Aphrodite Gone Awry
The ritual began a few hours before she was to leave. The children had been gone a while, off to their father's for the night and most of the morrow. She was pleased she got Saturday nights free. She had never been one to take that freedom for herself. When married, he was usually the one who played, the one who had no problem seizing moments and happy hours, days of hunting, and her generous offers for nooners with April, the entj. She was content to stay home and take walks, nurse the babies, and talk on the phone. She would have felt guilty taking so much for herself, especially when he seemed to need it more.
Now, two and half years since her separation and divorce, she was finally coming into her own independence. She wasn't free. She was tied to her children and her work, which was securely rooted in this community. But how much she was enjoying her free time! Hours of quiet, contemplative space all to herself, able to be spend without interruption to make pbjs, run interference for squabbles, or deal with temper tantrums. Often she would be found in simple repose in her 4-poster (her favorite place) meditating as a humming peacefulness enveloped her, where she could get lost for an hour or two feeling God's imminent love and grace.
But this evening she wasn't indulging in abstract, intuitive pursuits, but concrete, sensory ones. She wanted her skin to be as clean and smooth as possible, her hair flowing and irresistible, her make-up exotic and alluring but light, and her clothing just right. She felt sure he would like that. It would somehow make him proud. She had run earlier this afternoon so that she would feel fit and supple in health. She liked how working out made her feel like she had achieved something positive. Somehow feelings of guilt were associated with not working out regularly, and she wanted no guilt, no negative feelings of any kind to plague her tonight. Plus, he had told her to begin a workout regime of at least three times per week. She had been waiting for him to do so-knew he would eventually, so when he did, she was titillatingly relieved, if one can imagine such a feeling? It made her face so smooth to run and then be exfoliated with her special rosemary loofah soap, which she made herself. She was picky about the products she used on and in her body, and had been making all her own creams, soaps, and lubes for many years now.
Her first task was the dirty one. To clean herself out. The best way she had found to do so was not the obvious one which most people probably used, the enema, but more of a....how shall we say....manual one? Her bath oil was applied generously for ease of access and removal and the shower helped make it not such a messy task. Finally she felt satisfied that she was squeaky clean and nothing untoward would interfere with any activities which might (or might likely not) ensue. It was really all about being prepared. It was mostly psychological. For both of them. Being prepared. And it was as much about the preparation as anything else, she had come to realize.
She had waxed earlier as well, so the redness had time to abate. she would have preferred to do it a day or two ago, but she had nary a moment to do so, much less the hour or two it usually took her to wax herself. She only used wax on her mons down to her labia. She preferred to shave those, and around her backside as well. She wasn't very hairy, so this worked well. After washing her hair thoroughly with her son's Axe (to give her a bit of manly scent) twice, she placed copious amounts of conditioner on her long, curly locks to tame them somewhat and make them soft and silky. While she let that sit, she shaved her pussy lips, underarms, and then legs. She had replaced the razor of her Venus with a new one for the utmost smoothness. When she was done here, she rinsed her hair, leaving just a touch of conditioner in it, then exited the tub and gently dried off, wrapping her hair within the towel coiled upon her head. She knew he was watching her and she was a bit shy here because she was completely exposed. And was sensitive about her womanly belly down low. She always wanted to be beautiful for him, but how to be beautiful in the bright light of the bathroom, fully naked and unadorned!? Consequently, she hurriedly toweled off, though she tried her hardest to go slow and be open for him to see. This, along with changing, was a difficult moment for her, because her body was not perfect, not nearly so.
She walked to her bed, laid upon Aunt Agnes' brightly crocheted blankets in horizontal swaths of color, and reached for her rosehip seed oil. It was the most precious oil she used, and therefore appropriate for her most precious places. She applied a small amount to her waxed areas, lips, and bottom and gently rubbed it in, very pleased with how velvety her labia now felt, free from hair. She rested for a moment, just savoring how her toil had left her feeling so much like an open, clean palette, ready for additional preparations. But those could wait a bit, this was a ritual to be enacted and enjoyed; even perhaps a bit of performance associated with it. All for his benefit of course, and somewhat of hers too...she really could not extricate the two anymore, they were so intricately intertwined.
She met her friend out at one of the nicer, remodeled bars in the quaint town known for its trendy nightlife. One of those little towns where they leave the Christmas lights strewn along the downtown streets until March (there were only a few streets where all the fun places were) and where snow adorns everything, even the paths, in its white icy blanket. It was her friend's birthday and they were planning to listen to some local bands; this was her favorite town, and though she did not live here, she frequented it every week now, on her nights without the children.
She felt, as she drove through looking for a parking place on this frigid, clear night, that she was most definitely going to get lucky. She knew that her master was going to give her, somehow, what she needed and wanted, though she didn't, of course, know how. She never knew how, but that was also what made it so freeing and exciting. On the one hand, if nothing happened, she told herself could always make her own fate and pick up a random at the bar (though she never did). They were never interesting to her unless they were those sent by him. On the other hand, she knew Others would be there, and he had the power to make them interact or not interact--as was usually the case--with her. How frustrating those nights had been when she'd talked with the Others and nothing had come from it!
But tonight she felt was different. It wasn't so much that she had precognitive abilities, though she thought it humorous that personality typings always said her particular type DID; it was more that she felt in her gut, and in her very being, that they were at this place in their relationship now. That he was grooming her and she was finally progressing to the place where she was ready for that next step: Going deeper into his world.
He knew her progress because he watched her constantly in his special ways, ways she had been aware of for a while and which she allowed. He demanded complete perspicacity with her, and he took it, even when she had not realized it, even in those moments when feeling exposed took its toll and she just wanted universal isolation from everyone. She never got it. She was his. And she knew it. They were all coming to know it. He was a master who had dark sides and she accepted this. And suspected the best masters do.
So a steady confidence was starting to wash over her in her life and in her persona. She wasn't the heartbroken, clinging heap of a woman she had been since her separation and divorce. Her heart was not shattered anymore, but was slowly healing, thank God. God made her content. But Master made her strong and....happy.
I cannot tell you her name because her real name was for him to use only. He had named her recently and began using her new name in addressing her. Others might know her name, or not. She did not know. So she went by her old name with everyone else, but disliked how it sounded to her. In some ways she felt nameless unless he were calling her by her name. Oh how she longed to be known to everyone by that name! But she knew it was theirs, or more aptly, his, to use as he pleased with her.
The band got set up and started playing its new wave rockabilly cover tunes, and she was less than impressed, though her friend was having the time of her life for her birthday, dancing and laughing. She was itching to go across the street to her favorite bar, but knew she must be a good friend tonight, since she wasn't out alone, as was usual for her. In the beginning, she had hated going out alone because she was naturally a bit shy and felt awkward sitting at the bar quietly staring at a random (to her) ball game, trying not to feel like a bump on a log. But now she was learning how to be alone in a bar, and especially was coming to appreciate live music. She was late learning most things, so while her friends had always loved live music, she had not. She didn't feel so conspicuous alone out anymore, and besides, it gave him more room to work when she was. So she was really missing her freedom tonight, the night she felt like things were going to change.
Then she saw him. He was the one she had seen recently, and had asked Master to resend, because she wanted to get to know him. He looked a bit different in his appearance since the last time. He was young and very appealing to her. Clean-shaven, which she loved; tight body; good clothes; very cute. She liked younger men. Not so much younger women necessarily, and she could be/had been with an older man and liked it, but for the most part her tastes ran to younger men.
She knew he had sent him. A warm loving feeling slid through her very essence. This meant she was correct in her assessment of their relationship, and that he had heard her and knew what she wanted and needed. And was perhaps offering it to her for the taking.
She couldn't keep her eyes off him. He was good, as always. He was very careful not to make much eye contact, if any. The times she had seen him out before had been the same. It was almost lack of eye contact that had told her he was one of them. Then, when he knew she had seen him, he moved away for a bit. Then walked by her in a few minutes nudging her arm in the process of moving through the crowd. Interesting, this esoteric, erotic meeting that anyone watching would have no inkling about; indeed, anyone she tried to tell would think she was, at the least, pathetic and delusional, and at the most, insane, for make-believing this random stranger was letting her know he was there for her, and her only.
Then he disappeared again! Oh, panic and frustration began creeping into her mind, along with the discordant singing from the lavender-headed girl on the stage. She had lost her chance. She wasn't used to picking up guys in bars, she needed a while to work up her nerve, to assemble her line for introduction, etcetera. She spoke to her friend and was trying to accept that this night would end like all the others, when she looked up and there he was. Standing close enough to her right arm to be within talking distance. He had been toying with her all along maybe? She didn't let a moment pass, but caught his very attentive eye and said, "Hi, you heard them play before?"
"No, I haven't. Hi, I'm Tracy. I was meeting friends here but don't see them," he offered.
"Oh, yeah? It's my friend's birthday. She loves this band. What do you think about them?"
"They're not that good, eh? Except that guy on the standing base, is pretty good," he shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm not really digging them too much either. But I'm here with my friend..."
"Well, I might head over to the Great Totem (her fav bar) and see what's going on there." Was it her imagination, or did she think he was teasingly enticing her away? All she wanted then was to follow him over there, and maul him somewhere along the way.
"Okay, well, maybe I'll see you over there," she managed to say before he was gone.
She was filled with mixed emotions. Was that a good encounter or not? Did she say something wrong, or that made him want to leave? Damn! It was going to not work out after all. She took a deep breath, and admonished herself to have fun anyway, as she gave as much focus to the band as she could summon, whilst looking around furtively for sign of Young Hottie.
A while later she realized, looking at her phone, that it was nearly 12:30. They only had an hour left and then all the music would stop and the bars would close. All hope of Hottie was pretty much abandoned by this time and she was trying to console herself for her impending isolation and lonely drive back to her cold house. Alone.
Off to Great Totem they went, where it was still really crowded, and evidently it was disco night. The three girls got their drinks and worked their way up to the stage where the djs were playing a medley of 70's and 80's dance tunes, winding between spilled drinks and drunken revelers. She cleared a corner on the wet, lime-strewn, drink-laden table for their drinks and began boogieing with the rest of the town.
She let all her cares slip away then, the missed opportunity that Hottie represented to her, the ideas of what she thought this was, but maybe wasn't, the cold frustration she was coming to believe would never end. And just danced. It was so much fun to enjoy this moment with her friend who was like a sister to her. They had been lovers in the past, but had moved on in their relationship to the best kind of friends, like sisters but without the tension sisters can bring at times. YMCA, You Spin Me, and Abba wound through her soul while she moved her body to the beat. It was nearing 1:30 and the DJs were about to play the last two songs when she looked over and saw Hottie dancing with the crowd. And he really knew how to move, which is saying something for a guy. "Well, good for him," she thought. I could not care less about him anymore, for leaving me tonight! As she continued to just dance in her zone, she noticed him weaving closer to her until he was next to her. She spit out a witty remark to him, then turned her back on him. He picked up the dialogue but it was hard to hear because of the music. He was trying to attract her, but she was disinterested by this point, having felt like he was having too much fun without her this whole evening, and feeling abandoned by him at the original bar. But she couldn't help herself. Before she knew it, she was gyrating against him and feeling his heat. By the last song they kissed right there on the dance floor and she was taken aback by how wonderful and full his lips felt, and how they blended with hers. Not a cold, stinky stranger kiss; but a warm, knowing, and welcoming kiss that hinted at pleasures yet to be had.
She was not the type to be treated poorly, she simply would not allow it, had no patience for it. Her enneagram 9 demanded peaceful interaction in accordance to her values and ego, and if that was superceded, it ran into her 8 wing which brought out the stubborn fighter in her. So even though they had danced and she had stolen his kisses, and even though her body wanted to, she still did not intend to go home with him. They bantered back and forth a few vollied retorts and then he walked out of the bar. Sighing, she resigned herself to her fateful cold drive home, as usual.
She bid her friends goodnight, and headed into the frosty night air to her car, and was almost to it when she heard him call to her, "Hey, wait a minute!"
"Hmph," she thought, turning around. But she looked up into those nice eyes and handsome face and thought about how warm he looked and how good he kissed, and told him she wan't interested in being with some guy who couldn't find anyone else to go home with.
"But it's you I want to be with, see," He made it sound almost as if she had been right, yet not. As if he wanted her to be left questioning his intent, but not questioning so much as to squelch the encounter. He wanted to leave her guessing. He was good.
She did what women do in that situation, and she hated herself for it, but biology is biology and some things were destined to be. The playing hard to get when both of you know it's futile, but you do it anyway because you have to. When he finally gained, after just a few pathetic minutes, access to the interior of her car, she leaned in and kissed him, and drove him home, which was rather close.
He was very kind and considerate of her. There was a care there that bordered on warm fondness, what she had noticed when she'd been with other Others. Which reinforced for her again he wasn't just a random stranger. That part was so necessary for her, because it was the meaning behind it that meant everything, that Master was indeed pulling these strings and putting into play what she wanted. She must have done something right to be rewarded in this way.
Into his small no-nonsense condo they went, a typical bachelor pad; carpet, couch, tv, and computer (actually she didn't notice a computer but knew it was somewhere), with no adornments whatsoever, shades of brown; the requisite clueless roommate, rubbing his eyes and quietly disappearing.
After making out on the couch, he threw down a semi-comfy brown comforter and indicated she was to get upon it. She knew Master was watching, always knew he was watching in his way. And she hoped she was pleasing him, but it was not in the forefront of her mind. She was simply enjoying this heated moment with Hottie, and connecting with him. She loved kissing him (loved the subtle taste of cigarettes in his mouth!) and snuggling him most, as was often the case in the recent past. The others were like that, they were cuddlers, and seemed to really just bask in her affections that way.
She sucked his hard cock, and choked herself on it, taking it in deep enough to gag and cough up slimy mucous. He was lying back on the blanket, moaning, enjoying her ministrations. She didn't want to stop, but at the same time didn't want to make him come just yet--they were just getting started! They moved on to other fleshly pursuits, and they talked some in-between, which added a warmth to their mental communion as their bodies were warming up. It was about here, in the soft whisperings of feelings and thoughts which marked her lovemaking style, that she mentioned Master for the first of many times, and asked Hottie if he had been sent. He replied simply, with the sweetest of smiles that he was, "A gift."
The hours slipped away, as they will in those sensuous nights where time has no meaning. Neither one of them had come yet, and in one of the pauses while she was sitting sideways in his arms and her long legs were thrown across his, he reached down with his left hand and started probing her pussy lips. Into it went one finger, then another, and with nearly-expert movement, he began playing them inside her. Deeper, twisting, turning, they went while he paid close attention to what she liked, what made her moan. When he (and she) discovered what it that her body most responded to, he applied more pressure, and somewhat more speed, and continued the action as her moaning increased. It wasn't long before her head was thrown back and she was succumbing to a vaginal orgasm the likes of which she had never had before. The proof slopped over his fingers and he seemed moderately pleased with what he had accomplished.
From there on, the energy seemed strongest with him dominating her and pleasing her. And her pussy. It was obvious that he enjoyed it if a hard cock is any proof of that. But he didn't seem to want to be the recipient himself. Though she wanted her partners to come, if left to her own intentions, she always just felt the energy out and usually went with it. If she were told to make him come, she would have gladly and thankfully done whatever it took to get him off. Otherwise, she luxuriated in being the queen of this night, and in learning how much her body liked this new pleasure, the mechanics of it, but also the power he let her know he was holding back.
She wondered in the back of her mind why he was holding it back, and hoped it was because he wanted to go slowly with her and be with her again, and allow it to evolve bit by bit, so she would become his in some submissive way. He knew she was Master's but he also seemed to (want to) assume some control over her, that he knew could be his for the taking. At one point in this mindset, he was on top of her making love to her, with his eyes boring into hers as his right hand slid surreptitiously upon her collarbone and lower neck. She knew he was showing her his power over her and loved it, wanted more, but knew her place was to receive not demand. Patience, my Precious, patience. Several times he had seemed like he wanted to end their encounter, yet he would always begin kissing her again, which would lead to his hand pleasuring her again. He told her to come again in that way they were learning she liked and she obliged him gladly, asking afterward how many fingers he had pleasured her with. He said only two which shocked her because it had felt like four. She was sore, but delightedly so. Mmmm.
Morning came unbidden (at least for her) as they are wont to do, and he terminated the encounter by mentioning something about work. She took the cue and dressed quickly, accidentally forgetting to put on her best pair of black lacy panties in the process, and leaving her black leopard-print gloves to boot. He queried kindly if she didn't want to warm up her car? To which she replied in the negative and as she turned to kiss him she saw his bookshelf was laden with books, which she hadn't previously taken time to notice. This pleased her. And she made a mental note to talk about books next time. If Master deemed there would be a next time.
Thank you, Master. Twas a very pleasant and much appreciated Gift.
The Exam: Preparation
The girl had been chosen specially by him. Her name was Anna, they met online, and he had been having his eye on her, and had been talking with her long enough to know that Anna pleased him, and turned him on. Anna was fond of him, and they liked to occasionally chat and flirt, but he knew Anna was very extraverted and, well, just friendly with everyone. Which meant he could extricate himself fairly quickly and easily from her life and, after the initial sting, she'd be off living gaily, filling in the space his absence created quickly with other people and events. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
"I want you to lie back now. I want to examine you. Have you ever had a lady's exam?" He asked in the tone a teacher would use with a young, recalcitrant child.
The Exam: Culmination
As She moved next to Anna, She kissed her and fondled her breasts, then turned to watch as Master had told her to. Then he moved against Anna's nicely prepared pussy and slid inside her, at first watching his entry, then watching her. "Do you see how I'm entering Anna? Even though I'm inside Anna and making love to her, you know I love you, right?" he taught with a loving and kind tone which she so needed and appreciated.
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