Message-ID: <45630asstr$1070050206@assm.asstr.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <015e01c3b544$81652940$6401a8c0@r8z5l9>
From: "JD Socab" <nocturnal_dance@yahoo.com>
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X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 27 Nov 2003 19:13:51 -0500
Subject: {ASSM} [BFSFS] Requital (FM, femdom)
Date: Fri, 28 Nov 2003 15:10:06 -0500
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Please feel free to email me with comments or suggestions....
thanks.  nocturnal_dance@yahoo.com



Requital, by JD Socab



In the blue vestibule, still waiting for Missy.  The concierge
returns to the door and taps with his ring finger, waves 2 flat
hands over each other - no go.  Back at the apartment, something
is strange.  Mailbox  empty, and walking up the narrow stairs
there is a draft, strange at this hour.  Missy's scent.  Hands
over my eyes, they smell like sweet grapefruit or bubblegum. 
They switch for a blindfold, my wrists are drawn back and cuffed,
a rubber mass pushes my lips open.  Then a  voice, not Missy's,
but familiar -  a deep raspy smoker's voice - "You asked for it,
didn't you."  My brow and pits bead up, though the draft is still
there.  Hands unbuckle my belt and tug my slacks, 3 or 4 tugs, to
my ankles - callous, clumsy tugs, and i can smell a burning
cigarette. My jaw begins to echo the ache in my groin, somehow
working together, the two persistent, dull pressures.  The voice
is a whisper now, not raspy, smelling of wine: "We'll need a
hard-on, now sweets.  Can you do that?"   I can see Missy, that
mouth - it floats on her face, puckers, lets the tongue peep out
- drinking, brooding.  If she smoked, i believe she would cup the
filter with that tongue.  A hand pushes my balls up into the gut,
I fall backwards.  "Do you remember me?" comes that voice from
somewhere.

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