Tripple Ex, Vee, Tripple Eye Pt. 01

I found number thirty eight today.

She caught my eye because she was hunched over her cart as she left the grocery store. Most people stand tall and keep an eye out for vehicles. Not 38, she was down trodden. She wasn't looking for cars she was looking at her feet as they propelled her towards her minivan. She made it to the right vehicle without seeming to try, another sign that she was the right one for me. As she was putting her purchases in her car a man (cocky, arrogant, sexy) pulls up. She slows her transfer work and even sticks out her butt as she grabs for something on the bottom of the cart. She is hoping this idiot will at least look... he doesn't. I see her take too long putting the last bag in. Her gaze is fixed on the sexy guy's ass, I bet she is wishing he would turn. Once he is out of sight she is self consumed again, confirming that she is my number 38.

I don't follow as she leaves, I have done that once and I already know where she lives. I make it to her house nearly eight minutes before her. She never hurries back, why bother? She has the whole day of nothing much, who cares how fast it is done? As she backs the vehicle in my hands twitch slightly in anticipated excitement.

I wait until she is pulling the last bags out of the van. As soon as she leans into her car I pull the mask over my face and step out of my nondescript car. Moving quickly to hide in her blind side at the front of the van just as she is emerging. She's faster this trip, eager to be done.

I peek and see my sexy little 38 collecting the last of the handles of the bags to pull them up and finish her chore. Now comes my favorite part. I want her throat, then her eyes. What will she do? Some scream, but not as many as I expect. Number 22 screamed loudest. She screamed so loud and so long that I finally realized I was wrong about her, she didn't want what I had to give. Most freeze up when I slap the collar on their neck and blind them. They are scared but willing to listen. They knew they had been taken but weren't against the idea of being controlled as long as it didn't mean pain for them or the ones they loved. At least not the wrong kind of pain for them. They all wanted some pain, the right kind of pain. My kind of pain.

Once they knew that I wouldn't hurt them until they asked me to they quickly calm down. At least their fear does, their excitement starts a slow simmer that my heat will bring to a screaming boil.

What would 38 do? She looked so docile, so ready and willing to be dominated.

She has a good grasp on the rest of her bags, and is turning towards the empty house. Now is the time to move. Goodness, how can she not sense my throbbing erection and intense focus already? That's okay she will learn, in time.

Just as I am within arms reach she senses me. I have the collar, in my left hand, in motion before she slows or starts to turn.

It took me until number 6 to realize that I had to swing the collar in with my left. So that my dominant hand, the right, could operate the clasp and cinch it. It took me until 8 to realize that holding the blindfold in my teeth for easier access made her enter darkness fast enough for her horrified concession to overcome her wish to flee. You see dear, sick, perverted reader she wants to be taken. She loves the idea of being led to the dark and told what to do.

Don't pity her, we all long to be blinded and lead towards pleasure. Only a few enlightened ones admit it to themselves. These are the ones I take.

37 of them, I have taken. 37 women that just about every guy sees when they enter a room because they have long hair, cute faces, big breasts, nice asses, or all four. But these are just distractions, just stage paint for the show. The real beauty of a woman comes from how she moves. How she strides with confidence, or sulks with misery. Neither of these extremes turn me on. I want the ones that cower but do it indignantly. Pissed off that they can't be the one to have power, or control, or better sex, bigger tits, smaller asses, hell just something that is hers and is better than others have.

That's where I come in. I take these women, sure, but I give them what I see they crave. They want me to tell them what to do. They want me to humiliate them, show their secret hearts to the world, then they are free to just be themselves and through them, so am I.

There is pain and struggle at the beginning of any life changing event. Number 38 gets a little more than most.

She had put her long brown hair in a ponytail about half way through unloading her van. That makes it easier for me to put the collar on and the few delicate hairs on the back of her neck seem to beg me to strapped down. I'm just within reach as her head starts to turn. My left whips out, I focus on the clasp as it wraps around her throat. It shines in the mid May sun. I catch it smartly and push the leather end into the metal using my thumb to force the bar into the collars holes. Once done and tight 38 can barely breath. I soak in the fear in her eyes as she faces me and I snap her darkness from my teeth and close her vision to the world. She is collared and blinded before the items spilling out of her dropped bags come to rest. I let go and take a step back.

Here is where she truly reveals herself. Is she a screamer? A runner? Or a crier? Maybe I'll get unbelievably lucky and she will know her place and fall to her knees, bowing before me.

The seconds tick by. 38 isn't moving. Well, she is trembling a little. But she hasn't gone for the mask. One of the first orders I always have to give: "Leave the mask." She doesn't pull at the collar. I never have to order them not to take it off. Whether in panic or in understood obedience none of the 37 ever went for the clasp. Some pulled at the front but that changed nothing and they soon give up.

But 38 just stands. She must sense me standing in front of her just off to her right. Her arms have lifted slightly. I assume they did once she knew I was there. She lets out a sigh and loudly commands me; "Kill me or fuck off, shit-heap. I won't play your games and I'm worth no ransom."

Well, I do love a good surprise. This woman has steal in her. Oh, that is so good for me. Like a forger at the anvil I will pound this lady's steel forming her into sharp beautiful weapon she longs to be. Steal hearted women love the pain more than the others. It proves to themselves that they have what it takes to make it through.

I decide to keep her wanting.

"Cherry Popsicles." I say in my best flirty Batman voice.

After a considering moment, "What?" she asks. This is another moment I take pleasure in, bringing the girl to understand that she is now and forever mine.

"Cherry, Popsicles" I say again slower and a little clearer. I know she heard me the first time. I'm just saying it again to see if I can annoy her.

"Alright psycho, clown talking, mother fucker, what the hell does 'Cherry Popsicles' mean?"

With this she crosses her arms and blindly gives me a look of derision.

I am excited to find another that talks dirty so easily. It makes my job of training so much fun. In a more seductive 007 voice I say:

"Cherry Popsicles is the safe word say it and I will stop. Say it three times and I will leave you alone forever. As long as you never say it three times in a row I will train you to enjoy your sexuality. If you say it once then the session is over."

What will 38 do? Only four of my women have immediately said their safe word three times just after meeting me. Seven more said it at some point later, I believe they only said it because they didn't believe I would leave them alone. But, true to my word once a woman is done with me, I don't seek her out again. Sometimes I wonder if they miss the collar around their neck, or being held in place so that they can be free. But as always it is their choice, not mine I am just focused enough to see the desire to be dominated in their movements.

"Cherry Popsicles! Cherry Pop-" number 38 starts. As soon as I hear the first time she finishes the phrase I slide the mask off her eyes with my right hand and tug the collar with my left freeing the bar, then grab the buckle and pull the collar off. I stand before her with her bindings in my hands. She mumbles the end:

"-sicles." She looks me dead in the eye. One of the few times I will allow this. She should know that my eyes are for seeing her, not for her to know my emotion.

"Cherry..." At this I start to turn and leave. This is why I love to create two word safe words. Just starting lets me know she is close to giving in. I have just started to step. She is still as a rail holding her elbows tightly. I pause and half glance her way. I see her eyes tracing my mask looking for signs of me underneath.

"Popsi-" She starts and my heart falls. I had such high hopes for 38. I saw so many ways in which she needed me.

38 didn't finish though. I take two steps away from her and I can feel her watch me go. I pause again not looking right at her but, standing in a position that tells her I am waiting.

"What do you..?"

I smile as I walk away, slowly, toward the rental I stole from the lot, just to be safe. I pause once again getting into the car. She has dropped her arms now but, she is just starting to reach out to me with one hand. Feeling insecure because I have taken the delicious control away with me. Don't worry 38 it will be back, and soon.

I drop the rental back with hardly speck of dirt on the floor mats and make my way to Diana (17) she is one of my needier women and I haven't been to please her in over a week. I need a good distraction, 38 has really got me excited almost to the point I can't stay away. Shit, it has been maybe 20 minutes and I want to see her again. Usually I like the time away. Time for me to think of fun things to do to them. Time for them to imagine the things I might do to them. But 38? I want to just see her. See what she did when I left, see how long it took for her to get the groceries put away. Is she thinking of me? Missing me maybe?

What the fuck? I don't do this. They are who they are. They don't say the word three times because they like seeing themselves in the reflection I force them to see. They tell me how they want me to hurt them and how they want me to humiliate them and I just do as they say. I take their gestures and put it into words. Shit, shit, shit! 38 is still there. Still at the front of my thinking. It will be hours before she is ready for me again. And there is Diana right in that buildings fifth floor. I can almost see her now wearing a skirt that is too tight and pounding on her keyboard in sexual frustration.

Diana, Diana, Diana. Focus! She needs your punishment. She craves your dominance. Fuck man, she has earned it. I jump out my car and get ready to push the button on the key to lock it when I realize I'm still wearing my mask. Grrr 38 strikes again. It was stupid of me to forget that Diana works in an upscale building and I need to look the part. I move to my trunk and strip naked. It is about 11 am and I'm likely seen by a dozen or so people passing by the garage or looking out of a window. But, I long ago learned that if you don't try to hide then people don't think you have anything to hide. Which is why leaving the mask on was such a infantile mistake. Okay, go away 38, I have 17 to do. Not 17 Diana, she has earned the right to be known as her real name, and then some. I wonder what 38's real name is. Fuck no I don't! IF she does well enough I won't call her 38, if not then who cares?

Sigh. I care, dammit. I shouldn't but I want to know 38's name. My caring will probably mess up her training. After all I thought I loved 12. Veronica. I could go to her now and she wouldn't let me stop doing every last thing I wanted to do to her for at least 48 hours. I'd like to say that I'm strong enough to walk away from her but, after that week in Kansas City, I know that she has me vexed better than I ever could vex her. She spent nearly every minute we weren't alone showing me with her eyes, guys she wanted to fuck in front of me. It wasn't difficult to get most of them on board. She was still just number 12 then, she has told me a name but I knew it was a lie. She lied just so I would punish her more. But, she loved being number 12, she would eye some guy and pause forcing her hips back just enough that I knew she wanted my hand on it thereby approving her choice. 12, no, Veronica (man, what is wrong with me today?) was so good at begging with her posture that I swear you could hear it. I would brush my hand across her ass sliding my finger between her cheeks just to show how ready I was for her to go and take the man she had to have.

They were always willing. Some were married, some were fat and lonely, some were cock-strong douchebags. They all forgot themselves when she playfully flirted. Then some light touching and a breathy whisper of her room number and they were paying checks, finishing drinks and hurrying to her waiting nakedness.

That was Victoria's favorite. Show it all from the start. Like it or love it, fuck it or leave it. Sometimes I think she hoped the guy would cry off and leave. She knew she had me to force her into submission and find pleasure. This whole game was just foreplay. They never did deny her, she was stunning. Softly curled naturally red hair, pale pink skin spotted with freckles, trim stomach, rounded hips, full breasts with dark red tight nipples, oh and her pussy. I could spend a day talking about how sensual her pussy looked and a year talking about how fun it was to play with. Ha! She even once said, "If every woman had a pussy as fun as mine. They would play with it twice a day like I do." Of course that just led her to swallowing my cock until I let her find a woman to play with her pussy. Just so she could find out how often that woman wanted to play with it. I still enjoy the game of catching her with another woman. Veronica loves being scolded for being such a slut, especially in front of her "live masturbation tool."

I finish situating the suit on my frame, it is well tailored and draws looks from both sexes. I debate for a minute on how my tie should hang. Tight to the throat, or open and casual? Tight is better, Diana will know I mean to punish her savagely if my dress and my expressions are clipped and sharp. I nearly left the car without my fake DoD credentials. Diana made them for me so I could get to her whenever I wanted. I know she only did it because she loves other people thinking that she is a high profile witness in some super secret case.