This is a very explicit, pornographic affair consisting of three parts. Most of the topics touch on many BDSM elements I like to experience in my real-life sessions with experienced dominatrixes -- albeit (hopefully?) somewhat watered down, to start with. These are fictional accounts. Any resemblance with real people or locations is purely coincidental. Enjoy, but please respect my copyright.
Careful what you wish for. One - Into the den
Out in the fresh air he still felt the urge. Earlier this afternoon he had spent time edging himself on his sundrenched balcony, alternating between leisurely masturbating strokes and hard, fast, rapid fist pumps, always stopping when drops of pre-cum begun percolating from his cockhead. But for now, outside in the fresh air, he just wanted to find a good-looking gal to fuck the living daylights out of. A proper three-hole rootrack to use in that good ol' in-'n-out-game he had on his mind right now. Get her naked, tie her up, play with her arse and nipples for a bit, make her squeal and drool, and then thoroughly face-fuck her. Yeah, should be fun. He lit a Lucky, inhaled deeply and set off.
Evening came with a light breeze and moonlit darkness. He had wandered around downtown for some time and ended up in a pub he hadn't noticed before. After a couple of scotch'n'dry he was chatting and drinking with a Blond sitting by the bar. Her short curly hair was what had attracted him. And a teasing smile. Jody, her name, had a full and athletic 5'6" figure with all the right curves in all the right places. All packaged nicely in a pink body-wrapper. She also had a great Celtic tattoo running down her right upper arm. Hazel eyes studying him mischievously as they chatted. He made a few passes at her. They didn't go astray. Before long they gave way to kissing. His hand traced her back. No hidden straps. As his hand went lower she uncrossed her legs, her pink one-piece barely hiding his testing, stroking hand. His searching fingers soon caressing a finely denuded and slightly moist cunt barely covered by what seemed to be a silken G-string affair. Her fingers reciprocating, probing his body. His growing bulge. She softly moans into his ear, making him hard. Then giggles as her fingers tease his cockhead. They dance a few supposedly meaningful trance rounds on the small dance floor next to the bar. They try to decide on the age-old question. Her place or his.
Somehow she had never come back after she'd left for the loo. And after some time, and more drinks, he got sick of waiting. Sick of the crowd. Jody had, however, written down the address of the tattoo place where she had hers done. And he had always wanted a nice Celtic tattoo on his left buttock. Jody had said the tattoo artist, Tara, was the best in town. And rather being tattooed on the bum by a fat biker guy, the idea of a somewhat good-looking girl doing the job rather appealed to his mind.
Might even get lucky, he thought, ordered another scotch'n'dry, paid, and after a couple of smokes left the bar. It was getting late and traffic was thinning out. Soon he had waved down a taxi and folded himself into its well-worn backseat.
"That's in one of them ne'er-finish'd subdivisions up north," the driver was studying the address, "Can't be a shop. Not an apartment either." he continued skeptically, "There's jes' some halfdone abandon'd dumps someone tried to pull up a few years back. But now they's jes' waitin', Ah guess. Ya' sure you've got the right address, son?" When he concurred, the driver just nodded, "Right then. It's ya'r ride." and set off.
Half an hour later they had arrived in a small barren subdivision of a few mid-sized, unfinished blocks crowding a couple of neglected intersections. The guy'd been right; there was no sign of anyone living here.
"Well, here ya're, son. Wanna head back?" he asked, grinning smugly. He paid the fare and got out. "If ya' like Ah can wait, son. Won't be easy to find a cab back into town 'round here." he said he'd be alright, just looking for a friend. "Ok then, ya'r choice. Good luck, son." and with that the taxi was off.
He lit another Lucky. Perhaps Jody-girl was pulling his leg, he thought after some time, looking around the dimly lit intersections. Then he saw the small murky neon sign at the end of one of the unfinished buildings in a side street. "Tara T" it read with a pink and blue snake curling around. It led to a concrete stairwell down to a basement door. There was a bell knob in the center of the door with 'Tara' clumsily printed below.
He stubbed out the Lucky, climbed down the stairs, pushed the button and waited. The scotch'n'dry was wearing off, and he longed for more of the same. Someone was fumbling with the lock on the other side of the door, opened it and let him in.
"Come on in." She said, "I'm Tara. Guess you wanna see me for a tattoo." Matter of factly, smiling. Securing the door behind him. Barefoot-Tara wore baggy jeans and a loose fitting tanktop, not exactly hiding the fact that there was nothing beneath it but her jutting breasts.
He had introduced himself and then parked his body into a comfortably cushioned wicker lounge-chair, holding a scotch'n'dry. Tara sat opposite him sipping an orange juice. The flaking walls of her smallish workshop were adorned with the usual array of posters showing tattoos neatly grouped according to style, price and design. In a corner sat an old vinyl couch. Minus its back. Next to it stood a table neatly lined with inks and needles and assorted tattooing stuff. A TV flickered silently in another corner next to the phone. The room was kept tidy. Some incense hung in the air.
He lit another Lucky and looked at Tara. "What have you got in mind, then?" she asked. Her eyes watching his face and hands. He tried to explain his idea of a Celtic tattoo for his left buttock. "On your butt?" Tara giggled softly, "You got someone special in mind? A misses perhaps?"
"Uh, no. It's just something I've wanted for some time."
"You from around here?"
"No, not really. Got here a few weeks ago. I'm from the Eastcoast. Work with a local paper back there."
