I tapped his backside with the flat side of the crop, the knotted, plaited edge, and he moaned delightfully. I struck one cheek at a time, rather tamely, and continued my momentum. I moved around the table and he watched my body as I did, continually groaning in consent. I began striking his back, a little harder, and he groaned louder. The red slashes were reminders of my imprint. When he tired, I ceased, and he breathed his anguish away. The marks were superficial and would be gone by morning perhaps, but the temporary despair was overwhelming him. It was mixing too well with desire. I rolled him back over and his pouch was full.
What happened next? I was blindfolded as a mark of respect. Then I determined from their noises that the woman rode her husband backward cowgirl. He was excruciatingly aroused. He howled in the room and his wife was most pleased by my work. He was quite large when at full mast. I thrashed his chest as she drilled him and the dopamine and endorphins swilling around his veins caused him to have an intense, drawn-out, long-lasting orgasm of several minutes. The mature orgasms of life are exactly that: few and rarer but lengthier. Her own was intense as she used a bullet on her clitoris.
I went back to Flo’s that night terribly pent-up. All those scenes drew my own pleasure but did not taper them off. No. I needed my lovers for that. All this pleasure and entertainment was becoming so natural to me and the impersonal nature of it was what pleased me most. None of these people knew who I was.
A Fine Profession, released July 12th