Sir's Girl

Sitting at her computer desk, Miriam had a sudden epiphany while she read the email from Sir. With a jolt to her mind, she realized that she had never been so exposed before. Her upbringing, her friends, her schooling, her entire life experience had been composed of narrow and confining little situations. Now she was being blatantly and unforgivingly exposed. To a much wider, broader, sophisticated, and culturally-massive something else. In other words, she was being exposed to Sir and his life.

She almost giggled to herself when she thought: "I may be exposed but he's the one being naked." He never hid himself, what he'd done, who and what he was. Casually, he mentioned this thing or that as if they were commonplace and ordinary. Ordinary! As if! He was, if anything, like that old actor that played "The World's Most Interesting Man" in the beer commercial. Only for real!

Miriam sighed and finished reading the email. Part of it was just a daily exchange of what was going on; part of it was the most erotic --- graphic! -- stuff she'd ever read. This was only the third email he'd sent and every one included some incredibly sexy writing that made her undeniably wet.

It wasn't as if she gossiped with the other office workers, but somehow they had just known what was going on.

Yesterday's gathering for lunch showed that, for sure.

"Miriam's got a lover," Janice whispered loudly to the other four women.

"Not just a lover," Linda added. "An Alpha male."

"Oooo! Now that's a rarity," Helen chimed in. "And from what I gather not of the asshole variety either. A romantic!"

Miriam felt herself blush. Also a rarity. She had never thought of herself as a blusher. Not a naïve person, but a "big city girl". "Oh, stop it," she said.

Janice giggled. "I saw her in the ladies yesterday and she was taking off her panties and rinsing them in the sink. They were soaked!"

"Well, cool water is one way to chill your pussy down I guess," Helen said with a laugh. "Fuck you, Helen."

"Really? You mean like a threesome with you and your lover?"

"Stop it, you guys!"

They all collapsed with laughter, but the truth was out. Miriam's Sir excited them all with vicarious imaginings.

"We need details, Miri. Read us his emails," Janice said, wriggling her eyebrows.

"Nope, not going to. They're private."

"Selfish bitch," Helen murmured. "Come on. I could use some hot stuff to tell my vibrator at home."

The laughter went around the table again.

Linda grinned and touched Miriam's hand. "If he's an alpha male, which kind is he? The 'Make me a sandwich kind' or the 'On your knees!' kind?"

"He can make his own sandwiches, I'm sure," Miriam blurted.

"Oooo, an 'on your knees' guy. And not an asshole. Fuck me, I want one of those." Linda hugged herself tightly and swayed in her chair.

Janice blinked. "So when are you going to meet him? In the flesh, I mean?"

Miriam winced. "I wouldn't know what to say to him. He's like super smart."

Helen grinned widely. "I'd know what to say to him." She made her lips into an "O" and made gurgling moans.

The laughter was explosive, even from Miriam.

The week went by quickly for Miriam. Every day, she received a new email from "Him" as she had begun to think of the man who told her to call him "Sir". Every day for a week, he'd included an erotic little "story" to arouse her desire and every day of the week it had worked. On Thursday, she admitted how excited his emails made her and that her panties had gotten very wet. On Friday, his email told her to go to the ladies' bathroom and masturbate. She was shocked at how blatantly and yet how easily he had put his "command".

"I want you to do it for me," he'd written. "I want you to have an orgasm for me."

God help her, she'd done it. After a work week of having her senses aroused, she'd needed the relief. More than that, she wanted to do it for him. It was incredibly powerful and she'd had to bite her free hand to keep from crying out when the orgasm wracked through her body. Oh. My. God. She thought. What am I becoming? Even as she asked herself the question, she seemed to hear his voice inside her head. "Mine," she thought she heard him say. "You are becoming mine."

Friday night, she was at home, alone, as usual. The television droned on in boring monotones and she felt a little drowsy. Her eyelids closed and she drifted off into a waking dream. Sir was standing at the end of the couch watching her. She looked own at herself and saw she was naked except for black leather cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Her hand fluttered across her erect left nipple and rose to finger the black leather collar around her neck. Her heartbeat raced as her fingers touched the large steel ring attached at the collar and then slid along the cold links of the steel leash chain. She looked at Sir to see the other end of the leash in his grip and almost jumped out of her skin when he lightly tugged it. Her skin felt so hot and flushed, she felt like she had been doused with gasoline and set ablaze. And yet...and yet her mind was perfectly at ease. More than she'd ever felt before. She slid off the couch and went to her hands and knees on the carpet, following the gentle tugging of the leash as he pulled her closer.

She sighed loudly and thought to herself. "I like this exposure. I want it."

"I am here, Sir," she whispered huskily as she approached him. She sat up on her knees and wrapped her hands around his muscular thigh. She pressed her cheek against him, nuzzling like an adoring cat and almost felt compelled to purr.

In her dreamstate, Miriam slowly lifted her eyes until they focused on Sir's belt buckle. Her arms were still wrapped around his right thigh and even through his trousers she could feel the heat of his body. As slow as a snail's movement, she moved one hand upward; eyes still fixed on his belt buckle. She wanted to unbuckle it, wanted to pull his pants down and off, wanted to see his cock more than she'd ever wanted to see any man's.

She glanced quickly up to his eyes and felt a strange mix of icy chill and lava-hot intensity course through her as she realized he was watching her every movement. Slowly, slowly, her fingertips went higher until they slid -- like liquid silk -- over the head and shaft. She moaned a little at the touch. The head felt like it was the size of a ripe slick plum; the shaft rigid and thick. It seemed to go on forever and Miriam couldn't help herself as her lips parted slightly and she licked them. Her fingers curled when they reached his belt buckle and she tugged at it, wanting him naked and now.

His strong hand dropped to hers and he pulled her fingers away. She'd never heard his voice, but she imagined it was deep and resonant. Miriam winced slightly when she heard it rumbling down at her.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

She mewled, shrinking inwardly. A shiver moved through her and wracked her hips, leaving a hot pulse between her legs. Her mind was almost screaming in a whisper: "But I want it!"

And she came awake with the words still echoing in her conscious mind. As her eyes came open, she saw that she'd hiked her dress up over her thighs and her left hand was pressed hard against her panties. Her fingers felt sticky and cramped. "I want it," she repeated aloud. "Oh, Sir!"

In the brief time -- and in his every email -- he'd told her that she belonged to him; that she was never to masturbate unless he gave her permission or commanded her to do so. Now, when she remembered that, she squirmed on the couch and felt a powerful, painful ache. But she obeyed. Struggling and weak-kneed, she got up from the couch and went to take a shower before sleeping. The warm water flushed across her nakedness -- which she wanted so much to surrender to him, to his eyes, to his hands. Tumbling into her bed, she fell asleep, deeply, dreamlessly.

The weekend dragged on and on. With her laptop in for repairs and Sir's refusal to text, Miriam felt lost at sea. Even a few words -- anything -- would have assuaged her agony; her empty feeling. She tried everything to push away that hollowness at her core. Nothing worked for long and she'd find herself -- as if suddenly conscious from a dream -- staring vacantly at...odd things: the chain leash of someone walking their dog, the tight denims of some store window mannequin, the knurled fists of joggers, rainwater gushing along the concrete curb. They just reminded her of the leash she wanted in his hand, the dreamed-of bulge in his pants, his fist holding her hair tightly, her own gush of wetness.

Drag, and drag, and drag, the weekend seemed black and white, flushing her from light to darkness. She wasn't sure which was which anymore. Was the time without contact with Sir the darkness or was it the light? She'd catch herself plunging ahead somehow -- eating, sleeping, sitting in front of the television and feeling...uncomfortable, restless, blank.

Monday morning seemed brighter, the glare of sunlight -- after a weekend of drizzle and rain -- made her eyes squint, yet her body felt like it was being shocked with electrical blips. Monday! There'd be an email from Sir today! She knew it. She felt it deep inside her and anxiously waited in her office cubicle for the email from Sir to appear. Late in the morning, it finally arrived and she shivered, her finger pausing over the mouse to open it. For a moment she closed her eyes -- the clarity of Friday night's dream rushing through her mind. Her lips silently opened and closed over the words "Oh, Sir!"

She opened the email with a sharp intake of breath and read.

"I know what you dream," he'd written. "I can feel you when you breathe."

Miriam held her breath and gasped again when she felt herself exhale. She felt it was true. He could sense her despite the distance. He knew when she grew wet. He knew when the ache for him almost overwhelmed her. For brief moments sometimes she wondered at this...at his power to feel her, to know her thoughts, while she -- in turn -- did not know him, could not reach out invisible bonds to touch him, be inside him. But then she would understand his ways: he owned her; she did not own him. Never would, in that same sense. It was the way their relationship existed. And she felt, if she questioned it, if she doubted, if she probed the logic and sensibility of it, it would be disrespectful of him...and she would lose it all.

She closed his email and her eyes at the same time. Sighing softly so no one would hear, she felt the firm, secure embrace of his collar around her neck. A shiver went down her spine and -- as she squeezed her thighs together tightly -- felt the tremble circle her clitoris and pull at it and Miriam almost groaned out loud.