He sat on the balcony of his apartment, sipping a beer and staring out into the night. It was late. Or early. Past two in the morning, and the only sound he could hear was the quiet murmuring of the nearby highway. He had just gotten back from the office and couldn't sleep.
Jason was in his twenties, and waiting out the summer before his second year of graduate school. His green eyes narrowed slightly against a soft wind that rustled his dark hair. He glanced down at his scuffed dress shoes, and past them, dangling sixteen floors above the ground.
Another sip. Another look down. He felt . . . drained. Again. Jason's brow furrowed as he leaned forward. Drained. At the start of the summer when he had moved in, he reveled in the fact that he couldn't step onto the balcony without his pulse racing. It was so high up. Looking out, he could see everything - into other apartments of the next building set too close to his; into the dark sky above the highway, illuminated only by a half-moon that threw passing clouds into pale relief. Now, perched on the top of the concrete railing still warm from yesterday's sun . . . drained. Another sip. Another look down.
Jason's summer had begun quite differently. He'd been employed for the last six weeks as a temp for a large law firm in the city. The work was relatively mindless: organizing and cataloguing documents into a database for a big case that was going to trial in the fall. But, it was an easy way to earn money for the school year in order to borrow less for tuition. And, it filled the hours before his studies started again in the fall.
Jason was accustomed to exhausting himself with work. Jobs, school, it never mattered. He'd tried other things: drinking, some drugs. But in the end, it always came back to the exhaustion. When he was exhausted, he couldn't feel; it was that simple. And it worked.
It had been some time since Jason had dwelled on what he thought of as his dirty little secret. It had been months since he had fantasized about being bound, whipped, and treated as one who lived only to pleasure others. In the past, he had tried to hide from these feelings, denying they existed. He'd had a number of vanilla relationships, all ending the same: she (and on one occasion, a he) would walk out, furious over his inapproachability. His coldness. His seeming disinterest. Once – he closed his eyes to shut out the memory of it – he tried to introduce that part of himself to a girlfriend he had found particularly strong and commanding. One he thought he could trust. The result was a restraining order, and court ordered counseling. After that, Jason simply buried his sexual needs deep inside himself. Another sip, another long look down.
This summer had started differently. What had he been thinking? What's wrong with being numb? He couldn't help it, of course. And it was all because of Meredith.
Meredith Long was the attorney working on the case for the law firm. Jason remembered their first meeting at his interview. It was all he could do to focus on her questions. "Yes, ma'am. I am familiar with your firm's database program . . . No ma'am, I'm not worried about working long hours . . ." All the while, he had been staring at her. Her raven black hair, hanging carelessly past her shoulders. Her long neck. The full lips, firm and decisive. Her body lithe, exuding a controlled sexuality.
It was her eyes though. Those black eyes. When she first looked at him, Jason felt as if he'd been hit with a jolt of electricity. Those eyes seemed to look past him and into his thoughts.
She was young, not even a partner at the firm. But despite this, Jason felt compelled by her easy charisma from the moment of their first meeting. Over the past weeks, he'd grown to eagerly look forward to seeing and working with her at every opportunity. When he was with her, Jason felt calmed by her control. And tremendously excited as well.
Of course she could have no idea of this. Meredith maintained an air of formality. Jason called her "Ma'am" or "Ms. Long" whenever meeting with her. As his work on the database progressed, Jason thrilled in giving "Ma'am" (as he was starting to think of her) status reports; pointing out various parts of the flow chart on his computer screen as she stood behind his chair, leaning slightly forward. On occasion, when leaning closer to the screen, her hair would barely brush Jason's neck and shoulder; her fingers would graze his arm. The memory of that touch would stay with him for hours afterwards, making him shiver deep inside whenever he thought of it.
Another sip. Another look down. Well, that'll teach him. Jason had catalogued and cross-referenced the documents in Meredith's case so extensively that she was able to settle the damn thing. He had been so goddamn devoted that he had worked himself out of a job. Jason remembered this afternoon when Meredith had returned from court. Her eyes flashed with excitement. "We won! They gave us everything we asked for!" The partners at the firm were so happy that they had an impromptu celebration in the conference room, running through the liquor supply and causing Jason to go out twice for more.
Jason couldn't help feeling proud of Meredith as she sat at the conference room table, going over her victory to the partners. "It was Jason's database. Every time they objected, I was able to pull up the document that proved them wrong! They just couldn't get away from the documents." Jason remembered the thrill he felt hearing her mention his name.
Another si . . . oh damn, his beer was empty. Jason sighed as he swung around onto the porch. He was turning to leave when he heard a sliding door open from the building across. He heard a soft giggle next. Turning back, Jason saw a woman slowly pulling a man out onto their porch. Jason's eyes narrowed. She was wearing just a white silk slip and her back was to him. Jason could see her long blond hair hanging down to the middle of her back. She was barefoot, and it was clear from the outline of the slip that she nothing on underneath it. Unconsciously, Jason's breath quickened. He leaned forward . . . no. He stopped himself. Better to leave. Better to just leave. Jason turned back to the porch door.
He stopped when he heard her voice. "No, you lost. And, you promised." She sounded strong and sensual, but Jason could sense the underlying nervousness; hidden, but there nonetheless.
The man sighed in response.
"Better" he heard her purr. Suddenly, her voice was cold and commanding. "On your knees. Now!"
He turned, transfixed. Rooted to the spot where he stood, Jason stared across to the other balcony; he heard the woman's tone change. "Take off your shirt. I want to look at you." The nervousness was gone now; replaced by . . . something else.
Jason could see the man slowly removing his dress shirt. "No. Keep the tie on. You need a leash!" The man kneeled before her, shirt off. Jason could see the runner's build of his body, shaking in anticipation.
The woman reached behind and slowly raised herself up onto the stone ledge of the porch. Her slip was riding up to a point where Jason could see her milky white buttocks resting on the rough stone. Her long, lithe legs were draped on either side of the man and Jason could see the white of her bare thigh offset by the fringe of white of her slip.
"Come here and kiss my feet." Jason saw the man move forward on his knees and slowly lean towards her center.
Whack! Jason's breath drew in sharply. She slapped him! In the midst of his shock, Jason felt his cock stir and harden. Shaken, his breathing quickened as he leaned forward for a better view.
"I said my feet." The woman slid off of the ledge, staring down at the man, his head bowed in obvious shame. She slowly drew his tie towards her, pulling it in until it brushed up against her breasts. "You . . . will learn . . . to listen!" Although her tone was calm, Jason's eyes widened at the icy passion he heard in her voice.
She loosened her grip on the tie. The man slowly bent down out of sight, and Jason saw the woman's head lean back; arms behind her on the ledge, her eyes closed, and a small smile playing on her lips. "Better" she breathed softly, as she raised one hand to her breast, her fingers slowly tracing the outline of her nipple through the slip, pulling on it. Jason couldn't believe what he was seeing. He stood, mesmerized, all thoughts of leaving the porch abandoned.
After a few moments, her eyes opened and she glanced downward. Again her tone was cold and slicing. "You know your position. Take it!"
There was a muted reply. The words weren't clear, but Jason could clearly hear the plaintive tone in the man's voice. "Now." She replied. The man stood, trembling, and slowly leaned over the stone ledge, his eyes closed. The woman removed the tie and bound it over his eyes. She then took his shirt in one hand from the ground, and in one practiced, savage move, ripped it in half. Quickly, she used the tattered strips to bind his hands together in front of him and tie them to the metal rail on the ledge. Without conscious thought, Jason's hand traveled down to his pants and began rubbing the straining outline of his cock.
The woman walked around her bound victim, slowly tracing her finger down his spine. Reaching his lower back, she suddenly grabbed and pulled down his pants. Jason could just see the outline of his ass, bare and trembling in the moonlight.
Slap! Even though the woman had spanked her bound slave, Jason jumped, as though he himself had been struck. Barely able to suppress a groan, he opened his pants, reached down and began stroking himself. His hips began to thrust back and forward as he heard the woman slap her victim's bare skin over and over again. The man bit his lower lip, wincing as each stinging blow found its mark. Rather than cringe from her punishment, Jason could see that after each spanking, the man would arch his back and present his bottom in quivering anticipation.
After about a dozen blows, it stopped. Jason opened his eyes to see the woman untying the man's hands from the ledge, and retying them behind his back. She resumed her earlier position on the ledge, legs spread apart. In one practiced move, she removed her slip, letting it flutter over the balcony and float silently to the ground far below. Her ragged breath caused her breasts to rise and fall quickly, glistening with summer sweat, and shivering with desire. Even from the distance between the two balconies, Jason could she her erect nipples protruding in sharp relief to the soft curves of her bosom that flowed to the taut muscles of her abdomen.
"You want to worship my pussy, don't you?" She murmured. Again, Jason could only hear a muted reply. But even though the man's words were muffled, the desire they carried was clear.
She snapped her fingers. The sound echoed like a gunshot. Jason watched the man lean forward, blindfolded, hands bound behind him, lips parted. The woman leaned back moaning softly. She tilted her head back further, and slowly, languidly wrapped each ankle around his naked back; drawing him closer into her. As her head leaned back, her blond hair fell back over her shoulders and hung behind her over the railing. Again, she languidly caressed her breasts with one hand, alternately stroking and pulling on her nipples.
Already, Jason could see her begin to writhe under her slave's tongue. Her hips thrust rhythmically against his mouth; her ass lifting off the ledge again and again as she supported herself with both hands. Although her eyes were closed, she still was talking to him in that impassive, commanding voice.
"Mmmm . . . yes, there, right there. Worship my pussy. You like sucking on my clit, don't you?" she purred.
Jason saw her foot travel down from her slave's back, briefly caressing his marked ass, and disappear from sight.
