This is fiction; all characters are adults
...
Fresh from her morning bath, Roxanne stood naked before the wardrobe mirror, her skin dappled with water drops. Her long, black hair draped over her shoulders tickled the middle of her back and dripped a little stream down her spine and between her ass cheeks.
Her caramel skin looked darker in the feint morning light. Her hands slid up her round belly and cupped her large breasts, lifting them up as if to present them for consideration.
Her aerola, dark as milk chocolate and the size of a silver dollar, offered her perpetually erect nipples for inspection.
She stepped closer to the mirror and lifted up her left breast and lowered her head to take the nipple in her mouth. James liked watching her suck her own nipples and expected her to practice like this so Roxanne could see herself please him that way.
He liked the soft slurping sounds and how her long tongue swirled around her engorged nipples. He also enjoyed seeing her slide her other hand between her thick thighs to finger her clit, which she was doing now.
She sucked harder and deeper as she caressed her clit. Her pussy pulsed as she rubbed herself, longing to be filled with her fingers. James forbade her from such self pleasure, though she was tempted. He had gotten out of bed before her and was downstairs. He would never know if she did that, but she would and imagined he would catch the guilt in her deep brown eyes.
Anticipating what he would require next, Roxanne turned around and parted her legs and gazed over her shoulder at her big yet firm ass.
Spread wide like that, she saw the dark shadow between her cheeks, hiding her tight, bleached anus. Then she bent over, reached around with both hands and spread her ass cheeks as wide as she could.
Try as she did, she couldn't see her asshole, but she felt it open up. James had showed her photos of her like this, her fingernails deep in her flesh and her hole puckered and glistening with the drippings of her soaked pussy.
Next, Roxanne pulled up an armless wooden chair in front of the mirror and placed a pillow on the seat. She sat down, opened her legs and watched her pussy open. She reached down and spread her thick labia apart to reveal her shining pink opening. Spread like that, juices flowed onto her pillow.
She imagined what James would say.
"What are you showing Daddy," he would whisper.
Roxanne was not allowed to say the word, "pussy." Or "vagina" for that matter. This part of her presentation still made her nervous.
She looked into her pussy and raised her eyes to the mirror and whispered, "My cunt, Sir."
"Yes baby," he would say. "Your pink hole."
Roxanne shivered at the thought.
...
James had found her in the Reidmore Bookstore, where she was working. She actually felt "found" because for so long, Roxanne had felt aimless, lost as a woman who longed for more than her mundane existence.
He bought a couple Bukowski collections and she remembers how he looked at her or looked "through" her. She was dressed plainly in a gray scoop neck sweater and black jeans.
His eyes rested on her cleavage and he smiled. "You look good," he said softly. Then he added, "Or should I say, delicious?"
Roxanne blushed. "Oh," she mumbled. "Thank you."
Her hair was in a pony tail and she wasn't wearing make up.
"You might want to consider wearing your hair down," he said.
"Oh," she said, her voice barely audible.
James had such a beautiful smile. "Well?"
The discomfort Roxanne felt was accompanied by a strange feeling between her legs. She knew she should be affronted by such an inappropriate exchange with a customer, a stranger.
"You mean now?"
James nodded. "Yes, that would please me to see your hair down."
Moments later Roxanne had released her pony tail and let her hair fall over her shoulders. A few strands hung over her brow, and James softly brushed them to the side.
"You look beautiful," he said. His eyes lowered to take in her hardening nipples pressing against her sweater.
Roxanne followed his eyes and flushed red when she realized how engorged her nipples were.
"Don't you think you look better this way?"
"I...I don't know."
"Trust me," James said. "You do." He picked up his books and headed toward the door. Half way there, he turned and asked, "Do you have any Neruda?"
"Yes, Sir."
He grinned. "Good. I will be back tomorrow. Will you be working?"
"Yes, Sir."
Then he left. The bell on the door rang louder than usual or so it seemed, and Roxanne just stood there, her nipples aching and her panties damp.
What just happened? She had felt compelled to do what he wanted and she called him "sir."
Twice no less. Sure, he was at least 20 years older than her, but still. She never addressed any man that way.
And he was coming back tomorrow, which terrified and excited her all at once. He was tall and ruggedly handsome and his voice was intoxicating. His blue eyes were magnetic and seemed to change colours as he spoke to her or roamed his eyes across her body. He was cleariy a dangerous man, not the conventional, reserved type she was accustomed to.
Much to her surprise, her thoughts moved to what she would wear to work tomorrow. Her mind wandered through her closet. Perhaps a dress? Would he like that?
What was happening to her? She wanted to dress for this man, dress in a way that she figured he would appreciate.
That evening, after she bathed and rubbed lotion all over her body, she donned her soft white terry-cloth robe and settled into watching an episode or two of Two and a Half Men.
This was her third or fourth time watching the series. She loved the humour and the soft taboo nature of the show, but she turned it on more often now when she wanted to think, albeit with some noise in the background.
Her mind reran the visit from James. He had an earthy scent or so she thinks now. Maybe he had no scent at all and she is inventing his scent.
He had an experienced face, a short, thin scar on his left cheek below the corner of his pacific-blue eye. His soft pink lips were full with subtle curves on his upper lip. She imagined kissing him. She wanted to kiss his scar and whisper her desire in his ear.
These thoughts surprised Roxanne. She was vanilla sex all the way. Vanilla could be hot, but that was more dreaming than actual experience.
She split from her boyfriend, Larry, a year ago. He was nice enough, sometimes too nice, and he was good to her, but his tastes were boring and likely vice versa. He was a missionary position man, wanted blow jobs but refused to reciprocate. She rarely came. Sex rarely lasted more than 15 minutes, if that.
She had a feeling James was quite a different flavour, something bitter-sweet and provocative.
Roxanne turned off the television and smiled. She knew what wear for him. It was an inviting dress, snug on her body, buttons from neck to hem, with a bit of a flare. It was thin white linen.
She looked good in that and the buttons gave her (and perhaps, him) options. She didn't want to show a bra or panty line; she hated seeing that.
She opened her robe and looked at her erect nipples. Would he see them through the linen? Did she hope he would?
Naked, in bed, Roxanne spread her legs and massaged her mound and her labia. Being touched like that but not touching the clit was so intoxicating.
...
Having completed her morning ritual, Roxanne descended the stairs. She was naked, which was how James preferred her. The lotion gave her skin a sheen, and her breasts swayed as she walked.
She was a curvy woman, not fat but her 40d breasts and taut belly made her look bigger than she was.
James was in the den, reading the paper in his over sized leather chair. The fireplace was alive with flames that crackled the birch logs he preferred.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Good morning, Roxie." James peered over his paper and glanced at the small black velvet bag on the table next to him.
Roxanne took the bag and retrieved a pink jewelled stainless steel butt plug and placed it in the palm of her hand which she held out to him.
James took the plug and Roxanne turned around, spread her legs and bent over and spread apart her ass cheeks.
She winced a bit as James pushed the thick plug into her ass. Her ass was well trained by now and lube was no longer required.
Her ass full, she turned around and knelt between his legs and watched James unzip his pants and take out his thick hard cock.
As was the custom, Roxanne bowed her head and took his cockhead in her mouth and held it between her lips as James gave her the instructions for the day.
She no longer worked so that she could devote her full attention to James' needs and desires.
As she held his cock in her wet mouth, she learned that today she was to scrub the floors in the kitchen and bathroom using only a small fingernail brush. This was to be done in time for her to prepare lunch, which was a toasted BLT and tomato and rice soup. Roxanne's meal was to be only chicken broth that she was to enjoy lapping it up from a dog dish on the floor in the far corner of the kitchen.
She was also to go to the grocery store for a list of items James had written out for her and then to the liquor store to buy a bottle of Hendricks and two bottles of Fat Bastard wine.