Whitney

I’d barely made it up the stairs to my apartment, thinking thoughts of Dagger and the way his powerful body soaked up the beauty and emotion of the world around him, leaving it dull and colorless by comparison. He was truly a good man; I knew that from our conversation and from how he looked after people. Could he claim his own and protect it? There was no question of that. Nor was there any question as to whether I wanted to be one whom he protected.

I knew the answer almost before I asked myself the question. I was ready. He was downstairs and we were alone. I’d found him in the pool, still floating, and now we were on my bed and I was in a trance of subtle and screaming sensations colliding with one another. So this is what it’s like.

For the longest time, he treated me like porcelain: touching, feeling the curves and taking the weight of my body parts in his hand. He was like an expert gymnast who was planning an erotic routine with an eye to perfection. I felt humbled by his attention, and yet I seemed to respond with an inner femininity that was empowering. I understood then what allure was. I understood that a movement anticipated is destined for boredom, while the unexpected excited the senses and could cover for inexperience. He moved over me, and I responded spontaneously, which seemed to heighten his pleasure.

It was erotic to feel the seldom-exposed parts of my body now being caressed by sheets, smothered in pillows and held in the hands of a man who exuded control and power. I knew then that all the waiting had been worth it. Certainly no one could measure up to the mastery I was experiencing at the hands of Dagger Braun.

He balanced between exciting me and teaching me where to touch him. I confess, I did some exploring of my own, and there seemed to be nothing off limits.

My first object of fascination was his penis. Although I had no standard of measurement to go by, I was trying to form an opinion as to whether it would fit into me. It appeared to be a cage of muscle, covered in skin and transparent enough for me to see and touch the thin veins that throbbed inside. I touched the tip first, tentatively, and he groaned and grabbed my hand to fasten it over himself in glove-like grip. He pushed it downward and then pulled it back up, and I caught on like an old-timey call girl. I learned that saliva in my hand allowed it to slide more easily. Then I learned that my hand was a waste of time, and that with moist lips and an open throat, I could taste that warm muscle and stroke him with my tongue and throat at the same time. He lay on the bed, his legs spread outward as he put one hand on the back of my head and held me to my pleasurable task. I felt his breathing increase, and then he lifted me in the air and laid me flat on my back.

Pushing my legs apart, he crept upward between them and kissed my nipples. I felt the impact all the way in my pussy and marveled that the two were tied together somehow. I learned that part of enjoying sex was acknowledging your own body and its parts. I gave myself permission to use the words that had formerly seemed tasteless but now, in this context, seemed completely appropriate and exciting.

His fingers lightly drew circles around my areolae, tantalizing more skin that led to the same womanly tunnel. How does he know what feels so good?

I wasn’t about to ask, and I had resolved to close my mouth when his lips were upon me. There were deep, long kisses on my lips, and his tongue prodded mine, skimming the inside of my cheeks and sucking on my bottom lip. I felt powerless in the face of his onslaught, but it was a surrender I was willing to make.

“What do I do?” I whispered.

“Just lie there, sweetheart, and enjoy.”

His nose nuzzled my ear and his tongue snaked in with darting touches and little whiffs of air. Oh, my God, but I loved that. Chills flew out at all angles and I heard myself uttering noises of delight.

Dagger moved down my body, touching, massaging, holding, kissing, sucking—everything that a man’s mouth or hands could possibly do. I felt his strength, his determination and his tenderness, all in the same touch. I was made to be handled like this. I knew it, and I relished the idea.

His cock was prodding into my lower belly, and he straddled my thighs. I watch with fascination as he looked down at me, an adoring expression on his face. He pushed my legs wide and then seized my hips, lifting them upward.

“Watch me,” he challenged in a hard whisper. His cock held my fascination, and I realized the moment was about to come. He intended to place himself inside me. I began to wriggle backward, out of his hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his rhythm interrupted.

“You’ll split me wide.”

His head lay back and he laughed heartily. “No, sweetheart, it just looks like that. Women and men are made to fit together. Trust me. One day an entire child will likely make its way down there. Surely you can handle me?”

With renewed anticipation, I wriggled back downward toward him—and toward that massive rod. He used one hand to touch me there, to rub that nub I’d so recently found. Oh, my God, it felt so much better when he touched it. He lifted my buttocks and raised up over me, parting the lips and lowering his hips to guide himself inside me.

I can’t describe it adequately, but it was like a delicious ache. He inserted himself slowly and then paused. I could feel a pressure and a quick glimpse of pain as he penetrated my virgin’s shield. He held very still, watching my face to determine whether to continue or withdraw. He let me grow accustomed to the sensation, and then I nodded and he pushed himself in until I could feel him touching the bottom. With a slow caution, he withdrew again and paused before continuing. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded and gave him smiling encouragement. Now he seized my hips and began a steady, rhythmic penetration. Some strokes were gentle and slow, and then he’d become more frenetic and hard. I kept my eyes open and watched his face. It wasn’t the Dagger I would have recognized, but a primal version that was focused on achieving a goal. I resisted the urge to protest that he was using me and tell him I wanted to stop. In a few moments, I knew why.

At first it was subtle, like bubbles tickling my skin. His stimulation reached in further and sent hot blood to his point of contact. The rivers became molten and drifted outward from my vagina to the nerves and muscles of my upper legs, into my tummy and down into my hips. It was scary, it was delightful, and God help the man who stopped it. Then came the next stage, when the lightest little touch caused a shock of intense pleasure and the harder he pumped, the greater the shock. He studied my face and must have known I was reaching a climax, for he guided himself into a deliberate and intentional rhythm.

Then it broke loose. I felt like I had left my body and my brain had joined the stars in the galaxy, shooting outward and taking away all sensation but that which he was driving into my body. I could feel myself spasm, but it was not painful—only pure pleasure.

My hips rocked of their own volition, arching and rolling to make the orgasm last longer. He was smiling in a knowing sort of way, kissing my nipples at intervals as I screamed unintelligible words that were sourced from somewhere in my primal being. It pulsed and pulsed and then slowly faded away. I felt him stiffen as he plunged hard one final time, and then he collapsed on the bed beside me.

His arm reached out to draw me close, and he kissed me on the top of the head. “Welcome to making love, sweetheart. This, we don’t share with anyone. Just you and I. Deal?”

I would have agreed to sell my first-born son at that point. I was in such a mellow daze of pleasure that the world became void of negatives and I floated like a snowflake being puffed at by a spring wind.

Dagger sat up enough to drag a blanket over the two of us. He formed our cocoon and we fell asleep.

***

It was dark when we awakened. I realized with amazement that we’d made love for several hours. It had only seemed like a few brief minutes. I reached for the robe on the floor and wrapped myself in it. I made us coffee and sandwiches and we sat like two campers with our food, leaning against the headboard and chatting. All pretense was gone between us. Neither spoke of what had recently transpired—it was all in the looks that passed between us.

Dagger stayed the night with me, and although we didn’t make love again due to my being very tender and sore, he wrapped me in his arms and held me against him. I’d never felt such adoration and care before. We slept soundly and woke with the sun the next morning. He stole back down to his room before Kat arrived. There was nothing to hide—we just didn’t want to share.

I showered and dressed as normal and carried my cup of coffee with me as I went up to the reception area. Kat was balancing on her desk stool, sipping coffee and painting her nails. She was wearing what looked like a new outfit, particularly as there was still a tag hanging from the back collar.

I went up behind her, grabbed the scissors from her pencil cup and severed the tag string, then handed it all back to her.

“Thanks,” she responded, dropping everything on the desk to preserve the coating on her nails. “You guys have a good time last night?” she asked. I froze.

 How does she know? Or is she just guessing?

I chose to assume the latter and counter her probing investigation. “I’m going to have to make some friends around here. I can see that I will tend to hole up and never leave otherwise.” What I didn’t realize was that she was on a mission.

“Dagger’s something, isn’t he?” she tried, leaving me to wonder whether her reference was to his business acumen or his personal attributes.

“Quite the natural athlete, I think you could say,” I answered, still trying to remain vague.

“Be careful, Whitney. I haven’t known Dagger for long, but I’ve seen his kind. They can be very attentive while they’re after whatever they want and then go ice-cold once their mission is accomplished.”

She’d chosen her words carefully. I was surprised that she had the insight. She hadn’t struck me as being particularly bright.

“This is a job for me, Katrina. One I need to keep.”

It was my way of warning her in return that she should mind her own business or maybe Dagger would start to wonder whether he needed a different receptionist. She went quiet after that. I forgave her the rudeness. I knew she considered Dagger a catch and had probably taken the job for just that reason. Maybe she’d even hoped to be promoted to being his physical assistant. God knows there had to be thousands of women who would envy me that job. I wanted to keep it, so I pressed no further.

The phone rang just then, and it made us both jump. “Real You Yoga,” she answered. “How may I help you?”

Our business had taken off that suddenly. I left the reception area in search of Dagger. I found him stretching in the men’s locker room, which I knew would be otherwise empty. He was working out in the nude, and flashbacks from the previous night rushed to my blushing face.

“Dagger?” I had to clear my throat. It suddenly felt hoarse.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you think you should call me by name unless we’re in private?”

“You’re right. I just was thinking of you and it popped out. And I don’t mean the words…” I matched his teasing with a healthy blush.

“The phone rang and she’s talking to clients. Are we officially open?”

“Yes, ma’am, we certainly are,” he said, his voice strained as he was bent from the waist, his legs spread wide and his hands flat on the floor between them.

“But Dagger, we haven’t had a single workout yet. I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Calm down, chickadee. We’re just taking membership applications for the next week. They have to be screened and qualified before we accept them. Then the classes begin after that. You’ve got two weeks from Monday to get up to speed, and I’ll get you ready. Not to worry.”

“When do we start the, you know, nude part?”

“I think the sooner the better so you’re more comfortable, don’t you?”

“You’re probably right. Should I go into the pool or the women’s locker room or what?”

“Nope. You can stay right here. Begin with stretches, like you see me doing.”

“Well, okay. How about my clothes?”

“Take them off.”

“Here?”

He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. “You can think of a better place?”

I felt mocked and foolish. “No, I guess not. That was silly for me to say, wasn’t it?” I nodded and began unbuttoning my pants, then slid them off, folding them neatly and adding my t-shirt and undies. It was cool in the room, and I wasn’t sure how to stand. I wanted to cover myself.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re my warrior princess. Hold your head up proudly, spread your stance and begin by touching the mat. C’mere and stand next to me,” he said, pointing to the space to his right.

I leaned over and forward. The effect was to open my buttocks and let my breasts hang in front of me. I was more than a little stunned at what I was doing, but what was the point in stopping now?

“That’s great, Whit. How does it feel?”

“Awkward.”

“That’s to be expected, don’t you think?”

“But you look so much better doing it than I do.”

“Whit, if you were to see yourself from my angle, you wouldn’t say that at all.”

“If you say so.”

“I think you look okay,” came a voice to his right. Our heads snapped up to see Kat standing in the doorway. “I called your name, Dag, but you didn’t hear me. I could hear you both from the hallway so I just came in. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Kat,” came Dagger’s warning growl. “We talked about this, and you said you’d be cool with it.”

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” Her fingers extended to mimic floating feathers. “Hey, listen, people are starting to call. Should I mail them applications or ask them to come in and take a tour of the studio?”

He straightened up, and I saw Kat’s eyes flick repeatedly downward at his penis. She wasn’t immune to his masculinity, no matter what she said. She was flushed and kept chewing the end of the pen she was holding.

“Tell you what. Let’s mail or email them applications for now. In fact, there’s one on the website, just direct them there. But get their address and phone number and invite them to our open house next weekend.”

“We’re having an open house next weekend?” Kat’s mouth was agape. “Wish someone would have told me about that. I’d have saved some of my wardrobe allowance for a knock-’em dead outfit.”

Dagger was frowning. “Kat, you’ll need to turn off that homing signal you call a brain. Our clients are all couples, and you are not to flirt or be suggestive with any of them, got that? Word gets out that couples are splitting up and my reputation is dead. They’ll figure this is nothing more than a—well, a whorehouse.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kat’s response was tart. I didn’t blame her, but I kept silent as I was standing stark naked and feeling very defenseless at that moment.

“Oh, don’t go and get on your high horse. You know what I meant.” His voice was terse and I could tell he was losing patience. “So, you got what you came for?”

“I guess so.” She sounded doubtful, but she could tell the conversation had come to an end.

“Then get up there and answer the phone. Keep anyone away from the back rooms until I give you the all-clear. We’ll be training back here and I’d like some privacy. Got it?”

“Got it, boss,” she sassed and left as quietly as she’d arrived.

My inclination was always to temper a tense situation, but in this case, I was staying hands off. I didn’t want to get wrapped up in that mysterious bundle of neurons that Kat called her brain.

“What do you think?” he asked me suddenly.

“About…?”

“Kat. I hired her because she had a certain light way around her, but now I’m thinking that scatter-brained and man-hunting aren’t going to work. We need someone more refined, private and respectful.”

I shook my head. “Dagger, you can’t possibly expect me to weigh in on this. It doesn’t involve me.”

“Why not?”

“Excuse me?”

“Aren’t we in a relationship?”

“Well, yes, but that’s us and this, well, this is business.”

“Our business,” he said, stressing the first word.

I wasn’t sure what to think of that, especially after what Katrina had said about him earlier. Was he being sincere? Was he testing me in some way? I’d spent four long years learning to manipulate peoples’ brains. Was he trying to do that to me? I felt my guard go up and didn’t volunteer any more information. I focused on the moves he taught me and how to do them as gracefully and with as much dignity as possible—considering that most of them involved my bare ass in the air.