The Dom's Diary: Cypher Text

It's one of those bittersweet moments, the kind you look forward to and  yet it makes you sad.  This is the last  post for The Dom's Diary.  Abyrne will be taking some time off to work on his book deals that he signed!  YAY!  This means you can read more from him soon!  

But don't abandon our Wednesday posts just yet, we have something up our sleeve that I think you'll all enjoy.  

The Dom's Diary: Cypher Text

by

Abyrne Mostyn

            She was here when I arrived home, I knew it the minute I had walked in.  The day had run long, but not overly so.  I could smell the crisp notes of sea spray and sand from a fragrance she favored.  I had asked her to wear it.  I needed the respite from the dank of the city and the illusion of the coast would work.

Beta had met me at the door, tail wagging his hind quarters in a full show of affection and undeniable happiness.  I loved coming home to this dog.  The day could take me to the razor’s edge of wanting to slit mine and other’s throats and Beta would just stand at the door and all but soil the floor in happiness because I’d arrived.  Was I a sodding bastard because I wanted a woman who did the same?  I truly didn’t think so.

Lucy would be a dream to come home to every night if she were willing to give up her carefree and the other women.  She was Marilyn Monroe with soft brown locks and a libido that hadn’t said ‘no’ that I could recall.  Prompt, punctual, eager to please, and willing and able to cum on command; and that was just five of her assets.  She would never settle down though.  She loved as she wanted and went whichever way the wind blew her.  I suppose I should count my blessings that she came when I called.  I had thought often about entertaining her and one of her gal pals, but had decided against it as I was fairly certain that my territorial nature would kick up and ruin it all.

Clearing the foyer and part of the main hall, she was right where I had asked her to be, just as I had asked her to be…waiting for me.  Watching Cla’vis display the other night had been an exercise in torture.  She was free with her display and obviously enjoyed anal play.  I had thought, before I had taken time to think, that I’d return the favor to her soon, but I had realized that same night as I stood on the pier that Cla’vis and I were only dancing, and the music would eventually come to an end.

Snapped back to the moment, I had taken a deep inhale of Lucy’s scent and knew I was not with Cla’vis.  Only Lucy could smell like this and I was not so far gone to think of another when I was with someone.  That was a line I would not cross.

I stood in the doorway to the small space of my home office, drinking her in as she leaned over my desk, the handle to the anal key glinting between her rounded cheeks with the crackles of fire from the hearth as the flames licked at the dry tinder she had lit there.  She was water to my parched soul as I had stood and simply let my eyes roam her figure.  She hadn’t moved, though I knew she was aware of my arrival.  Beta’s tapping on the tile and soft howls would have alerted her to my presence.

As always, she was exactly as I had requested her to be.  Tall enough in her heels to be the right height, hair up off her neck, her skin had glowed rosy from the recent buffing in the shower that she had taken when she arrived.  She had worn nothing save the item I had requested.  I had trailed my hands down her back and over the luscious curves of her hips before giving the key a turn and walking off to have a shower of my own. 

Returning a short while later, she was exactly where I had left her.  Walking around the desk to see her face, she had worn a smug smile, knowing she had done well and I was pleased. 

“I see you wore your key.”

“As you requested Sir.”

“Tell me girl, did you do as else I requested?”

“Everything is as you wish it to be Sir.”

“Good girl.  How should I reward you first?”

“As you wish to reward me Sir.”

“A very good answer.”

I had taken her hands, which she had merely rested on the surface to the edge nearest me, fixing her fingertips over the carved lip before moving around to the opposite side behind her.  Still in my towel, I had dropped to my knees on the soft foam she had placed as directed, sliding my hands up the backs of her thighs to knead at her cheeks.  The small puckers of flesh ran in dots up her legs ahead of, and behind the trail of my fingers.  Pushing down on the small of her back to force a greater arch to her hips, I had kicked her feet a bit wider with my knees.  The tiny fist of her ass had grabbed tight to the key and flexed around it as I positioned her.

Leaning in, I had lapped at the tight accordion with darting flicks of my tongue, pulling the cheeks of her wider to get the whole of my face between them.  The tang of metal was not what I had hoped for and while visually pleasing, it was not a taste I wanted.  Pulling back, I removed the key from its pocket…slowly.  It finally popped free and I set it aside before resuming my rimming of her, spearing my tongue forward to replace the key in the small void its removal had left.  The fine sheen of perspiration dotted up her back and released the ocean scent around her.  I continued my consumption of her flavors, drawing the scent in and letting my mind travel beyond this room.

I had lost track of time.  Neither of us had seemed to mind.  I was only remotely aware of it as I noticed her scent changing over from warm beach to something the same but also different.  There was a distinct air of fresh cunt mixed with the heated water and summer smell she had been wearing.  Threading my hand up between her legs, I had run an index finger straight up her core, finding the strand of pearls tucked neatly within, giving them a stir before adding a second finger.

“Flex.”

I could feel the contraction of the kegel muscles around my fingers and the slide of the pearls against the walls of her sheath before she released.  Only once, as instructed, she didn’t move otherwise.  Thrusting faster with my tongue, I felt myself winding tighter, but I wanted to savor her thoroughly so I did a bit of flexing of my own to stay the hard on I was gaining from the taste of Lucy.  I had known when she was close by the soft mewling she was no longer in control of.  Shushing her to quiet, I knew she was fighting to be compliant.  She was losing.

Pulling back, I had run my hands back down her thighs, sorry to be letting go of her ass as I was fighting the urge to stand and fuck her just where she was.  I had something else in mind when I had called her though, and she had come prepared for the play that I had suggested.  I could always claim her ass later.  Tapping her legs to shift as I commanded, she was the pinnacle of efficiency in her movements, knowing exactly what I wanted.

“Up girl.  Show me that pretty pussy is wet and ready for me.”

She hadn’t spoken, but had turned over and hopped back in one fluid movement.  I was surprised to see that glorious snatch of hers had been shaved clean.  She had always been well groomed, but this was new.  I approved and leaned down to bite her just above the apex as she was settling her legs, additionally pleased by the soft hitch of a gasp.

“For me?”

“Not originally no, but freshly today for you Sir.”

I could see the trails of cream that had run across her lips and the iridescence of it clinging to her soft folds.

“I approve.”

Moving her feet to rest on the arms of the chairs on either side of me, I was further impressed at the thorough job she had done.  Not a single hair remained.  All I was looking at was a shiny, naked pussy with a pearl peeking out from within the center of her.  She scooted her hips toward the edge of the desk without being told to do so, though I would not balk at it as it aided my quest.  Leaning back in I had taken a long, dragging lick up the center of her from tail to top, suckling the button at the cleft, savoring the throb of it against my tongue.  The tips of her breasts were pebbled tight and hefted with each breath she took.  They were not pants yet, but they were shorter than they had been when we had begun.

Settling in, I had enjoyed catching the trails of nectar that had run unchecked against my tongue and chin, teasing her clit on random passes to the peak.  Her breathing had increased and shallowed.  I had then pushed her knees wider and set to the task I had asked for.  One by one I had sucked, or speared my tongue forward to grab, each tiny pearl, running them up the sensitive center fold before grabbing the next on the strand.  Her milky release was thickening and her thighs had begun to shake.  Moving faster, I had liberated the entire strand, sucking the thick cream from each bead before her core began flexing in orgasm.  Dropping the pearls and my towel, I stood and slammed home as her release broke free, using one hand to pull against her thighs and the other to wind the knot of her clit to draw the release out or bring the next one right on its heels.

Lucy had never failed to satisfy and her rocking and flexing had kept pace with mine nearly until my own release poured forth.  There was nothing left to give when we were finished, and I was again surprised when, after helping her down, she initiated the aftercare of cleaning me before I could go and get a cloth for her.  I had not considered my shower towel, but she had and had used it.  She was exactly what I wanted, but somehow couldn’t find.

“Why can’t I find another one just like you to be mine alone?”

“Sir, if you could, you would have no need for me.”

“True Lucy, but you don’t want what I want.”

“Also true Sir.  Perhaps until then, we can just be for one another what is needed in the moments we have.”

I would have replied, but as I opened my mouth to speak, the chime of my phone went off from my jacket pocket over the back of the other chair.  I had forgotten it was there as I had watched Lucy leaning over my desk earlier, the perfect sub.  Pulling it out, tapping the screens to get to the message while watching her leaning back against my desk watching me, I must have worn a strange expression as she offered to get us drinks, moving away from my line of sight.

When she had returned, I was seething.  I was also stiffer and standing taller than the girders in the Sears Tower downtown.  She didn’t speak, but set aside the drinks before she sank to her knees before me, sucked the whole length down and quickly began to convulsively swallow against the crown.  I was so astonished by her actions, I didn’t think to hold back.  A few moments had passed in my shock before I could speak, my sac drawing tight.

“Lucy girl, if you keep that up, I’m goi…”

Just like that, before I had a chance to finish speaking she was sucking and milking the release down without a pause.  She had pumped a few times with her mouth and licked the tip clean before she disengaged.  I was fascinated.  As she stood and commented offhand that she needed to go, nodding at the clock that stood easily an hour past the time window we had agreed to, I could only nod and growl.  Her thumb and pinky wagged out at me as she mouthed, ‘Call me again soon lover’ and was out to the wash room with a hard sashay of her hips.

I had sat in stunned disbelief, though not because of Lucy.  No, Lucy had been par for the course of Lucy with her turning tables to have the last lick.  I was stunned at the text message.  There wasn’t enough there to cipher out a coded message.  All I could do was take it at face value.

“You’re late Maisu.”

Watch for The Dom's Diary in full coming in October 2013 to Amazon KDP.

The Dom's Diary: The Road Home

After reaching the pinnacle, the rollercoaster usually plummets to  the valley careening full steam ahead. What happens after you achieve that goal you've had in your sights? What next?  What now?  
 The next exhilarating twist is bound to leave you breathless!

 

The Dom's Diary:

The Road Home

by

Abyrne Mostyn 

 

 Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here 

Read part 5 here 
Read part 6 here
Read part 7 here  
Read part 8 here
Read part 9 here
Read part 10 here
Read part 11 here

                The roads had still been busy as I made my way home.  The Windy City seldom slept, even on a weeknight.  I had decided to take the surface streets and just enjoy the drive instead of the highway that would have taken half the time.  I‘d had a lot to ponder.  Cla’vis Tand was only the tip of the iceberg that had burgeoned my brain.  Ren’s parting comment about second chances had brought unbidden thoughts of Maggie screaming to mind.  Until now, she had been the only second chance I had ever wanted.

                It had been years since I’d seen her, though her face had held a permanent page marker in my day to day thoughts ever since.  Fresh faced and new to the scene when we’d met, she was energetic and adventurous.  I had done my best to kid-glove her into the scene, but she had wanted none of it.  Instead, she had elected to play hard and party harder.  I had thought she would burn up and out too soon to be one to try to tame.  She wasn’t interested in what I wanted.  She wanted to be like me.

                I was not then, nor now, a teacher.  I could have directed her toward someone who would have taught her how to be a Domme.  She had been polite but stern in her refusal.  She wanted to do it her way.  I could not short cut the lesson she would face.  Her way looked, then, and now in retrospect, to be the hard way and the lessons would not be kind on the journey she had undertaken.  I was saddened, but it wasn’t my call to make.

                Driving the lake shore, the water crypt tower silhouetted against the risen moon, I couldn’t help but think about yesterdays and the last time I’d noticed the monolithic beast that stood watch over the western shore.  We’d been out near the end of the pier, watching the moon rise, just talking.  She was heavy with emotion that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with decisions gone wrong.  I had been surprised to get her call.  She had been surprised that I had come at her request.

                A jazz trio had been playing in the hall, the doors wide open to catch the lake breezes and save the energy costs, the sounds spilling out across the walk and the water.  Leaning against the far wall, the city behind her was painted with pinks and blues of smog over sunset and had haloed her face.  The look she had worn was nothing angelic.  Someone had broken her.  I didn’t know the details and she wasn’t sharing them, but the story was etched deep in the lines that crisscrossed where once upon a time, I’d known a smile.

                I knew the clubs and dungeon she’d been frequenting, and the clientele.  She’d gone deep fast and hadn’t known when to hit the brakes to avoid the collision.  I’d seen it a thousand times.  There was nothing you could do until it was done.  Yellow lights didn’t mean the same thing to those who would guise their true nature in the name “Dom”.    I felt for her, but I couldn’t feel for her at the same time.  I was not responsible after her refusal to be aided, and now it was all over but for the medic duty.

                We had talked long into the night, standing under the Ferris wheel and sitting on the seawall that marked the end of the pier.  I heard her, but I don’t think she heard me.  She wasn’t looking for advice, just a shoulder to cry.  I could do that, and I did.  Before it was done I got one shot to change her path, I opted for allegory.

                “Life is like a game of chess sweetheart, there are pawns and there is royalty.  At the end of the game the last one standing is usually the Queen.  She’s the one who runs the show.  Even the King, though royalty is her pawn.”

                I turned her face to see me as she was staring at her shoes.  Storm ravaged eyes met mine, blinking rapidly to stay the tears she refused to let fall.  I tried to gentle my next comment knowing it would be the last one I’d get to make.  She was already ready to bolt.

                “Don’t settle for being anyone else’s game piece baby, run your own board.”

                The last I saw of her was the flare of her loose over-shirt trailing behind her as she ran back up the pier toward the city.  I had stood there for an hour, hoping she’d run back.  She never did.

                I don’t know how many times I’d driven the loop and gotten back to the beginning on South Wacker before I caught up to the night I was on instead of one so long past.  Then, Maggie had made me stop and question everything I was and wanted.  Now, Cla’vis was doing the same.  The thrill of admission to the Manse was jaded as I realized it was not for the membership that I had been elated, but for access to see her.   I had subs by the dozen who I could call to come and go at my will.  The idea of driving out of my way to see one woman, a woman who had so easily left me at the door, left me unsettled. 

                Melancholy thoughts had led me to park with the valet at the Sheraton towers and walk to the pier.  Bubba Gump’s was packed as usual with the late starting, emerging bar crowd.  The line for the IMAX was slow but boisterous and the smell of theater popcorn mixed with the spray of the lake hitting the seawall.  I had passed them all by and watched the last of the evening lake boat tours pull away from their stall.  I had stopped halfway through the stained glass museum at the 24-hour McDonald's and got a coffee.  Sleep was a luxury for a less addled mind than mine tonight and not worth the hours of clock-watching to attempt.  I could not put the past in its place, nor the future on my radar. 

                I’d watched the sun come up behind the tower across the crisp morning wakes before I was decided.  My coffee, long gone cold had not been necessary.  I am what I am.  Pulling out my phone as I made my way back to land, I had dialed a sub I favored and pulled a tip and the fee for the valet while I made my arrangements.  I had turned for home with just enough time to shower, change, make it to the El station to catch my train and get to work before the opening bell.  The idea of returning to my routine was sour, and I found I didn’t like that.  I didn’t like it one bit.

The Dom's Diary: Lace & Whiskey

After leaving us perched precariously on the razor's edge of divine pleasure,  Thorne  engages Clavis Tand's full attention.  Will he get everything he's been hoping for?

Lace & Whiskey

by

Abyrne Mostyn

 

                “We’ll take our drinks in the lower tilt please Ellis.”

                “Yes Pallaca.  One scotch neat and an Applejack, I’ll deliver them shortly.”

                “Right this way Thorne.”

                She gave orders like the Grande Dame of the place as though there was no doubt as to them being followed.  By the reaction of the barkeep, I’d guess there wasn’t.  I followed her as she sashayed down a hallway beyond the lower common room to one I didn’t remember seeing when I had first toured.  I wondered how many other rooms I hadn’t seen.  Walking in, the name made perfect sense as the centerpiece was a tilt table covered in black.  Not the shiny black of leather but a softer brushed looking suede.  All I could think was that must be a bitch to clean.

                She stopped in front of the table and promptly disrobed.  My eyes nearly bled as I watched her remove the chaps via zippers hidden in the outside leg and waist seams.  They fit so well, I had imagined watching her peal them like stockings down her legs while bent over a chair with each foot kicked up in turn.  This image was so much hotter.  One minute she had been standing in skin hugging leather chaps and a cross-back bustier, the next she was standing in a lace thong and a demi-cup bra that barely contained her generous assets.  Everything else cut away quick and was off like warm ups off a basketball player at game time and she hadn’t needed to remove her shoes.  It was inspirational.

                She had cocked her hip out, hand rested on the generous curve, waiting.  Watching me, her face was a chorus of ‘your turn’ but she had said nothing.  Walking further into the room, I was late to notice this one had no door.  It was not that I minded an audience, I hadn’t paid attention to the others to know if this was common or not.  I debated a moment too long and her hips straightened up as she crossed her arms.

                “Surely you don’t expect me to wait all day.”

                “No Pallaca, I was thinking that I’m worth the wait.”

                “You might be.  I’ve already waited though, since Maxim told me you were joining us.”

                It didn’t hurt my ego to know she’d been waiting.  I couldn’t help but wonder if that had her wet as she stood there.  Pacing the room, I walked purposefully around her knowing without knowing that she would not turn as I did so.

                “If I’m to disrobe, you’ll have to match me.”

                “As I’ve already disrobed, I believe it is you who needs to match me.”

                “Darling Cla’vis…Pallaca, I did not come in costume, and I daresay sweetness that I would not look as appealing in lace as you do.”

                A derisive snort was her only reply.  She still had not turned, so I turned her to face me.  Kicking aside my dock shoes, slowly unbuttoning the oxford, and shrugging out of it before I laid it across a nearby chair, I felt her appraisal and saw the question she didn’t voice.  Stepping in closer to her, I reached up and slipped the tiny straps from her shoulders until the fabric fell nearer to her elbows.  The slight demi-cups flipped upside down without the guide ropes to hold them up and in place, her breasts spilling over the fabric.  The cool air in the room was a stark contrast to the warm flesh.   It was my turn to watch as the cobbled buttons at the tips rose like braille.  Skimming them, I ran my fingers slowly around to the simple clasp and freed her, dropping the wisp of fabric down her arms, off, and into one hand, pulling her closer with the other.

                “Now isn’t that better?  We match.”

                Her eyes betrayed the fire I was building, but her lips were set in dissent.  She did not speak, did not sway, only stood there waiting.  I brought her hands up to my chest before setting mine on hers.  Cupping the weight of her breasts, I couldn’t resist the urge to thumb the straining tips.  Nor could I help but notice the soft hitch of her breath as I repeated the movement.  Leaning in I could smell her, clean linen and fresh cotton…crisp, clean, and something else.  I could hardly wait and let my hands slide down to remove the scrap of flesh that barred the last of her from my sight.

                “Ah, ah, ah Thorne…matching, remember?”

                Tracing fingers up her back, I leaned in, whispering to her what I wanted to know…

“Dites-moi je te fais mouiller…”

“Do you make me wet?  You know you do.”

I had hoped she understood the question.  I was pleased to know she did.  I knew she was wet, I could smell it.  I wondered how far she was willing to go.

“Montrez-moi.”

“Fair is fair.  Show me.”

Taking the scrap of lace and elastic that I still held, I took her hands in mine, leading them behind her as I embraced her and leaned in.

“Que vous le souhaitez…my command.”

Seizing the moment, gently, I wrapped the straps of fabric around her wrists, leaving them behind her back as I withdrew a step.   Slowly again, I moved to undo the fly of my jeans letting her watch each movement.  I had not lied.  I was not costumed, nor was I wearing underclothes.  She noticed well before I removed my pants and looked up to my face.  Her eyes had dilated and I caught her tongue dart to wet her lips more than once as she watched me disrobe without watching directly.  Setting the denim over the broadcloth shirt on the chair, I moved back to her, kneeling down.

“Now you need to match me don’t you.”

Again she was mute.  As I knelt, I nipped.  I slid my thumbs under the lace at her hip, marking her flesh with the short nails of the other four fingers down each side as I withdrew the flimsy piece of fabric.  I watched the microdots of goose-flesh dance and chase along her belly, across her hips and down her thighs as I slowly tugged the material away leaving it to pool at the sole of her shoes.  Biting at her thighs, up, over and across the soft line of hair to her hip and biting down harder, her control finally slipped a notch as she let out a soft moan.  Soft, but not soft enough.  I knew she was wet.  I didn’t need to ask again.  I could see it now as it glistened off the thatch of short curls between her thighs.  I had the globes of her ass in my hands and I wanted to spank her.  I wanted to tongue the continents across them as I had when I had first seen her in the community room.  I wanted again to drop her here and now and take her on the floor, but I would not.  I was going to play, and she was going to know I was worth the wait.

“Pallaca?”

Her response was throaty and sounded like soft alto over rough gravel, but she cleared her throat and repeated.

“Yes.”

“You wanted to see me cum.”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember me telling you that I am a gentleman?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“What does it mean?”

“It means Pallaca…ladies first.”