“Double Crap!” Tiffany extrapolated, as she realized her perfectly perky 37D breasts had gained another D overnight. “Now what will I wear to the company party! I must make a good impression on Mr. Momzer Macher, the new President and CEO and CFO and CBO and…oh, whatever he is!” Sighing with frustration, the gorgeous blonde gazed at her mirror image and fingered the honey gold waves of her naturally wavy hair. “I know! I will wear that daring leather bustier that my gay BFF talked me into buying at that strange street fair he took me to in San Francisco! Gee, I wonder if he worked things out with that hunk he met that day. He said he was into leather, but when I asked him where to find a good purse, he just laughed.”
She blinked her cerulean eyes in her memory and then went to get her fetching outfit. It was tight in all the right places and really emphasized her 37-24-36 shape, and the leather felt so stiff and hot and sexy against her alabaster skin! And how it molded her perfect 110 pounds! “How will I ever get through the night without fainting?” she wondered as she strapped her tiny, delicate alabaster feet into her four inch heels, deciding not to take the really high ones. “Good thing I already threw up.”
At the party, everyone was in their fanciest clothes and the music was awesome and loud and there was dancing and great food like chicken fingers and the little hot dogs in pastry and sushi and tapas and stuff. Tiffany said hi to all her girlfriends, except for Boring Brenda and kissed all the gay guys and was licking a cherry popsicle that had a fancy imported liquor in it when suddenly she saw…HIM.
Like. O. M. G. There he was, so freaking hot. In his leather pants from Dolce and Gabanna and his black silk shirt and really expensive black tie and black jacket and black diamond stick pin through the really expensive black tie and his ink black hair and jet black eyes and his big feet in big, black boots, oh, he was so into black.
“You’re Tiffany,” he murmured as he leaned in toward her, gracefully looking at her plunging cleavage, and her heaving alabaster breasts.
He was so tall! Even with her lithe 5’7″ frame enhanced by those 4″ heels, he was at least a foot taller! And his piercing black eyes pierced her to her very soul.
“I…I…” Tiffany stammered, letting her booze popsicle drip, drip, drip down her hand to splat, splat, splat on the floor. She bit her full, ruby red lips in luscious lasciviousness.
“I’m disgustingly rich and dominant,” he sneered dominantly. “you will be Mine!”
“Oh, wow,” Tiffany seized. “Um. Wow. OK. Sure. What does that mean, exactly?”
“I have a checklist!” he said triumphantly, while texting an URL to her. “Go to My Web Page and fill it out, and tell Me whether you like, dislike, or are neutral about the 300 activities and fetishes listed there, and whether you’ve done them before and with whom, and what you thought about it, and then rate them on a scale of 1-10 on whether you’d like to do it now, tomorrow, next week, or after the Mayan Apocalypse.”
“Um,” Tiffany coughed out, a delicate flush gathering on her porcelain features, her beautiful, full lips, her high, sculpted cheekbones, her delicately feathered eyebrows and her oh-so-cute upturned nose. “But I’m sure I haven’t done anything on your list at all! Despite being an adult in 2012, working at your huge corporation and having been through some form of schooling, I am still completely virginal and know nothing at all about kinky sex! I am beautiful, though.”
His anthracite eyes brightened under His heavy, midnight brows and He gazed at her with an acquisitional hunger, like a Guy who hasn’t had anything to eat in days. And yet she could see some painful memory, some dark – dare she think black? – secret lurking behind those onyx eyes.
“Then you’re really going to be Mine!” he thundered. “Because I Alone can teach you the gift of submission, give rise to your slave heart, grant to you the loving dominance of My Masterful Aggression, all tempered, of course, with rationality and with all due care and attention given to risk-aware negotiation! I will teach you to serve Me with your submissive soul, your passive power, your girly gushiness, train you to come at the snap of My Fingers and find true freedom in your complete subjugation to My Will. Yes…you will even learn…Bad Grammar.”
“Triple crap!” Tiffany declaimed. “All that? But…how is that possible? It all sounds crazy! And yet…when I look into your charcoal eyes under that irrepressible lock of ebony hair, as I run my searching, trembling fingers across the steel buttons on your sable silk shirt, all I can think of is…Jesus Christ, I am so horny I can die. I think. But i don’t really know, because of the virgin thing?”
Mr. Momzer Macher took her pale, shaking hand and led her gentle, undulating form away from the party into his private boardroom where the table could be set up like a bed and tumbled her back onto it.
“I will teach you, little one,” he said with intrepid confidence in himself. “And you will be my prized little party girl possession for all time. Just like the last seventeen.”
“Oh, quadruple crap!” she extremed, as he tore away her leather bustier with one hand and fell on her like a ravening wolf. A ravening black wolf.
To be continued…OK, not really.
For SM fiction of a different color, see lantoniou.com
Also – you know this is a TRILOGY, right? Of course it is!! For the next two exciting parts, read:
Fifty Writers on Fifty Shades of Grey