The Coffee Shoppe Ch. 03

The breeze was blowing through the green umbrella awning causing the edging to flap noisily. Inside the music was playing just above a conversational tone, Dean, Frank, Satchmo and Peggy and others singing the classics.

It was dusk. The sun was settling into a comfortable spot on the horizon. The sky was a kaleidoscope of color. Nature's brush was working in rare form. Purple and gray toned clouds, wisps of white jet trails, all set on a canvas that ranged from blazing scarlet to magenta to azure and midnight blue, with pockets of deep lavender. It was an inspirational sight for what was about to be an inspirational and life altering night.

In some parts of the world young men engage in an age old coming of age tradition by stalking, engaging and killing a lion with only a spear and a knife. When they survive the claw scars attest to their courage, cunning and new found "warrior" status. In the Hebrew tradition the Bar Mitzvah serves the same purpose. For young girls it is the Bat Mitzvah. All cultures from Inuit Tribes of the Arctic region to the Australian Aboriginals have carried on such traditions for centuries. Today most industrialized nations have substituted more corporate or urbanized versions of these rites of passage for both young men and women.

Anytime we leave behind one period or chapter of our lives to enter an entirely new lifestyle we engage in such a rite of passage either formally or informally. Tonight would be no different.

She had been in the Coffee Shoppe for two hours, working on her i-pad, talking on the phone and waiting... waiting for him to make a move...an introduction... or some lame line to begin the dance. He did not. She rose from her chair in her own smooth graceful manner, gathered her belongings in her case, straightened and smoothed her dress, carefully checking her breast alignment, belt and hemline. She moved deliberately and slowly toward the door, subtly glancing once over her shoulder to see if he was following. He was not.

She slid behind the wheel of her black Jaguar in such a sensual manner that even the car seemed to develop an erection. A young bike courier nearly ran over a dog and wrecked his bike as he tried to get a glimpse of those perfect legs. She pressed the auto start. The engine purred to life. She backed out of her parking space, glanced once again at the door and window of the Coffee Shoppe. He was still in his seat. She sped away feeling both a sense of disappointment and wonder. Had she been wrong. Was he not the target she thought? A momentary doubt crossed her mind. For the first time in her life, her confidence waivered and she had a momentary doubt about her appearance and her desirability.

She cruised on home replaying the moments in the Coffee Shoppe in her mind.

He watched from his perch in his chair like a majestic raptor waiting for its prey to venture out with a false sense of security making a dash for its lair. Thinking it is safe it is swept up and captured in razor sharp talons and carried of to its demise.

He rose from his chair and with cat like reflexes he moved out the side door to his waiting Audi Turbo. The engine was already running from his remote starter. The seat belt slid into place automatically. He had backed into his parking space so he could quickly accelerate away. He entered the freeway and demonstrated the Autobahn class performance of this thoroughbred.

He pulled to the curb three minutes before her. He had scouted the area like the huntsman that he was. He waited. She pulled into her drive. He watched as she left the car, struggled with her bag and glided up her walkway to the front door. Even in the casual environs of her home she walks like a super model on the runway of Hotel de Crillon. Her toned hourglass figure sways with a fluidity usually only seen in Galleries d'Artes. As she struggles slightly to retrieve her keys and unlock the door she does not notice nor hear the figure exiting the car Audi across the street.

He moves with an economy of motion and stealth that a panther would envy. As she unlocks the door and prepares to open it, he is upon her.

He presses her against the door and pulls her hands behind her back. She struggles but is no match for his speed and strength.

The door opens. He pushes her through it and, with his foot, moves her bag and purse into the house.

She continues her struggle, pushing back against him. He lifts her from the floor with one arm and carries her to the back of the couch. He bends her over the couch, pulls a satin rope from the inside pocket of his jacket, cuffing her wrists and wrapping it around her slender ankles. She is draped over the back of the couch like a Grecian gown on the shoulder of Athena. Still she struggles but has yet to utter a sound, not a scream nor a whimper.

He pulls two black silk scarves from his pocket. One he places over her eyes. The second over her mouth as a secure, but not painful, gag. He steps back to admire the vision before him. Her black dress has shifted revealing two muscular round butt cheeks. Sometimes referred to as a bubble butt, the outline, when viewed from aback, forms a heart shape whose terminus is at a point within the peritoneum and pointing the way to her sweet vagina.

She lay before him bound, vulnerable and exposed. She was still struggling against the restraints and trying to wiggle free from her position on the couch. He stood behind her, pressing his hand on the small of her back to hold her in place, careful to avoid her flailing feet with the spike heels.

He was being patient and allowing her to exhaust herself.

He ran his free hand over her finely shaped buttocks down to her thighs. He took her ankle in his hand and raised her leg. His lips and tongue forged a path of kisses from her ankle to her thigh. Her struggle was lessening but she had not accepted her position.

His hand now wandered to her smooth shaved vulva and explored the folds of her labia, careful not to enter her yet but simply to let her know that he can whenever he wants. The feelings of vulnerability caused adrenaline to surge through her system. She wanted to struggle more but her body would not allow it. She was momentarily frozen in place. Her feelings were a dichotomy of competitive aggression and burning sexual desire. Her pelvic cavity was engorged and her desire raged. Her clitoris was pulsating and her kegel muscles contracting. She thought she would explode from the desire ripping through her body. However, she was not going to yield that easily. It was her plan to make him buckle like all the others; to deive him crazy with desire and resist his domination. Instead, she would force him to yield. She would outlast him.

In her world he would give in and beg her forgiveness for his behavior and then he would plead with her for her sexual favors. That's when she would know she had won and she would extract, extort and expose his financial worth. She would seduce him into lavishing her with gifts and possibly a marriage proposal after which she would divorce him and walk away with half his assets. That was HER plan. She had never met a man who could break her down. Many had tried but they had failed. No one had ever made her desire him and his dominant style to the point that she would totally surrender to his will and with whom she felt a strong enough connection to place herself in a totally submissive posture and kneel before him. No man had earned that level of respect and pleasure. She renewed her struggle.

In the midst of her wriggling protest he suddenly rolled her over on her back. She was bent backward over the couch, her legs now in the air and her dress flipped up totally exposing her pussy to the world. His next move was totally unexpected but equally and shockingly pleasurable. He shifted his position and placed his middle finger deep into her vagina as his thumb found her tight bunghole. It caught her off guard. She had never had that happen before. The feeling she experienced was also unexpected. The pressure inside from two directions at once was indescribable. She had never allowed access back there before but now she had no choice and no defense. As his finger and thumb moved in concert the feeling was exhilarating. She felt her blood engorged pelvis pulse and her muscles involuntarily contract around his finger and thumb. He moved deeper and continued the internal massage.

With his two digits he was searching for the sexual equivalent of the mythical Holy Grail, the female "g"-spot.

She was trying to struggle but her own body was betraying her. She would NOT submit.

He was relentless. Her position gave him complete access. She tried to roll away but could not get the necessary leverage or angle. She continued to resist and wriggle. His fingers held her in place. He moved and kissed his way down her leg again as he had done before but this time he did not stop. His tongue found her labia and gently licked the wonderful fold. He traced the outside with his tongue until he found the little hooded love button. He took the sweet clit into his mouth sucking it between his lips. She screamed with surprise and delight. It was an involuntary and spontaneous scream but a scream nonetheless.

She caught herself and muffled the rest. The internal massage... the clitoral stimulation and the sensual tongue survey was taking its toll on her resolve. He continued the assault.

Finally she could take no more. The waves were getting stronger, the intensity intolerable and the onslaught unrelenting. Wave after wave of irrepressible pleasure overwhelmed her senses at a magnitude that defied adjectival description. She felt her body spasm and jerk uncontrollably. She heard a voice screaming and pleading "Yes!! Yes!! More! Don't stop. Please don't stop. Yes! Now! Now! Now! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

The waves continued as she realized for the first time that the voice was hers.

She had not realized that the voice was her own. She was so enraptured that she did not feel it when he rolled her from the couch onto the carpeted floor... When had he tied her ankles together? How did she get from the couch to here? What were those guttural tones escaping from her throat? Why was her ass raised up in the air?

The waves were continuing as she suddenly felt him. He was behind her, pulling her hair as his blood hardened cock was sliding effortlessly into her wet throbbing pussy. She ached as he made his final intrusion. He smacked her sweet round ass and pushed hard and deep inside her. Again the waves were triggered. This time they had even more intensity. She didn't think it was possible but here she was moaning and screaming again as he pounded her from behind again and again...harder and harder... deeper and deeper. It felt like an hour but could have only been minutes.

His cock was thick, of average length, but thicker than any she had ever known. It pounded against her inner walls until l she felt it inside her begin to pulsate. She could feel him getting even thicker as he pulsated, getting closer to his white hot explosion. Harder, deeper, faster he moved. She was again pleading and howling with ecstasy as she reached the peak of what was, at least her fifth and most intense orgasm. She was in uncharted waters. She had never experienced this many consecutive orgasms and certainly not with this level of intensity. Her mind was swimming trying to regain control of her senses. Then two extraordinary things happened in sequence.

First, she felt her muscles contract around his thick cock as the proverbial gates burst open releasing a torrent of his hot cum crashing against her interior walls. He pulled back from her and turned her to face his cock. He then uttered the only words spoken between them thus far. He said: "In your mouth and suck it clean, my servant."

She bowed her head in acquiescence and her herself say, "Yes, m' Lord, as you wish."

At that moment the Second event occurred. She realized it was over. Her search and struggle had ended. She had found the only man to whom she would ever submit in totality. He was now her "master" in mind, body and spirit. She looked up as she held his manhood between her lips. He looked down at her and smiled a knowing, caring, confident smile of conquest. She bowed her head and waited for his touch of approval and her next instructions.

The next afternoon, the breeze was blowing through the green umbrella awning causing the edging to flap noisily. Inside the music was playing just above a conversational tone, Dean, Frank, Satchmo and Peggy and others singing the classics.

Students, sales people, an occasional teacher, moms with kids in tow, and grandparents having a day out with their little ones all line the tables and window counter as the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafts through the air and blends with the sweet smell of baked goods and cinnamon.

A mysterious black Jaguar entered the lot. In the corner he sat. The New York Times in his hand and an espresso on the table, he looked up over his glasses...