Anise & Her Slave

The car door slams as anise strides toward the house. The white material of her suit clings in desperation to the curvature of her hourglass waist. A grin spreads over her crimson lips as she runs through the past five years. Rising from the hell of UMD to the glamour of New York City and the comfort of six digits entering one of her many bank accounts on a monthly basis.

Her early passion for writing had spawned itself into a degrading editing job in New York while she was struggling unaided to finish graduate school had put her right under the noses of new York's influential hierarchy of publishers. Her brilliance was recognized and lauded by several small magazines around New York and then it happened. Andre' Reich, barely able to speak had called her at home.

While dining on Chinese and sitting crunched in the pseudo-breakfast nook of her tiny apartment Andre' asked...no, begged...anise to release several chapters of a book she was working on to his publishing company. Anise wholeheartedly accepted, and within one year was the recipient of a Nobel Prize for Literature. It had all happened so fast anise only vaguely recalled the purchase of a Brownstone looking out over the West side of central park and her rise from complete obscurity to mind altering fame. Her smile broadened. She skipped up the stairs removing her long white gloves and slapping them against her flexing thigh...mom a slight sting.

"I've worked hard today, I deserve a treat," she thought to herself. The keys turned fluidly in the gold knob. The entryway echoed with every step, tracing each collision of marble and the point of her sharp heel. As anise scaled the winding staircase her thighs touched one another under the silken skirt, meshing her tender flesh back and forth, creating the sweetest drip of fluid from the flower. The top of the stairs blossomed into a large balcony, from which she could see the magnificent foyer of the townhouse. An enormous oak door stood in the center of the balcony. Anise heaved the heavy door aside with ease and strode into the cavernous bedchamber.

This chamber lined with beauty and fear. Adorned in every corner with elaborate black wrought iron candelabrums, glistening red velvet wall paper, a four postered berth covered in the finest black Egyptian silk, and the object that brought her so hurriedly home...

In the center of the room dangling tightly from the ceiling, inches from touching the floor, a boy clad only in leather straps around his wrists, ankles and eyes, waited. Anise removed her large white hat of 1940's fame and her dark sunglasses and tossed them to the floor. Anise took a moment to peruse this creature with her eyes. She picked him for his prowess, there was no denying this, but it was that much more pleasurable that he was delicious to view. Hanging by his wrists from the ceiling cut deep outlines of his cement arms and shoulders, trailing down to luxurious brown curls, dropping down around his hard jaw and framing the black leather blindfold. His shoulders melted seamlessly into a brutish, heaving chest and down to his rippling stomach, well defined and tuned muscle, but a lithe agile body. Leading to anise's favorite thing about her slave....

Between strong, massive legs, dangled his magnificent cock, thick and limp. Anise slid her hand across her breast capturing her erect nipple between her fingers, squeezing...hard...harder. She remembered how his cock felt, how it curved so perfectly skyward, always rigid, so rigid she often thought it my tear through it's thin fleshy armor and lodge itself permanently in her womb.

Her knees buckled slightly as she unconsciously pushed her palm into her crotch, moaning. The boy's head lifted. He had heard her. He attentively followed her steps with his face, blind to her completely. The boy had been put there under Anise's orders three days prior. She had silently come by this room every day to watch this boy dangle in her service. Never touching him, never speaking to him, simply resting one leg on a table and slipping three fingers in and out of her wet cunt until she was quite wet and dying to be fucked. With this she would confidently stride up to her slave, grab his chin in her delicate hand, pry his sweet young mouth open and ram the cunt soaked fingers over his tongue.

He obediently sucked every molecule from her fingers straining for more. Cruelly she would turn on her heel and walk away. She would stand by the door watching his cock begin to harden, blood flowing to the tip, stiffening and moving skyward screaming and throbbing for her cunt.... turn out the lights and walk away.