Itch

You have one new message: “When can I see you, soon?”

I don’t hear from her often, maybe once every couple of months but the message is always the same. A single line sent from her blackberry or other such thing. Her job as a VP at a large and well known software company keeps her busy, probably a little too. When the stress of being the queen bitch, in charge of keeping the product on time and on budget gets too much, that is when she contacts me. No longer in charge of millions of dollars and millions of lines of code she seeks me out so she can let go, have her power ripped from her and made to grovel. We have a simple agreement. She contacts me when it gets too much, when she needs her fix as it were. With me she is free to wallow in her lust and unspoken desires, to be degraded and defiled at my hand.

“Hey, this is way more therapeutic than going to a spa!” was her rational at first. Now, now I think she is addicted, addicted to the release. Letting go of the deadlines and expectations and being nothing more than meat for another’s perverse pleasure.

Like always she arrives at my door by cab, usually dressed in a long coat that probably cost more than most of my crew will make in a day. Rain or shine, always the same coat. Why? She is naked underneath. She likes it when I make her show up like so. Naked save her boots and stockings. Now can I just pause here for a moment and tell you what a glorious sight it is, stockings (complete with garters, tucked into tall boots) If you don’t believe me, check out the new resident evil movie and tell me that is not the hottest look ever. But I digress. I causally lean against the door posts and watch as she exits the cab. After a few minutes of catch up I ask her to tell me why she came to see me today.

“I need to be used and abused. Hang me from that pipe in your office and put something steel inside me. Make me feel like a piece of meat”

With that I usher her into my loft and she assumes her place. Kneeling palms down, face on the floor and ass raised high. Vulgar names menacingly drip off my tongue as I circle her form. I make obscene threats as to what I intend to do with her willing flesh and inform her just how much I am going to enjoy doing it. She giggles with nervous glee. When I threaten to invite over a batch of longshoremen from next door to all take turns on her, an idle threat we both know, but one that makes her body clinch and shiver with excitement. I’m fairly certain that someday she may ask me to make that one come true. Alas not just yet, no for now her body is mine and I’m going to make good use of it.

Pausing as I circle to admire the curve of her upturned ass, I kneel down beside her. Boot resting between her legs, I whisper in her ear just what I intend to do with said pink parts. These, these are not idle threats. Before she is untied, her body will not only accept my massive hands inside her, but also the extra large steel ass hook she commissioned. How an ass so pert and perfect can greedily accept such things and ask for more is beyond me. Some things are best left not known and enjoyed I guess.

When we are done she will be filthy. Grinning madly as she is covered in a mix of her own sweat, hemp dust and abbey filth from her adventure.. We sip whiskey; she has excellent taste in the stuff and always makes a point to bring me a fresh bottle, as she tells me about her travels and such. Eventually she will stop shaking enough to hail a cab and return to her world. I kiss her on the forehead and swat her bruised ass as she gaily skips to the cab, a wicked smile on her face and a renewed shine in her eyes.

Tomorrow I will get another text message, this time more than just one line.
“In a meeting with (name of well known multi millionaire software giant) product is late and I should be screaming at someone, but could care less. Ciao”

She always says “ciao”, never “goodbye”.