She let her finger tips linger on the keys after reading the Fantasy Friday. They were slightly shaking as she raised them to her lips.
“Oh my gosh, he’s in Florida.” She heard her desperate voice eek out in an inaudible whisper. She was only three states apart from, just four hours away from a man whose story had her mind reeling. She’d never been that turned on by a story. It was always the visuals, not the words that shook her to her core. “Thrown off” would be the way she preferred to describe it to herself right now. And she felt uneasy admitting that much. Trying to ease herself back into her comfort zone she wandered into the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea. Unlike her usual routine, she stared at the back of the stove waiting for the water to boil.
After sucking the honey from her sticky fingers and discarding the teabag, she began to pace about the wooden floors. His story had *really* turned her on. She was suddenly antsy and needed to be outside. She bent down to the floor to raise the massive floor to ceiling windows of this 250 year old house that acted as a door to her balcony. The house had been her great great grandmother’s and sat proudly on Esplanade Avenue just two miles from the French Quarter. The live oaks were massive and the homes all historic with twenty foot ceilings. Lacey iron gates surrounded the homes like a giant sprawling hug.
Rarely had she ever been sexually entwined before 10pm but now she could feel the morning air between her legs as the evaporation began. It embarrassed her when she gave a quick wave to her next door neighbors. It was 9am and already 70 degrees, a hot March morning in New Orleans. The school kids were finally all tucked inside their buildings. The sidewalks and streets were clearing out. Trying to regain normalcy she brought her cup of tea and a raspberry protein bar outside with her. The powder blue ceiling glowed gently on the warming porch. She sat down under a huge hanging fern and let her left leg fall outside the wall swinging into space. Leaning back then tipping her head up, she relaxed against the huge column. Seriousness overtook her mind while her hair moved mindlessly in the warm breeze. Resisting her ultimate concept in a male had kept her safely tucked away in the “eccentric artist” category. It was always all or nothing with Margo. She was afraid to search for exactly what she wanted. Chaos could ensue if her situation wasn’t “just right”.
Previously she thought of the cyber world as a nebulous place, not with real people doing real things. Mostly what she did was read fiction about spanking late at night alone in her bed. The stories were there but she didn’t think of who wrote them. She never let herself consider that someone would be as close as Florida. It was perfect. She could keep her sexual preferences private by going to Florida. Always there was this pressure hanging over her head. Her last name was so politically attached to the past and present history of Louisiana but especially this city. Her blood was as blue as horseshoe crabs. And their eccentricities had caused enough infamy with the Boudreaux Family. She didn’t want to be on the “list”.
But her fantasies were lately saturating her mind and she was now in a position, thanks to Florida Dom’s email to at least try. Worst case scenario he was married or involved. She closed her eyes and bathed herself in thoughts of getting lost in his power. She caught herself smiling with her eyes closed and realized how funny she must look. But she couldn’t stop smiling throughout the day.
Margo was determined not to let decades escape her before she sought her passionate side of sex. She had always been obsessed with the Alpha Male. The strong silent type was her kind of man. He was also someone who led by example and tolerated only the best from everyone surrounding him. The consequences for breaching his expectations were obvious for the woman in his life. And the thought of that becoming her reality was what unconscientiously motivated her throughout the day, even though he was yet in her life. Her imagined external discipline kept her being the best she could be.
She had watched generations of Alpha’s parade through her family. They were intoxicating. But frankly their power scared her. It scared her and turned her on simultaneously. She had vowed not to get ensnared with them during her twenties. But with each passing year, she found herself secretly drawn to them. Not only was she captured by their confidence and demeanor, but she spent hours during the day thinking about what sex with that kind of man would be like. And thinking back to his character’s only allowed response “I will obey, Sir” made her wet all over again. She wouldn’t even let herself think of the spanking. And just as hot was that shaving scene…. And with that thought, she cracked open her laptop and began typing every letter with precision and courage.
Dear FloridaDom Sir,
I would like to thank you for sharing your story with PK’s readers. I thank you too for allowing us the opportunity to ask questions or make suggestions regarding your writing. Please forgive me for being forward, but if you presently have no “Lisa” in your life, I would enjoy meeting you in Florida for coffee or lunch.
She impulsively hit send. She felt wild and outside of herself. Seconds later she realized with paralyzing fear that her email address contained her first and last name in order to perpetuate her artwork. She was certifiable, undeniably so. She shouldn’t have revealed so much of herself. She stalked around her bedroom like she needed a tranquilizer. What had she done? Anybody with half a brain and the likes of Ted Bundy could have her location within hours. She went outside again and sat down knees up elbows on top and head in hands. Brilliant, fucking brilliant! She could only hope she didn’t need to rent a Rottweiler by weeks end. And yet, speaking with pure logic, she was freaking out over an email of inquiry. It didn’t mean he would stop his life for her and come rushing into town to rescue her from herself. Her logic and paranoia wrestled throughout the day. She felt like the woman in Peter O’Neill’s painting, The Breakup.
Distracting herself in a positive way she focused on the fact that Mardi Gras had just ended and she actually had a few tourists buy some of her numbered prints. Since Katrina it was harder than hard. But her work was slowly making its way up the coast. A fancy Charleston gallery had expressed an interest in putting a few of her pieces in the same gallery with Peter O’Neill whose work of women she loved. She’d believe it after it happened, but it was sounding good.
She made herself paint all day before she’d look at her email. She could turn herself into butter otherwise. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, finally Wednesday brought a well deserved response. Arghhhh She hated this guy already for torturing her with the wait. Did he know how crazy she felt inside having no response from him? Did he know how vulnerable she felt? Who would do that to a woman? Knowing he had responded, she now felt safe allowing herself to feel all her pent up frustration. And so she began to read:
I will look forward to meeting you for dinner at Antoine’s March 20th at 8 pm.
She couldn’t believe he was coming to her city! She felt one step up on “Lisa” she still had her armpit hair and managed to score at dinner on their first get together. Thus far reality was gaining over fiction. Then of course the reign of worry enveloped her sense of joy. Just ten days and she would possibly be meeting a man who would…. Would what? She gulped hard. This had to be the best and worst moment of her life. She couldn’t wrap her head around all of this. It felt surreal. Which brought her right back to where she needed to be – painting.
***********Saturday morning on March 20th was a clothing crime scene that extended passed her bedroom and into her living room. Her cat, Furball looked at her with disdain as she flung pieces of clothing all over Furball’s couch. She remembered in the story about no underwear. How would that feasible? Did they make skirts of armor? If she wore no underwear she’d be sure to soak herself just by virtue of being across the table from this man who could, who might…. She refused to actually think about the spanking. She was only allowing herself to focus on the domineering power thing. Anything after that was lagniappe as far as she was concerned. She waited until 3pm to schedule a taxi for 7:45. She finally settled on a suit with a very long jacket. It was cream colored linen. An off-white silk blouse that hung a bit low was perfect. It was totally hot in a classy way. Then as she was almost at the door she decided ‘screw it’ I at least need a thong. It tangled six different ways before she could figure out what thin line lined up with what curve. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t like it.
Two thousand “what ifs” ran through her head with sticks and metal garbage cans attacking her mental foreplay. What if they weren’t compatible physically? OK too shallow, think of something else. What if he was creepy and scared her? She was not obligated for more than dinner. What if she ran into family or friends? She would introduce him as an investor considering small gallery in the Quarter. Little white lies are what held the mortar together in this town after all. No. Too many details. Besides how would he take to her lying about who he was? What if I’m totally turned on by him and I want to release years of trapped sexual pressure? Oh, now she was getting somewhere. Those other worries were masking the true issue. What if she liked and wanted all of it? What then?
The ride over in the cab was too quiet despite her mind screaming the last realization, the true question. She had so much nervous energy. She hadn’t discussed Dominic with her sisters or friends. He was too special to illicit outside opinions. It was with that last thought that she paid her cabby and headed inside. She rubbed her palms against her hips hoping her hands wouldn’t be sweaty for the hand shake at the introduction. She nervously looked around the restaurant.
Andre’s weathered and handsome face greeted her at the end of the long entrance, he being the consummate maitre d' and it seemed unofficial family historian at times. His smile and double cheek kiss drew her out from her worries and she tried to stifle a giggle as she explained who she’d be meeting for dinner. He apologized but interrupted her, “Margo I am already aware that you are meeting Mr. Dominic for dinner over in the corner. That is the very spot your grandfather Landasch proposed to your grandmother. I hope it brings you good luck!”
“You realize you told me that about the table Jeanne and I sat at on Valentines Day?”
“I am getting older and must be thinking of your parents.”
“I thought they did their proposing and wedding the weekend before I was born in Vegas.”
“Oh ma Cherie you will never surprise me with your irreverence! Vegas! For shame. Your parent’s wedding was the classiest affair this city has seen in one hundred years. And for you to joke otherwise is a punishable offence! Wait until I see your Uncle John. He will have to refresh your memory of your pristine family.” She tried to look penitent. But it was hard.
“OK the Vegas thing was sleazy and uncalled for. I stand corrected. Antoine’s is the most historically romantic restaurant in the Quarter which is why” she rolled her eyes with dramatic affect and said the following words as if she were dragging her feet on the ground, “we have all gotten engaged here at Antoine’s and married at St. Peter’s Cathedral.” It was said with rehearsed force and Andre and Margo laughed a bit too loudly for the setting. But it helped her relax and she was exceedingly grateful for that.
“Your dinner guest is in the back. Come now I’ll bring you to him.” He offered her his arm. Her hands would never fit around his biceps. Andre would never grow really old she decided, just more handsome. As they rounded the corner her eyes caught sight of a man who could best be described as an Antonio Banderas in is his early 30’s. She actually gripped hard Andre’s arm a little tighter reacting to his handsome nature. Andre smiled knowing her youthful excitement. He noted Dominic’s demeanor was regal yet tolerant, a perfect match for unique Margo.
Her mouth went dry. Then she did the strangest thing and it was reflexive. She brought her chin to her chest and slightly closed her eyes, like some respectful bowing moment. His eyes were so piercing she felt as if she wore no clothes. He wasn’t looking at her in a sexual way; it was that she felt him looking at all of her. She honestly had to fight back the urge to continue to the kitchen and walk out the back door. She kept their shared gaze and vaguely remembered trading Andre’s arm with Dominic’s and being seated. She stared a bit too long at her linen napkin afraid to meet his eyes again. She felt like so much was happening in this moment. With the ultimate tenderness he lifted her hand from her lap and kissed it and set it on the table. He covered her hand with his while he gave the waiter their wine order, a Chateauneuf de Pape. The candle light flickered across their faces creating an undeniable romantic atmosphere. Margo’s blond hair framed what could have been deemed the happiest face there that night. He immediately put her at ease by getting her to talk about herself and her town. She was a true ambassador knowing New Orleans in a consummate and intimate way. The same exact way that old friends understand each others strengths and weaknesses. The dinner itself was always phenomenal. She was a little thrown off when he ordered for her her favorite oyster’s mosca as the appetizer, crawfish etouffee for the entrée, and then crème Brule for dessert. She assumed Andre had sold her out and she was grateful. She had never expected to give up that kind of control and have it work in her favor. She enjoyed conspiracies in her favor.
Dominic had offered very little about himself. Margo felt cautious about asking. Dominic was the kind of man who would reveal what he wanted to, when he wanted to. She respected that. But what he did say worked for Margo. He was an entrepreneur like so many in her family and city. He had a dedicated love for history and rarely missed Jazz Fest. His family was of Spanish descent but had been in Florida for four generations now. Prior to that his family had come from New Orleans! Apparently some gambling debts had landed Dominic's great great grandfather a new city on the Gulf. He had a huge family and spent too many chaotic moments with them. He like her had been busy in his career and hadn’t taken the time until recently to seriously pursue a relationship. Each fact had been revealed with a sentence of two. She couldn’t understand how he managed to say so much with so few words.
After a quiet moment that lasted a bit too long for Margo’s fast paced brain, she heard him “I have a good friend who is allowing me to spend the weekend in his house in the Quarter. If you would like to come back with me, I would love to keep the night going. What do you say Margo?”
The walk to the house was quiet for a Saturday and they were both relaxed and thinking of the night ahead. He had found out everything he could about Margo before dedicating a weekend away from work. He managed to text the housekeeper as they walked to have the candles on the balcony lit when they arrived. Tonight felt very special to him. All of it seemed exactly right. Margo’s mind was feverishly working to stay calm. While this sort of thing may have happened to Dominic each weekend, she had never done anything so indulgent. Her expectations could be dashed or she could be elated beyond measure. Not knowing made her a little crazy. He smiled looking over at her. In many ways, she was a virgin.
She tried not to cry when she saw all the candles on the private balcony that faced a private garden with fountain. This was one of the special homes built for the wealthy Spanish during their brief take over from the French. It was magnificent. They sat down in a love seat. He offered her some port. She took a sip then he took the glass from her and set it down on the slate table top. He held her hands and looked into her eyes.
“Tell me Margo, why you want this?”
She wanted to take her hands back and cover her face. Instead she looked down at the lit fountain and sighed. But it did nothing to relieve the pressure in her chest that had been there forever it seemed. Her voice shook and now she, like he, had too few words to describe what had been in her head for a lifetime.
“I sometimes think I…….. need to lose control………. all of it.” She thought she might cry again. Answering that question was costly. And with that he began to kiss her with a gentle building kiss that culminated when he took her hands from his and wrapped them behind her back, holding her wrists with his left hand his right explored her neck. She immediately responded when her chest came forward to meet his. Keeping her hands behind her he removed her jacket. He made sure her hands remained behind. The sleeveless silk blouse exposed her intense state of arousal. Dominic took a moment to enjoy his voluntary captive. Dominic knew she would gladly hand over all keys after tonight.
“I want you to take off your thong.” His voice was low and formidable. The request threw her off. It seemed so sudden, but then she wasn’t in control anymore. Then she felt him release her hands. He sat back to watch her. She felt a bit awkward staring at him for just a moment, then she stood and pulled her skirt slowly to her hips. She kept her eyes on his like some small prey judging when the attacker would strike. His eyes responded with travel. She reluctantly pulled down her thong, she had never felt so exposed removing such small threads of propriety. Her skirt bunched up and stayed high on her hips as she removed her a part of her vulnerability. She tried to readjust her skirt downward. But he held out his hand demanding she focus on the single minded task; then he took it from her. He stood up turned her around and with her skirt still high she was completely exposed in so many ways. He pulled down her skirt gently. He heard a sigh which he knew would disappear over time. Dominic then proceeded to return her hands behind her back and tie her wrists together firmly with her thong. Turning her full circle and facing him, he kissed her much harder this time and began to remove her blouse. He stopped kissing her when the last button was undone and watched her…… again. Her lips were a bit swollen now and her eyes wide with excitement. He brought the port glass to her lips and she took another sip.
He reached behind her and firmly holding her hips he lifted her to stand. He had her take a step away from the seat than walked behind her.
“Oh Margo, tell me what you’re thinking now?” His voice was musical, as if he knew her answer but he had to hear her say it. She was scared to speak. Scared she wouldn’t recognize her own voice.
“I’m a little afraid, but it’s OK.”
“Are you trying to reassure yourself that you’ve done the right thing tonight, but coming here, with me?” She stood feeling so shaky, especially with him behind her. They both knew she had no answer. And so he continued in that voice that would command her anything.
“Because I really know so much more about you than you do about me.” He smiled enjoying bit of his taunting.
“I think that’s why I came, Sir” Margo could not have been more surprised at her response. It came from deep within her and was too revealing. It was like a breeze had blown out all the candles and she didn’t know what would come next. But she knew she wouldn’t run. No matter what happened she couldn’t leave him. And with that hoist of her pristine sails, Dominic sat back down then turned her a quarter turn and beckoned her down over his knees. She chose to turn her head toward the back of the cushioned love seat.
“A beautiful woman such as yourself, waiting so long to please yourself in this way. You know you deserve to be spanked hard for that alone.” She nodded and a tear pooled quickly at the corner of her eye because the pain of waiting was to end. He raised his arm high enjoying the very beginning of a long night ahead. His foreplay began. Her lesson ensued.
The linen skirt did little to make its presence known as the first Crack! resonated on her behind with such shock that she bucked on his lap as if to propel herself from it. He smiled and brought down another three. Crack! Crack! Crack! His large hand dominating her with ancient pleasure, felt perfect to them both. He rubbed her and noted the flawless shape to be revealed after delivering the same four smacks. Margo inhaled with surprise at each blistering contact. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! After that she started to breathe fast. She knew her skirt was coming off next. And as if Dominic had receptive telepathic powers, she felt her zipper coming down exposing her warm and stinging skin to the refreshing nighttime air. And she felt grateful for almost a second before it registered, that the sensation was fleeting. He stood her up while he sat and helped her step out of her skirt. She looked beautiful in her bra and high heels. But then the bra seemed out of place and removed. Her body shook with pleasure as it was returned to its spankble position. Her breasts welcoming the sensation of his hard warm thighs.
And so with her naked body over his clothed one she awaited the ambivalent joy of her most private thoughts. Her arms wanted so badly to wrap themselves around one of his thighs while taking his lovely punishment. But her wants were met on another level this dark night. And as he delivered the height of his discipline to her virgin behind he began to speak to her while he reigned down her pleasure. His phrases to her were meant to keep her attached to the moment. He reminded her who was in charge of her; how she had no where to run; how she needed him to be the one to control her. And with that phrase and the undeniable building pain he had exacted to her, she began to release all that was inside her. As her moans subsided he rubbed her and gently gripped her bottom. He stroked her hair from the side of her face then brought her up to sit on his lap. He released her wrists from her thong. She then straddled him. Her knees bent on each side of him where her high heels rubbed against her raw skin. Her kisses were as fire which filled the rest of her. Her figurative handcuffs had been removed that night. Her physical cuffs welcomed. And as this all unraveled, she began to see visuals which would undoubtedly hang in Dominic’s private collection one day.
~o~I just loved this story and how it came about. Kaylynn isn't around anymore but she certainly had a wonderful way with words.
As usual I am in need of more stories. I hope some of you out there that have never tried writing before will give it a chance - and to my friends with their own blogs, I would love to have a contribution from you if you are ever willing. Please send any stories to firstname.lastname@example.org