THE LITTLE RED NOTEBOOK: THE GREEN ROOM PART 2
THE LITTLE RED NOTEBOOK: THE GREEN ROOM PART 2
Friday 5:15 pm
“Alexa, play Tove Lo”
“Sorry, J Lo?” Alexa answers back.
“No. Tove Lo the Swedish singer!” I yell back at my smart (dumb?) assistant.
“Tove Lo. Got it!” Alexa responds accordingly.
Sweettalk My Heart begins to play:
Tell me you love me, tell me you're mine
Tell me, I know it, don't need a sign
But I feel different, know you don't lie
But I want attention, commitment, intertwined
What are your dreams?
Give me the details, all in-between
Just let me know, yeah, we can go far
Don't turn your shoulder, get colder, keep me warm
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
I take my dish out of the microwave and sit at the small dining table. Salem is on all fours on the dining table as well. She is my cat. My black cat.
Sweeter than love
Is the taste of all those promises
That pulls you in for good
Can't get enough
Put your top moves on and run with it
Sweet talk that shit, so good
I’m eating leftovers. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. No gravy, ahhhh!! So I put on extra butter. I watch it melt as Salem sticks her face in her bowl. Fancy feast, of course! She looks up now and then and licks her lips. I take a fork of buttery potatoes and swallow. I too lick my lips. At Salem. Meow.
Her green eyes flash at me. I swear Salem is smarter than me!
I can be yours
I can be yours now
I can be yours
I can be yours now
I can't get enough
Put your top moves on and run with it
Sweet talk that shit, so good
“Salem, what should I wear tonight?” I ask my sexy feline, her fur shines like my dark brown hair.
We each chew some more food. As Tove Lo sings on:
I can be yours (I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours (I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours (I can be yours, I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours
Sweet talk my heart now
Friday, 5:30 pm
After our dinner, I sort through my dresser drawers looking for something comfortable. Salem jumps up on our bed and watches. Ummm, black jeans, check! My Les Miserables scoop t-shirt, red with the black stencil print of Cosette, check! And some lingerie I bought last week on Amazon from the Velvet Kitten shop. They had a sexy camisole called Deep Desires I couldn’t pass up! White, lace cups, lace insets on the sides, thin shoulder straps and matching boyshorts. Purrfect!
Friday, 6:00 pm
I step into my black suede Skechers ankle bootie with faux fur lining to keep my feet warm and pull the short zipper over my ankles. Nice treads in case it snows. Meow. Next my black hoodie. Zippp!
I grab the little red notebook and say goodbye to Salem with a kiss and pull the hood over my head and walk out into the cold night.
As the bus makes its way to 10th Ave, I watch people get on and off at the various stops. At one of the stops a nice-looking older gentleman gets on and sits across from me. I look up from my smartphone and we gaze briefly at each other before I start to smile and return to my phone. The bus lurches forward and a small gust of air brings a smell to my nose. Ummm, cologne. I inhale again. Ummm, Davidoff cologne. Like cool water. Reminds me of… my Uncle. I look up at him, but he is too involved with his phone. I smile.
Friday 6:30 pm
The bus comes out of the Lincoln Tunnel, right where Jersey spills into midtown. It stops at the corner of W 41st St. I hop down in my little black ankle booties in front of a Wells Fargo. My Uncle told me that back in the 70s this used to be a scary place to walk, but now the streetlights give the tall gray concrete buildings a protective presence. The streets have been recently plowed, small mounds of dirty snow are pushed up against the curbs and resting along side trash cans and benches. A few white flakes pass my face as I move down 10th Ave to the building next door. It says “yotel” above the revolving door entrance. I check my phone and confirm this is the place. I take a deep breath, and silently push through the turning doors. The snow continues to fall behind me.
Friday 6:35 pm
The seating area of The Green Room is filled with an audience sitting around small circular tables. Each has a lamp emitting a bright white light. The stage is tucked into a corner with the back two sides hidden by dark heavy curtains. The stage lighting is filtered to purple creating shadows everywhere and absorbed by the black vinyl floor. A cute female is singing onstage accompanied by a piano player. I somehow recognize the words: The Way We Were, by Barbara Streisand. Huh. That’s not what I read this place is about. I walk over to the bar and witness a conversation between the bartender and one of the employees, a woman in a slinky sexy lace cocktail dress, black, to match her skin.
She turns to me with a neutral gaze. I notice her eyes are darker than mine and her eyebrows are thin with arrows penciled on the ends for that slightly sinister look.
“Is she singing Barbara Streisand?” I ask.
“Pull back your hood,” her voice has a hint of authority as her right hand firmly rests on her right hip.
“What? Oh, sorry,” I mutter as I pull my hoodie off my head.
“I had to make sure you weren’t a feral cat,” she glances at my honest feline face.
“Yes, that’s Gianna Yanelli a fine vocalist doing the great female diva hits of the seventies. You know, like Streisand, Liza Minelli, Patti LuPone,” her left hand expresses her thoughts and words as my eyes move up her arm to where the lace begins just below her elbow.
“Sorry, I’m not too familiar with those singers,” I shake my head.
“But could you direct me to Sade?” I ask like a good kitty.
“Well, little girl, Sade is standing right in front of you,” she pronounces her name shah-DAY. Her red lipstick glistens under the purple lights into a big, big smile as she turns squarely in my direction and I check out her body in that super sexy evening dress. The front V cuts down between her breasts as large circular white earrings sway like pendulums.
I look down to my hoodie pockets and catch her knee flexing as it moves out from underneath the dress and I follow it down her slim shapely black legs. I start to pull out the little red notebook, but her hand stops me.
“I see. Let’s go back stage,” her silky voice is almost like a spell. I obediently follow, like a good little kitty.
Friday 6:45 pm
The dressing room. I hand Sade the little red notebook. She opens it up and scans the last page. I watch her wet red lips purse. She blinks once, twice, then snaps the notebook shut and places it on the table and turns to me.
“So, you’re the little kitten I was expecting tonight,” her black eyes study me. I slowly nod my head.
“Take your jacket off,” again her voice changes a bit. More strong and assertive.
I unzip it and she extends her hands to take it. She throws it over on a bed against the wall. I watch her look at my chest.
“You fancy yourself a French girl, like Cosette?” her long finger points at my red scoop t-shirt.
“Meow,” I hear my voice imitate my pet Salem.
“Oh, you really want to be my French kitty?” her laugh filled with shades of evil intentions.
“Ed!” she swivels her head as those big hoop earrings sway.
An older man steps in from the hallway. His gray beard is trimmed with flecks of pepper.
“Bring me a special,” she orders.
Ed quietly turns and disappears down the hallway.
“You won’t be wearing those,” Sade points down to my cute black suede booties.
I try to kick them off like a seasoned stripper, but realize they have zippers. Darn! I always look foolish. I giggle as I bend one leg and then the other zipping off my ankle boots and dropping them on the dressing room floor.
“And your socks,” her voice sounding more commanding as the minutes go by.
I pull them off as well and throw them over to the bed, turning around smiling, but Sade is not enjoying my playful attitude.
Ed returns with a shot glass full of liquid spirits. Sade points to me and he offers me the drink. As I take it from him, I can’t help but notice his eyes trying to undress me. I curl my free hand and claw the air a few feet away from his bearded face like a ferocious cat. My associated hiss comes out like a kitten, a soft meow. He smiles at my unsuccessful attempt at being a tiger.
“That will be all, Ed,” Sade informs him. He bows to her and leaves the way he arrived, quietly.
“Maybe this will give me my inner tiger,” I say as I quickly down it and gasp like a teenager drinking alcohol for the first time.
“Take it easy,” Sade comforts me and walks me over to the bed. I sit down and stare up a her. Feeling… sleepy.
Friday 7:00 pm
The stage. A red spotlight turns on highlighting a chair. A girl dressed in white lingerie sits on it. Her head bent down.
Soon the audience begins a low chant:
“Shah-DAY, Shah-DAY, Shah-DAY…”
Out walks a super vixen dominatrix. Her black leather boots, laced up past her knees, confidently strike the floor. She enters the spotlight revealing a red corset with black cords accenting her body. Her red garter belt attaches to the black lace stockings that peek out of the tops of her boots by straps ending in red as well. She wears a black leather WWII German SS cap and holds a riding crop.
“Tonight, we have a little minx who thinks she is a tiger!” Sade yells into the unlit audience as she taps the girl’s bare thighs with the crop.
“One of our associates, Ed, has shot her with a tranquilizer. Or rather, given her a drink. Das Besondere! The Special!” as the audience laughs.
Sade bends over the quiet girl and lifts her chin.
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” as the crop lightly pats her cheeks.
Sade walks around behind the chair. Suddenly the girl’s head is pulled back by her ponytail! A gasp is heard. It is the girl. It is me.
“Ohhhh!” I exclaim looking out into darkness.
“Dornröschen ist erwacht! The Sleeping Beauty has awoken!” Sade yells into the audience.
I try to get up but realize my arms are tied to the armrests and my ankles strapped to the legs of the chair. I’m tense. My hands form a tight fist as I try the restraints again. I can feel the burning red spotlight on my camisole, only the thin spaghetti straps secure it to my body and my lace boyshorts cover my sex. I begin to sweat as I hear the sounds of the audience. I look out and the once bright lamps on each table are now hazy and dim. I look around the walls. All black, no reflection and the smell of dust and cigarette smoke fills my nostrils. I look again out into the dark and see the condensation on the drink glasses, but the faces are left in the shadows. I hear murmuring and ice shifting in the glasses as some of them move their chairs for a better view. I try to turn my head around, but feel the tight grip of a hand on my hair. In a ponytail! A hush falls over the room.
My ponytail is released as this vixen walks around to the front again. My eyes start at the floor and move up over her knee-high boots past her black bikini covered butt and further up over her red velvet bustier where her long curly black hair resides. This is clearly not the same sexy woman in the elegant cocktail dress, is it?
She turns to the crowd holding something in her hands. Something shiny and metallic. She displays the object like a magician pulling a rabbit out of her top hat, or a game show hostess presenting a prize. She turns in my direction and instead of enjoying her super sexy red corset providing a generous view of the tops of those luscious dark orbs, I see the object in her hands. A large pair of scissors, all steel and gleaming in the bright light! I gasp again.
I don’t know what to expect and as anxiety increases so does the sweat running down my temple. Sade grabs the bottom of my white camisole and starts to snip. Each cut with methodical precision. Enjoying the slow progress up my beautiful lace camisole. After each inch of fabric she snips, she pauses. Snip. Pause. Snip. Pause. The sound of the shears is deafening and unending. The sound alone captivated the room, the clip of the blades coming together, the fabric shearing. Sade cut a precise straight line right up the center, over my navel and just stopping at the sternum when she stepped away. The sheer lace fabric on each side of the cut hangs at my sides. My skin between exposed. Sade leans down in her German SS hat and gives me a kiss. No passion. All dominance. She pulls away and the crowd sees her lipstick marking my lips as a prized possession. I thought I could hear them murmur in agreement and approval. I want to scream.
Before I do, a patron in the audience cries out, “Don’t tease us, keep going!”
A few chuckles are emitted. I try to peer out into the hazy darkness to relieve my tension, but it does not help. Sade snips the last inch of my white camisole. The evenly cut sides fall away exposing my breastbone and all the way down to my boyshorts.
Then Sade steps out of the spotlight. I feel every pair of eyes on me. My semi naked body. Only the thin shoulder straps holding up my sheared camisole. I want to cry. Silence fills the stage.
Then Sade struts back into the spotlight showing off her hot ebony body in her vixen outfit. I feel a tap on my thigh. Another one. I look down and see the scissors bouncing against my leg. She is playing with me, intently analyzing the weight of the scissors against my soft flesh.
Without giving away her intent, suddenly I feel the point of the shears against my throat. The air is literally sucked out of the darkened theater. Silence again rules. I watch her dark face study my body for a minute as if she is reviewing what to do next. She lifts the scissors and presses the flat side of the blades against my breast, not cutting, not breaking skin but pushing in like on a soft pillow. The audience senses her control over me. The possibility of injury at the forefront of everyone’s mind, especially my own. She now cuts my right shoulder strap which fully exposes my C cup breasts for everyone to see. She emphasizes the softness and venerability of my breast, how my skin indents with even a light touch. Only a slight fraction of an inch from my pink areola, the blades open and shut without catching skin, slicing the air as if cutting a thread just above my nipple.
The closed blades then slide down between my breasts to my belly button, skimming and gently pressing against the soft tissue like a fingernail, leaving only the faintest pink scratch. Then she continues to drag the tips of the hard steel further down to the most sensitive parts of my thigh. I shudder at the sensation of the cold metal, or is it the dread of the sharp blade?
I’m terrified but also getting aroused. These strange sensations of fear, humiliation and loss of control have me shivering in the chair. But also wanting… No… Needing more. Sade is completely dominating me as the cluster of strangers watch us. I feel a jolt of excitement every time the audience flinches at Sade’s movement. They hold their breath or clench their teeth trying to be still. Maybe if they are still enough, the sharp edges won’t penetrate my skin. She knows how to tease, how it’s unsettling yet exhilarating to watch her methodical, slow torture. This super sexy vixen is as skillful with a tongue as with a pair of shears. Their sharp edges so near my skin, maybe touching my skin, the tension in the crowd expanding, filling up like a balloon about to burst. But I sense the calm control Sade exhibits with her use of the lethal implement. As she draws them close, I get goosebumps. My delicate light tan flesh rises to the magnetic draw of the carbon steel.
Then the scissors are flat on my tummy, pointing downward, she moves them up and down, the tips slipping beneath the waistband of my white lace panties. The coldness more pronounced on my shaved mound. The sensation more exhilarating. Underneath my panties the scissors follow the contour of my waist. At the middle of my left leg, she opens them up as the lace insert rest against the lower blade. She easily snips through the lace and repeats the technique on my right leg. The front of my panties falls forward like a drawbridge. My shaved pussy is now exposed for the entire room to see. I swear I hear a few gasps and chuckles. I strain against the bindings. Looking down at my exposed sex hoping the spotlight will turn off. I feel vulnerable, my nakedness feeding my fear. Sade kneels at my side and dismissively yanks the scraps of my panties out from under my butt and tosses them into the darkness.
The stage is low putting my knees at the spectator’s eye level, their gaze lines up right between my legs. Sade uses the scissors to lift my chin. I look into her wicked black eyes. She runs the points along my body without even looking, the blades spread making an X, raking across my abdomen in long sweeps. My skin reddens from the friction but does not get cut. My mind is clouded, my body resistive and tense. Sade is still looking in my eyes as she touches the flats of the scissors to my kitty, to the protruding labia. I hear a moan from a female in the crowd. A combination of dread and desire that I also feel. The steel is wet from my sex. She closes the blades only an inch from my moist petals. The snip is loud in the dead silence of the theater. A singular gasp comes from another female in the dark.
Sade brings the scissors to her lips and kisses them. She licks her lips approvingly and then rests the points on my lower lip. She slowly pushes the implement into my mouth as I open it without thinking. I feel the coldness of the steel, the sharpness of the points and taste the metallic surface on my tongue. I take the scissors like a sword swallower and look up at Sade, seeking for her approval but she turns her head out to the audience. She waits till she hears my throat muscles convulse then withdraws the sharp implement as a strand of saliva stretches until it breaks off and dribbles on my chin.
I again strain to search the crowd. Still a mystery of who is out there watching. I hear Sade walk behind me and cut my left shoulder strap. From the remnants of my camisole she cuts and fashions a strip that she wraps around my eyes and ties it at the back of my head. I feel the bright lights but I am in darkness. I try to relax and trust that Sade would not hurt me, not in front of an audience. But I don’t know her, and this cabaret show has devolved into some crazy BDSM. For the past hour, all my muscles have been tense and I feel fatigued. Sade stands over me and says, “Are you ready?” I hesitate. Sade has not misjudged a movement, has not nicked me or drawn a drop of blood but I’m frightened. I am also oddly excited and compelled to obey. I nod underneath my blindfold.
I can feel the humid air and hypnotized crowd. I know their eyes are drinking me in but thirst for more. Now there is no blade on my naked skin but I feel a tingling through my body, the unknown, the unseen. Suspense edged with… what? What might Sade really do? Her hand touches mine with a reassuring squeeze. I return the squeeze.
“Unser kleiner Tiger ist bereit! Our little Tiger is ready!” Sade announces.
“Those who want to play, line up over here and wait until I wave you up. Remember, hands only! You are done when I say you are done! Any trouble and my crack shot, Ed, will pick you off with his German Gewehr rifle.”
I am freaking out! Turning my head as I pull at the ties on my wrist and ankles. She told me it would only be her and I on the stage! She said it was just a show! I can only pray she is just teasing me, but actually she’s terrifying me! I hear mumbling and chairs shifting. I tell myself to breathe. It must be just people getting drinks and not really coming to the stage. I know it’s just a show but my body knows it is bound naked to a chair and I am being watched. I have no idea who is out there. Are they amused, drunk or crazed? One stranger is scary, a crowd is even less predictable and dangerous. I want to scream!!!!!!!!!!!
The first touch is a jolt. The tip of a fingernail grazing the back of my neck. I didn’t even hear the person walk behind me. The fingernail was sharp and threatening just like the edges of the scissors. I envision a woman with brightly painted acrylic nails. The fingers tangle in my hair and like a claw flexing open and closed, lightly massaging my scalp. The hand pulls away I feel a slight chilling touch between my breasts, the cold touch of a ghost, perhaps? The sensation moves over a nipple and circles it with a deliberate clumsiness that increases my anxiety. Now a hand grabs the other breast, a grip that is clammy and awkward like that of a teenage boy. I picture him wearing glasses and combed over greasy hair with pimples all over his face. Yuck! That hand is replaced by warmer ones, cupping both of my boobs. I picture someone standing right in front of me with a nervous sweat running down his forehead. My nipple gets a quick hard pinch right before I hear receding footsteps.
Suddenly someone grabs my neck and I gasp loudly as the hand goes to my chin holding my head up. The palm of the other hand flat on my chest. The movements are swift and strong. I can feel my sweat trickle down my chest under the glaring lights. Are these the hands of Sade trying to deceive me or someone else? My neck is squeezed again, shortly and not too tight but still a moment of constriction and I miss a breath. The hands release their grip and I gasp again filling my lungs with much needed air. Now a pair of hands rest on my thighs. I sense someone kneeling before me. Their face is so close I can feel their moist breath between my legs. Starting on my left they blow on my knee, up my inner thigh, across my pussy, and down the other thigh only to repeat it again. God, this is more than “Hands only!” I think to myself. And now I hear a feminine giggle between my knees. Sade? Or a woman from one of the tables?
Next strong hands massage the muscles of my neck and shoulders. I am almost positive this is Sade now. Somehow she got from between my legs to my back quickly without making a sound, without disturbing my cat senses. I tell myself that’s what happened. She’s quick and quiet. I believe it was Sade touching me the whole time and the sound of footsteps and scent of unknown perfume and cologne was farther away then it seemed. I must believe that she was pretending to be other people, tricking me, testing me. She would never turn me over to a bunch of strangers. She couldn’t. Could she?
Hands slide over my shoulders and across my tummy. Hands squeeze my boobs and tug on them like they are udders. I want to scream! More hands skim over my thighs and rest on my hips and slap my cheek with a little sting. Other hands grab my ass and cup my sweaty shaved mound from behind. Fingers strum across my aching clit then pop in and out of my mouth! When will this end?!??! The quick darting touches come from all directions like a school of piranha dancing in to nibble and zipping away. I have become disoriented by the overwhelming contact. I tell myself repeatedly it is just Sade. Of course, it is! Sade circling me, disguising herself, lighting fast hands touching every part of me at once.
And yet I may never know what has happened on the outside of the blindfold. Even if she tells me it was only her I will have to take her word. I believe it was Sade’s hands that touched my body, my soul, her hands that I tasted and bucked against, but… Can I really ever know?
Maybe it’s the not knowing that has caused the ecstasy in my mind and the flood of juices from my core.
“Die Show ist zu Ende! The Show has ended! Vielen Dank für Ihre Teilnahme! Thank you all for your participation!” Sade states to the audience.
All the lights immediately turn off. I hear the crowd shuffle toward the exits.
I feel the knot of my blindfold being untied and removed. It is Sade. She takes my hand and leads me off the stage.
Friday 8:30 pm
The dressing room. Sade is a woman of few words but once in her dressing room she unties my ponytail and runs her hands through it providing a nice relaxed and comforting atmosphere.
“You did wonderful tonight on the stage,” her voice reassuring but with hints of passionate tones.
I remained silent trying not to shake from the experience that has consumed me.
“How did you like it?” she asks as her hands hold my shoulders giving me some warmth.
“I didn’t! I was scared!! And did you really let those people touch me?!!??” my voice filled with anger and shock.
Sade studies me for a moment, standing there naked before her eyes. She takes a step closer, our bodies just inches apart, her dark eyes look deep into mine. I feel her hand touch my sex. Her index finger follows my slit, pressing my labia slightly apart. Now the finger is touching my lower lip. It is wet. With my juices.
“Did you not feel some excitement up on the stage?” she intense gaze hoping for the right response.
Again, I remained silent. I search my inner thoughts. I am conflicted. Confused. They are competing inside me. Which to choose? And yet, they both feel right. My duality exposed. I have to confess!
“I liked it,” I whisper as I lower my head.
Sade lifts my chin.
“I couldn’t hear you,” her diabolical stage persona is demanding I acknowledge her authority.
“I liked it!” I blurted out, revealing my inner dark desires.
Sade moves her hand behind my neck and pulls me to her.
Our kisses are equally shared, equally strong. Two independent females showing their power.
Then she walks to the table in her black leather dominatrix boots and picks up a bottle of Christian Brothers VS and pours some in a cut glass. She turns and takes a long sip as she points to the bed against the wall. I turn and see my black jeans, my red scoop Les Miserables shirt, socks, hoodie, and my cute ankle booties on the floor. On the pillow rests leather cuffs and a blindfold.
“You choose,” I hear her voice like in a dream.
She pours another glass of brandy as I stand there looking at the bed. I really can’t wait to get out of this seedy place and get back to my apartment and take a hot shower. I move to the middle edge of the bed and look at my clothes. I bend down and… I bend down… I’m presenting my bare-naked ass to Sade. My vulva slick with my cat juices is fully exposed to her dark eyes. I know she is staring at me. I close my eyes. My inner good kitty freezes as my little bad kitty takes over. I open my eyes and see the cuffs in my hands! I stand to examine the bindings with my fingertips.
“Good choice,” Sade calmly states.
Her voice breaks me out of my naughty thoughts and desires. I turn to face her with a look of doubt.
“Come here,” she invokes me.
I hesitate.
She slams her glass on the table. I don’t want her angry with me. My feet bring my naked body over to this vixen in her red corset and German SS cap. She smartly grabs one of the cuffs from my hands and gently wraps it around the pink line on my wrist the earlier binding had left. Then she does the same with the other and uses the spring hook to bring my wrists together. The smile leaves her face and she pulls the straps of the cuffs tight and buckles them down.
“KNEEL!” her voice crushes any resistance I had stored inside me. She is back to the dominatrix of few words.
I obey as my knees feel the vinyl floor. My eyes look at her black leather boots, the lacing, all the way up to her knee and over the lace stockings. Her own black bikini showing no signs of wetness, total control, and that red hot corset. All this adds up to a very powerful and domineering woman that has me hypnotized with secret dark desires.
She raises one boot and rests it on the chair next to us.
“KISS IT!”
I lick my dry lips and lean forward with my hands shackled. I press my wet lips to the boot toe.
“LICK IT!”
My tongue comes out of my mouth, touching the top of the boot and sliding it all the way up to her knee.
“Now take my boot off,” she demands, the presence of this ebony queen giving me pure excitement.
I start to reach up with my bound hands.
“Keep your hands down!” she chastises me.
I look up at her dark face, her purple lips parted by the crystal glass as she sips some more brandy. I move my face to the top of her boot and use my teeth and mouth to untie the lace. After a few seconds, with minimal effort, I succeed in unlacing her knee-high boot halfway down.
“You are skilled with that mouth. Good to know,” my evil black queen chuckles.
She replaces one boot for the other on the chair. Again, without being told, I begin to unravel the knot at the top of the boot. My teeth pull the laces through half of the eyelets all in quick fashion. I sit back on my feet and watch my dominatrix Sade slip each leg out of the boots. I now feast my eyes on her sexy sheer stockings ending in lace and a red garter belt.
She pushes the chair away with her nylon covered foot and stands before me. My eyes level with her crotch. I gaze upon her wondering what splendor hides underneath her panties. Maybe the Grand Canyon, with deep, dark crevices. So dark, the honey is black. My heart skips a beat. Then another. I wait for further instructions. She does not disappoint.
“Now my little kitten, take off my panties,” her voice soothing but assertive.
I start to reach with my bound hands but stop and look up for approval. My ebony beauty nods. My fingers remove the front garter straps and she shows a bit of courtesy by turning around as I undo the back straps. Now my fingers curl under the black waistband and I tug them expertly off her hips and over her wide butt then all the way down to her ankles. She steps out of them and I place them in her outstretched hand.
Sade bends down and I feel her sharp fingernails trace a line down from my temple, over my soft cheek and under my chin, lifting it up to meet her gaze.
“Did you get a good look?” she calmly states.
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing it was a rhetorical question, but not wanting to anger my dominatrix.
“Have you tasted black pussy before?”
“No,” I whisper looking directly into her wide eyes as her glossy red lips form another big, big smile.
And I wait. For that one required word.
“LICK!” she shouts, it is music to my ears. Meow.
Her nylon covered feet slide across the vinyl floor spreading her black legs apart. But I didn’t wait, no hesitation, I lean in tongue first. I flick her dark purple outer folds, already damp and tangy. The scent between her thighs is like a mango, a mixture of sweetness and tartness. I move my face so close my cat ears are pinched between her firm black thighs. I feel her strong hand on the back of my head, holding it against her Grand Canyon. My tongue darts in and out of her, licking the citric juices from her canyon walls. She pushes my head closer. I plunge my tongue deeper like a rock climber rappelling down her sheer canyon walls. Utter pinkness surrounds me like the setting sun. My tongue bounces off the cliff walls, repelling further down to where I hear the distant roar of her river cutting through the canyon. I am almost there.
But I pull back, needing oxygen. I gasp. Sade laughs. I stop her laughing by biting her purple petals, all soft and chewy. Like finding the fruit of a prickly pear cactus and discovering a welcome flood of liquid. I take a deep breath before she pushes me back inside her black canyon. Her other hand wrapped around my long brown hair matted with sweat and hanging down like a tattered curtain covering my breasts.
A few more rappels and I can hear the roar of her river. It is very close!
But again, I pull back. Gasp. She laughs some more. I nibble some more! Those beautiful dark purple folds, so different from my pink ones. My teeth close over her wet labia and I suck them in. I tug on them and spit them out. Then again licking her outer folds with added pressure and fervor. My head is squeezed tighter and I know Sade is near the edge of her cliff.
Another deep breath.
Another rappel.
I can hear rocks falling as my tongue licks her soft inner pink canyon. I lick hard and fast, rappelling down to the canyon floor as my tongue splashes into the river floating with fruit. I wait for her vocal meows but she does not moan or shake. And then that river floods my mouth with fruit bombs. Hot and tangy! So fucking awesome! Her hand drops away and stares at my face all shiny with her sweetness.
I stand up as Sade is pouring another glass of Christian Brothers VS. She turns and gathers my hair pulling it back.
“Open your mouth.”
I do.
She brings the glass to my upturned face and tilts it. My throat starts to burn. She waits till I swallow.
“That’s a good kitty. Again.”
And I open my mouth as she pours another shot down my throat. I swallow. This time I cough. It burns even more.
“One more time for good measure.”
She pours another shot down my throat.
I gasp for air and let Sade lead me over to the bed. I lay down and take more deep breaths. Sade pulls a box out from under the bed and rummages through it. I hear metal clinks, the rattle of chain, all muffled with softer items as I try to regain my composure and strength. I look down to my feet where Sade slips leather cuffs around my ankles and tightens them with the belt buckle.
“Spread your legs.”
I do as my head begins to clear a little.
I see a black metal bar about three feet long. She positions it between my feet and using the spring hooks on each end the bar is now secured to my ankle cuffs. I am still a bit dazed my body is limp under her complete control. She kneels on the bed and yanks my wrists forward to connect them to the middle of the bar with another spring hook which puts me in a sitting position. She pushes me back down which raises my legs in the air. I hear the room ventilation turn on and a draft of air flows over my sweaty anus and moist pussy.
I try to concentrate on her red corset that pushes her breasts together and up, showing a good portion of the brown melons she possesses. I want to see them so bad I can taste them. She leans over my face and they briefly press against my forehead. But then darkness consumes me as she ties the blindfold around my eyes! Now I really feel apprehensive and vulnerable. I am blind and cannot move. I am at her mercy.
Silence. Then she shifts her body on the bed. More silence.
Now I feel a finger separating my pink labia. The tip of the finger slides up and down the channel as my lips swallow her fingernail.
Up, down, up, down. She lets me enjoy this simple predictable rhythm when suddenly two fingers pinch my clit, hard. Fuck! The pain! I meow. And then it is followed immediately by a mini convulsion of pleasure. Another meow leaves my throat before I know it. A second later, something like piece of cloth is shoved into my mouth. My tongue plays with it as my saliva forms. Soon I can taste something citric and tangy. Mangoes! Her panties!! FUCK!!!
Like on the stage earlier, I am terrified and excited beyond anything I have ever felt. My pussy is immediately filled with fingers. No teasing, rubbing or buildup. I am just being fucked. My vagina already convulsing, a spasm with each thrust. I was edging by the end of our show for the audience and the whole time in the dressing room. I am wild with the sensation and about to explode. I feel a kiss, lips touch my swollen clit and I flood them with my nectar. Then nothing but silence except for my heavy breathing. It fills the room. I am laying there unable to move, unable to see, all but unable to breathe and shaking from an incredible orgasm but feel nothing as Sade has abandon me.
My pussy juices begin to trickle down over my anus and pool onto the bed where my lower back rests on the mattress. Another minute passes as I feel the air draft cool my light tan skin covered with perspiration. Then the buzzing sound of an electrical device. I hear it get louder as it comes closer. It must be between my legs.
The device, most likely a vibrator, is pushed hard over my shave mound. The vibrating head collides with my swollen labia just as the last wave of my orgasm had subsided. FUCK!!!
I squirm out of control and the next orgasm is rapidly building in the sensitive pink walls of my vagina. Sade tortures my clit with what must be a Hitachi vibrating massager. The undulations are going right through my cervix, up my spine and straight to my brain stem causing fire and sparks like I’m taking 100 Amps on my 20 Amp circuit and I’m just waiting for the fuse to blow.
She brings me right to the edge. I’m about to have a seizure but then she pulls the vibrator away. As my excitement increases, the sensations subside. Then she repeats the process all over again. Fucking witch! Let me cum!!! I silently scream to myself as I choke on her dirty underwear.
Sade was an expert at keeping me on the edge like a rollercoaster at the top of the tracks before it makes the steep plunge down. All my muscles ached from the constant contractions, but she wouldn’t let me cum. If I could only free my hands to touch myself. My body was burning and needing relief.
After a half dozen cycles of this torture, the buzzing motor stopped. I was practically numb with delayed gratification. I began to panic in the silence needing to cum sooo badly and not knowing what was next. I felt her body shift as if she is lifting a leg over me. Yes, now I could feel her nylon legs touching my sides. Then my nose smells her ass! As she lowers her body closer my nose makes contact and she pulls her panties out of my gagging mouth only to be replaced with her fucking awesome purple labia!
Sade isn’t gentle or slow. She rides my face without mercy. I return her aggression by jabbing my tongue deep into my assailant. She rides harder, I lick faster. Sade grinds into my mouth as I bite the folds of her sex, my jaw bone in smooth motion as I eat her tangy fruit. I feel Sade bear down, her full weight on my face as if she is about to cum. Just then she slams the Hitachi right on my aching clit. Simultaneously we reach the heights of ecstasy. She explodes and I actually feel in danger of drowning! Her secretions flood my mouth, throat and spill over my cheeks and neck soaking my once lovely chocolate brown hair. My tectonic plates split apart and the pent-up juices spew forth like a fountain. I feel the stream shoot from my vagina. Holy Fuck! I squirted!! I squirted cum!!! Meeeoooowwww!!!!!
My heart is racing as it runs circles around my tired lungs. Wave after wave. Convulsion after convulsion. Then the orgasm slowly recedes. The puddle soaks my ass and the bed. My heart may quit and I may expire right here. But Wow! What a way to go.
Sade removes my blindfold and picks up her black bikini that I sucked dry. I watch her wipe her kitty clean with it while her eyes move over my bound body. She drops her panties next to my head and walks over to the table. The chair makes contact with her bare ass as I view the lacings of her corset between the wooden slats as she leans back in it. I listen as she pours yet another glass of brandy and slides the little red notebook in front of her as she opens it and begins to write.
I lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling feeling completely spent. My body is exhausted to the core, my soul shaken. I find myself lost in a new world. I have given my mind and body to Sade and she has directed and commanded me to please her. Under her precise control I had an orgasm unlike any I have had before.
I hear a drawer open and see her place the little red notebook in it and lock it up with a key. She walks over to me in her sheer black stockings and leans over the bed. My wrist cuffs are unhooked from the spacer bar and my legs drop down. The back of my legs feel the cold dampness on the mattress from my vaginal discharge. Sade unhooks my ankles from the bar. Lastly, she unhooks my wrists to separate them.
“I need to get back to work. Help me undress,” Sade calmly requests.
Only now do I hear singing and applause from outside the dressing room as the sounds of the cabaret come back to life.
Sade lifts her right leg and places her foot on the bed. I roll down her stocking and gently pull it off her foot. She lifts her left leg and I repeat the process. Her own hands slowly pull down her red garter belt, over her perfect black ass and it slides down her sexy legs and remains on the floor. Then she tosses her German SS cap onto the bed and takes off her wig of long black curls. Her short straight black hair hangs over one eye. She brushes it to the side.
“Undo my corset,” she again softly requests.
My hands still wrapped in the furry leather cuffs delicately begin at the bottom. As I work my way up, her sleek, firm ebony skin is revealed. When my hands reach the top and undo the last two hooks, the red corset opens up and her big bosom spills out. Fuck.
Her ebony melons are large, but not outrageously huge. I follow their round outline and notice some patches of sweat from being trapped in that tight corset for hours. They barely sway, they are so firm. I try not to gawk. Perfect round circles, darker than her skin, surround nipples that rest in the middle of those chocolate mountains. I swear they start to lengthen as I stare at them. But Sade quickly slips out of her corset and turns to walk over to the closet.
“You’re such a good kitty,” she talks to me as she steps into that sexy black lace cocktail dress.
Now in elegant black heels she walks back over to me.
“Be a good girl and zip me up,” as she turns to present her back to me.
I do.
“If you need some more brandy, I will leave it out for you. And don’t worry, I will take care of that little red notebook for you. You’re such a charming young girl. Meow.”
And with that, Sade walks out into the hallway to resume her theater duties.
Slowly I unbuckle the restraints from my wrists and ankles. Rubbing each in turn to facilitate blood circulation. I find my socks and pull up my black jeans and reach for my red Les Miserables t shirt.
“Cosette, do you protect me?” I ask her.
I believe she does, as I pull her over my breasts and zip up my ankle booties.
I stare at the desk for a few minutes. Then I get up and walk over to it. My eyes pass over the Christian Brothers VS bottle that has maybe two shots left. I examine the pen Sade used and notice the ink would match that in the notebook. Hmmm? I debate whether to open the drawer. But she locked it, didn’t she?
I look down at my chest and ask, “Cosette, what should I do?” but giggle and zip up my hoodie.
Friday 5:15 pm
“Alexa, play Tove Lo”
“Sorry, J Lo?” Alexa answers back.
“No. Tove Lo the Swedish singer!” I yell back at my smart (dumb?) assistant.
“Tove Lo. Got it!” Alexa responds accordingly.
Sweettalk My Heart begins to play:
Tell me you love me, tell me you're mine
Tell me, I know it, don't need a sign
But I feel different, know you don't lie
But I want attention, commitment, intertwined
What are your dreams?
Give me the details, all in-between
Just let me know, yeah, we can go far
Don't turn your shoulder, get colder, keep me warm
Beep, beep, beep, beep!
I take my dish out of the microwave and sit at the small dining table. Salem is on all fours on the dining table as well. She is my cat. My black cat.
Sweeter than love
Is the taste of all those promises
That pulls you in for good
Can't get enough
Put your top moves on and run with it
Sweet talk that shit, so good
I’m eating leftovers. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. No gravy, ahhhh!! So I put on extra butter. I watch it melt as Salem sticks her face in her bowl. Fancy feast, of course! She looks up now and then and licks her lips. I take a fork of buttery potatoes and swallow. I too lick my lips. At Salem. Meow.
Her green eyes flash at me. I swear Salem is smarter than me!
I can be yours
I can be yours now
I can be yours
I can be yours now
I can't get enough
Put your top moves on and run with it
Sweet talk that shit, so good
“Salem, what should I wear tonight?” I ask my sexy feline, her fur shines like my dark brown hair.
We each chew some more food. As Tove Lo sings on:
I can be yours (I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours (I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours (I can be yours, I can be yours)
I can be yours now
I can be yours
Sweet talk my heart now
Friday, 5:30 pm
After our dinner, I sort through my dresser drawers looking for something comfortable. Salem jumps up on our bed and watches. Ummm, black jeans, check! My Les Miserables scoop t-shirt, red with the black stencil print of Cosette, check! And some lingerie I bought last week on Amazon from the Velvet Kitten shop. They had a sexy camisole called Deep Desires I couldn’t pass up! White, lace cups, lace insets on the sides, thin shoulder straps and matching boyshorts. Purrfect!
Friday, 6:00 pm
I step into my black suede Skechers ankle bootie with faux fur lining to keep my feet warm and pull the short zipper over my ankles. Nice treads in case it snows. Meow. Next my black hoodie. Zippp!
I grab the little red notebook and say goodbye to Salem with a kiss and pull the hood over my head and walk out into the cold night.
As the bus makes its way to 10th Ave, I watch people get on and off at the various stops. At one of the stops a nice-looking older gentleman gets on and sits across from me. I look up from my smartphone and we gaze briefly at each other before I start to smile and return to my phone. The bus lurches forward and a small gust of air brings a smell to my nose. Ummm, cologne. I inhale again. Ummm, Davidoff cologne. Like cool water. Reminds me of… my Uncle. I look up at him, but he is too involved with his phone. I smile.
Friday 6:30 pm
The bus comes out of the Lincoln Tunnel, right where Jersey spills into midtown. It stops at the corner of W 41st St. I hop down in my little black ankle booties in front of a Wells Fargo. My Uncle told me that back in the 70s this used to be a scary place to walk, but now the streetlights give the tall gray concrete buildings a protective presence. The streets have been recently plowed, small mounds of dirty snow are pushed up against the curbs and resting along side trash cans and benches. A few white flakes pass my face as I move down 10th Ave to the building next door. It says “yotel” above the revolving door entrance. I check my phone and confirm this is the place. I take a deep breath, and silently push through the turning doors. The snow continues to fall behind me.
Friday 6:35 pm
The seating area of The Green Room is filled with an audience sitting around small circular tables. Each has a lamp emitting a bright white light. The stage is tucked into a corner with the back two sides hidden by dark heavy curtains. The stage lighting is filtered to purple creating shadows everywhere and absorbed by the black vinyl floor. A cute female is singing onstage accompanied by a piano player. I somehow recognize the words: The Way We Were, by Barbara Streisand. Huh. That’s not what I read this place is about. I walk over to the bar and witness a conversation between the bartender and one of the employees, a woman in a slinky sexy lace cocktail dress, black, to match her skin.
She turns to me with a neutral gaze. I notice her eyes are darker than mine and her eyebrows are thin with arrows penciled on the ends for that slightly sinister look.
“Is she singing Barbara Streisand?” I ask.
“Pull back your hood,” her voice has a hint of authority as her right hand firmly rests on her right hip.
“What? Oh, sorry,” I mutter as I pull my hoodie off my head.
“I had to make sure you weren’t a feral cat,” she glances at my honest feline face.
“Yes, that’s Gianna Yanelli a fine vocalist doing the great female diva hits of the seventies. You know, like Streisand, Liza Minelli, Patti LuPone,” her left hand expresses her thoughts and words as my eyes move up her arm to where the lace begins just below her elbow.
“Sorry, I’m not too familiar with those singers,” I shake my head.
“But could you direct me to Sade?” I ask like a good kitty.
“Well, little girl, Sade is standing right in front of you,” she pronounces her name shah-DAY. Her red lipstick glistens under the purple lights into a big, big smile as she turns squarely in my direction and I check out her body in that super sexy evening dress. The front V cuts down between her breasts as large circular white earrings sway like pendulums.
I look down to my hoodie pockets and catch her knee flexing as it moves out from underneath the dress and I follow it down her slim shapely black legs. I start to pull out the little red notebook, but her hand stops me.
“I see. Let’s go back stage,” her silky voice is almost like a spell. I obediently follow, like a good little kitty.
Friday 6:45 pm
The dressing room. I hand Sade the little red notebook. She opens it up and scans the last page. I watch her wet red lips purse. She blinks once, twice, then snaps the notebook shut and places it on the table and turns to me.
“So, you’re the little kitten I was expecting tonight,” her black eyes study me. I slowly nod my head.
“Take your jacket off,” again her voice changes a bit. More strong and assertive.
I unzip it and she extends her hands to take it. She throws it over on a bed against the wall. I watch her look at my chest.
“You fancy yourself a French girl, like Cosette?” her long finger points at my red scoop t-shirt.
“Meow,” I hear my voice imitate my pet Salem.
“Oh, you really want to be my French kitty?” her laugh filled with shades of evil intentions.
“Ed!” she swivels her head as those big hoop earrings sway.
An older man steps in from the hallway. His gray beard is trimmed with flecks of pepper.
“Bring me a special,” she orders.
Ed quietly turns and disappears down the hallway.
“You won’t be wearing those,” Sade points down to my cute black suede booties.
I try to kick them off like a seasoned stripper, but realize they have zippers. Darn! I always look foolish. I giggle as I bend one leg and then the other zipping off my ankle boots and dropping them on the dressing room floor.
“And your socks,” her voice sounding more commanding as the minutes go by.
I pull them off as well and throw them over to the bed, turning around smiling, but Sade is not enjoying my playful attitude.
Ed returns with a shot glass full of liquid spirits. Sade points to me and he offers me the drink. As I take it from him, I can’t help but notice his eyes trying to undress me. I curl my free hand and claw the air a few feet away from his bearded face like a ferocious cat. My associated hiss comes out like a kitten, a soft meow. He smiles at my unsuccessful attempt at being a tiger.
“That will be all, Ed,” Sade informs him. He bows to her and leaves the way he arrived, quietly.
“Maybe this will give me my inner tiger,” I say as I quickly down it and gasp like a teenager drinking alcohol for the first time.
“Take it easy,” Sade comforts me and walks me over to the bed. I sit down and stare up a her. Feeling… sleepy.
Friday 7:00 pm
The stage. A red spotlight turns on highlighting a chair. A girl dressed in white lingerie sits on it. Her head bent down.
Soon the audience begins a low chant:
“Shah-DAY, Shah-DAY, Shah-DAY…”
Out walks a super vixen dominatrix. Her black leather boots, laced up past her knees, confidently strike the floor. She enters the spotlight revealing a red corset with black cords accenting her body. Her red garter belt attaches to the black lace stockings that peek out of the tops of her boots by straps ending in red as well. She wears a black leather WWII German SS cap and holds a riding crop.
“Tonight, we have a little minx who thinks she is a tiger!” Sade yells into the unlit audience as she taps the girl’s bare thighs with the crop.
“One of our associates, Ed, has shot her with a tranquilizer. Or rather, given her a drink. Das Besondere! The Special!” as the audience laughs.
Sade bends over the quiet girl and lifts her chin.
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” as the crop lightly pats her cheeks.
Sade walks around behind the chair. Suddenly the girl’s head is pulled back by her ponytail! A gasp is heard. It is the girl. It is me.
“Ohhhh!” I exclaim looking out into darkness.
“Dornröschen ist erwacht! The Sleeping Beauty has awoken!” Sade yells into the audience.
I try to get up but realize my arms are tied to the armrests and my ankles strapped to the legs of the chair. I’m tense. My hands form a tight fist as I try the restraints again. I can feel the burning red spotlight on my camisole, only the thin spaghetti straps secure it to my body and my lace boyshorts cover my sex. I begin to sweat as I hear the sounds of the audience. I look out and the once bright lamps on each table are now hazy and dim. I look around the walls. All black, no reflection and the smell of dust and cigarette smoke fills my nostrils. I look again out into the dark and see the condensation on the drink glasses, but the faces are left in the shadows. I hear murmuring and ice shifting in the glasses as some of them move their chairs for a better view. I try to turn my head around, but feel the tight grip of a hand on my hair. In a ponytail! A hush falls over the room.
My ponytail is released as this vixen walks around to the front again. My eyes start at the floor and move up over her knee-high boots past her black bikini covered butt and further up over her red velvet bustier where her long curly black hair resides. This is clearly not the same sexy woman in the elegant cocktail dress, is it?
She turns to the crowd holding something in her hands. Something shiny and metallic. She displays the object like a magician pulling a rabbit out of her top hat, or a game show hostess presenting a prize. She turns in my direction and instead of enjoying her super sexy red corset providing a generous view of the tops of those luscious dark orbs, I see the object in her hands. A large pair of scissors, all steel and gleaming in the bright light! I gasp again.
I don’t know what to expect and as anxiety increases so does the sweat running down my temple. Sade grabs the bottom of my white camisole and starts to snip. Each cut with methodical precision. Enjoying the slow progress up my beautiful lace camisole. After each inch of fabric she snips, she pauses. Snip. Pause. Snip. Pause. The sound of the shears is deafening and unending. The sound alone captivated the room, the clip of the blades coming together, the fabric shearing. Sade cut a precise straight line right up the center, over my navel and just stopping at the sternum when she stepped away. The sheer lace fabric on each side of the cut hangs at my sides. My skin between exposed. Sade leans down in her German SS hat and gives me a kiss. No passion. All dominance. She pulls away and the crowd sees her lipstick marking my lips as a prized possession. I thought I could hear them murmur in agreement and approval. I want to scream.
Before I do, a patron in the audience cries out, “Don’t tease us, keep going!”
A few chuckles are emitted. I try to peer out into the hazy darkness to relieve my tension, but it does not help. Sade snips the last inch of my white camisole. The evenly cut sides fall away exposing my breastbone and all the way down to my boyshorts.
Then Sade steps out of the spotlight. I feel every pair of eyes on me. My semi naked body. Only the thin shoulder straps holding up my sheared camisole. I want to cry. Silence fills the stage.
Then Sade struts back into the spotlight showing off her hot ebony body in her vixen outfit. I feel a tap on my thigh. Another one. I look down and see the scissors bouncing against my leg. She is playing with me, intently analyzing the weight of the scissors against my soft flesh.
Without giving away her intent, suddenly I feel the point of the shears against my throat. The air is literally sucked out of the darkened theater. Silence again rules. I watch her dark face study my body for a minute as if she is reviewing what to do next. She lifts the scissors and presses the flat side of the blades against my breast, not cutting, not breaking skin but pushing in like on a soft pillow. The audience senses her control over me. The possibility of injury at the forefront of everyone’s mind, especially my own. She now cuts my right shoulder strap which fully exposes my C cup breasts for everyone to see. She emphasizes the softness and venerability of my breast, how my skin indents with even a light touch. Only a slight fraction of an inch from my pink areola, the blades open and shut without catching skin, slicing the air as if cutting a thread just above my nipple.
The closed blades then slide down between my breasts to my belly button, skimming and gently pressing against the soft tissue like a fingernail, leaving only the faintest pink scratch. Then she continues to drag the tips of the hard steel further down to the most sensitive parts of my thigh. I shudder at the sensation of the cold metal, or is it the dread of the sharp blade?
I’m terrified but also getting aroused. These strange sensations of fear, humiliation and loss of control have me shivering in the chair. But also wanting… No… Needing more. Sade is completely dominating me as the cluster of strangers watch us. I feel a jolt of excitement every time the audience flinches at Sade’s movement. They hold their breath or clench their teeth trying to be still. Maybe if they are still enough, the sharp edges won’t penetrate my skin. She knows how to tease, how it’s unsettling yet exhilarating to watch her methodical, slow torture. This super sexy vixen is as skillful with a tongue as with a pair of shears. Their sharp edges so near my skin, maybe touching my skin, the tension in the crowd expanding, filling up like a balloon about to burst. But I sense the calm control Sade exhibits with her use of the lethal implement. As she draws them close, I get goosebumps. My delicate light tan flesh rises to the magnetic draw of the carbon steel.
Then the scissors are flat on my tummy, pointing downward, she moves them up and down, the tips slipping beneath the waistband of my white lace panties. The coldness more pronounced on my shaved mound. The sensation more exhilarating. Underneath my panties the scissors follow the contour of my waist. At the middle of my left leg, she opens them up as the lace insert rest against the lower blade. She easily snips through the lace and repeats the technique on my right leg. The front of my panties falls forward like a drawbridge. My shaved pussy is now exposed for the entire room to see. I swear I hear a few gasps and chuckles. I strain against the bindings. Looking down at my exposed sex hoping the spotlight will turn off. I feel vulnerable, my nakedness feeding my fear. Sade kneels at my side and dismissively yanks the scraps of my panties out from under my butt and tosses them into the darkness.
The stage is low putting my knees at the spectator’s eye level, their gaze lines up right between my legs. Sade uses the scissors to lift my chin. I look into her wicked black eyes. She runs the points along my body without even looking, the blades spread making an X, raking across my abdomen in long sweeps. My skin reddens from the friction but does not get cut. My mind is clouded, my body resistive and tense. Sade is still looking in my eyes as she touches the flats of the scissors to my kitty, to the protruding labia. I hear a moan from a female in the crowd. A combination of dread and desire that I also feel. The steel is wet from my sex. She closes the blades only an inch from my moist petals. The snip is loud in the dead silence of the theater. A singular gasp comes from another female in the dark.
Sade brings the scissors to her lips and kisses them. She licks her lips approvingly and then rests the points on my lower lip. She slowly pushes the implement into my mouth as I open it without thinking. I feel the coldness of the steel, the sharpness of the points and taste the metallic surface on my tongue. I take the scissors like a sword swallower and look up at Sade, seeking for her approval but she turns her head out to the audience. She waits till she hears my throat muscles convulse then withdraws the sharp implement as a strand of saliva stretches until it breaks off and dribbles on my chin.
I again strain to search the crowd. Still a mystery of who is out there watching. I hear Sade walk behind me and cut my left shoulder strap. From the remnants of my camisole she cuts and fashions a strip that she wraps around my eyes and ties it at the back of my head. I feel the bright lights but I am in darkness. I try to relax and trust that Sade would not hurt me, not in front of an audience. But I don’t know her, and this cabaret show has devolved into some crazy BDSM. For the past hour, all my muscles have been tense and I feel fatigued. Sade stands over me and says, “Are you ready?” I hesitate. Sade has not misjudged a movement, has not nicked me or drawn a drop of blood but I’m frightened. I am also oddly excited and compelled to obey. I nod underneath my blindfold.
I can feel the humid air and hypnotized crowd. I know their eyes are drinking me in but thirst for more. Now there is no blade on my naked skin but I feel a tingling through my body, the unknown, the unseen. Suspense edged with… what? What might Sade really do? Her hand touches mine with a reassuring squeeze. I return the squeeze.
“Unser kleiner Tiger ist bereit! Our little Tiger is ready!” Sade announces.
“Those who want to play, line up over here and wait until I wave you up. Remember, hands only! You are done when I say you are done! Any trouble and my crack shot, Ed, will pick you off with his German Gewehr rifle.”
I am freaking out! Turning my head as I pull at the ties on my wrist and ankles. She told me it would only be her and I on the stage! She said it was just a show! I can only pray she is just teasing me, but actually she’s terrifying me! I hear mumbling and chairs shifting. I tell myself to breathe. It must be just people getting drinks and not really coming to the stage. I know it’s just a show but my body knows it is bound naked to a chair and I am being watched. I have no idea who is out there. Are they amused, drunk or crazed? One stranger is scary, a crowd is even less predictable and dangerous. I want to scream!!!!!!!!!!!
The first touch is a jolt. The tip of a fingernail grazing the back of my neck. I didn’t even hear the person walk behind me. The fingernail was sharp and threatening just like the edges of the scissors. I envision a woman with brightly painted acrylic nails. The fingers tangle in my hair and like a claw flexing open and closed, lightly massaging my scalp. The hand pulls away I feel a slight chilling touch between my breasts, the cold touch of a ghost, perhaps? The sensation moves over a nipple and circles it with a deliberate clumsiness that increases my anxiety. Now a hand grabs the other breast, a grip that is clammy and awkward like that of a teenage boy. I picture him wearing glasses and combed over greasy hair with pimples all over his face. Yuck! That hand is replaced by warmer ones, cupping both of my boobs. I picture someone standing right in front of me with a nervous sweat running down his forehead. My nipple gets a quick hard pinch right before I hear receding footsteps.
Suddenly someone grabs my neck and I gasp loudly as the hand goes to my chin holding my head up. The palm of the other hand flat on my chest. The movements are swift and strong. I can feel my sweat trickle down my chest under the glaring lights. Are these the hands of Sade trying to deceive me or someone else? My neck is squeezed again, shortly and not too tight but still a moment of constriction and I miss a breath. The hands release their grip and I gasp again filling my lungs with much needed air. Now a pair of hands rest on my thighs. I sense someone kneeling before me. Their face is so close I can feel their moist breath between my legs. Starting on my left they blow on my knee, up my inner thigh, across my pussy, and down the other thigh only to repeat it again. God, this is more than “Hands only!” I think to myself. And now I hear a feminine giggle between my knees. Sade? Or a woman from one of the tables?
Next strong hands massage the muscles of my neck and shoulders. I am almost positive this is Sade now. Somehow she got from between my legs to my back quickly without making a sound, without disturbing my cat senses. I tell myself that’s what happened. She’s quick and quiet. I believe it was Sade touching me the whole time and the sound of footsteps and scent of unknown perfume and cologne was farther away then it seemed. I must believe that she was pretending to be other people, tricking me, testing me. She would never turn me over to a bunch of strangers. She couldn’t. Could she?
Hands slide over my shoulders and across my tummy. Hands squeeze my boobs and tug on them like they are udders. I want to scream! More hands skim over my thighs and rest on my hips and slap my cheek with a little sting. Other hands grab my ass and cup my sweaty shaved mound from behind. Fingers strum across my aching clit then pop in and out of my mouth! When will this end?!??! The quick darting touches come from all directions like a school of piranha dancing in to nibble and zipping away. I have become disoriented by the overwhelming contact. I tell myself repeatedly it is just Sade. Of course, it is! Sade circling me, disguising herself, lighting fast hands touching every part of me at once.
And yet I may never know what has happened on the outside of the blindfold. Even if she tells me it was only her I will have to take her word. I believe it was Sade’s hands that touched my body, my soul, her hands that I tasted and bucked against, but… Can I really ever know?
Maybe it’s the not knowing that has caused the ecstasy in my mind and the flood of juices from my core.
“Die Show ist zu Ende! The Show has ended! Vielen Dank für Ihre Teilnahme! Thank you all for your participation!” Sade states to the audience.
All the lights immediately turn off. I hear the crowd shuffle toward the exits.
I feel the knot of my blindfold being untied and removed. It is Sade. She takes my hand and leads me off the stage.
Friday 8:30 pm
The dressing room. Sade is a woman of few words but once in her dressing room she unties my ponytail and runs her hands through it providing a nice relaxed and comforting atmosphere.
“You did wonderful tonight on the stage,” her voice reassuring but with hints of passionate tones.
I remained silent trying not to shake from the experience that has consumed me.
“How did you like it?” she asks as her hands hold my shoulders giving me some warmth.
“I didn’t! I was scared!! And did you really let those people touch me?!!??” my voice filled with anger and shock.
Sade studies me for a moment, standing there naked before her eyes. She takes a step closer, our bodies just inches apart, her dark eyes look deep into mine. I feel her hand touch my sex. Her index finger follows my slit, pressing my labia slightly apart. Now the finger is touching my lower lip. It is wet. With my juices.
“Did you not feel some excitement up on the stage?” she intense gaze hoping for the right response.
Again, I remained silent. I search my inner thoughts. I am conflicted. Confused. They are competing inside me. Which to choose? And yet, they both feel right. My duality exposed. I have to confess!
“I liked it,” I whisper as I lower my head.
Sade lifts my chin.
“I couldn’t hear you,” her diabolical stage persona is demanding I acknowledge her authority.
“I liked it!” I blurted out, revealing my inner dark desires.
Sade moves her hand behind my neck and pulls me to her.
Our kisses are equally shared, equally strong. Two independent females showing their power.
Then she walks to the table in her black leather dominatrix boots and picks up a bottle of Christian Brothers VS and pours some in a cut glass. She turns and takes a long sip as she points to the bed against the wall. I turn and see my black jeans, my red scoop Les Miserables shirt, socks, hoodie, and my cute ankle booties on the floor. On the pillow rests leather cuffs and a blindfold.
“You choose,” I hear her voice like in a dream.
She pours another glass of brandy as I stand there looking at the bed. I really can’t wait to get out of this seedy place and get back to my apartment and take a hot shower. I move to the middle edge of the bed and look at my clothes. I bend down and… I bend down… I’m presenting my bare-naked ass to Sade. My vulva slick with my cat juices is fully exposed to her dark eyes. I know she is staring at me. I close my eyes. My inner good kitty freezes as my little bad kitty takes over. I open my eyes and see the cuffs in my hands! I stand to examine the bindings with my fingertips.
“Good choice,” Sade calmly states.
Her voice breaks me out of my naughty thoughts and desires. I turn to face her with a look of doubt.
“Come here,” she invokes me.
I hesitate.
She slams her glass on the table. I don’t want her angry with me. My feet bring my naked body over to this vixen in her red corset and German SS cap. She smartly grabs one of the cuffs from my hands and gently wraps it around the pink line on my wrist the earlier binding had left. Then she does the same with the other and uses the spring hook to bring my wrists together. The smile leaves her face and she pulls the straps of the cuffs tight and buckles them down.
“KNEEL!” her voice crushes any resistance I had stored inside me. She is back to the dominatrix of few words.
I obey as my knees feel the vinyl floor. My eyes look at her black leather boots, the lacing, all the way up to her knee and over the lace stockings. Her own black bikini showing no signs of wetness, total control, and that red hot corset. All this adds up to a very powerful and domineering woman that has me hypnotized with secret dark desires.
She raises one boot and rests it on the chair next to us.
“KISS IT!”
I lick my dry lips and lean forward with my hands shackled. I press my wet lips to the boot toe.
“LICK IT!”
My tongue comes out of my mouth, touching the top of the boot and sliding it all the way up to her knee.
“Now take my boot off,” she demands, the presence of this ebony queen giving me pure excitement.
I start to reach up with my bound hands.
“Keep your hands down!” she chastises me.
I look up at her dark face, her purple lips parted by the crystal glass as she sips some more brandy. I move my face to the top of her boot and use my teeth and mouth to untie the lace. After a few seconds, with minimal effort, I succeed in unlacing her knee-high boot halfway down.
“You are skilled with that mouth. Good to know,” my evil black queen chuckles.
She replaces one boot for the other on the chair. Again, without being told, I begin to unravel the knot at the top of the boot. My teeth pull the laces through half of the eyelets all in quick fashion. I sit back on my feet and watch my dominatrix Sade slip each leg out of the boots. I now feast my eyes on her sexy sheer stockings ending in lace and a red garter belt.
She pushes the chair away with her nylon covered foot and stands before me. My eyes level with her crotch. I gaze upon her wondering what splendor hides underneath her panties. Maybe the Grand Canyon, with deep, dark crevices. So dark, the honey is black. My heart skips a beat. Then another. I wait for further instructions. She does not disappoint.
“Now my little kitten, take off my panties,” her voice soothing but assertive.
I start to reach with my bound hands but stop and look up for approval. My ebony beauty nods. My fingers remove the front garter straps and she shows a bit of courtesy by turning around as I undo the back straps. Now my fingers curl under the black waistband and I tug them expertly off her hips and over her wide butt then all the way down to her ankles. She steps out of them and I place them in her outstretched hand.
Sade bends down and I feel her sharp fingernails trace a line down from my temple, over my soft cheek and under my chin, lifting it up to meet her gaze.
“Did you get a good look?” she calmly states.
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing it was a rhetorical question, but not wanting to anger my dominatrix.
“Have you tasted black pussy before?”
“No,” I whisper looking directly into her wide eyes as her glossy red lips form another big, big smile.
And I wait. For that one required word.
“LICK!” she shouts, it is music to my ears. Meow.
Her nylon covered feet slide across the vinyl floor spreading her black legs apart. But I didn’t wait, no hesitation, I lean in tongue first. I flick her dark purple outer folds, already damp and tangy. The scent between her thighs is like a mango, a mixture of sweetness and tartness. I move my face so close my cat ears are pinched between her firm black thighs. I feel her strong hand on the back of my head, holding it against her Grand Canyon. My tongue darts in and out of her, licking the citric juices from her canyon walls. She pushes my head closer. I plunge my tongue deeper like a rock climber rappelling down her sheer canyon walls. Utter pinkness surrounds me like the setting sun. My tongue bounces off the cliff walls, repelling further down to where I hear the distant roar of her river cutting through the canyon. I am almost there.
But I pull back, needing oxygen. I gasp. Sade laughs. I stop her laughing by biting her purple petals, all soft and chewy. Like finding the fruit of a prickly pear cactus and discovering a welcome flood of liquid. I take a deep breath before she pushes me back inside her black canyon. Her other hand wrapped around my long brown hair matted with sweat and hanging down like a tattered curtain covering my breasts.
A few more rappels and I can hear the roar of her river. It is very close!
But again, I pull back. Gasp. She laughs some more. I nibble some more! Those beautiful dark purple folds, so different from my pink ones. My teeth close over her wet labia and I suck them in. I tug on them and spit them out. Then again licking her outer folds with added pressure and fervor. My head is squeezed tighter and I know Sade is near the edge of her cliff.
Another deep breath.
Another rappel.
I can hear rocks falling as my tongue licks her soft inner pink canyon. I lick hard and fast, rappelling down to the canyon floor as my tongue splashes into the river floating with fruit. I wait for her vocal meows but she does not moan or shake. And then that river floods my mouth with fruit bombs. Hot and tangy! So fucking awesome! Her hand drops away and stares at my face all shiny with her sweetness.
I stand up as Sade is pouring another glass of Christian Brothers VS. She turns and gathers my hair pulling it back.
“Open your mouth.”
I do.
She brings the glass to my upturned face and tilts it. My throat starts to burn. She waits till I swallow.
“That’s a good kitty. Again.”
And I open my mouth as she pours another shot down my throat. I swallow. This time I cough. It burns even more.
“One more time for good measure.”
She pours another shot down my throat.
I gasp for air and let Sade lead me over to the bed. I lay down and take more deep breaths. Sade pulls a box out from under the bed and rummages through it. I hear metal clinks, the rattle of chain, all muffled with softer items as I try to regain my composure and strength. I look down to my feet where Sade slips leather cuffs around my ankles and tightens them with the belt buckle.
“Spread your legs.”
I do as my head begins to clear a little.
I see a black metal bar about three feet long. She positions it between my feet and using the spring hooks on each end the bar is now secured to my ankle cuffs. I am still a bit dazed my body is limp under her complete control. She kneels on the bed and yanks my wrists forward to connect them to the middle of the bar with another spring hook which puts me in a sitting position. She pushes me back down which raises my legs in the air. I hear the room ventilation turn on and a draft of air flows over my sweaty anus and moist pussy.
I try to concentrate on her red corset that pushes her breasts together and up, showing a good portion of the brown melons she possesses. I want to see them so bad I can taste them. She leans over my face and they briefly press against my forehead. But then darkness consumes me as she ties the blindfold around my eyes! Now I really feel apprehensive and vulnerable. I am blind and cannot move. I am at her mercy.
Silence. Then she shifts her body on the bed. More silence.
Now I feel a finger separating my pink labia. The tip of the finger slides up and down the channel as my lips swallow her fingernail.
Up, down, up, down. She lets me enjoy this simple predictable rhythm when suddenly two fingers pinch my clit, hard. Fuck! The pain! I meow. And then it is followed immediately by a mini convulsion of pleasure. Another meow leaves my throat before I know it. A second later, something like piece of cloth is shoved into my mouth. My tongue plays with it as my saliva forms. Soon I can taste something citric and tangy. Mangoes! Her panties!! FUCK!!!
Like on the stage earlier, I am terrified and excited beyond anything I have ever felt. My pussy is immediately filled with fingers. No teasing, rubbing or buildup. I am just being fucked. My vagina already convulsing, a spasm with each thrust. I was edging by the end of our show for the audience and the whole time in the dressing room. I am wild with the sensation and about to explode. I feel a kiss, lips touch my swollen clit and I flood them with my nectar. Then nothing but silence except for my heavy breathing. It fills the room. I am laying there unable to move, unable to see, all but unable to breathe and shaking from an incredible orgasm but feel nothing as Sade has abandon me.
My pussy juices begin to trickle down over my anus and pool onto the bed where my lower back rests on the mattress. Another minute passes as I feel the air draft cool my light tan skin covered with perspiration. Then the buzzing sound of an electrical device. I hear it get louder as it comes closer. It must be between my legs.
The device, most likely a vibrator, is pushed hard over my shave mound. The vibrating head collides with my swollen labia just as the last wave of my orgasm had subsided. FUCK!!!
I squirm out of control and the next orgasm is rapidly building in the sensitive pink walls of my vagina. Sade tortures my clit with what must be a Hitachi vibrating massager. The undulations are going right through my cervix, up my spine and straight to my brain stem causing fire and sparks like I’m taking 100 Amps on my 20 Amp circuit and I’m just waiting for the fuse to blow.
She brings me right to the edge. I’m about to have a seizure but then she pulls the vibrator away. As my excitement increases, the sensations subside. Then she repeats the process all over again. Fucking witch! Let me cum!!! I silently scream to myself as I choke on her dirty underwear.
Sade was an expert at keeping me on the edge like a rollercoaster at the top of the tracks before it makes the steep plunge down. All my muscles ached from the constant contractions, but she wouldn’t let me cum. If I could only free my hands to touch myself. My body was burning and needing relief.
After a half dozen cycles of this torture, the buzzing motor stopped. I was practically numb with delayed gratification. I began to panic in the silence needing to cum sooo badly and not knowing what was next. I felt her body shift as if she is lifting a leg over me. Yes, now I could feel her nylon legs touching my sides. Then my nose smells her ass! As she lowers her body closer my nose makes contact and she pulls her panties out of my gagging mouth only to be replaced with her fucking awesome purple labia!
Sade isn’t gentle or slow. She rides my face without mercy. I return her aggression by jabbing my tongue deep into my assailant. She rides harder, I lick faster. Sade grinds into my mouth as I bite the folds of her sex, my jaw bone in smooth motion as I eat her tangy fruit. I feel Sade bear down, her full weight on my face as if she is about to cum. Just then she slams the Hitachi right on my aching clit. Simultaneously we reach the heights of ecstasy. She explodes and I actually feel in danger of drowning! Her secretions flood my mouth, throat and spill over my cheeks and neck soaking my once lovely chocolate brown hair. My tectonic plates split apart and the pent-up juices spew forth like a fountain. I feel the stream shoot from my vagina. Holy Fuck! I squirted!! I squirted cum!!! Meeeoooowwww!!!!!
My heart is racing as it runs circles around my tired lungs. Wave after wave. Convulsion after convulsion. Then the orgasm slowly recedes. The puddle soaks my ass and the bed. My heart may quit and I may expire right here. But Wow! What a way to go.
Sade removes my blindfold and picks up her black bikini that I sucked dry. I watch her wipe her kitty clean with it while her eyes move over my bound body. She drops her panties next to my head and walks over to the table. The chair makes contact with her bare ass as I view the lacings of her corset between the wooden slats as she leans back in it. I listen as she pours yet another glass of brandy and slides the little red notebook in front of her as she opens it and begins to write.
I lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling feeling completely spent. My body is exhausted to the core, my soul shaken. I find myself lost in a new world. I have given my mind and body to Sade and she has directed and commanded me to please her. Under her precise control I had an orgasm unlike any I have had before.
I hear a drawer open and see her place the little red notebook in it and lock it up with a key. She walks over to me in her sheer black stockings and leans over the bed. My wrist cuffs are unhooked from the spacer bar and my legs drop down. The back of my legs feel the cold dampness on the mattress from my vaginal discharge. Sade unhooks my ankles from the bar. Lastly, she unhooks my wrists to separate them.
“I need to get back to work. Help me undress,” Sade calmly requests.
Only now do I hear singing and applause from outside the dressing room as the sounds of the cabaret come back to life.
Sade lifts her right leg and places her foot on the bed. I roll down her stocking and gently pull it off her foot. She lifts her left leg and I repeat the process. Her own hands slowly pull down her red garter belt, over her perfect black ass and it slides down her sexy legs and remains on the floor. Then she tosses her German SS cap onto the bed and takes off her wig of long black curls. Her short straight black hair hangs over one eye. She brushes it to the side.
“Undo my corset,” she again softly requests.
My hands still wrapped in the furry leather cuffs delicately begin at the bottom. As I work my way up, her sleek, firm ebony skin is revealed. When my hands reach the top and undo the last two hooks, the red corset opens up and her big bosom spills out. Fuck.
Her ebony melons are large, but not outrageously huge. I follow their round outline and notice some patches of sweat from being trapped in that tight corset for hours. They barely sway, they are so firm. I try not to gawk. Perfect round circles, darker than her skin, surround nipples that rest in the middle of those chocolate mountains. I swear they start to lengthen as I stare at them. But Sade quickly slips out of her corset and turns to walk over to the closet.
“You’re such a good kitty,” she talks to me as she steps into that sexy black lace cocktail dress.
Now in elegant black heels she walks back over to me.
“Be a good girl and zip me up,” as she turns to present her back to me.
I do.
“If you need some more brandy, I will leave it out for you. And don’t worry, I will take care of that little red notebook for you. You’re such a charming young girl. Meow.”
And with that, Sade walks out into the hallway to resume her theater duties.
Slowly I unbuckle the restraints from my wrists and ankles. Rubbing each in turn to facilitate blood circulation. I find my socks and pull up my black jeans and reach for my red Les Miserables t shirt.
“Cosette, do you protect me?” I ask her.
I believe she does, as I pull her over my breasts and zip up my ankle booties.
I stare at the desk for a few minutes. Then I get up and walk over to it. My eyes pass over the Christian Brothers VS bottle that has maybe two shots left. I examine the pen Sade used and notice the ink would match that in the notebook. Hmmm? I debate whether to open the drawer. But she locked it, didn’t she?
I look down at my chest and ask, “Cosette, what should I do?” but giggle and zip up my hoodie.
2 年 前
we live, we fully feel everything that Sarah lives in this story.
this meeting full of sensuality with "Sade" ... I note the ambiguity of the name between the famous singer (I like her very much) and the divine Marquis "de Sade"
This impression is reinforced by the bdsm session to which Sarah submits with so much pleasure...
But if the mystery is still not lifted, the investigation is progressing...
Finally I will say that the sex scenes are always so... breathtaking... that's the word!
And then, the allusion to Cosette... the reference to one of the greatest French novels is an honor...
allow me, Sarah, to be your Gavroche or your Jean Valjean... I leave the choice to you...
Some men here may be more circumspect. We are visitors to a special universe in Catwoman's spellbinding literature. But you have to know the delicious detail you impart in all of your sex scenes is highly arousing to us. . . dirty old men and elegant lesbian women alike, and all the nuanced identities that fall between those extremes on the spectrum. Spectrum. Yes. . . there is a reason one of the key emblems of LGBTQ1+ identity and activism is a rainbow. . .
I just wonder about this Ed character who delivers spiked drinks and lurks backstage with his 98k cavalry carbine. . .
Remember to pronounce it correctly, shah-DAY or she may bring out the whip
During her performance with a Ebony Dominatrix disguised as an SS officer, the whole scene, where Sarah obediently and cheerfully obeys her mistress, is cut (it is the case to say it!) with a maniacal precision, a minutia. And the author gives back, this time with Sade, in the BDSM boudoir. As a result, these two performances are offered to us as a series of close-ups. This process, very skilful, allows to multiply the pleasure of the amateur reader of this genre by making him/her savor each gesture and each reaction of the two protagonists.
That said, I cannot help but draw an analogy, once again, between this story and the troubled and perverse universe of some of Luis Buñuel’s films. I am thinking, in particular, of films such as Belle de Jour and Cet obscur Objet du Désir.
Does the whole story of our cat-writer take place in the real world or is it the fantasy representation, presented in a quasi-dreamlike setting, of the restrained desires and impulses of the narrator? All the art of our Sarah is to skillfully maintain this almost permanent state of confusion in the reader.
By acting in this way, the author allows the reader to benefit from the best of both worlds: to satisfy his voyeuristic impulses in the context of a double show, public and private, also disturbing, deliciously perverse as sensual while remaining within the reassuring framework of reality. This is what I call great art that only our Sarah could offer us with as much passion as dedication to her faithful audience, who can only ask for more each time.