My knees are cold against the grass in the park, I hardly notice, I'm focused on my prey. My plaid schoolgirl miniskirt rides high on my hips as I straddle him. I can feel his want, his desire to give himself... to me.
I whisper, softly, "Are you ready to spurt for me baby?"
"Why did you spank me? You shouldn't have done that!"
I raise off him, pressing my hands into his shoulders so I can assess him, I'm mildly annoyed. Nope, he isn't ready. He's close but not quite yet. He still wants to play, prolong the pleasure before submitting to the oh-so addicting, inevitable release.
"You were acting like a turd, you had to be spanked mister!"
He's staring into my eyes, flat silver disks that reflect the full moon, listening to the rhythm of my voice, losing himself in the fantasy, "But you're the babysitter! You work for me!" He pouts.
"Oh really?" I can't help but smile. We're playing one of his favorite games where he's driving me home after babysitting the kids and we have to stop by the park so I can pee. That sets the scene but then he starts getting a bit too frisky so out comes the paddle. In short he wants to be dommed by a teenager.
I can play that game.
Honestly, I can't believe I get paid for this, I'd do it for free. Just to feed the need. He has needs and so do I but he'll never know mine; however I'll strip him down to the core, I'm good at it, and more importantly, he wants me to.
He's been to see me several times now. Giving himself, knowingly allowing himself to become addicted to me, to the pleasure I give him. What the heck, if one thing's for certain, we're all adults here.
"Yes really! I have a good mind not to pay you for watching the kids..." He reconsiders this gambit, "I mean, you won't tell anyone... that you spanked me... right?"
It's over. I nuzzle his neck and whisper, "Can you be any cuter? I had to spank you baby. A little bit of pain makes this part feel so much better doesn't it?"
He floats out a tentative, "Yes..." His breath becoming increasingly bated as I whisper his brand of perversions into his ear before switching to my little girl voice, my Shirley Temple voice, "And besides you needed reminding that I'm the boss."
I sense his excited eyes are darting around looking for escape. It's far to late for that, poor little mouse.
I murmur, "You know you want to... spurt... just... for... me..." I nuzzle his neck, waiting.
"Yes."
"Yes what baby?"
"Please!"
"Please what?"
"Please let me spurt... just... for... you... please..."
"Mmmmmmm, OK, spurt for me!" and I bury both fangs deep into his carotid artery.
He spurts for me. I fill with warmth, it starts from my belly and slowly spreads out. My clit hardens from the heat of it and I giggle wondering, 'Oh my, I think I just might cum!' before suppressing a quiet little 'eeek' as a tiny orgasm passes through, waving on its way out the door.
He's still spurting and I have to be careful here. Some of my dark sisters like to drain their clients leaving nothing but a broken husk. That's not my style. Most of my clients are bright, intelligent men who I actually build a relationship of sorts with. Others move on, eventually they all do.
Like I said, we're all adults here.
"I'm all sticky and messy... that was a big one!" he proudly states.
Good he's starting to settle down, I smile, "Yes, it was a very big one."
He yawns already emotionally distancing himself, getting back to 'normal' whatever that is, "I'm sorry, I'm getting sleepy."
"Well you lost a lot of fluid. Maybe you should clean up, drink something and go to bed."
"Will I see you again?"
Goodie. "I hope so, you know where to find me."
And he's gone.
I curl up in the clearing where we played by the bike path, laying on the grass, idly staring at a picnic table, feeling the warmth flow through me. I listen to the night sounds, I doze.
My eyes snap open at the sound of a match flaring. Even before it touches its intended cigarette I've moved with inhuman speed the quarter of mile or so to the tree where that weird girl hung herself. I relax, my mind dialing down from murder to annoyance. If I thought this guy saw anything, knew anything about one of my clients he would have to go - as in die. A bit of a problem perhaps since he has no neck. But if one thing is certain, this dweeb doesn't know anything.
"Oh, it's you..." I put all my weight on my right leg, cock my head in the same direction and stare inquisitively.
"Have you seen ace?"
The little blue dork has decided to dust off his little blue dick and parade it around town, I muse.
"What did you see?"
"What do you mean?"
"What did you see?!"
He looks down and mutters, "Nothing." He gets my meaning.
"Look at me."
He does, staring frankly into my hypnotic eyes. Nothing there, he's not lying. I break the gaze. If you were to take only one thing from me, I'm aggressively discrete.
"Have you seen ace?" he repeats.
"I saw him over at lucky's a few days ago."
"Yeah, I heard that too. I went over and checked it out and all that's there now is the governor of Texas standing at the door calling everyone a 'mo-fo.' Go figure."
I burst out laughing, "Well that sounds like lucky. I could have sworn I saw ace there. Why are you looking for him?"
"Well he's gone, he left some cryptic message and just disappeared. I miss him, his humor and his kindness. I want to know what happened to him!" He sighs, "You probably think I'm gay."
Actually I could care less, "Well you both confessed to your mutual 'guy love.'" I tease.
"No girl understands guy love goddammit! You get so jealous about it!"
Oh pluhese, I barely avoid rolling my eyes, "Look, people frequently just disappear from this place. It happens, don't take it personal."
"Oh fuck that noise! Of course you take it personal. This is admittedly a very weird place but you make friendships, what seems like real friendships or as real as it can get when you're spread out all over the globe and it doesn't take much to occasionally keep in touch, you know?"
He has a point but after awhile you just get callused to it, accept it as the norm, "You mean you haven't heard from ace at all?"
"Well I occasionally get some sort of message from someone claiming to be ace. It sounds like him anyway."
I stare at him, cocking an eyebrow.
He sighs, "I just want to know what happened... that's all."
"He owes you, huh?"
"No."
The poor dear looks positively demoralized, I steer him back to safer ground, "What do you think happened to him?"
He brightens, "Oh he was MURDERED, there's no doubt!"
"Murdered?! Who did the deed?"
"Well he was last seen with Sassa, I need to talk to her."
"Who?" The name dances on my synapses like a drop of water on a hot skillet, I feel like I should know, or knew whats-her-name but I just can't recall. Weird.
He smiles gently, "Never mind. Can I tell you something... well two things?"
He can see I'm growing impatient, I sense fresh prey on the night breeze, "Sure."
"You told me once that you appreciated having me around. That you enjoyed my particular form of madness, I just wanted you to know the feeling was mutual even though you're prone to beat me. Paradoxically there's a gentleness to you that I find, well, pretty."
"Um, thank you?" I'm confused, what's he mean? "You're not planning on taking a powder are you Billy, er, Tracer? This isn't some backhanded goodbye is it?" There are so many of 'him' I get confused at times on who I'm talking to, the little blue cockroach.
Another grin, "I'm learning things. I will say only this, I'm not planning on 'taking a powder' and if I do I'll drop dime and let you know."
OK, I'm starting to hop from foot to foot, it's time to go! "What was the other thing?"
"Well maybe you've just eaten a side of ribs or won a hot dog eating contest but there appears to be a whole lot of ketchup all over your chin," he smiles evilly.
I blush furiously. The jerk, I'm busted. I whirl, putting my back to him, grabbing a baby wipe (tools of the trade) from my purse wishing I could see myself in a compact mirror! I scrub the 'ketchup' off.
"Uhhhh, I was at Rib King and..."
He's gone.
I dance off. I own the night and it owns me. I cavort, prance, dance and romp in it's stillness, its quiet, where secrets lie waiting to be uncovered and encouraged.
What's this?
Fresh prey!
I'm on him inside a second, grabbing his arm and twirling him around to face me. He stares into my eyes, startled. Yes, look into my eyes, I mentally giggle at the cliche, look deep, let me get a read. I've changed from schoolgirl to twenty something, tight lowriders and a t-shirt, you can just barely see the edge of my white panties peeking out from the waistband of my jeans. Perfect.
"I saw you take them, now give them back you pervert!" I say in a loud angry voice.
"What are you talking about?! Let me go!"
A few bars of Tom Petty's Don't Come Around Here No More float through my head,
Stop walking down my street,
Who did you expect to meet?
Who did you expect to meet?
Oh pluhese. You put yourself out here, you came here of your own volition. You already know all about this neighborhood. Honestly, did you expect me not to pounce? A girl's gotta eat and nothing's for free. Grow up, time to pay the piper.
"You took my panties out of my laundry basket! I saw you! I bet you put them on didn't you?!"
"I did NOT!"
"Well let's just see..."
He's already growing still, like a mouse under a cat's paw. He's looking at me, listening to me, he doesn't notice his belt being undone, his fly being pulled down.
"My, my, my, what do we have here?"
"Listen..."
"Hush. You stole my pinkest, frilliest, girliest panties! You like girl things don't you pervert? Never mind, I can see you do, sissy-boi. I just love secret sissies!"
I lead my secret sissy off into the park where we can be alone and later as he stares into my silvered disk eyes and listens attentively to my soft voice he hears, just like you will hear one of these nights, my sweet mouse,
"Are you ready to spurt for me baby?"
