Crossings Ch. 01

Mariano wanted to say something, he really did, but couldn't.

"Do you want to tell me something?" Jess asked.

"Yes mistress," he replied. "but ..."

"Tell me everything you wanted to say, even what you might think is embarrassing, you don't get to judge, only I do."

Mariano took a deep breath. "Thank you, mistress," he said. And that was all he'd wanted to say, Jess could see that. She was now consciously trying to keep from touching herself, this was so hot, so much hotter, in so many other ways, than she'd ever imagined.

"Feel my hand on your cock, the rest of your body so relaxed, so still," she said. "Feel my fingers circle your tip, so gently. Feel my hand, my nails on your balls, squeezing so gently." The truck traffic was clearing, but intermittently ... several cars would pass but then the truck driver would jump back into the left lane to pass a truck going 35 kph slower. Jess had both hands on the wheel.

"You are getting so hard," she said, "but you can't come, not unless I want it, not unless I tell you to. Your cock is under my control. Your body obeys my voice without thinking."

"Yes mistress," Mariano said. Jess hadn't been expecting a response, but she loved that one. She put a hand between her legs, right *THERE*, zipped through the narrow space between the passing truck and in front of the truck being passed, a crazy stupid reckless thing to do but she was impatient and increasingly distracted. The passing truck had a passenger who turned to the driver, and three seconds later, those two trucks in her rear view, Jess heard a very loud "HONK HONK" from that driver's horn, plus he stuck his hand out the window, but whatever the driver wanted to communicate was already lost to distance.

A phone rang. Jess' phone, which was in the glovebox. Ring Ring.

"Mariano, dear, please reach into the glove compartment, get my phone, answer it, and put it on speaker."

Mariano reached around in front of him, blindly.

"You can see again," she said.

Mariano opened the glovebox, took the flip phone out, opened it, scanned the face, pushed a button, then another. Callie's voice came out.

"... ess, are you OK?"

"Never better. Seriously, we're doing great back here," she said.

Jess heard Bob's voice in the background. It sounded conciliatory. She also heard Dani laughing.

"I guess you're OK then. But you should know that apparently you flashed that trucker you just passed, maybe you didn't know it, but he's on his CB now telling everyone within range about you." Dani was laughing much louder now. Jess glowered. Then she felt Mariano's hand on her leg, stroking lightly, up and down with the back of his fingertips, and then his other hand, a hand for each of her legs, and she was feeling what he was doing, all the way to her core, oh fuck yes.

Fucking Callie and Bob and Dani ... how the fuck would they know that trucker was on his CB when they don't have a fucking CB?

Jess passed another truck. The driver honked twice, loud, stuck his hand out the window and waved. She heard him yelling, a sort of "Woo-Hoo!" kind of yell.

Jess' rage was faltering in the face of Mariano's stroking. "I'll get back to you," she told Callie, then indicated to Mariano that he needed to hang up. Thank goddess, it only took a moment, and then his hands were both stroking her again. But she was still pissed because this was not what she'd intended, not what she wanted, except ... it felt so good she that didn't want him to stop. Which made her angrier.

She passed another truck, a third loud honk, another encouraging yell from another excited driver.

"Call back," she told Mariano, and he did. "We're going to pull over for a few minutes," she told Callie. "See you in Weed. We'll talk more on the way." She told Mariano to hang up again.

There was a state park just off the interstate. It had its own exit, nothing but a lonely gas station at the bottom of the off-ramp. She followed the signs to a deserted parking lot almost completely surrounded by forest, pulled in near a picnic table, switched off the ignition.

"Get out," she said, and he did, and she did. "Picnic table," she said, pointing, and they walked over. Just as they arrived, she angled to the opposite side, the table between them. "We are going to fight," she said. "No hitting, only grappling. Do you understand?"

"Yes mistress," he said.

"I want you fully aware ... this is not a drill," she said. "You will do your best."

Mariano's eyes lowered. "Yes mistress," he said.

"You are going down," she said, then came around the table and attacked. He went down, then she got up. "Two out of three," she offered. "Do your best. This is not a drill."

Mariano got back to his feet, his eyes rising to meet hers. "Yes mistress," he said.

She took him down again. Mariano was not a wrestler, not much of a fighter except maybe with a handgun or the crossbow he'd nearly killed Stu with just a few hours earlier, that was clear. He might've been trained to protect a sanctuary, but whoever trained him had done a shit job, and she was going to rectify that, someday if not today, because she liked him, liked him a lot, actually, which she didn't fully understand, but it was what it was.

She pretzeled Mariano into immobility. His arms and one leg were pinned by her legs and ankles and hips and torso and arms, his head just under her sex, exactly as she'd intended. He had a 50 pound advantage and a leg free but no leverage.

"I submit, mistress," he said, and a jolt of arousal coursed through her.

"You can't move," she said, and he froze. She slid his pants down his legs, then his underwear, then hers. Climbed atop him, straddling his belly, fingers splayed on his chest, flexing, digging in. "I control my response, not you," she told him. She took off her shirt, then her bra. Her new breasts were shapely and full, nipples proud and prominent, and Mariano, who hadn't seen her nude before, felt it.

"I control your cock, I control your response, I control your body," she said, and waited.

"Yes mistress," he replied, which was what she'd been waiting for.

"You are my servant, Mario," she said. You are not fit to nibble my nipples, or lick my labia, you are not fit to suck my clit, or even my ass." Jess touched herself. "You are definitely not fit to be inside me, but ... oh fuck," and she mounted him, taking him deep. "I am going to make you fit," she said. "Look into my eyes, don't look away," and he did, and gazing deep inside, her eyes seeming to expand in his vision, she grew him more, shaping him until he was exactly right inside her, lowering herself on him to be closer until her hard nipples were brushing against him, the swell of her unborn child, her manifest fertility pressing into him, his eyes filling hers as hers filled his. She swirled her cervix and wriggled her hips, and if she hadn't forbidden it he would've come 20 times already until eventually he was going to come whether she willed it or not without her active prevention and she'd already had half a dozen small orgasms, each bigger than the last, and Jess felt it.

"I'm going to teach you ... to come as often as I do," she said, breathless, their eyes so deep in each others'. "I'm going to make you strong ... teach you to fight until you are ... such a badass. And whenever I want ... you will match my orgasms, one for one ... or you will pay the price ... In your mouth, up your ass ... or mine ... anywhere I will it. ... You. Are ... Mine! Oh, fuck." And her on top, going round and round, she said "Come now, my beautiful boy," and released him into a shattering orgasm, by far the biggest of his life, as she had the biggest of hers.

"Oh fuck," she repeated a minute after, lying down with her full breasts smooshed atop him, but he was silent. She took a deep breath. "Everything I've compelled you to do is off," she said, and the sound she made was deeply satisfied.

He breathed for a minute. She could tell he was weighing his response.

"Is it too soon to say I love you?" he asked.

She smiled. "I think I love you," she said, took his head between her hands, and kissed him tenderly.

They were back on the road 10 minutes later, Mariano driving. Jess called Callie to give their new ETA. She'd already compelled Mariano to be a good driver, staying preternaturally alert to everything happening on the road no matter what she did to him, and she was merciless, one hand on his cock and the other on his throat, squeezing one or both occasionally, telling him he must keep the car at exactly the speed limit or pay the price, his hands magically glued to the wheel, painfully pinching him off whenever she felt him getting close to orgasm or whenever she felt like it, part of him feeling exactly what she wanted him to feel and nothing else, while a completely separated part of him did exactly what she told it to and nothing else as if on autopilot, the second of many lessons he must learn.

* * *

Synopsis of Book 1: Were-Tigress

Bob, a loving husband and father, finds a grimoire and begins learning magic, then meets two compelling women: Morgan and Mari. Morgan is young and stunning while Mari, older and intending psycho-sexual hypnotic ownership over Bob, becomes a were-tigress in order to forcibly and repeatedly seduce him. Bob's conscious mind submerges along with his memory and much of his ability to reason and speak. Lost in the system, he becomes homeless.

Synopsis of Book 2: Cascade Fire

Bob encounters Sati, a goddess, who takes him to a school she founded to teach magic and martial arts. The students are mostly intelligent, capable, beautiful and talented young women. As Bob de-ages, he and one of them, Callie, fall deeply in love. In a raid of a dark mage's sanctum to acquire a grimoire, one of the mage's thrall bodyguards, Mariano, is freed. Bob's conscious mind returns.