Ambition. What would you do to reach the top? Would you lie, would you cheat, would you go above and beyond to prove your worth? Our strongest aspirations drive us to endure more than we ever planned. Determination makes us resilient. We endure hardships that would break common people, bring them to their knees. But not you. No. For you, it’s all fuel for a fire that burns hot within. An all consuming desire to reach the most towering heights regardless of cost.
Are you at the top, dominant and undeniable?
Was it worth it? Those endless hours spent building your personal empire, brick by neverending brick. The cost to your personal life; broken hearts, broken friendships. Moments of meaningless intimacy furtively seeking the connection you long for that never materializes.
Have you found somewhere else to place the blame?
The view from my top-floor hotel room has captivated me all week. Here I am, again, sipping my hot coffee, lost in contemplation. It is Saturday morning, and I am at a standstill. It is the calm before the storm that will be this day, so I am consciously enjoying the moments.
The endless cityscape rolls away beneath me, unapologetically urban. At night it all takes on a certain beauty. So many colors, so many lights. Little diamonds twinkling their location, drawing you into whatever vice lies inside. But by day, the twinkles disappear. All pigment is drained from the cityscape leaving behind a grey monochromatic world of people too busy for color, for art. There are no trees or green spaces, just monoliths of concrete in their predictable grid rising out of the sidewalk. The morning sky is mostly clouds tinted a deep steel blue grey that mirror the hues of the highway. I can see some golden rays forcing themselves through, a vague promise that the rain might finally relent, today. It has been endlessly wet since I arrived four days ago, so I push myself out of my room, reluctantly convincing myself to play tourist for a day.
Along the strip I pass pawn shops, payday lenders and tiny liquor stores that are about as wide as the opening of two bowling lanes. A brightly adorned, shabby supermarket breaks the monotony of the narrow storefronts, their offerings looking the worse for wear and beyond their best before dates. On the sidewalk are various women, stroking their wild tangles of hair as they size up the passersby. More than one person with a cart of aluminium cans strolls along, examining the overflowing garbage cans strewn along the sidewalk. Another few blocks and I am suddenly in suburbia with its rows of uniform houses and neatly mowed lawns.
The smells of this city are alien to me. Their chaotic fragrance sets me on edge as I walk along. The fumes from belching vehicles underpins everything the city shouts at my senses. There is no tinge of earthy loam to the air, no fragrance of spring growth or heady warning of rain but punching right through the urban smog is the spicy offerings of the street vendors, coming sharply into focus like a camera zoom and then ebbing away again; only to be replaced by the next vendor and the next. The anxiety swells inside me from the stimuli of scents, structures, and endless bodies pressing against mine as they forge ahead with their regular day-to-day making me long for the security of my hotel room. But I pause, knowing exactly where I stand and yet a little lost in this crowded place, this city that is not my own, the city of lost angels.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I am summoned. Another item in the endless list of preparations for this trip is ready for me, and I am happy for the excuse to get off the streets. I jump first into the nearest coffee shop then the waiting Uber and set in for the long ride ahead.
When the car drops me at my destination I am in front of a stone house sitting on the top of a small hill. The grounds give one the impression of a quaint cottage with it’s random shrubs and various trees, but I walk inside to find the endlessly large, impressive room of a grand villa.
I pause, taking in my surroundings. I’ve never seen a home with so much ostentatious furniture in rich hues I’d never choose for myself, but I am immediately in love with the space. My personal style is dedicated to clean lines and simple accents, all in shades of white; but the burnt orange and red of these walls give me life. The furniture is rustic and dark, sprinkled liberally with vibrant cushions. Thick velvet curtains hide the long windows, just parted enough to offer shy peak of the woodlands beyond. The paintings and faded tapestries on the walls seem to blink at me as I walk through. Two antique couches stand opposite to each on a hand-woven rug in front of an ashen fireplace, accompanied by rich velvet and bronze wing-back chairs. This isn’t just a house; it’s a home and I am drawn to sink into a couch and stay but lilting voices trickle down the hall and pull me out of the reverie, towards them. Finding the source of familiar conversation, I step into the room and make my presence known. Heads lift sending hellos my way and my partner, still bent over our current project, smiles and motions for me to go join her.
I head towards her, my eyes sweeping across the faces in the room as I walk, but I falter when they land on him. Quiet, reserved, standing amongst the others yet undeniably standing out. We had spoken before. I had seen images of him. But we had never before met face to face. He hadn’t made a particular impression on me in our business back-and-forths but now here he stands… His features are strong, the angles defined as if molded from granite. His eyes are the clearest blue and they beckon me to come and drown within them. His perfect lips are ripe and I’m already imagining his hands gliding against my skin, slightly rough and deliciously strong. Heat rises to the back of my neck as I feel the undeniable stirring stir inside me, something I had not felt in the longest time. Want.
He glances at me and I look away trying to force down the blush that flares up my neck. I walk past to join my partner and we exchange paperwork and plans as I pointedly look anywhere but at him. I could take the files and leave, but I find myself lingering; I want to be noticed. Pulling my laptop out I sit at the long table and start replying to monotonous emails that could easily be handled from the comfort of my hotel room. But I bend my head over my laptop, pretending to concentrate intently and let my curls fall and create a shield of silk between us. I peek through, attempting to be unnoticed and am rewarded when I catch his eyes gazing my way a second time. He smirks when he sees me looking. There is something raw about him. An honesty he carries on the surface. I find myself very attracted, and desperately curious to uncover the mystery that is this man.
No man who purposefully portrays themselves as mysterious can truly be so. There is something about seeking out that attention which gives them away. Truly mysterious men have no such desire. Independent, casual, nonchalant and slow to show genuine emotion, they are charming on the surface but do not often form emotional attachments. They posses a naturally standoffish quality that dares contact without inviting it; the epitome of allure.
I suddenly feel his presence behind me; self assured confidence tinged with power. The essence of him washes over me and I nearly gasp with the unexpected pleasure of it. Leaning in ever so casually his lip grazes my ear in the most discreet way. Pretending to look over my shoulder at the screen he breathes “I know what you want”. I sit there, positively stunned, as he continues “the question is, do you have the nerve to be honest with yourself and take it?”
He stands, casually smoothing the creases from his shirt and he walks away to resume his previous conversation. A moment later, timed to remind me the encounter was not a vivid daydream, I receive a text asking me for the ‘time and place’. I instantly become giddy as I contemplate what to do next. My fingers tremble and I breathe heavily to steady myself before hitting send. My excitement peaks, shooting through me like an electric spark. I had so long forgotten this feeling, denied myself the distraction from ambition in my climb to the top.
Things calm around me and people slowly file out throughout the afternoon. Lost in my haze and yet on high alert, I take my cue to leave and return to my hotel room to drown myself in work. The grip of desire burns between my legs and I wait for it to ebb as the conflict echoes tirelessly in my mind.
“I am downstairs.”
I’ve been waiting anxiously for his text and feel the spike in anticipation instantly as I reach for my room key and head for the elevator. My mind is a web of chaos; am I really going to do this? Will this encounter jeopardize everything I worked so hard to build? My job, my contacts, my reputation? Will it be worth it? I have to believe it will. How could I be so drawn to an encounter for it to be futile? The intense desire that burns inside me awakened, unquenched, unsatisfied, reminds me that I am human after all, and it eggs me onwards.
The descent to the lobby sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins and I bite my lip harder than intended. As the door finally slides open I am greeted with the dreamy image of his tall frame and muscular, well toned upper body leaning casually against the opposing wall. I feel his eyes take me in as he steps inside before I even catch my breath. His height towers over me and he smiles, a coy little grin that promises so much. The very sight of him makes my mouth water and I instantly imagine running my tongue along the ripple of his neck but anything else I might have thought quickly gets swept away as he wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me in, our mouths meeting with a piercing hunger. The darting strokes of his tongue make me dizzy against the rapidly rising elevator and I wonder for another fleeting moment if this is really happening. Reaching my floor, I am grateful for a chance to catch my breath and I push him gently away with a smirk, urging him to take in the view as I lead him on.
No time is wasted as we cross the threshold of my door. He spins me to face him and slides his hands under my skirt lifting me off the ground without effort. My legs wrap around his waist as if fitting into their mold. Our mouths urgently meet again dictating that the time for questions or second guessing has passed and I give in, entirely. The heat of our bodies melts together in a frenzy of sparks. His lips are in the hollows of my neck as we tumble into my waiting bed and I let out a deep moan of pleasure as he bites down. Inhaling sharply I take in the searing pain and welcome it mixing with the pleasure of his hands taking hold of my body.
Held in place by his piercing blue eyes, I snap into focus enough to realize that this man understands something about me that I have never spoken out loud to anyone. The antidote to my perfectly structured world where I seek to steer every moment, the hidden desire to be utterly and completely dominated.
Before me is a man who knows exactly how to climb into the darkest corners of my mind. Who will drag me into depravity, show me my shame, break me and put me back together again. I look back into piercing blue eyes, exposed and irrevocably vulnerable, and everything seems to settle into place. Nothing else matters, other than my obedience. As if reading my very thoughts his fingers wrap themselves around my neck and he utters a single word, all that could matter in that moment; “mine.”
His fingers are gripping my fishnets and he rips them apart. The force of my thong suffering the same fate only serves to increase my arousal. His fingers make quick work of exploring the moistness between my legs then he’s there. Circling my clit with his thumb as his index finger teasingly thrusts inside me he begins to explain our game.
“Here are the rules, babygirl. You will count your orgasms, out-loud, and you will not come without permission. Is that understood?” It was as if he’d suddenly lit a match and tossed it onto a fuel soaked pyre, igniting the need that screamed in my bones; his desire is my desire… My will is his alone. I could already feel myself rising in anticipation, and breathe out my consent. His fingers wrap tighter around my throat, “I can’t hear you, baby.” Hazily seeking his eyes I obey through gasps for air; “y-es, I understand.”
Now his fingers are tightening even further around the soft flesh of my throat and just as the edges of fear of asphyxiation trickle in he releases his pressure. I choke in a short gasp of air in that longest second just as his fingers are expertly edging me on, making me beg to come. “Come for me, baby” he smiles as my scream fills the room.
My body is still quivering when he lowers his face between my legs and inexplicably makes me come several times more. His teeth leave marks on my exposed skin as my shrieks continuously fill the room. I have never been one to experience multiple orgasms, but now they seem to be endlessly lapping at me in waves, each stronger than the last.
His weight is hanging over me and I begin to beg to feel him fill me but instead he turns me over and administers ten stinging slaps to my ass. Our bodies are slick with sweat and it is all I can do to hold myself steady as each blow lands harder than the last. I quickly find myself begging for mercy from the sudden onslaught; “Please, I’ll do anything you ask!”
To my relief, he lifts me gently to my knees and his fingers caress and trace the outlines of my body as I breath heavily into his chest. My ass is already swollen and hot from his careful attention. I am exhausted but so hungry for more. Kissing my forehead, he slowly moves his lips down to my mouth as his fingers reach into my hair and pull me down off the bed to kneel and face his throbbing cock.
“Yes, babygirl. You will do anything I ask.” I looked up with a savage mask of innocence as he shoves his cock into my waiting mouth. Holding the back of my head with a firm, unrelenting grip, the sound of his pleasure fills my ears. I press my palms into his thighs to resist gagging, but he being much stronger continues to forcibly thrust his cock in and out of my mouth with a wild abandon that holds no shred of mercy.
When he finally relents I am thrown onto the bed as if I am weightless. Reaching for my ankles he drags me to the edge of the bed and plunges inside me without pause. On the third thrust, I can already feel the heat inside me rising, “Please, I’m going to come… Please, can I come?” I manage to beg through ragged breaths. He says nothing for what seems like the longest moments of my life as he continues to thrust, until finally he is rolling us over so that I find myself straddling him as he utters the words I so desperately need to hear. “Come for me, baby.” I scream out “Eight!” and I ride him like my life hangs by this one single thread.
“Is it eight or nine, babygirl?” I had lost count and I knew it. Panic rises in my throat at the thought of what punishment he might administer, when he quickly flipps me onto my back, climbs on top of me and continues pulsing in and out ever so slowly. Wrapping his hand once again around my throat he demands “Eight, or nine?” The smile disappears as he continues “If you get it wrong, I‘m going to pound your pretty little ass, bitch.” Having never been fucked in the ass, fear immediately freezes me, but I barely have a second to think because then he is slapping my face and asking again, fingers wrapping tighter around my throat.
“Nine” I gasped. He smiled then, never having ceased his languid pounding “That’s right, baby. It’s nine.”
He bites into my neck hard, increasing his speed, as the fire inside me continues to burn. My screams bellow in the space around us from the sheer exaltation of yet another orgasm gripping me unexpectedly. The thrusting stops abruptly, then, and his magnificent glistening body pulls away from me “You forgot to ask for permission.”
He withdraws and flips me over once again, delivering another ten blows to my already tender ass. Just as I think I can’t take anymore and am trying to wriggle out of his grip he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, plunging his cock back inside me so hard and deep I choke. I feel my mind release, then. A sudden numbness takes over my body and I feel every nerve ending shut down leaving only my pussy alight with heat. All the fire on the planet seems to be burning within me as I feel yet another orgasm rising inside me. I beg for deliverance, obediently seeking permission in a desperate attempt to avoid any further punishment, and then it just comes – a hot flame that threatens to consume me. I was positively shaking. No longer able to control my body, my mind had given up trying to control anything at all. With the remnants of my twelfth orgasm pulsing through my extremities he pulls out and lays beside me, taking me into his arms. I can hear his thundering heartbeat as I nestle into his chest where I stay, utterly still and recovering.
When I finally find words again, I am confused. Was I so numb that I didn’t feel him come? I finally gather the strength to ask “Why didn’t you come?”
“It’s not always about coming for me,” he whispers back “ it brings me pleasure to give you pleasure and sometimes, that’s all I need.”
We spend a few hours more lounging in my bed, my body curled around him like a kitten as I stroke every inch of his naked body, committing the nuanced beauty to memory. Running my hand along my own body I grin as my fingers brush the score of welts and teeth marks left along my various parts. It gives me pleasure and some pride to know that I’ll be able to keep a part of this with me for a little while longer than these moments.
After some time I come to realize that where I usually see through the cracks of most individuals, I had been completely fooled by the bravado he displays for the public eye. I am intrigued by his intelligence and wisdom as we ease into chatting and continue exploring each other’s boundaries.
When our hours are over and he’s preparing to leave he first pulls me towards him, gripping my hair to pull my head back and sinks his teeth into my lower lip, savouring me for seemingly the last time. “Wherever you are, you are MINE. You will always be MINE, don’t you ever forget it.”
“Yours!” I replied.
Home. My hand grazes along the wall as I walk down the hall and up the stairs to my office. Glancing up through the skylight, everything looks different. The heat from his hands have left a residual mark. A reminder, a constant distraction.
Am I still dominant and undeniable, as I was before? I let my guard down, will there be consequences for my actions? Does that makes me weak or am I just human, giving in to needs that begged for release? Will this new found desire become the flaw in my empire after everything I sacrificed? Will it engulf me entirely and leave nothing left for success?
Will you be to blame?
…Would it matter?
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