Let's Be Honest (6 page)

“You sexy little slut, cum,” I said.

“Oh God…I’m…”

“Cum you little slut, cum….”

“Oh God.
Oh God…”

As the
popsicle in her pussy broke and the small piece fell out onto the floor, she straightened her elbows and screamed.

I pulled the
popsicle from her ass, and threw it over the island and into the sink. Slowly, I allowed myself to slide from her pussy.

She stood, facing the countertop, now resting on her elbows. Her forehead against the countertop, she moaned.

“God, that was weird,” she moaned.

“Good weird or bad weird?” I asked.

“Good,” she said as she turned around.

“I haven’t had an orgasm like that ever before,” she said as she rubbed her hands on her outer thighs.

“Do you know why you had such an intense orgasm?” I asked.

“The popsicles?”

“No, the control. You’re submissive. There’s no doubt the popsicles were exciting to you, or different. But my control of you - me telling you what to do, that made the difference. What started on the stool, not letting you turn around. You felt like I was in control of you the entire time. You liked that didn’t you?” I asked.

She nodded and looked at the floor.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said.

“Do you want to clean up?” I asked.

She nodded, “Do you want to take a shower with me?”

“Sure,” I responded.

Serena and I continued to see each other with regularity. I don’t recall for certain, but I believe that we spent about nine months together, seeing each other a few days a week. Although I had made clear that I wanted nothing more than to spend time together and have fantastic sex, she eventually developed feelings.

When she expressed to me how she had felt, I naturally wanted to try discussing this with her. I suspected I could talk some sense into her if she realized that her feelings of affection would prevent us from seeing each other at all. I truly had enjoyed the sex with her, and had reservations about ending our time spent together.

The talk produced no meaningful resolution, and although we did not fully agree, we split. She eventually moved out of town, stating that she couldn’t stand living in the same city with me and see me with other women. She was of the opinion that we would have been great for each other as a couple.

Although we did have fabulous sex, and she satisfied me from a submissive standpoint with her personality, I had no feelings for her. In her absence, after the break-up, I missed the sex. I missed her willingness to entertain almost any sexual suggestion. I did not miss her as a person.

This relationship was my first relationship beyond experimentation that produced satisfaction from a woman being submissive in personality – and not merely in
desire
. I learned from many questions asked and answered with Serena that she would be as satisfied as I was with her submitting to perform for me sexually.

There were several times that she wasn’t punished for her actions, but was punished from what would be the normal
treatment by me. On one instance, I left her naked on the barstool in her house and went to the mall for a new pair of jeans.

When I returned, she had been on the stool naked for an hour and a half. She was instructed to sit there, and not to move under any circumstances. When I returned, she was seated on the stool, proudly waiting for me to return. Her pussy, when I did return, was as wet as if it had received an hour and a half of foreplay.

Her requirement of sitting on the barstool was a result of my inventive mind and her statement earlier that night of the pleasure she received from having me instruct her to do
anything.

Her
delight from the 90 minutes of naked abandonment was some proof that she truly did desire to be told what to do, and to, in turn, do it. This intrigued me. In retrospect, I believe that I missed the pleasure that was received from seeing her perform as instructed.

Although I didn’t miss her as a person, nor did I miss her personality, I sat and wondered what may have happened to her, and what she may be doing now. Who she may be with, and if that person was aware of her wants, needs, and desires.

Bringing her pleasures to the surface had been somewhat of a surprise to her. Confirmation was impossible, because I never took time to keep in touch with former sexual partners, but it would stand to reason that after a woman determined that she was submissive, she would receive very little satisfaction from any form of
vanilla
relationship.

I thought of Serena or I being in a vanilla relationship and being satisfied. I laughed for a brief moment, and placed the diary on the floor in front of the fireplace. I stretched my legs and rubbed my chin with my hand.

I could no more be satisfied in a vanilla relationship than I could be five foot four and Asian.

Vanilla.

I laughed again and picked up the diary.

ERIK.
I flipped through the pages, full of the realization that I was not going to obtain anything from the diary but recollection of the memories associated with events long since forgotten.

I haphazardly flipped through the pages that remained and into the blank pages. As I started to close the diary, I mentally recognized one of the last entries that my eyes had digested.

I opened the diary up and flipped backward, from the blank pages to the pages with hand written entries. When I got to the first page that had an entry on it – flipping from back to front, I stopped and stared.

Kelli?

NAME: KELLI

AGE:

STATS:

ACCOMPLISHMENTS

ERIK.
I stared at the page. Statistics, blank. Age, blank. Accomplishments, blank. I closed the diary. Typically, I made it a point to obtain the height, weight, name, and if possible, last name of all the people that I had been with sexually.

This is something that I did, historically after we met, and prior to any sexual advancements
whatsoever
. If sex happened on the night of our first meeting, I
always
obtained the information before the close of the night one way or another.

I
t was a form of trophy for me, a prize. Proof of my accomplishments. As far as I could accurately recall,
every
woman I had ever been with was listed in this book. Every one, without fail. When I decided to start the book, I had tremendous interest in human nature, and initially started it to keep track of the different likes and dislikes of women.

I had visions of spreadsheets and computer programs developed based on the statistical data contained in the book, and using the compiled data to determine my most suitable woman – if an whenever I was going to settle down.

Being honest, it was a way for me to justify having collected the data over the years. But, I had always told myself that I would use the data to accurately pick the woman of my dreams – when I reached the point that I was going to settle down.

Kelli’s blank page.
I smiled. From the beginning, I was interested in her. I had an interest in her that was different from the others. Subconsciously or consciously, I chose not to place her data in the book.

The first day we met, and her walking to the bathroom for me in her hoodie…

“I want you to go the restroom, Kelli, and remove your hoodie. Come back out here without it on, do you understand me?”

That was my first test of her. To see how she may react. She didn’t fail.

“I thought you weren’t dominant in day-to-day activities,”

She actually had
the guts to question me. I admired that. I actually have always had hopes that she would open up more, become more comfortable. She will in time, especially now.

“I’m not. I didn’t tell you to do it, I asked you. There’s a small difference. I told you what I wished that you’d do. Now you decide what to do on your own,”

She removed the hoodie without reservation. Watching that woman
walk
made me so comfortable, so pleased that it actually scared me. Her walk had purpose.

I smiled and picked up the diary, feeli
ng the weight of it in my hand. No. That wasn’t the
first.
The first would have been at the dealership. The day we met.

“I’m Kelli. With an ‘I’,” she
had told me, “Nice to meet you.”

Absolutely adorable.
She just…wow.

“Kelli, walk
with me toward the restroom. I want to watch you walk.”

S
he looked at me like I was insane.

“Excuse me?”

She tried not to smile…

“Come with me, walk in front of me, please,”
I said.

“Well, actually, I am supposed to stay here and answer the phone.”

S
he pointed to her desk. God she looked fabulous that day.

“I want to watch you walk, Kelli with an “I”. Your walk has purpose. I watched you walk past Darwin’s office. I enjoy seeing your legs propel you. Walk for me
.”

I sure had my reservations, but she did it…

“It’s right over there, Erik.”
She pointed and looked at me.

W
hen she said my name, it was as if she forgot the “K”.

“It’s Erik with a “K”, Kelli. Enunciate. Follow me to my motorcycle.”

I started walking to the exit
…hoping, praying, and for the most part, knowing she would follow me.

“But I can’t, I have to stay…
,”

S
he sure tried to keep from it.

“I’m thinking that it interests
me that you’re interested in me.”

I had told her after she asked me what I was thinking.

“I’m interested in you? You asked me to lead the way to the bathroom, and then you told me to follow you out to your motorcycle. I think you’re mixed up.”

I knew at that time I wasn’t mixed up.

“I placed a business card on the elevated portion of your desk. On the left - facing the showroom from the desk. Before your head hits the pillow tonight, Kelli, I want you to text me. Text me and let me know that you’re going to call me. After I return the text, I want you to call me, so be in a position to do so,”
I had said.

I
sat down on the bike, and waited.

“What makes you think that I am interested in texting or calling you?”
she smiled.

“The fact that you are, Kelli.
The fact that you are,”
I said as I pulled away.

W
hen I rode off, I was smiling ear to ear.

I knew from the moment she walked in front of me
to the door of the dealership that I wanted her. I didn’t want to
know
her. I
wanted
her, period. End of story.

Wait.

Love is
developed?

There is no such thing as
love that just is.
Or is there?

I felt the heft of the diary again. I leaned forward. Thoughts of Kelli filled my mind. I smiled.

That damned woman. She sure has come a long way.

Crazy little fucker.
It was
all
I could do to refrain from laughing until tears came out of my eyes that day…

“If you ever, ever, ever stop fucking me.
Ever. I will hunt you down. I will hunt you down, and I will kill you. You think Slick got it bad? Stop fucking me. Just stop. And see what happens.”

A
nd when she said it she was serious.

Love that just is.

Possible?

I opened the fireplace and tossed in the diary. As it started to burn, the plastic in the cover began to produce the most colorful flames.
I watched the flames until I felt that I was in a state of hypnosis. My once colorful sexual life, up in flames. Erik Ead is no longer
available.

Love that just is.