Exotika 08 - Private Daydreams Page 3

  The landlord told Claire from now on, he would knock just one hundred dollars off her rent for every “session”. If it didn’t add up by the end of the month, too bad. It was up to her to bring in the extra money to cover her expenses.

  As Wendy read this story, her hand was between her legs, pressing hard against her clit. Her clothes were in the way so she quickly stripped them off and sat naked in the chair in front of the computer, her hand rubbing herself. But it wasn’t easy for her to come for some reason. She kept reading.

  As the month wore on, the landlord visited Claire less and less. Perhaps he was growing tired of her. During the last ten days, she realized she had earned just nine hundred dollars in credit from him. Despite going on many auditions and sending out several applications, she hadn’t been hired for any of the jobs.

  Claire didn’t know what else to do. How could she make up nearly one thousand dollars in ten days? So she had contacted a few escort agencies, just to test the waters. She found an ally in a service run by a woman—Sally—who was named in the story because she had recently been busted as well. She sent Claire to a hotel where she had met her first real john.

  Wendy rubbed and rubbed herself as she read but couldn’t climax. It was very frustrating. She finally abandoned the story, went to the bedroom and got out her trusty vibrator, which always worked. But she found that once she was away from the story about Claire, her ardor had cooled. Her clit felt oddly numb.

  So she brought the vibrator out to the desk and sat there, reading the story as she held the vibrating tip against her. She succeeded in achieving a few little climaxes but the big one eluded her.

  Claire had been very nervous. The man claimed to be a businessman from out of town but he could’ve been an undercover officer for all she knew. That would in fact occur later, but this time the man had been what he had claimed to be. He had paid her three hundred, which she had to split with Sally. After she accepted the money, he wanted to spank her. Spank her! Claire had been shocked but had gone along with it. After he reddened her ass, he put on a condom and plunged into her. He came within minutes and it was all over. All in all, she decided, it hadn’t been too bad.

  That was the beginning of her career as a whore. She went from a starving actress, not able to make her rent, to a wealthy independent call girl, earning eight to ten thousand dollars a month.

  Wendy scanned the rest of the story and found it dealt with Claire’s downfall—her arrest and realization of how low she had fallen. Therapy, recriminations…blah, blah, blah. She skipped it. To Wendy, the thrill was in her rise to the top of her profession.

  The story made Wendy so hot she couldn’t stand it. She wanted to be Claire and be forced to do things she didn’t want to do, all because some man had paid her. It was the sanitized version of being a whore—no abusive pimps or dangerous johns. More like the Pretty Woman ideal, where every client was as handsome and polite as Richard Gere. The vibrator buzzed against her and she felt on the edge yet couldn’t cross over.

  She found herself dialing the number of her ex-husband Frank.

  “Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” he said. “What gives? Don’t tell me you need money.”

  “No, Frank, that’s not why I’m calling.” She felt odd being on the phone with her ex totally naked. And especially since he had never given her the Big O she had needed. But she had no one else to turn to.

  “I need, um, kind of a favor.”

  “But it doesn’t involve money, does it?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Whoa. What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “Oh Frank, don’t embarrass me. I need… I haven’t…” She couldn’t say it.

  “Wait a minute? Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  He cackled into the phone. “So you kinda miss me, huh?”

  “Not all of you,” she said, trying to flatter him but at the same time letting him know she didn’t want to rekindle the relationship. “This is just a one-time deal, okay?”

  “Sure, okay, sweetie. I guess I could help out my ex-wife in the sex department. Jeez, I figured you’d have two or three boyfriends by now.”

  “I’m not that kind…” her voice trailed off. “I mean, I haven’t met anyone.”

  “Sure. I understand. So when do you want to do this?”

  “Can you come over now?”

  “Now? Wow, you must really be desperate! Well, sure, I’m not doing anything tonight. I guess I could.”

  Wendy suspected Frank hadn’t had a date since their divorce, but she wouldn’t say anything now. She needed him.

  They hung up and Wendy dressed. It would be a bit too obvious to answer the door naked. She paced, waiting for him. She knew once he arrived she would have trouble climaxing if they simply had routine sex. But she suspected she might be able to reach her goal if she could convince him to pretend she was a call girl. Now how does an ex-wife broach that subject gently?

  The doorbell rang and she ran to answer it, slowing to catch her breath just before she opened it. She didn’t even use the peephole first.

  Frank stood there, just as she had remembered him all those years they were married. It would be unfair to say they divorced because he couldn’t give her regular orgasms but that certainly played into the mix.

  “Hi, Frank.”

  “Well, hello, babe. Guess you just had to have me, huh?”

  “Yeah. Uh, listen, I was wondering if you’d mind playing a little game with me.” She was thinking fast, trying to come up with a plausible reason for her odd request.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, the girls and I went out to a movie…”

  “Yeah, what was it?”

  “Uh, some art film. In French with subtitles.” She almost smiled as she saw his eyes glaze over. “Anyway, there was a scene in it that was really hot. And I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Yeah?” His interest perked. He probably imagined the film was X-rated.

  “Yeah. The story was about a girl, I mean woman, who comes to, uh, Paris to find her fortune and falls on hard times…”

  She went on to explain a lot of Claire’s story using a French counterpart “Jacqueline”. Frank seemed impressed, especially at how the landlord managed to get lots of sex from a hot young Frenchwoman. He seemed to gloss over the part about how expensive she was.

  “So what is it you want to do?” he said when she finished.

  “I want to pretend…”

  “You mean…”

  “Yeah. I want to be Jacqueline, just for tonight.”

  Frank gave her a big grin. “Well, okay.” He took control. “Why don’t you leave and this will be my hotel room, all right?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed, already feeling the sensations working through her. Her pussy began to grow wet just thinking of the scene about to unfold. “Yeah, and you act like the businessman from out of town.”

  He waved his hand. “Don’t worry, I know what to do.”

  She left, standing out in the hall, trying to pretend she was in some fancy hotel. She knocked on the door. Frank opened it. “Well, hello there, little girl. Come on in.”

  His cheesy acting didn’t help matters but Wendy went along with it. She came in. He tried to kiss her right away, even before he had the door closed. She held up a hand.

  “Wait. We have to get the, uh, negotiations out of the way first.”

  He pulled back. “Huh?”

  “You know. The money.”

  “Ohhh!” he said, understanding dawning on his face. “Sure.” He pulled out his wallet and pretended to hand her some money. “Will that do?”

  Wendy felt the sensations that had been building in her evaporate. “Uh, no, mister. You have to really pay me.”

  “Hey, I thought this wasn’t going to be about money!” His face darkened. “Is this just some cheap scam to get extra cash out of me? ’Cause if it is, it ain’t gonna work!”

&n
bsp; “No! It’s just that we have to make it real!”

  “Yeah? And do I get my money back at the end?”

  Wendy hadn’t thought that through. “Uh, well, actually…” She was trying to figure out if she could pretend to really take it and give it back after she had climaxed, but her hesitation gave Frank the wrong idea.

  “Forget it!” he bellowed. “You think I came all the way over here so I could be shaken down by my ex-wife? What kind of fool do you take me for?” He stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Wendy ran to her bedroom, threw herself on the bed and wept. What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this?

  Chapter Five

  Carol—Submission

  For Carol it started with a dream. A dream unlike any she had ever had before. In it, she was in the company of a tall, good-looking man. She could tell from the way he carried himself that he was strong and very much in control. He wasn’t cruel, in fact she found herself drawn to him. He made her wet.

  He was fully dressed and she was in her nightgown. She felt embarrassed to be wearing such a scanty outfit and she tried to cover herself. He came forward, tsking.

  “No,” he told her. “Don’t hide.”

  His hands roamed over her body and she shivered with desire. Everywhere his fingers touched grew hot. The nightgown was just in the way. It tore under his hands and she didn’t care.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to spank that soft, round ass.”

  “What?” She felt him pinch her nipple and it aroused her further. “God.”

  “You’ve been very bad. Here. Get over my knee.”

  She obeyed, unable to resist. Why was she doing this? The answer came immediately—because she needed it. Because she was naughty. The why didn’t matter.

  Her ass was up, waiting for his hand. Her pussy trembled.

  Slap!

  “Ohhh god.” How could this be so good? Yes, it hurt at first but then faded into a fresh heat that made her push her bottom up to meet successive blows.

  Slap! Slap!

  “You need this. You’ve been disobedient.”

  “I have?”

  “Call me ‘Master’.”

  “Yes, Master,” she found herself saying. Even the word thrilled her.

  What had she done wrong? The questions evaporated with the next strikes, heating her and making her cry out. All she could think about was her reddening ass and his calloused hand. She would be good, she told herself. She would obey.

  Slap! Carol thought she might climax right there. His hand began to stroke her, soothing her hot skin.

  “There, there,” he said. “That’s enough. I like to see your little ass grow pink under my hand.”

  “Yes, sir, whatever you want.”

  “Here. Get up.”

  She rose and stood before him. He was still seated. He drew her to him until she was straddling his knees, her legs forced apart. His fingers brushed her wetness and she swooned.

  “Oh god!” Her orgasm approached and she surrendered to it.

  He pinched a nipple, bringing her back from the edge.

  “Don’t come until I tell you,” he said. “You know the rules.”

  Rules? There were rules? It didn’t matter. She would follow them. Anything to keep this overpowering feeling alive. She wasn’t a career woman or a feminist at this moment—she was an obedient young woman, a purely sexual being, all in the thrall of this powerful man. It didn’t seem wrong—in fact it felt exactly how it should be. He would protect her. All she had to do was obey him.

  “Maybe I’ll put in a ring here and here,” he said, tugging at both her nipples gently.

  Her knees nearly buckled. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And this will have to go,” he said, tugging at the downy fleece between her legs.

  “Really?” She looked down, proud of the hair that marked her as a woman.

  “Yes. It’s untidy. I prefer it bare.”

  She nodded, feeling the heat grow in her loins. “Whatever you say, Master.” She shivered.

  “See, that’s the idea. Let go. Submit to me. I promise to take good care of you.”

  “Ohhh.” She closed her eyes. Where had this man been all her life? She could see the other men she had dated. They were nice guys—polite, respectful. All very modern. But no one had swept her off her feet. Could it be they were all too nice? Dare she say wimpy? Had the women’s movement ruined men? Where were all the big strong men today? The kind of man who would grab her and crush her against his chest. Or be so turned on by her that he couldn’t stand it. A man to take her breath away. A man who was strong but not cruel, who was masculine and yet sensitive.

  Did such men even exist anymore?

  Her dream lover pulled her to him and kissed her breast. Carol wanted him. She could almost feel his hard cock entering her. She looked down and saw the bulge in his pants and smiled to herself, knowing that her nakedness caused it. She was desirable. She was needed.

  She understood now how they fit together. She needed his strength and he needed her submission. It wasn’t wrong. Instead it was beautiful. The yin and yang of the sexes. Rather than fight for power and position and try to beat men at their own game, she would find true happiness by letting go. She would get what she wanted by giving him what he wanted.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

  He eased her back and stood. Bending down, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing. She felt safe in his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and lay her down gently on the bed. In an instant his clothes were gone and she saw his naked body for the first time. His chiseled chest tapered down to narrow hips. Dark hair couldn’t hide his hard cock that thrust out toward her. She reached out to stroke it.

  He playfully slapped her hand. “No, you wait.”

  She nodded. Where had this man been all her life?

  He climbed over her and brought his mouth down to hers. She lost herself in his kisses. She could feel his hard cock brush against her leg and she wanted him inside her. But that wasn’t up to her. She must be patient, let him control the pace of their lovemaking. It was somehow freeing, allowing him to take over. She trusted him, that was the key, she realized.

  He pulled her hands up over her head and suddenly her hands were tied to the frame of the bed. “Ohhh,” she said. “You naughty man.” Now she was helpless, unable to stop him from doing anything he wanted to her.

  He brought his kisses down to her neck, causing her to shiver. Her breasts were next and her mouth came open with the sensation of his soft lips on her nipples. Her pussy quivered in anticipation.

  Just fuck me! she wanted to shout.

  But the man was deliciously deliberate. His kisses trailed down her stomach and Carol spread her legs for him, grateful they weren’t tied as well. When his tongue touched her clit, she climaxed and saw spots in front of her eyes. She wanted to take a minute to recover, but her mystery man wouldn’t have any of that. His tongue was insistent and she came again.

  “Oh god,” she murmured.

  Finally, he climbed up over her and she felt his hard cock touch her hot core. She knew she would come again and didn’t know if her body could take it.

  His cock slid in effortlessly, the shaft teasing her clit. When he bottomed out, she climaxed for the third or fourth time—she had lost count. He began to move and Carol became lost in the sensations. Orgasms crashed in on her, rocking her body and short-circuiting her brain.

  No one had ever affected her like this before.

  “I want you to be my submissive,” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded. Of course, sir.

  Carol woke in a sweat, immediately disappointed. It had all been a dream! She looked down at her naked body and found the shreds of her nightgown all around her on the bed. Her pussy and nipples were sore. She realized she had torn her own nightgown from her body and had been rubbing herself in her sleep. Her pussy was weeping and Carol knew she had come more than once
. There was an odd taste on her tongue—it took a minute to realize she had been sucking her own fingers after they had plunged into her grasping hole.

  “Oh god, that was incredible,” she whispered, wondering why she had dreamed with such intensity.

  She got up and showered. The morning routine couldn’t erase the images in her mind. Why couldn’t she find a man like that in real life? Was her dream trying to tell her something?

  Later at work, she sat in her office trying to proofread a novel onscreen and found her mind wandering. She clicked over to the Internet and brought up Google. With shaking fingers, she typed in submissives and hit enter.

  The number of responses startled her. She found a definition and brought it up—

  In human sexual behavior, a submissive is one who enjoys having any of a variety of BDSM practices performed upon them by a “Dominant”; or one who holds a submissive position within a relationship based upon dominance and submission—Ds or D/s. This enjoyment can spring from a simple desire for submission or an enjoyment of the interplay of wills involved in such a scenario.

  Carol felt a rush of emotions and pressed her legs together until the feelings passed. She clicked off quickly and looked around, afraid she might be caught. There was no one else around of course. She was being silly.

  Is that what I am? she wondered. There was no denying the thrill it gave her. When did I become a submissive?

  Chapter Six

  Comparing notes

  Monday night. Another meeting of the girls, this time at Carol’s place. She still felt deeply aroused by her dreams. They had come every night, sometimes featuring the same man, sometimes with others. In her last dream, there had been three men and they all had spanked her, made love to her. She could do nothing but obey. In each case she woke panting and horny, her breasts and clit rubbed red.

  She didn’t think she should tell the others about her disturbing dreams. Perhaps it would be better to find a competent psychiatrist and get it all worked out. The girls might think she’d flipped out.