across his lips.  "That was to help me,
not you.  Good thing, too.  Damn girl.  You know how to step in it."
   ***
   Adrian spent the remainder of his week on edge.  He felt like an ass,
inviting her with little notice, but the thought of having to spend the
evening with Tonya, or any other woman, sickened him.  His luscious beauty
didn't even know where she was going or why.  He'd only spent one night and
one morning with her, but he thought of her each day.
   His phone buzzed.
Raja: "How would you prefer my hair?"
He smiled and began to type his reply.  He was also on her mind then. 
"Soft curls, expose your neck."
   "Thank you, Adrian."
   He set his phone aside and waited for an hour to pass.  "At 8:30pm I
want you to dial my cell.  For half an hour I want you to tell me all the
things you never tell anyone else.  No questions.  I only want to listen."
Adrian's heart thundered as he type the next line: "Understood?"
   "Yes, Adrian."
   Did she truly understand how much his name affected him?  He imagined
her voice, but a glance at the clock told him he wouldn't have to wait
long. Thirty minutes.  Would this request break her?
   Adrian got home, relaxed, stretched out on his lounge in the den.  At
8:29 his phone chimed.  "Begin." He shut his eyes and set the phone to
speaker.
   Raja Maheshvari was born to an Indian woman and black man.  Her mother
died when she was seven and they moved back to the states.  Her father
called her Regina and she kept to it as a simpler name.  Milton came later
for pronunciation purposes.  She always caught hell about her height.
   Grown men were hitting on her at the age of thirteen.  Her first kiss
was with a thirty year old man when she was fifteen.  She lost her
virginity to a basketball player when she was seventeen.  That's the
official story, the story she kept to herself, away from everyone,
including her girl friends.  She had gone to the party with the team, her
weakness for men taller than her was firmly established at that age, but
basketball players were too skinny.  It was the boy's father who caught her
attention.
   "I never wanted him to get in trouble.  That's why I never told anyone.
It was an honor, maybe in a fan girl sort of way, but definitely from a
virgin's perspective.  He spoiled me, and if I had a preference for tall
men before, I was made weak to them after that.  In light of what happened
later, I was very thankful for that first time with him.  The darkest time
in my life was..."
   Her voice faltered and Adrian opened his eyes.
   "I never tell anyone about him because I never want to think of him.  He
was never ...  No.  He was cruel and abusive, and I never want to admit
that.  He ended it, but I was alright with that, eventually.  What made the
breakup worse was how everyone else treated me.  I spent a lot of time
disappointed in myself, disgusted with my behavior, ashamed.  He made me
hate being tall, large.  I cried myself to sleep for weeks.
   "I know how to pick myself up, and I did.  Instead of facing the gossip,
I went slumming with the 'baby kinks,' so to speak.  Everyone knows I enjoy
teaching Doms and advising new submissives.  I do it because I'm afraid of
being hurt.  I'm afraid I'll see him again.
   "Let's see.  I can't reach an orgasm without fantasizing about ...  a
long list of very submissive situations, and that's all my life really.  It
hard to keep up with the fantasy that I'm beautiful when so many people
look at as if I have a genetic defect."
   Raja took a breath.  "I know I need to talk about him, but I'm afraid
what I will say will ruin us.  I enjoyed being with you so much.  I feel
like I could believe in that again ...  in fate.  I'm actually shaking.  He
said," she sighed.  "He said I wouldn't be satisfied until I was dead.  I
starved myself because he hated my weight.
   "He didn't say he hated my weight.  He made remarks about my huge ass,
about how other woman looked better than me.  I wanted his approval so
desperately.  I let his comments control me.  Now I think ...  I thought
I'd never feel like that again, that it was out of my system.  I haven't
been topped since then, and I told you I've never been topped before
because it wasn't topping then.  It was infatuation.  I put him in a
position he didn't deserve to be in, and that's on me, not him.  I don't
compromise myself anymore.  I refuse.
   "People who want the job of topping me, they treat me like a challenge,
like they just want to see me suffer.  Exactly like that.  I get treated as
if I'm ...  like I don't have feelings, as if my size were a beacon to the
hatred of others.
   "I love to sing, but I can't.  I know I'm terrible, but I love it.  I
sing like I'm committing a crime, alone, no one around, doors locked.  I
don't even hum around other people.  I pretend ...  when I'm sad, I pretend
that I'm a little girl, a girl that isn't too heavy, and too tall, and too
fat, and..."
   Adrian took the phone off speaker and pressed it to his ear.  The sound
of tears were clear in her voice, but she masked the depth of her sorrow.
She took great pains to keep her voice even as she spoke.
   "Let's see ...  something else I don't tell anyone.  I take pride in
teaching self defense.  I like playing the body guard.  It's the only place
where I can really get physical without fear of tarnishing my image as a
submissive.  Because of my size, if I show the slightest aggressiveness
then I have a flock of male subs trying to lick my shoes, and that freaks
me out.
   "I can't top, but it hurts that I can't ...  be myself.  So, teaching is
best because everything is just an example.  I hate being home.  I hate
being alone.  I start crying and I don't know if I can stop.  Fuck," she
groaned.  "I don't know anything about you.  I know the people I could ask,
but I want to stay in my bubble.
   "I'm so starved for my fantasy that I'd rather just go forward blind. 
You're making me do this, and I don't want to, but I can't not do it.  The
sex with you was so good that if doing this to myself will let me see you
again, then fuck it.  I'm a pleaser, a true submissive, and a false one,
because I dare to have my own desires.
   "Maybe I shouldn't have said that.  I don't know.  I'm not sure.  I wish
I didn't have to say this ...  I have a temper, a real temper.  If I
thought my rough housing would make me lose my submissive cred, then I know
having someone see me lose my shit would be the final straw.
   "I once punched a guy in the jaw who wasn't respecting the sub's safe
word or my intervention.  The first punch stopped him, but I didn't feel
like it was enough.  I punched him three times.  Everyone excused my
behavior because the girl was bleeding and her restraints bruising, but I
didn't know that.  I saw red and wanted to punish him in proxy for every
man that ever hurt me.  I was angry and didn't have a way to get rid of it.
I wasn't charged but I felt like shit, because I should have been.
   "I think ...  I get lost in my own thoughts for hours, reliving the
past, romanticizing it.  I daydream a lot, retreat into my own head space.
I read fantasy novels, long sprawling epic series.  I've loved them since I
was a girl.  I don't talk about them because well, I'm odd enough without
adding fantasy book geek to the list.  My favorite is ...  No.  Everyone
knows that.
   "You.  I don't tell anyone about you.  I don't tell anyone what I've
done with you.  Same fear.  I want to learn about you from you.  I want to
be disappointed by you alone.  As if you and I were," a heavy sigh, her
first sign of exhaustion.
   Adrian looked at the time.  Six more minutes.  Don't give up.  Dig
deeper.
   "I was thirty pounds underweight when I was with ...  I don't want to
remember his name.  I try not to remember what I called him.  I try to
forget that whole year.  If he was in control, then it was my fault for
giving it to him.  I should ...  I should hate him.  Here's what I don't
tell," she sniffled.  "I don't tell anyone that I loved him with all my
heart.  All my heart.  I don't tell anyone this shit because it's in the
past.  It's the most stupid, terrible, and dangerous mistake I've ever
made. I was young, foolish, and ruined myself over my idea of him.
   "The most dangerous mistake I've made to date.  I'm still young, after
all.  I just want to have something better.  I want to love again, and if I
let myself remember the damage it did to me, I may not be able to.  I want
to love you." Her torrent of tears arrived at 9:02.
   "Raja," Adrian whispered.
   With a sniffle, she went quiet.
   "Thank you, Raja.  I could hear how very difficult that was for you.  No
more tears.  You have no cause to feel embarrassed or afraid.  Relax.  As
your reward, I'm going to tell you what I want from you.  Are you going to
give me what I want, Raja?"
   "Yes, Adrian."
   "Will you give me whatever I ask of you, Raja?"
   "Yes, Adrian." She sniffled.  "I will."
   "The only way I know you've accepted my request is to follow it.  Each
day, every time.  That's all." Adrian closed his eyes and wrapped his hand
around his erection.  Even if this was too much, even if she tearfully told
him to fuck off, he'd have to see her tomorrow, to be inside her.  "I want
you to trust me to care for you, to protect you, to control you.  I want
you to know that I think your body is beautiful, perfection.  I want your
complete trust.  I want your honesty."
   "I'll let my actions be your answer." Her voice was filled with sadness,
a soul left bruised, and Adrian, bastard that he was, was kicking her sore
parts.  He'd stripped her bare, but he would put her back together, if she
truly trusted him.
   "Raja?"
   "Yes?" She shuddered with the intake of air.  He felt her crawling out
of the deep, regrouping.
   "Are you ready for bed?"
   "No, Sir."
   "Go get ready for bed.  Get under your covers.  Call me back when you
are."
   She called ten minutes later.  "Hey."
   "Hey.  Feeling better?"
   "A little." She said.
   "I'm going to read an article to you.  Feel free to fall asleep.  It can
be rather boring stuff." Adrian opened the feature and began.  "Many have
heard second hand accounts of the premier artistic showcase of the year,
but few know about the people who keep it going." He read the entire
article, all three drooling pages, as he promised he would before tomorrow.
He finished the article and whispered into the phone, "Good night, my
beautiful queen."
   "G'night, Adrian.  Don't worry.  I'll make you proud."
   ***
   Raja woke with a smile, a headache, puffy eyes, and swollen lips.  She
was still grinning as she pulled the phone from under her head.  Though
everything about her denoted a terrible night, she felt refreshed,
wonderful, purified.
   Words ...  a report echoed in her mind and she lay in bed, trying to
remember it like a fading dream.  She opened a search engine on her phone
and entered the key phrases.  She found the magazine and the article -
published yesterday.  She read the whole thing, hearing it in his voice.
   "Teamed with the commercial savvy of Tony Daschel and Annabelle Hoyer,
the cultural visionary and innovator, Adrian Blackridge, has turned the
city of Fairview into an artistic mecca.  To call them angel investors
would cheapen their contributions to the community.  They are mentors,
advisors, producers, and agents shepherding those with talents onto the
road of success.  Each year the Hoyer Gala puts these new faces on stage -
a cotillion for the arts that has only flourished."
   Raja sat up in bed and voraciously committed the words to memory.  She'd
been so wrapped up in her pain and exhaustion that the article had barely
registered as lay there listening to him.  This was the man she'd met? 
This was the man behind Blackridge Studios?
   Drew sent a text, "Fitting in an hour.  Bring food."
   Poor Drew.  She'd tossed this at him and he surely knew how important
this design would be and exactly who would get a look at it.  His dress
would need to do more than look beautiful.  It could make his career.
   'I won't disappoint them.' Raja vowed as she got ready.
   Drew looked dead on his feet.  Two younger, fresh faced men buzzed
around his house.
   "What jewelry are you wearing - gold?  Black clutch?"
   "Yes."
   "Naked.  Stand there." Drew pointed to a spot in the center of the
living room.
   Raja undressed gasped as she caught sight of the dress.  It was
gorgeous, exactly burnt orange.
   "How was Karen?"
   The beautician Drew sent her to gave Raja the full spa treatment: hair,
face, nails, feet, waxed and plucked and moisturized.  Karen pinned and
wrapped Raja's long black hair with instructions on how to unravel it. 
"She was wonderful, very kind, but she didn't let me pay her."
   "No.  She owed me." He slipped the dress on her, measured, tucked,
pulled.
   Raja settled, turned and moved as told, when told.  She became Drew's
living mannequin.
   "Make sure it's a set of full armor, matching set, lace, black.  I'll
give you some clips to lock the dress to your bra straps.  No fiddling.  Go
to your toes.  Walk to the door and back."
   The silence in the house was complete.
   "I have more to do," Drew approached her and unzipped the dress.  "I'll
have it ready by two.  Cutting it close, I know."
   "Make it four," Raja said.  "Come by the house and make sure I don't
mess anything up.  Please."
   Drew nodded.  "Probably best.  I'll stop by at four and help you dress."
He waved her away.
   -_ The Ball _Adrian typically kept his past-time engagements to the
weekend to avoid burning through his toys too quickly.  The time apart
delayed the inevitable disappointment.  Additionally, the schedule kept his
mind on work.  This week, however, had been torture.  Today was only made
bearable due to his long list of last minute checks and responsibilities.
He spent his lunch hour listening to Tony bitch about about Tonya's
tantrums.
   Adrian didn't care what color she was wearing any longer.  She could
appear in a simple blue cocktail dress, and he'd still take her in his arms
and spend all night with her.  He just wanted to see her, be near her.
   Lies.  He'd accept nothing less that the complete fulfillment of his
orders.
   He knocked at her door and when she opened it, the long week and longer
day was forgotten.  He fixed his gaze on her as he stepped inside, took a
very long, hard look at her.  Adrian kept his expression hard, cold.
   Well practiced distance was the only way Adrian managed not to crush her
body in his arms and fawn over her like a young pup on his first bitch. 
The length was perfect, the silk clung to her generous curves, the folds of
fabric hinted at revealing her thigh.  Long black gloves, black pumps,
elegant gold jewelry graced her body.
   He sighed as he drank in her vision.  Suddenly he wondered how any man
of shorter stature would be able to think with that pornographic abundance
of cleavage in his face.  Her neck was bare and the dress had split
sleeves. A high pony tail, cascaded a waterfall of ink black curls.  Soft,
healthy, not stiff with chemicals.  In the ball room, the lights would set
the crystalline detail on the dress alight.  She was a pillar of rich fire.
His.  Perfection.
   Adrian finally met her eyes.  Fear.  Nervousness.  Hope.  Anxiety. 
"Beautiful, Raja.  You look perfect." He pressed a kiss to her nose and his
fingers grazed her neck.  "Keep this up and I won't be able to let you go."
   Her face flushed and a glimmer of tears shimmered in her eyes.
   "Look at the ceiling.  Imagine being tied with rope, secured, spread
open, my cock thrusting into you, hard, fast.  Taking you rough because I
want to hear you cry out--" She gasped as if releasing a held breath. 
"Let's see." Adrian brought her head straight and took his handkerchief to
the lone tear in the corner.  "Crisis averted."
   "Don't stop now," she smiled and put her arms around his waist.
   "The bag you carry with you.  Do you have it packed?"
   "Yes, Adrian.  It's sitting beside the door."
   "Lock up.  I'll grab your bag."
   Yes, when she walked her right leg peaked from under the cascade of
fabric.
   "Where do you find such flattering gowns?" Adrian asked once they were
in the car.  His finger traced the embroidered split, up and down her thigh
as the driver pulled into traffic.
   "I had them made.  I know a designer, Andrew Billings.  He makes and
alters all my clothing."
   The name wasn't familiar, but he made a note to thank the man.  His
fingers rose to the constellation at her midsection.  She smelled
delightful, like an exotic forest.  His hand rounded her breast and she
spread her legs, far past unladylike to whorish.  He continued to explore
the terrain of her cleavage with a single finger while imagining the head
of his dick making a similar journey.
   "Adrian," she breathed.
   "Yes, woman?"
   "Please fuck me."
   "Right now?" He thought he was doing a fair job of keeping his voice
level.
   "Please, yes.  Right now.  Fuck your woman."
   Brilliant little thing.  Adrian sat back against the door.  He glanced
to his driver and grinned.
   Her eyes remained locked to his.  "Please," she whispered.
   He took her left hand, placed it on the back of the seat.  Her right
hand held the door handle.  He hiked her dress and put her left knee on the
seat, her right leg spread.  Those breast were right in his face.
   "Do not move," Adrian kissed her cleavage.  His hand caressed her hot
inner thighs, higher and higher until he reached the damp lace of her
panties.  He grazed her swollen lips with a single finger.  She trembled,
but didn't move.  "You want me to fuck you like a slut?  You want me to
treat you like a common bitch and reduce you to a moaning, screaming
puddle?"
   She whimpered and her grip tightened on the back of the seat.
   He moved her panties aside but only slid his finger along her outer
lips. "Do you want me to make you come?"
   "Only if I please you by doing so."
   "I bet you think you're good, saying all the right things like a high
dollar whore." He eased his finger inside her.  "Do I want you to come?"
   She was soaking wet, throbbing, sucking on his finger, but her hips kept
still.
   "I might let you."
   She whimpered with each breath.
   "But you need to convince me.  Beg me to come.  You have ten seconds."
   "Please, Adrian, please I've been wet all day thinking of you, only you.
I will happily be your slut, your high dollar whore, your bitch in constant
heat.  I need you, Adrian.  I'd rather have you fuck me than anything else.
Nothing else matters.  Please."
   "Shhh.  Breathe in ...  out ...  Again." He held his wet fingers to her
lips.  "Clean this up.  Don't get lipstick on me."
   She stared at him as she licked his fingers.
   Adrian took his handkerchief and wiped her thighs.  "Now we can suffer
equally." Adrian helped her right herself as the car pulled into the
convention center.
   They exited the car and she pulled a small comb from her purse and began
to mess with his hair.  She then moved to his tie and checked his clothes.
Adrian stood there as she fussed over him.  She paid no attention to her
own state.  Good.  That was his responsibility.  Adrian tucked away the
errant curls, smoothed her gown, fixed her gloves.
   "I nearly forgot." With a smile, Adrian pulled the diamond pendant from
his pocket.  "So that there is no confusion, this belongs to me."
   Raja smiled.  "I belong to you."
   "Yes, but I can take this off you whenever I want."
   "You can take me whenever you want," she countered.
   Should he warn her or let that one sail?  Adrian smiled and took her
arm. Whenever he wanted?  This one would snap in half when he finally broke
her.
   ***
   Raja had never been any place so opulent and classy.  As Adrian was one
of the hosts, they were early.  Adrian introduced her to his associates,
co-workers, clients.  She took in the glamour just under the haze of
arousal he put her in.  Drew's gown garnered a wealth of attracted glares,
confused looks, and the typical shock and awe of her height.  She even had
one woman give a disappointed glare to her heels.  Raja could look over
most of the room, but none of that mattered when she looked in his eyes.
   The Gala began with an art display which Adrian toured with her.  Then
there was the performance during dinner: music, dance, presentations.  Then
dancing, socializing with artists.  She was thankful for the refresher with
the dance instructor because Adrian was a superb dancer and a very strong
lead.
   She recognized Tonya.  She was quite a beautiful woman, hard to miss,
neither was the intense look of hate when she looked at Adrian's arm around
her.  It was expected.  Raja even sympathized with the girl.  She'd heard
how clearly she adored Adrian at the charity function.  If it had been the
other way around, Raja would have been livid.
   Knowing that, Raja kept her distance from Tonya as much as possible. 
She didn't get territorial or defensive when Tonya vied for Adrian's
attention.  However, there was only one women's restroom and Tonya followed
her into it.
   "Mr.  Blackridge is a pervert.  You should know that." Tonya stated.
   "Oh," Raja washed her hands.
   "That's what happens with lonely bachelors, but he'll come around."
Tonya lifted her brow.  "You must be some kind of artist or model." She
smiled.  "That's why he brought you, right?  Business?"
   "No." Raja patted her on the shoulder.  "That's why he dated you." The
woman had asked for it.  She was spoiled, entitled, and she had the nerve
to corner her in a restroom.  No one else was going to set her straight.
   Tonya followed her, smiling as she spoke her venomous words.  "You think
you're his first whore?  The first he's been brazen enough to show off,
maybe, but Adrian goes through whores like paper towels.  He'll come back
to me because I am a lady.  I won't let him treat me with disrespect.  I'm
special.  You're just one of his many ways to exorcise his perversion."
Tonya stopped speaking and quickly veered away.
   Raja grinned when she saw why.
   Adrian handed Raja a fresh drink and put his arm around her shoulder. 
"She bothering you?" He whispered.
   "Slightly."
   "She came crawling to me on her knees earlier this week.  My secretary
advised it, for her own amusement.  I offered to let her stay there, on her
knees, to play with me.  I think you can appreciate the allure of having a
spoon fed beauty queen crawling around on my carpet."
   Raja listened, but her face burned and her nerves were a mess.  She
couldn't believe he was actually sharing this with her.
   He kept his voice soft, for her alone, as he continued.  "She didn't
last more than a minute.  She got this holier than thou frown and hopped to
her feet when I told her that she could suck my dick as a reward.  She
thinks I do these things to tease her, to test her.  Raja, I do not tease
and I do not test.  When I give an order I want it followed.  I will not
force any woman to perform any act against her will.  The fact that she
continues to throw herself at me is amusing.  The fact that she said
something to upset you?  That infuriates me."
   Raja giggled as if he were whispering a joke in her ear.  "Am I really
the first sub you've brought ...  to a business related function?"
   "You are."
   Raja smiled and winked at him.  "You should bring me to work."
   "Is that so?"
   "I'm sure you could appreciate the allure of having a powerful amazon
anxious to serve your every desire.  She would consider that its own
reward."
   "I do, Raja."
   "Do you want to sleep with her?"
   "What makes you think I haven't?"
   "She told me you respect her."
   He chuckled.  "What I want from Tonya ...  would get me into trouble."
   "How far against her will?"
   "I'd like to violate her civil liberties."
   "Get to the truth behind those surgically implanted knockers?"
   Adrian sat back in his chair with a groan.  He put his hand to his face
as if to feign a headache.
   "Apologies," Raja whispered.  "I'll refrain from acting like an
Adrian-addicted whore in public."
   Adrian shook his head and reached into his jacket for his phone.  "Step
outside and call this number.  Tell Mr.  Larkin that I'm ready for pick
up."
   She stepped outside and made the call as he requested.  When she
returned to the table, she recalled the 'Dark & Stormy' moniker she'd given
him.
   Did he really have a headache?  Did she say something to upset him?
   She would do as told, nothing more, especially now.  He said his good
byes, wished everyone good night, but he was so cool, so reserved.
   Raja prepared for him to turn, kiss her on the cheek, and leave her
standing on the sidewalk.
   The driver opened the door and Adrian ushered her inside.  He did
something in the trunk, but Raja was too busy trying to reign in her
emotions.  He hadn't kicked her out.  He didn't leave her there.  She would
at least get a ride home.
   Adrian returned with a bag and the flats she'd packed.  "Take off the
dress.  Do not ruin it," he added as she hurried to comply.  "Fold it."
   She folded the gown, careful to preserve it.
   "May I keep it?" He asked.
   "Yes," she steeled her arms from trembling and handed him the dress. 
She felt so nervous that nausea turned her stomach.
   He tucked it at the bottom of the bag.  He was careful with it, as if it
would break.  He asked to keep it, but Tonya boasted that he went through
women with ease.  Was it just something to remember her by when he told her
to go home?
   It didn't matter.  She was here now.  Raja leaned forward and loosened
his neck tie.  She unbuttoned the collar, turned, reached into his shirt
and began to massage his neck muscles.  With a long sigh, Adrian leaned
forward and relaxed.  The lids of his eyes lowered, his gaze settled on her
lace covered breasts.  She kept to her massage, remained quiet.
   His behavior reminded her of Neela's father, but he had a very different
reason for hiding.  His temper followed the quiet.  Was Adrian like that?
Did he have a temper or just a very low threshold for disobedience?  What
did she do wrong?  Call Tonya a gold-digger?  Or herself Adrian-addicted?
Why would she even think to say that?  Tonya was the co-owner of her
brother's business.  Adrian-addicted whore?  Raja never enjoyed demeaning
language.  She hated it, especially because of how effective it was on her,
but when she imagined Adrian calling her all manner of names, it didn't
feel demeaning at all.  She wanted to be everything to him.
   "Cold or nervous?"
   She yelped.  The deep timber of his voice and his sudden question
startled Raja.
   "Answers that question." He glanced out the window and pointed to the
bag.  "There's a robe in there.  Put it on."
   Raja reached into the bag and upset a box as she was pulling it out.
   "Hand me that."
   She set the box in his lap and pulled on the robe, but let it hang open.
   "Take off all your jewelry and put it in your purse.  Hand me the
pendant." His voice had warmed, but only slightly.  It was still cold in
comparison.  As the car came to a stop he pointed to the flats.  "Put them
on and follow my lead."
   She waited while he paid the driver, gathered their belongings, trailed
him while he opened the door.
   He set the bags, her purse, his things aside, but he kept the box in
hand.  "I am an impatient, spoiled man - some days more than others.  I
invited you to join me with little warning." He led her to his bedroom and
she listened while he undressed, "because I was going to take Miss Daschel.
Then, it occurred to me that I might be able to have you, to enjoy your
company.  All I wanted to do tonight, since I saw you this evening, was get
you home and play with you." He walked over to her and began to undress
her. "I don't want to fucking play anymore.  I just want to fuck my
Adrian-addicted whore."
   Raja about fainted, her arousal flooded her panties and she literally
felt weak in her knees.
   "What I'm in the mood for doesn't matter because this slut will do
whatever she's told.  Are you on birth control?"
   "Yes, Adrian."
   "Can I come inside you?"
   "This is Adrian's body to do what he wants." It was insane for her to
just give in like that, but the words were out and she meant it.  She knew
it was crazy, but she was his.
   He wanted to pin her to the wall and fuck her brains out.  Raja knew
because that's what he did.  He lifted her right off her feet and nailed
her hard and fast.  He held her by the hips and made her feel like she
weighed less than a feather.  He pressed her to the wall as he came inside
her, emptied himself with a cry of pleasure.  Only then did her lower her
legs to the floor.
   She wiped the sweat from his head and kissed him on the cheek.  "That
was magical," she whispered.
   "Better than I imagined."
   "You've never?"
   "Are you kidding?  I'd crush a weaker woman."
   Raja blushed and grinned.
   "Don't worry, baby.  I'll crush you too.  I just need a little more
time."
   Raja eyed the bed.  Crush her?  Maybe once, but she wasn't that kind of
girl anymore.  Time for her to prove just how hard that would be.  She
pushed off the wall and walked him to the bed.  She laid him on his back
and pressed on his shoulders as she kissed her way down his body. 
"Adrian?"
   "What slut?"
   "Permission to worship your cock, Adrian?  Please?" She rubbed her cheek
on the inside of his thigh and looked at him with pleading eyes.
   "You've earned it.  Go ahead."
   "Thank you so much, Adrian."
   Adrian's plan had been to put her on her back once she had him hard
again, but he enjoyed lying there while enhanced the performance she'd put
on the morning after their first night together.  Her hands stroked his
whole body and she moaned over him.  They were small, hungry moans that
made his head spin.  She swallowed his head and that nearly did him in for
the second time.  Adrian grabbed both sides of her head and fucked her
mouth, watched his cock slide between those sexy lips, watched her take
him.
   Come now or fuck her?
   He felt her tongue lap at his balls and lost the ability to choose.  He
came hard and she sucked him dry.  She held him in her mouth long after he
went soft, her fingers played in his pubic hair, caressed his thighs.  He
stroked her face, played in her tears.  Her tongue moved and he felt a
stir.
   "Up here, Raja."
   She crawled up his body and stretched out over him.
   "Amazing," Adrian purred as he squeezed her to him.  "Grab that pillow."
   She reached for the pillow at the head of his bed.  "This one?"
   "Yes." He released her and sat up.  "Put it under your hips."
   Raja blushed as she lay back over the pillow.  "Spread your legs.  Let
me see what's mine." Adrian kissed her thighs, rubbed them as he positioned
himself between her spread thighs.  "Beautiful," he murmured before setting
his lips to her.
   His movements were languid, careful, seductive.  He relaxed rather than
aroused her.  She let her mind drift along with her body.  Raja sighed with
her orgasm, it was by far the most surprising and muted orgasm she'd ever
felt in her life.  She felt the euphoria purely in her brain rather than
her body.
   "Were you thinking about anything then?" He pulled the pillow from under
her body and sank inside her.
   "No, Adrian."
   "Do you know why?"
   "Because you took your time?"
   "And you know that I'm in control.  There's nothing to imagine.  I don't
have to tie you down or order you or hurt you.  You are mine, baby girl."
   Raja arched her back and moaned.  Her stomach flipped as he spoke to
her, as he steadily penetrated her.  He held her as if she were made of
fine china, eased inside her as if it were her first time, as if he loved
her.  He kissed her, his tongue coaxing her out of her shell.
   "I don't have anywhere to be, but inside you, Raja.  This is all I want,
to enjoy my girl.  You feel so fucking good." With a low moan he went back
to kissing her.
   Their joining was languid and slow even through her second orgasm. 
Though they took their time, when he finally came inside her their breath
came fast and heavy.  After the long night at the Gala, exhaustion plagued
them both.  Tired hands smoothed over her sweat covered skin.
   Adrian kissed the top of Raja's head.  Her breath had turned heavy,
signaling sleep.  He didn't want to move just yet.  He was getting
goosebumps from the chill in the house, but the covers could wait.  He
looked at her gorgeous body and let his thoughts turn toward possession.
   He thought about the jewelry box sitting on his dresser.  He gave her
the borrowed diamond pendant because the white gold choker would have
clashed with the gold she wore.  It worked out for the best, the 3 carat
Angeline Diamond pendant looked stunning in that brazen display of
womanhood.  It was a constant source of amusement watch eyes attracted by
the brilliance of the famous diamond turned away by the bounty of her
cleavage.
   Maurice had loaned him the diamond in the hopes seeing it at the Gala
would help his business.  He was going to be one happy jeweler come Monday.
He imagined seeing Raja's face when she learned that she was wearing a gem
the price of a luxury car around her neck.
   He palmed one of her breasts and rolled the tiny nipple between his
fingers.  He wanted to keep her, to get a daily dose of her profound
adoration and seductive mastery, to feel her luscious body next to his, to
savior the purity of her submission.  There was so much he wanted to do, to
experience, so many toys gone neglected.  His hand cupped her ass, squeezed
and pressed the flesh there.
   She stirred in his arms, tossed her leg over him.  "I fell asleep?"
   "Only for a few minutes.  Go on and sleep."
   "Hard to do with you molesting me."
   "I haven't begun to molest you, naughty girl."
   She chuckled and curled up on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
   "Raja?"
   "Yes, Adrian?"
   "I am more pleased with you than I have ever been with a submissive."
   Adrian expected at least a smile, a word of thanks, some kind of
statement about hoping to keep it up.  He did not aim to make her cry.  She
clung to him like a wounded child and sobbed into his chest.  Her cries
were so soft, tender, a complete mismatch to her stature and a revelation
of the type of little woman she was at heart.
   Adrian held her and smiled.  He loved the sound of her vulnerability. 
"If anyone ever asks you if you cry easily, for future reference and all,
the answer is yes."
   With soft chuckle, she finally drifted off to sleep.
   -_ The Forge _-
   Raja was a mess.  Her sense of self was scattered and displaced and a
night's sleep had done little to help.  She stared at her reflection in the
mirror.  No matter what she was going to ride this one out.
   "I belong to Adrian.  I'll show him that I trust him." She giggled at
her reflection.  "And I'll keep these sniveling freak outs to a minimum."
   "Maybe I like them." His voice, that deep vibration, and the thought,
foolish thought, that he was still walking Belle startled her.
   Raja jumped and screamed.
   He pulled her toward him and kissed her.  "When you're done, meet me
downstairs."
   She was finished within minutes and downstairs among the spread of
bagels and freshly brewed tea.
   They sat to the breakfast table overlooking his lush back yard and
talked about the Gala.
   "How long have you lived here?"
   "Ten years, after my father passed.  This was his place.  I lucked into
it.  Paid off, furnished, and familiar.  Not to mention the windfall."
   "Is that when you decided to become an angel investor?"
   He smirked.  "That's when I was able to afford it.  Helping artists has
always been a passion of mine.  No talent myself, but plenty of the other
stuff - planning, management, connections.  I still don't know what you
do."
   Raja wiped the last bit of jam up with her last bit of biscuit. 
"Self-defense lessons, private and with a class.  I specialize in high risk
situations - tied, trapped, out numbered.  One-on-one in the street is too
easy, and too rare.  I teach negation and damage mitigation.  Most of my
clients are gay men - never taught to fight and never expected they would
need to know.  Also, I got to know a lot of drag queens here.  We tend to
shop in the same places."
   With breakfast over, they cleaned up and Adrian put his arm around her
shoulders.  "I do have you the rest of the day, yes?"
   "Yes, Adrian, you do."
   "Good.  I want to play."
   She blushed bit down on her bottom lip.
   He led her downstairs and began by binding her in a series of loops and
knots with rope that felt soft on her skin.  He attached those loops to
hooks in the walls, pinning her like a spider in a web.
   Then, looking delicious in his dark green gym shorts, he picked up the
single tail, the long one, and began to swing it toward the wall opposite
her.
   Raja had the rear view.  She got to see what her club had seen while he
whipped her, at least for a second.  His muscles flexed and rippled with
each swing.  The whip struck the padded wall in front of him.  He switched
from one hand to the next, working through a pattern that appeared quite
familiar.
   She was in awe, witnessing the precision and mastery he'd brought to
bear upon her own skin.  So this was how someone become adept with a whip.
No wonder she'd never met anyone this good.  She wasn't sure which aroused
her more, the sight or anticipation of him.
   Adrian finished with a fine sheen of sweat covering his body.  He
cleaned the whip, put it aside, and turned to approach her.  Still, not a
word from him, not his plans, no questions, no orders.  He stepped to her
and checked her binding, her eyes followed his hands, afraid that if she
looked at him, he'd think she wanted some sign of what was to come.  He
wanted to play and she would be his toy, silent and cooperative.
   Adrian pulled a blindfold from a drawer and fitted it over her eyes,
removing any further temptation.
   From that moment on there was only sensation: the warmth of his fingers,
the press of his lips, the whispering tickle ...  a sharp slap on her ass,
one for each cheek.  There were an array of sensations on every part of her
body - hot, cold, stinging, soothing, slick, soft, buzzing.
   Raja sighed and whimpered, squealed and screamed as she was made to.  He
took particular delight in making her laugh.  Once he found the spot that
tickled her, Raja squirmed and screamed until she was pouring sweat and
gasping for breath, and then there was only squirming and screaming while
something stinging and thin repeatedly hit her thighs.
   Adrian put plugs in her ears.  The torture of deprivation, lack of
touch, left her only with smell.  Some times she could smell him, right in
front of her, standing there watching her tremble.  She grew much quieter,
straining to connect, to feel him.
   Raja thought there was nothing left to take until he took her balance.
With a single push, she yelped.  She'd thought she was falling but that was
impossible.  She was tied up.  She saw him check the knots.  If she was
hanging, however she was hanging, she wouldn't fall.  Nothing would hurt
her.
   Another shove caused another squeal.  It was like being on a roller
coaster.  His warm hand cupped her between her legs, firm, steady.  Adrian
placed a kiss to her shoulder.  Something burned her stomach, pinched her
shoulder, then a biting cold, like ice.  She was fully disoriented and
lacked the imagination to figure out what was causing so many different
sensations.
   What did he want from her?  Was there a point?  Did he want her to beg?
For what?
   Blood rushed from ...  toward her head.  She swayed as her feet met
solid ground.  The return of blood flow caused an ache, then tingle in her
extremities.  If the absence of the ropes ached.  How long had she been
out?
   Out.  What an apt description.
   Nothing followed.  Nothing she could see or hear.  He had removed most
of the ropes, but left her blind and deaf.  The silence stretched on and
then there was the burning strip over her thigh.  Raja grunted rather than
screamed, her body instinctively attempted to flee, but she wasn't going
anywhere.  That was the kiss of his whip, she knew that one well.  The
moment she relaxed, another lash.  It hurt like a bitch.  This wasn't fun.
This wasn't something she enjoyed.  It was excruciating pain.
   He traced the precise line of her pain, causing it to flare.  She
expected his finger to be slick with fresh blood, but he put his finger in
her mouth and proved that the only thing stinging her was sweat.  It was
just a whelp, a painful, uncool whelp on her thigh.
   Another painful lash made its home on her body.  He may not have been
making her bleed, but it hurt.  She let her scream prove that point.  She
jerked and squirmed and screamed, but there was no escape, no freedom.
   Only he could set her free or hit her again.  The patience was terrible,
but not unbearable, not if she was honest with herself.  He did not strike
until she calmed, until her body relaxed.  Torture, but controlled.
   She had a safe word.  She did?  She didn't remember.  Raja never played
enough to commit something like that to memory.  Yellow, she could say
yellow.
   A sound left her mouth like a tortured garble, rumbling in her throat
and ending in a pleading whine.
   The pain went deeper, cold instead of warm, heavy instead of stinging.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
   Fuck him.
   No, Adrian was her master now.  He was her center.  This is what she
wanted to give him.
   "My body belongs to Adrian Blackridge." The words sounded like a moan in
her head.  If there was ever a safe word, a safe phrase, that was the one
her mind thought to say.  Fingers wrapped around her throat, but the hand
lifted her chin.
   She repeated her oath, put more conviction into it.  She trusted him,
trusted he wouldn't ...  well, but he had.  He'd hurt her and she didn't
like it.
   Submission wasn't about what she liked.  It had never been that way in
her mind.  Submission meant fulfillment, capitulation.  In those fantasies
she never spoke of, this is what she craved.  She needed to belong, to be
cherished, used, needed, adored.
   Not abused though, never that.
   Lips met hers and Raja tasted her own tears, feasted on the saltiness of
their embrace.  They kissed until her cheeks hurt, his body felt warm
against the front of her body.  She felt so little, so small, so
insignificant in his hold, a way she'd never felt before.  Helpless, weak,
tiny.
   He stepped away.  More random sensation: pain, pleasure, tender, cruel.
   She said it.  She belonged to him.  All she had to do was surrender.
   Adrian lowered Raja to her knees, the final restraints, the earplugs,
and the blindfold removed, but the room was dark save for a few burning
candles.  He lifted her and carried her over to the mattress.
   He took her body and used her hard, slamming into her.  She was soaking
wet with lust and made wetter by his merciless use.  She screamed her way
through the orgasms, cried as she felt how complete his control over her
was.  Groans, moans, and smacks of flesh.  Beyond her own pain, jostling,
and disorientation - she latched onto the sound of him, his breath, his
touch, his possession of her soul.  He held her arms down, tight and
unrelenting.
   Adrian grunted as he came.  "Good girl," he gasped for air, "such a good
fucking girl.  My girl, all mine.  My perfect little girl."
   The rest was a blur: cool water, herbal ointment, the soothing purr of
his voice.  They returned to the light of day, wrapped in a large, lush ...
was this cashmere?  The blanket was a smooth, soft touch on her sensitive
skin.
   Curled in his lap on the couch, she nuzzled into his neck as he placed a
take-out order over his phone.  With the aid of his remote, music filled
the house through recessed speakers.
   Raja felt like a zombie, mute and dumbstruck and numb.  She lay there in
his embrace and didn't want to think further than that.  She remained in
her puddle while he retrieved lunch.
   She pushed herself upright in his absence.  She couldn't stay like this
all day.  He returned and fixed a single, huge plate.  Between bites he
caressed her cheek, kissed her.
   After dinner, he talked.  Adrian grew up locally, his mother and father
were into the arts and taught him all about the trade.  "Some people are
born with a vision, and some people are born with business acumen, some
people are born with money.  That's what my father would say.  'Addy,' my
father called me that.  You won't.  'Addy, you were born into money, and
when that money becomes yours, you will need to decide what matters to you.
Money is only of use when it's spent.'
   "I took his advice.  Tony is born with that business acumen, but no
talent.  I give him the artist, the money, he makes a plan.  I mentor the
artist; we reap the profit."
   This was not the conversation she expected.  She understood what Adrian
was doing, giving back the thirty minutes she'd given him, but this wasn't
the version of aftercare she'd heard about, talked about, advised.
   Did you like that?  No.
   Did I go too far?  Yes.
   Why didn't you stop me?  Good fucking question.
   She rolled her head back and grinned at him.  "Your turn tomorrow."
   The rumble of his laughter shook them both.  "Looking forward to it,
baby girl."
<-> Written: January 2012
   Contact: nysidra at hot mail dot com
  
Breaker_Mountain