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Well, today is another gray and rainy day in this town. Kind of makes you think that life is nothing but a succession of shadows and gloom, dark clouds and chilly winds, interspersed with the promise of a little sunshine now and then to maintain enough of a fiction so everyone keeps going. Gray and cold. Old and gray. Wet and chilly. That’s how the day looks. That’s how I feel. That’s what this day makes me feel, as if I’m immersed in reality.

Good thing that I still can dream and fly. And it’s always harder not to wander away. To warmer places. To sunnier places. To places in which I can be whoever I dream of being. To places where I can meet the woman I want at will.

If I look through the window I can see her walking. Funny thing. I haven’t seen her face, ever, and yet here she is: smiling, saying nice things in a voice that’s caressing me, full of sweet overtones.

“Hi. How are you? You look as if you need a break. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? Well, we can go to this coffee shop, close to my place. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go”

And all of a sudden, we are neither in this time, nor in this town. We’re somewhere in the middle of a dream, looking at each other, sipping cappuccino and talking of our lives. We’re frozen in time. Words coming and going without a finish line. Words coming and going, dancing with the music of our eyes, following the rhythm of a more intimate connection. Here we are: the first man and the first woman, repeated ad infinitum. The first blood and the first heartbeat. Always the same and yet always new.

Her face is changing with the slow movement of the moon. Her words are wrapping me with the laces of rainbow. Her eyelashes are hypnotic. Her mouth is more than tempting and this is not a coffee place, this is a forest and she’s casting her spell. I look but I want to see. I see but I want to dream. I dream but I want to have. Her words are falling and they sweep me.

I’ve played the game of seduction many times, but every new look, every promise of flesh anew, every new whisper of the garden of wantonness washes out my old sins. It’s me, fresh, again. It’s my skin without memories, without owners, without repeats. I’m a virgin one more time.

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As Jim rode the Metro North train from the Connecticut suburbs into New York’s Grand Central Station, he was eagerly anticipating the coming hour’s event. The previous night he had telephoned in a response to an ad in Screw Magazine’s “Hells Belles” section. Along with the myriad ads for mistresses and dungeons, promising to do all sort of unspeakable things to one’s body, was one featuring “total physical domination” and wrestling. Jim had long fantasized about being physically dominated by a strong, attractive woman, being forced to submit repeatedly to painful submission holds. After talking to Carol, the placer of the ad, Jim felt that he had just found the answer to his fantasies. Carol promised that she could easily make him beg to be released. She especially liked to work scissors and choke holds, and really got off on totally dominating her “victim.” Even more than her more “normal” trade, dominating men by bondage and spanking, she really loved using her body to punish them. After hearing all that, Jim immediately made an appointment with Carol for the next afternoon. Now his dream was about to be realized.

The walk from Grand Central to the 27th Street address Carol had given Jim seemed to take forever, Jim was so anxious for his match to begin. As he walked along, Jim dreamed of being held by Carol in various holds, but failed to understand how a girl who sounded so sexy on the phone could manage to squeeze a submission out of him. He had watched many videos of mixed matches where the women had the men yelling out agonized submissions, but it was always obvious that the holds were staged and the men were submitting “for the camera.” Although Jim was slightly built, at 5′8″ and 140 pounds, he felt he was strong enough to take any woman. Carol’s promise to make him beg for mercy seemed remote.

Finally he reached the address. He rang the doorbell, and someone buzzed him in. He climbed the two flights of stairs promised by Carol and knocked on her door. After a minute the door was opened by a very tall pretty blonde wearing an electric blue housecoat. “Hi, you must be Jim,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Carol. Come on in.”

Jim walked in to a pleasant apartment, dominated by several large wrestling mats placed on the floor. What furniture there was was pushed to one side. “As you can see, I have everything ready for our match. Do you have something for me, Jim?” said Carol.

Jim fished in his pocket and found the $200 they had agreed on. Carol took it into another room and quickly returned. “While you strip down to your shorts, I’ll go over the ground rules. Ok?”

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Wiping his hands on the dish towel, he turned to watch her as she stretched to put a glass on a high shelf. The sleekness of her body had always excited him. But as they’d spent more time together, something more had developed, a tug at his heart when he looked at her, that he had not expected.

He reached for another plate to dry, and thought of how they made love. The first time, he’d wanted her so badly he could hardly resist handling her roughly. The memory of her unexpectedly joyful response made him smile.

They wanted the same thing. A friendly pat could become a full-fledged spanking in no time. When it didn’t occur to him to treat her that way, she’d find some playful way to give him cause. They had fun together.

A gentle nudge jolted him from his reverie, as she took the plate from his hand. Were she not now been holding something fragile, he’d have… (click to read entire story…)