My Thoughts Are Your Thoughts Ch 08

Fiona and I went at it hammer and tongs for a few weeks after the threesome session with Miss Jones. The excitement bled over into our normal meetings for quite a while afterwards, not that they weren't exciting enough anyway, but the thoughts of our fun with Miss Jones added extra fuel to the fire. Inevitably her partner came home from Kazakhstan, or some equally remote eastern European destination, putting a temporary stop to our fun, and we had to stop meeting for a while. Without really looking for anyone, I met Elaina, who had just finished Art College, and so began yet another relationship with a lover from the world of art.

I met her when I revisited my old art college to see the end of year degree show. For those who don't know how art college's work, the degree show is when the final year students who are about to graduate hold an exhibition of their work. I was struck by her paintings, very dark, brooding, and sexual. When I spoke to her about them, she reluctantly admitted that they were biographical in origin, reflecting her taste for some of the more unusual ideas she had.

We went down to the college canteen and had a coffee together, and just talked for ages. She knew my work and expressed her great admiration for it, and I told her that I found her work very interesting, and I would like to know more about her ideas. She seemed flattered by my interest, and maybe because it gave her an opportunity to talk about what she mostly never talked about, she opened up a bit too much as regards herself. I was very flattered that she chose me to talk with.

We sat at a table in a corner of the room, almost isolated from the rest of the customers. She spoke in low, confidential tones so as not to let students at the other tables overhear her, and in so doing, leaned across the table, drawing closer to me, her beautiful dark eyes looking into my own, just a few inches apart. The whole thing felt very conspiratorial, almost as if she were pulling me into her dark world, excluding all others as she explained herself, and her ideas to me.

Her long dark hair swept down over her shoulders, and fell forward as she leaned towards me, further cutting her off from the others. We were in our own little, 'bubble,' as we spoke. I think just having someone who was prepared to listen to her ideas was a novelty for her and speaking about it openly with a man was exciting her too, so I decided to help things along.

As she spoke, obviously enthused about her work and ideas, I sent her own ideas back to her, but with me in the starring role. She was more than halfway there anyway, and since it was her own ideas, her own needs and desires, it was all the more effective. I just strengthened them a bit and helped her marshal her thoughts.

'You know what, Elaina?' I eventually said. 'I think you should come back with me to my studio, where I live, and explore your ideas with my help.' She looked a bit taken aback, after all, what I was basically saying was, 'Let's go to my place and fuck.'

'I don't know...' she almost whispered. 'I can't just walk out and leave now, with my work on show upstairs. I'm supposed to be in attendance.'

'Yes, you can. If you're serious about all this, stand up and follow me when I leave. This is something you need, and now's your chance. I can help you with it, but I'm not going to beg you.' I deliberately took a firm stance with her because I knew that was what she liked. I could see her thinking, almost hear the wheels turning. I stood up, and not looking back I walked slowly but surely out of the canteen, and out of the building. When I got to my car, I turned to find her lagging about twenty feet behind me, still looking a bit unsure of herself, an anxious look on her face.

'Get in,' I commanded, and she quickened her last few steps to the car, as if she'd finally made up her mind, and got in.

'This is crazy,' she eventually said, as I turned and drove out of the car park.

'Do you want me to let you out of the car?' I said, testing her, my voice neutral giving no clue as to what I wanted. She was quiet for a moment, and I knew she was thinking about her situation.

'N... no, but it's still crazy. I hardly know you,' she said.

'True, but you confided so much about yourself within half an hour of meeting me that I feel I know you quite well already,' I replied.

'And that's crazy too. I open up to a complete stranger within minutes of meeting him. Don't you think that's strange? I've learned to be very cautious about my thoughts, which I normally keep very tightly under wraps, especially with men, but I tell you my most secret thoughts straight off.' She shook her head in disbelief.

'Empathy,' I explained. 'You spoke, I listened, I was interested without being weird about it, and so you trusted me.' She nodded again. 'Now, just trust me a little longer and maybe we'll discover more about each other.' She agreed, and we drove in silence to my studio. If I haven't already mentioned it, I reckon now is a good a time to tell you that while my studio is on the ground floor of an old warehouse, I live in a large upper floor apartment, above the studio, converted to open space, living quarters. What the estate agents would now call a, 'loft apartment.' In reality it's still just an old warehouse, but it suits me perfectly both professionally and domestically.

Being an artist herself, she was very interested in my studio, and strolled round looking at my canvases, and the working drawings, photographs and strange bits and pieces artists seem to collect over the years. I let her roam around, looking and touching things, giving her plenty of time, answering her questions, until at last the subject couldn't be avoided any more.

'You know why I brought you here?' I finally said.

'Yes, I understand,' she said, not looking at me, eyes downcast.

'You look very passive, submissive?' I ventured.

'You know I am, I told you about that,' she replied.

'So, you did. Well, let's test that shall we?' I asked her. She nodded. 'Right,' I said, sounding very abrupt even to myself, 'take your clothes off.' She didn't protest, or even look up at me, but started to unbutton her shirt. Slowly, making it last, as if she were savouring the moment.

I know

I

was, as her slim, artistic and beautiful hands worked on the buttons, gradually revealing a black bra, lacy and see through. She pulled open the shirt a little more with each button, until she reached the last one, then pulling the rest of it from the waistband of her jeans.

Leaving the shirt hanging, open, from her shoulders, she removed her shoes, then unbuckled her belt, and worked the tight jeans over her hips, pushing them down, and stepped out of them. She folded them neatly and hung them over a chair. She was wearing the smallest panties I'd ever seen, which covered virtually nothing, matching the bra perfectly.

She stopped for a moment, displaying herself for my pleasure, and what a great pleasure it was. I took my time looking at her - she knew I was studying her intently, but if she felt uncomfortable with my scrutiny, she didn't show it, waiting patiently for me to finish. She was, quite simply, stunning. Just the sort of woman who appealed to my taste. Tall, long dark hair, an exquisite face, with large dark eyes, a full, sensual mouth and skin like silk.

Her body was perfectly proportioned, breasts neither too big nor too small, a hard flat stomach, hips and bottom with fine womanly curves, and finally, great legs, long, shapely and slim, with that little gap at the top of the thighs. Absolute perfection, I thought in my artist's way, a modern-day Venus. I spoke of all these things as I looked at her, letting her know how much I appreciated her body. She blushed a little as I praised her, but never raised her eyes from the floor.

'Carry on,' I told her, and she reached up behind her to unfasten the flimsy bra. The taut shoulder straps suddenly went slack as she unfastened the back strap, and she brought her hands back round cupping herself, keeping the bra on her breasts. The shoulder straps fell off her shoulders, and she slowly brought her hands lower, revealing the soft swell of her breasts.

The brownish pink of the areolae, then the two most perfect nipples, already erect and expectant. She placed the bra on the same chair as her jeans, then hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her panties; she pushed them down over the swell of her hips, over the slim columns of her thighs and stepped elegantly out of them. Naked at last, and what a beautiful sight she was. Again, I could only stand and look at her in utter admiration.

'Elaina, you're beautiful,' was all I could say. She thanked me and stood there waiting for me to speak again. I walked round her, looking at her from every angle and from every angle I saw perfection. I confess I fell a little in love with her right then. Call me shallow, but as an artist I've always loved beauty, and to my mind she was the quintessential perfect woman, so it was understandable that I was already a little in love with her, but of course, we all know real love takes time.

'Go and sit on the couch,' I ordered her, and she did it at once. 'Now open your legs and show yourself to me.' There was no hesitation, she spread her legs as wide as possible, her pussy on full view. I moved a chair over before her, and sat down, our knees almost touching. 'Open your lips for me,' I said, and her slim, elegant hands, pulled back the generous lips to reveal the pinkness within. She was wet, very wet, and I expressed my approval at her arousal. She smiled, pleased that I was pleased with her.

'Masturbate, just for me,' I commanded. Again, no hesitation, she let the fingers opening her lips caress along the inside of her groin, circling and stroking the sensitive skin, opening her lips again, squeezing them shut, then opening them again. She looked even wetter now. Her left hand detached itself from her groin and reached languidly for her breasts, pinching and stroking the nipples, cupping and squeezing herself. She moaned a little at the contact and meanwhile her right hand circled and teased the fabulous wet cunt.

Her lips were full and generous, the surrounding skin slightly darker. Her pubic hair, such as it was, was concentrated above her lips on her pubic mound, a shock of dark hair, the lips shaven and exposed. Still teasing herself, I watched as her fingers drew ever closer to the lips and what lay within. She pulled back her clitoris hood, exposing a lovely clitoris, circling it once or twice, drawing quivering little moans from her open mouth.

Her head was back, long hair sweeping down over her shoulders. She lay back on the sofa, making herself more comfortable, still squeezing and stroking her body, making it last, putting on a show for her appreciative audience of one. Both hands once more on her pussy, she pulled back the hood of her clitoris again, and letting the fingers of her right hand slip between her cunt lips, she pushed them inside as far as they would go, making a throaty, sensual sound as she did so.

As she slowly pulled the fingers out, she rubbed the wet, slippery fluid over her exposed clitoris. Her hips moved automatically, pushing her clitoris harder onto her own hand. She was mewling like a kitten, the quiet little sounds of pleasure, mixed with her out of control breathing and sighs, all adding to the sounds of a woman, 'in heat.' I spoke to her all the while, encouraging her, telling her how beautiful she was, but also telling her she was a whore, a slut, an easy fuck.

From our earlier conversation I guessed she would like that, and she did. Each humiliating insult seemed to spur her on even more than my praise. Her hips were a continuous sensual movement now as she rubbed herself, fucking her fingers. The noise of her pleasure grew in length and volume as she neared her climax, until suddenly it stopped completely, abruptly, as she seemed to hold her breath for long seconds.

Then like a dam bursting, her breath exploded in a long shuddering moan growing in volume as she pumped her hips up and down against the frantically rubbing hands on her cunt. Her orgasm was as perfect as she was. Long and loud, beautiful to watch, unashamed, uninhibited, a study in pleasure, and I wished I could feel what she was feeling at that moment.

After she came down from her pleasure she just lay there, legs still open and eyes closed, a wanton smile on her face. I left her, to glory in her pleasure for a while before I spoke again.

'Sit up and listen to me. I need to say something before we go any further.' She looked at me and sat up, her eyes on mine, her head tilted almost quizzically to one side, listening attentively. 'You need to understand Elaina that I'm not a natural sadist.' I started to explain. 'My, thing is to give a woman pleasure, to hear her excitement, feel her respond under my hands, and mouth, feel her body push against me to create even more pleasure for us both.' She nodded, still looking into my eyes.

'Now, in your case, to give you maximum pleasure, it seems that I must insult you, humiliate you, try to degrade you, control you and even hurt you for your pleasure to be complete. Knowing that, believe me I'll do everything you need, and I'll do it with enthusiasm, and what's more, I'll enjoy doing it too, as long as I know it gives you pleasure and that's what you really want. However, I'll never hurt you just for the sake of hurting you.'

'I can't ask for anything more,' she smiled. 'Now please hurt me, smack me, do anything you want. Use your imagination, please, I need it so badly. I've thought about it and dreamed of it, longed for it. Make me yours completely - I'm willing to be your slave - be anything you want me to be, just for you. Be my Master, please,' and so it began.

I told her to get down on her knees in front of me and asked her if she'd like to suck my cock. Looking up at me, she nodded and smiled, and I knew that within seconds that beautiful, sensual, mouth would be wrapped round my cock. That thought was so exciting, but nothing compared to when she reached out her hands and unzipped me, one hand delving into my trousers where she caught and held my cock, already hard with anticipation.

Her hands were soft and gentle as she took me out, smiling up at me again as if she approved of what she saw. She stroked along my length, feeling my hardness grow even more, and I watched closely as her mouth opened, and her tongue ran along the bottom of my knob. I was determined to remember every sight, sound and touch of this, my perfect woman. Licking and kissing along my length, she circled my swollen knob with her tongue, and then bliss upon bliss, she opened her mouth wide, and my knob was enveloped by her soft, wet mouth.

The heat and sensation was sublime, smoothness, warmth, wetness, her tongue stroking the underside of my knob. She sucked, licked and rubbed my knob-head against the inside of her cheeks, swallowed it deep until she gagged, then pulled it out and licked along it again before it was once more swallowed up by her lovely mouth.

I took off my belt, leather, thin and whippy. She looked at me then, knowing what was about to happen. The belt descended in a tight arc across her flank and onto her back.1-2-3 in quick succession, she whimpered a little, but as far as my cock was concerned, there was no change - she continued to pleasure me as if nothing had happened. The only outward manifestation of her pain was a rapidly growing series of welts on her skin, and a few quiet moans. I did the same for the other side with the same reaction. I stepped back a little, withdrawing my cock from the beautiful mouth, and she seemed genuinely more upset by that action than the strokes of the belt on her sides.

'On your knees on the couch, head right down and show me your arse and cunt,' I ordered. She got up off the floor and assumed the doggy position on the couch. My, my, she was such a glorious sight; my mouth went dry with excitement. I stroked and massaged her lovely bottom, feeling the soft skin, then down onto the back of her thighs. She moaned a little and parted her legs even more, obviously wanting to be touched just there, but I ignored her offer, and continued to feel her bottom and thighs, her back and shoulders.

I picked up the belt again, and let it swish through the air, and then stroked it lightly across her bottom. She whimpered with excitement, not pain. I let the belt touch her pussy and she pushed back towards it, wanting more contact, and I rubbed the hard, cold leather against her clitoris. She liked that and I continued for a while, her excitement growing. Stepping back, I let the belt descend in an arc across her bottom, hard. She yelped with pain, and I did it again, and again, leaving growing red welts across her milky white skin.

She thanked me with each stroke. I changed the angle, and lightened my strokes, letting the belt smack between her legs against the soft wet flesh there. Again, she yelped, but soon it became obvious that she was enjoying her pussy smacking, as she moaned and gasped with pleasure. Her pussy turned from the pale pink natural colour to a red rawness, the sensitive area now swelling from the beating it was taking.

All the time I was belting her I was also stroking the smooth skin of her thighs and groin with my hands, but without touching her pussy. I told her if she wanted to come, she would have to ask my permission, and it wasn't long before she was begging me, humiliating herself, desperate to come.

'Please Master,' she begged, 'Let me come, I need it so much, I can't hold it, please, please, let me come,' So, I stopped all contact - not touching, not smacking her, letting her lose the moment. She cried with frustration, tears in her eyes, but I wouldn't let her relinquish the position. I liked to see her on all fours, arse and pussy on display. I told her to keep the position and went to get myself a drink of fruit juice. When I came back into the room, she was still crouched on the couch awaiting my pleasure.

'Mmm... nice arse and cunt,' I said as if admiring an object. She said nothing, just waiting patiently for my attention. I picked up a large ruler, more like a metre stick and whacked her across the arse with it a few times, and then laying it down, I rubbed the skin where I'd just smacked her.

She murmured her appreciation, and I thought it was about time to fuck her. She'd never be any readier than she was now, so I undressed where she couldn't see what I was doing, and stepping up close behind her, I pushed my cock against her pussy lips. Her wetness meant there was very little resistance. As my cock came into contact with her lips, they opened, allowing me to penetrate her for about an inch before I withdrew, then pushed again. This time I slid right into the hilt, filling her sublime pussy.

She felt absolutely magical. I stood there for a moment or two, just feeling her wrapped around me, not wanting to break that magical moment. Looking down on her bottom and slim back, her long dark hair, and with her head slightly twisted to the right, the perfect profile, I felt on top of the world, the luckiest man alive. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth slightly open, breathing quickly, aroused and ready, as excited as I was myself.

She was the one who broke the spell; pushing back against me and rotating her hips, moaning loudly, her need too much to wait for me to start. I withdrew and plunged back into her again, drawing a loud, 'Ooof,' sound from her. She whimpered as I withdrew, making a louder, throaty sound each time I slid deep into her again. Soon, her sounds were none stop, letting me know how much she was enjoying my attentions. I slapped her bottom, which galvanised her to more frantic efforts.