Mallory's LessonbyJames Cody©
"Please," he whispers. "Anything."
She stands in front of him. Naked. Her body covered in sweat. Her breast are firm and golden; nipples alive with energy. Skin an indescribable shade of amber. Hair long and dark, like the eyes of a raven. Her slender fingers caress her pussy, enticing him to come closer. "Lick it," a whisper. An order.
He hugs her knees, begging for the mercy that he so does not deserve. Her scent -- honey, musk, defiance -- tugging at him. He buries his face in the moisture of her cunt. She presses his face deeper, past a forest of hair and into the heat of her excitement. His tongue darts, searching for a response; a small bit of sensitive flesh that would fire a current of electricity.
When his tongue passes her outer-lips (tremors of desire through his cock), her clit almost bursts from its hood; it meets tongue and sparks dance through her body. Her back arches; lips murmuring his new name.
He licks around her clit, teasing it with light strokes. When her legs spread a bit wider, his finger enters her; hips moving slightly, searching for more than only a finger. A growl, hungry and impatient, floats from her lips.
"Say it," she whispers, forcing the syllables to be formed. "To punish. Ask me."
"Yes. Mistress, punish me." Eyes closed, his hand stroking his erection as she pushes him to the carpeted floor. "Give."
His hand pushed away; her mouth on his cock. Tongue swirls around the glans, tasting salty skin. Engorged cock growing larger with each moan; pressure building, wanting to fill her lips with heat.
Her head moves up and down, sometimes hovering, forcing him to arch his back to stay between her lips. Her teeth glide, slightly squeezing him; tendons in his neck aching. She reaches to her left, under the bed. A long, shiny vibrator. As big as his own penis. She presses it against the crack of his ass, gently probing deeper near his anus.
He tries to pull back; muscular thighs working uselessly, powerful shoulders unable to crawl away. She grips his testicles. "Always bad," she says. "Always punished."
The vibrator hums; she pumps him in tandem as she pushes it deep into his anus. Light droplets of blood from a deformed muscle cover her hands; it goes in deep. His gasps deafening when his cock explodes in her mouth, filling her with his come as she fills him (in and out, in and out) with her glistening toy.
On the floor. He sleeps. Body twisted slightly, satisfied in the stretching it received.
On the bed. She lets his come run down her chin as she caresses her clit. Another vibrator; amber like her. She moves it in and out of her pussy, letting it rest near her clit. She thrusts her hips, pinches her nipples; it hums. Pulsing inside her, through her. Visions of bodies caught in secret games; desire for a woman and a man, like before. Her legs draw close, holding it inside; she finds her clitoris, sensitive, burning her in spasms of ecstasy. Her touch breaches her sensitivity. A final contraction of her whole and her hole; she will indeed sleep well tonight.
Mallory pulls her hair tight in a ponytail. He stays for breakfast. Coffee. Bagel.
"Last night was incredible," he says. Moving around her, unable to sit or stand quite straight. "Can I see you tonight? To talk. I want to know you."
Mallory's power. They would never know her. She knows them; men of power that she controls. An intelligence that makes her what she is; makes her see them as they truly are. She stands as their equal in sunlight. Her power is in moonlight. Her name carries wealth and reputation; her body and vision give her power.
Mallory's eyes shimmer. "Not tonight. I'm meeting a friend for dinner. But at the meeting for the Rolston project, next week, maybe. We'll see."
He smiles. Eyes glazed as memories of last night haunt him.
"Goodbye, Michael," she says. Get out.
He leaves. Work is going to be difficult for him, but she knows that. Dinner is going to be difficult for Mallory. Four years without her best friend; Lynne is freedom. Elemental and out of control.
Mallory searches. Clothing has to be clever; a show of structure. Black silk pants. A matching coat. Light gold chain around a slim throat; hair parted in the middle while low black suede shoes complete all. With a small, black, gold trimmed purse.
Vittorio's. Italian food.
Lynne sits, reading, Morrison's Beloved. Red hair beneath a grey beret. Arms exposed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of an oversized sweater. A leg outstretched; a pastel flower-print skirt.
Mallory cringes. No co-ordination; a green sweater against fair skin and white sneakers worn by her own forgotten self. She greets Lynne with a smile.
"So good to see you Mal," Lynne says. Book aside, arms open.
Mallory hugs back. Lynne squeezes her tightly; their breasts push against each other. A tingling of desire...
Mallory pulls back and sits. "Who's coat is this?" on another chair. A slightly diminished smile.
"Always to the point, huh? Its Jeremy's. My boyfriend."
"You didn't tell me, Lynne! How long?"
"It's been over two months. We met in Vancouver. He takes pictures."
"For your articles?"
"Mine, others--he's freelance. Does great documentary work."
"I can't wait to meet him."
"He'll be back from the toilet soon."
Moments in silence. Thoughts of a past that is not spoken of. Games played between young friends for discovery. Mouths that touch; tongues that seek.
Mallory and Lynne. Young and younger. As innocents they knew a man. The player. Mallory would play with him. Sucking his fingers, kissing Lynne for him. Lynne on the bed pushing her breasts together; legs wrapped around Mallory's head, pulling her deeper and choking her in her cunt. He watches. Stroking his cock. He watches. He pulls Mallory away. Watch. Learn.
Lynne's thighs opening and closing; skin shimmering wet with sweat as her fingers explore and discover ever deeper. Lips spread in abandon. Head breaking from side to side without control; hair whipping bright red; hips writhing around flesh. Breasts heaving in heavy moans, eyes staring at empty places of ecstasy.
Mallory's hand on the player. His cock fills it. His back against the wall. Massive chest stretched; she ties him. Thick leather shackles pull as she pumps his cock, jerking him off the wall and back. She smiles; he is in her hands and she is in her hands. A finger snaking between her moist cunt-lips, finding her clit; Mallory sighs and burns, alive and thighs wet with heat while hands come alive with his eruption and warmth. His shoulders are bruised slightly from the violence of his passion. His come in Mallory's hands; she presses it to his lips. He sucks himself from her fingers, delighting in his bitterness.
Lynne watches from the bed; hands cupping her breasts and slipping against her still wet pussy. The player smiles. Lynne winks. What have you learned, Mallory? Lynne says. I know my power....
"Hey there," Jeremy says. Strong hands take Lynne's face, lips hovering for a moment. He sits.
"Jeremy, this is Mallory."
Mallory smiles. His grip is firm. Strong shoulders that strain his jacket. Jeans and a T-shirt. Hiking boots, probably. He is perfectly compatible with Lynne. Crystal blue eyes that seem to hunt, feral and wild. The tingling of desire; Mallory does not want him. She wants them; the sight of them in her mind. Her nipples rise against her coat. Do they see what she feels?
"You're as pretty as Lynne said you'd be. You're both so different, but there's a sameness. Isn't there?" To him, they have the same energy and power.
They all eat lasagna.
They talk of their lives. Mallory invites them to sleep over to her apartment for the night. Perhaps she will relearn abandon .
Lynne and Jeremy drink lightly before bed.
Lynne kisses him. Goodnight to Mallory. They are in her bedroom.
Lynne falls onto the bed with Jeremy on top of her. Hands, callused from woodwork. They slip under her sweater. She sighs, murmurs. A sweater removed. Small breasts clasped in cotton; his tongue finds their ends. Nipples that harden quickly as they are caught between teeth and material. (Mallory watches, in shadows lips trembling, hands on her breasts, legs rubbing together...)
Jeremy unclasps Lynne's bra. His mouth massages between her cleavage; his hair pulled as she pushes herself against him. Skirt torn away as pants fall. Lips crush together, parting for the dance of tongues. They seek each other out, twirling and licking and tasting. (Mallory in a corner, thrusting her cunt up and down against her hands. Watching...)
His hand. Pressed against her vulva; she bites him, a lower lip slightly torn. He tastes his blood on her tongue. Thighs that squeeze his hand tightly. He traces a line from her mouth to her pussy with his lips. They hover. Her tummy quivers. Legs part. Wait. (Mallory is fascinated. No control from either of them. She watches...)
Turning her around. Her breasts against the bed. Lynne wonders. His hands; along her spine, they make small circles. Muscles relax. He presses his weight on her. A wide chest running the length of her back, his body caressing hers, pressing her muscles. His fingertips tickling along her sides, caressing her breasts. The length of her legs with his palms. Again a massage. (Mallory whispers, fingers deep inside. She watches...)
She opens her legs wide. He spreads her labia slightly. Her ass in the air; his mouth cupping her pussy. In and out he tongue-fucks her. His thumb brushes her clitoris. Her nerves are electric. They move together. She thrusts as he finds her clit with his tongue, calling her closer. (She watches...)
Lynne quivers. Ecstatic. She turns. (Mallory. Naked. In the shadows. Body shaking and week from orgasm. Eyes frozen with tears fascination and envy.)
Lynne is not silent. She rubs her pussy against Jeremy's tongue. He stops. Her body trembles in excitement. Large. He fills her easily. His first stroke is like a hand in a fitted glove. Jeremy eyes with pleasure. Pace grows faster. Slows. He whispers her name; like a dream on a midsummer's night.
She moves onto her back; Mallory in shadows to watch.
Jeremy pushes into Lynne. His pace is fast, his body presses tightly against her. He trembles; arches; muscles tense. She meets him. Gyrations from both to rub cock against clitoris. They come together. Lynne holds Jeremy; gently clawing him when he explodes deep in her, filling her; he buries her face in kisses and in her name and in tears and in love.
Mallory withdraws. In shadows. She does not know all her power. These men of power scare her. Men who give pleasure without pain, without shame, without games. Men who give pleasure out of love.
Women of power scare her. Lynne scares her. She knows pleasure without guilt. Freedom without order. Life without power. Love without pain.
Jeremy and Lynne leave. They tell Mallory of dreams of marriage.
Mallory smiles. Truth. She is happy. She and her friend share, but not this time. Mallory is happy for Lynne; without pain, without shame, without game, Jeremy is for Lynne alone. Mallory has her first taste of freedom, ready to discover her full power.
She won't see Michael next week. Perhaps the quiet man with glasses and the real smile whose office is next to hers. He has always seemed to know his power. He looks likes he knows freedom. Perhaps he can teach her. She has already begun her lessons.