Chapter 7
Nathan
It was without morals or dignity that I found myself enriched by such pleasures that would give faintness to the pure-hearted soul of my wife. Engulfed in a lifestyle that covered me covertly in sin, but I needed not the moral code of others who would cast me out for succumbing to basic human desires.
I loved her, or should I say I loved her for a time, but now that time had passed. Intimacy with my wife had waned, and I should have made it clear to Isabella that monogamy was off the table if we were ever to get married. It was a real shame I was too much of a coward to tell her then. Isabella and I had grown up together, and luckily, for me, I was in the right place at the right time. For years, Isabella only thought of me as a friend. However, as time went on, she began to develop feelings for me, which helped me to weasel my way into her heart while hiding the string of women I’d been with from teenage to adult years.
Isabella was too concerned with her education and entrepreneurial success to notice anything. By the time she fell in love with me, it was too late. I was a brilliant smooth talker and eased my way in until she said the words, I do. Riding the waves of her success was all I wanted. And that was what I received. Having discontinued my bipolar meds years ago, I saw what I’d been missing, and I realized that I’d rather die than live out my life as a zombie. The only thing that mattered to me now was flesh.
The sweet young flesh of a new woman was what I craved. I tried to reflect this desire on my wife, but it was no use. I needed new women all the time or else I would grow bored, and nothing was more terrifying for me than being bored with your life. It was equivalent to death in my eyes.
And death was what would befall me if I had to give up this life, even if it was by my hand. With Isabella toiling away at the office day-in and day-out, I had free rein without being subjected to suspicion. I may have had many flaws, but pleasuring a woman was far from one.
While my last conquest ended prematurely due to my unflinching excitement of a new woman, I guaranteed that would not happen again. There was no doubt the man from next door had seen my sexual triumphs, and I hoped I had been able to put on a good show for him. I wanted him to see. What was the use of harnessing one’s sexual prowess if not for exploitation? It had been said that no crime could be committed or condemned if the persons involved did it for the sake of pleasure.
Did Marquis de Sade not make that clear in his book Philosophy in the Bedroom? Was my life not the cultivation of such teachings? I gave pleasure to women, and in return, they gave me comfort. Was that not the righteous; was that not the purpose of man? Must society condemn the actions of one whose sole aim was the pursuit of pleasure regardless of the pain it may cause others? My wife should be satisfied I was able to seek out pleasure without her. She should be grateful—no, better yet, happy for me.
The celebration of pleasure was much like the celebration of love. It should wash away any pain felt by any other parties involved. This society was ruined and had brainwashed men and women alike that fidelity was natural while non-monogamy was to be condemned and judged. I found this to be utter rubbish. Fidelity—a system of control put in place by the selfish . . . nothing more than emotional slavery.
These constructs were mere fantasies produced by the emotionally insecure and sexually repressed. My wife shouldn’t fear me taking another person to bed any more than I would her. My only regret was that I didn’t make my intentions known before marriage. I had the foolish belief that I would be able to bring out in her what I had brought out in myself. The truth would come out soon, however.
Desire was always there, and those who acted out their desires must not be judged. Why become a prisoner in your flesh? Women, whether they wished to admit it or not, always desired the alpha male. Their skin flushed red, sweat flowed through their pores, and the juices streamed amid their wet gash at the very thought of being dominated. The alpha male’s purpose was to taste those juices, that passion. The sweetest part of the taste buds watered just before the tip of the tongue engaged the clitoris. That was the way of man. Those foundations were the ultimate pursuit of pleasure I lived by.
The doorbell rang, and I knew whom I was expecting. My favorite lover, my beloved Valentina. Hair of gold and skin of shining white porcelain wrapped in a cocoon of silk, pink flowers, and nude suede high heels. My mouth watered at the sight of her. I could see right through the dress that exposed her bright skin in the moonlight. With Isabella out of town, I could have my way with her out in the open.
The wind blew, forcing her dress to cling to her bosom. Her nipples stood on edge, calling my long, moist tongue to give them a lashing. She knocked on the door even though she could see me standing there, waiting for her to enter. Pretense seemed to have its clutches on her, as she refused to come in until I invited her. She had done this a lot, and each time made my heart thump faster with anticipation.
She gave me the come-hither through the glass door as the wind blew her hair off to the side, slightly covering the right of her face. She licked her lips and caressed her breast slowly and softly, waiting for me to let her in. I walked up toward the door and opened it wide, begging her to come in and be dominated.
“Valentina, why do you tease your Master?”
She smiled and entered the anteroom. I closed the door behind her. “Take off that dress,” I commanded.
“Yes—”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Has my little Valentina forgotten her manners? Are you not to address me only as sir or master? Perhaps you need a taste of the hand before we continue?” I hissed.
Valentina lowered her gaze in submission. I scoffed at her. Perhaps later. For now, I must quench my thirst with the sweat that ran down her inner thigh on this hot summer night. My beautiful plaything knew not to wear panties in my presence, and she obliged me every time we met. I got on my knees and ran my hand up her outer thigh. This hand soon met her soft, cushy backside. I forced her legs open as she gave a small pleasurable moan at what was to come.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master,” she said, waiting for my tongue to meet her soft skin. I used the center of my tongue when I licked her right inner thigh. Her juices dripped on my forehead, steaming and hot, as she anticipated my wrath. Just as I was about to enter her gushing pleasure chamber, I halted. I did this many times, as I wanted the anticipation to grow to such intensity that when I did lay my tongue on her wanting gash, she would explode in climactic obliteration.
“Are you ready, Valentina?” I stuck my finger in her ass.
“Yes, Master!” she screamed. I looked this devilish little angel in her face, her mouth gaping and eyes squinted shut, begging me to lay waste to the suffering of denied pleasure. Without a moment more delay, I engulfed her dripping pussy with my mouth, twirling my tongue over her clit. She screamed in sensual delight, commanding me to keep going. I would not stop . . . not until this beauty had finished in my mouth with juices pouring into my throat like the sap running down a maple tree.
I could feel her pussy twitching with each twist of my tongue, and it was magnificent. I had her now. Nothing could control the shaking of her legs, not even me as she struggled to stay standing. Her knees were about to give way. No devil in hell could deter the sensation she was feeling, nor would I allow it to end. I hoisted her up on my shoulders and slammed her up against the wall to finish the deed.
“Oh, Master,” she moaned, before unleashing an orgasm fit for the gods. I did my duty well and now it was time for her to do hers. After the initial body quivers that accompanied a climax of that magnitude, I threw her to the floor and commanded her to kneel. She knew what to do. The collar and leash were already there. Without me having to instruct her, she placed the collar around her neck and waited to be penetrated. Such soft and flawless skin didn’t deserve to go to waste, and this white porcelain doll would feel every inch of the whip.
“Choose!” I demanded of her, brandishing several whips of different size, shape, and sharpness.
“Must I?”
“Yes, sub! You must.” She pointed to the smallest of them, a brown suede cattail whip that wouldn’t even begin to do her skin justice.
“Am I not your master? Am I not a kind and merciful master?”
“Yes, you are,” she whimpered.
“Then why would you insult me with such a choice?”
“But—”
“Why would you insult me with such a choice, Valentina? Do you not trust your master?”
“Yes, Sir. I trust you.”
“Then choose again!”
She pointed to a choice I expected of her: the black leather horsewhip with my custom design of metal hooks on the tips. For now, I would show her mercy. I would remove the hooks this once, even though it would take away from my pleasure.
“Who is your master?” I hissed as I brought down the whip.
“You!”
“You—what?”
“You are my master!”
“Do you wish to feel the whip on your soft white skin?”
“Yes, Master!” I pulled on the leash and continued to whip her. My little sub screamed in pain, but I knew those shouts were of pleasure. The pleasure she felt from being dominated, commanded, and told what to do. This was what she craved, as did most women, no matter how much they denied it. She begged for the whip as I laughed and yanked on the leash, choking her.
“Fuck me, Master!” she screamed.
“I’m the one giving the commands, Valentina, and I will fuck you when I say you are ready to receive me.” I brought down the whip more furiously than before.
“Please, Master!” she begged. I chuckled before I tossed the whip aside and ripped off my clothes. She looked back slightly as I dragged her by the leash and slammed her face-first into the wall.
“You want your master’s cock?”
“Yes, Sir,” she pleaded. No reason to stall at this point . . . I spread her legs and inserted my long, hard thickness into her. She moaned in pleasure.
“You are mine, Valentina!” I reminded her as I thrust my manhood deep into her pussy.
“Oh, God,” she whispered through her laments.
“Yes, Valentina, I am your God, your master, your everything.” She squirted on my cock and balls, forcing me to pull out. Each time she orgasmed, I choked her with the leash. I needed to hear her scream.
“Come on your master’s cock,” I proclaimed as I choked her harder. Valentina was now in a state of perpetual climax. Faster, I shoved my cock inside of her, giving in to the orgasm forcing its way out of me.
“Get on your knees!” I ordered. She flipped over and bowed before me, mouth wide open. With my left hand on my cock, I unleashed my seed all over her face and breasts. She caressed the tip of my manhood with her tongue, licking every drop while staring into my eyes. Fantastic.
It was now 3:26 in the morning, and it seemed as if we had been enjoying each other all night. She washed herself up and cleaned everything spotless. That was my girl—the only one with whom I was willing to bend the rules.