A STRONG, HARD, BODY and a disciplined mind, make the man. As a telepath and a dominant alpha male, I take what I want. I place commands or ideas and suggestions into people’s minds in two ways. Direct control is for immediate compliance. Contingent on the situation, I may invoke strong overwhelming emotions such as terror or panic, to achieve my desired results.
For permanent results, I use subtle mind control. Think of "subtle" as pleasant and soothing whispers, repeating over-and-over in overlapping circles in a person's subconscious. Soon after I’ve ***********ed them, I’ll induce a “light trance,” this best describes it, and they won't be aware of it. I'll make eye contact, as during any normal conversation, so that I may talk to the individual, and they’ll reveal everything to me, including their deepest secrets, longings, and desires, should I ask.
It may take several weeks, contingent upon the individual, for my subtle, soothing whispers to be ingrained in their core to ensure their compliance and loyalty to me is absolute, and just as importantly, for them to be content and happy with this aspect of their lives. Their basic personality, core values, and beliefs, and all other relationships remain the same. I see to their overall well being; they now are under my protection. I have five-hundred people under permanent control. They are in my Circle. They contribute to the good of my closed network, sharing a portion of the wealth and resources, and they look out after each other as a whole.
Women are a particular interest of mine and discovering a woman's unique qualities and the nuances of their personalities for them to be my complaint, submissive lover. They will prostrate themselves at my feet if I so desire.
I’ve had many women in my lifetime; one at a time or two or more together, mostly short dalliances, a few months or so. I then move on, making them forget; however, a dormant key command is always present to bring them back to where we left off.
I remove the sexual inhibitions from these women to give them multiple orgasms and sexual nirvana, to have them almost begging, if not outright begging to perform oral sex because to them semen is an aphrodisiac more potent than any, real or imagined to keep them firmly under my thumb.
I prefer women with long hair, and I will insert a subtle suggestion to make it their preference for themselves, always, including my former short-haired dalliances, assuming their hair texture and facial features are suitable, should I decide to revisit their carnal delights.
For most of my ***********ed women, long hair becomes an integral component of their self-esteem, and part of their identity as a woman. Cutting, their hair, while they suck on my cock, or making them do it themselves, or sending them somewhere to have their hair cut short, is the ultimate punishment, and a component of subtle control.
I occasionally use direct control to enjoy brief (a couple of hours, or a day) dalliances with any woman who strikes my fancy, when the opportunity arises, including married women. These women will wake up from a deep and refreshing sleep with an altered memory. They will not remember me after. The husbands of these married women, should I deem them good men, will enjoy the gradual changes in his wife and her increased sexual appetite, plus attentiveness to please them in the bedroom.
I take special delight in adjusting the attitudes of beautiful, arrogant, wealthy elitist, rude women. They will prostrate themselves, and crawl to kiss and lick my feet, for the privilege of performing oral sex, and they will do anything to curry my favor to receive their orgasms.
Their penance begins with no makeup allowed. I require these elitist women to wear simple, modest, clothing-dresses preferred. I may send them to a preferred hairstylist to receive a blunt bowl or mushroom style haircut should they have long hair. Depending on the woman, I may decide not to cut it. I will require them to keep their long hair in braided pigtails until their penance is complete; to humble them and remove their arrogant vanity.
They will clean my house thoroughly from top to bottom, while they’re naked if instructed to do so. It goes far to teach them manners and respect for the feelings of other people. It is good to have an obedient and grateful temporary housekeeper in my-residences, estates, cottages, and timeshares, naked or otherwise.
I have found that intelligent and creative women; artists, writers, or musicians for example, college-educated or not, make the best submissive lover using subtle control to prompt their imagination, and biological sexuality to release their carnal delights.
Sandy Anderson is my submissive live-in lover, personal secretary, and travel companion. She is not aware I am a telepath. Now 28 years of age, Sandy is an attentive, compliant woman with a curvaceous and delightfully petite figure. She is five feet, five inches tall, and weighs approximately 120lbs.
She has a tight little ass, and exquisite firm and round breasts with wonderfully pink and sensitive turned up nipples.
Sandy’s eyes are a vibrant cornflower-blue, and she has a wholesome, healthy peaches and cream complexion. She has a small and slightly turned-up nose and delicate, dainty ears. Her generous and full cupid lips complement her youthful appearance.
She's also a natural strawberry blonde. Her soft and thick, silky tresses are a luxurious delight to my eyes and fingers. Sandy has grown her hair out to the classic length, precisely blunt cut straight across the bottom. She will never have layers cut into it, or change the color without my permission.
When I allow her to wear it down in public, always with me, her luxurious tresses fall past her buttocks to caress her upper thighs. Sandy is required to wear her hair up when she goes out alone in public. And not just in a ponytail; but in something that hides the length of her hair: a dancer’s bun, braided bun, chignon, a French twist, etc., as a constant visual reminder of her submission to me.
Below is Sandy’s perspective (words) on how we met, and they are factually accurate. She is, of course, is writing this to please me, and all that may follow.
WHAT CAN BE MORE LIBERATING for a woman to embrace her true biological nature, and to experience sexual nirvana and rapturous orgasms beyond belief? I reject the unnatural, artificial, modern social constructs of what constitutes a man or woman; the fleeting ideas of a warped modern industrial society that discourage, deny and constrain a woman of fulfilling her true biological sexuality. A truly liberated woman submits totally, heart and soul to her man.
I grew up in Aurora, Nebraska and lived a quiet and sheltered, life, as the younger of my two sisters, both of them married with families and children, in the town where we grew up. They attend the same conservative Christian church. My sisters, like my mother, abide by the tradition of women in my mother’s side of the family of having long hair, inspired, in part, by 1 Corinthians 11:15, “But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her.”
Our small church was an important part of my life until I left home. My Daddy is Deacon there, and my Mama teaches Sunday school. Mama defers to him in most things. I love to paint and draw. Pottery and creating from clay comes easy for me, so, I left home and moved to the East coast to attend college in Rochester, NY, against my parent's wishes, because of my yearning to travel, and expand my horizons beyond my hometown.
They all but disowned me. My parents cut me off, financially unless I returned to my senses and returned home. My sisters, however, understood and supported me, sending money when they could, as I focused on my studies, and maintained a 3.3-grade point average or better. I didn’t have time to date or see anyone.
I was out of college for a year with a Masters of the Arts, and heavily in debt for my education loans. I sent my resume to dozens of places, finally hiring a professional service, and still, no offers or prospects in my career field. I was still a virgin, saving myself the right man.
It doesn’t matter now. I’ve found my place in life. He asks so little of me and gives so much. Aaron has given me a rich and fulfilled life with the opportunity to travel, often at a moment’s notice, and to see and experience new places and meet interesting people; goodness, he knows so many. He is a strong, forceful man. He can be very persuasive. However, he’s also polite and respectful with most people, and they naturally defer to him.
I’ve never heard him curse or swear. Aaron says profanity is an indication of a weak and undisciplined mind and lack of intellect. He also says a strong, hard, body and a disciplined mind, make the man. Sorry, I’m a bit off track, but it is important to tell you how I feel about him. I love him, and I know in my heart of hearts, Aaron loves me.
I left off with no offers of jobs in my career field, and so, it was necessary to settle for a minimum wage job working in an upscale Barista in Pittsford, NY. In consideration for having open availability for my working hours, the owner and my boss, John Randal, rented me a small, but very cozy studio apartment with one bedroom above the business for modest, no, for a blessedly cheap rent that included all utilities.
After working there for a year, I received a two dollar an hour raise and a week paid vacation as a bonus for being his top employee. I went on a five-day shoe-string budget vacation in August to the 1000 Islands, and my friend Mary, from college, was going to meet me there for the weekend. We were staying in a little bed and breakfast in Alexandria Bay, NY. I drove on ahead to get everything ready. It was Pirates Weekend in the Bay, and we were going there for the nightlife and to party. Have a few drinks and listen to the bands.
People packed the main street with all the bars and taverns, restaurants and souvenir shops near the water, including the public docks; some in costume, dressed as colorful and flamboyant pirates, or tavern wenches in a 1940’s Hollywood extravaganza, Mary and I included. I know how to sew, and I made our dresses, to be used again at an upcoming Renaissance Fair in Sterling NY.
We had a great time; we listened to three different bands, however, as they say, “All good things must come to an end,” or perhaps good things may begin at the end? It was after one in the morning. Mary was exhausted from drinking and dancing with a young med student. She and Michael seemed to hit it off, and Mary was to have a late dinner with him on Sunday. God bless her. She returned to bed and breakfast to crash, and sleep in late; we both would, we were on vacation. I decided to walk down to the public dock and sit on a bench, watch the stars, and to listen to the waves lapping the shore before turning in.
I was halfway down the weathered wood dock when I heard heavy, lumbering footsteps on the planks and drunken menacing laughter, followed by vulgar sexual comments directed at me.
I turned to see two large men behind me. I tried to walk around them, but they stood in front of me, making kissing noises and lickings their lips. One of them stayed in front of me and the other behind me. I could smell the alcohol on their breath. They got closer, and the one with the teal polo shirt and tan chinos shoved some money into my dress between my breasts.
He then pushed me to his partner, and they pushed me back and forth between them, keeping me off balance, and one of the hundred dollars bills came out and fell onto the dock. They were laughing and trying to grope my breasts while trying to kiss me. I took a deep breath to scream, and before I did, I saw movement on the right, and the larger of the two, wearing the teal shirt was thrown effortlessly head-over-heels into the river, and yes, it was Aaron.
My remaining assailant was wearing a red polo shirt and brown cargo shorts. He raised his hands, palms out and said, “Hey, pal, I don’t want any trouble. It’s not how it looks.”
“You are a liar. Move away from the lady,” Aaron ordered, and when he did, “Miss, get behind me.” I did, and Aaron asked, “Are you hurt?” I shook my head, then finding my voice, I said, No, not really,” and he replied, “Good if you have a cell phone, dial 911.”
“Listen, Buddy, she approached us earlier and promised us a good time. We’ve already paid this whore five hundred dollars, and,” Mr. red shirt couldn’t finish his lie because Aaron hit him twice, his fists blurs of motion; jab, jab, lightning-fast strikes in the stomach, making him clasp stomach and bend over in agony, gasping for breath. Aaron then kicked his feet out from under him, sending my assailant crashing to the dock. “That was a love tap, poltroon, would you like an encore?” The coward shook his head, not meeting Aaron’s eyes.
“And you,” Aaron commanded, turning to the man trying to climb out of the water, “If you like having teeth, stay where you are and keep your mouth shut until the authorities arrive.”
FAST FORWARD; My assailants turned out to be Real Estate Lawyers from Ontario, Canada. Theirs was the largest triple-deck Cabin Cruiser docked there. They loudly proclaimed their innocence and their intention to sue us into poverty, as the New York State Troopers led them away in handcuffs.
After they were gone, Aaron sat on the bench on the dock next to me and asked, “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Yes, I’m fine,” I replied, really looking at him for the first time, and thinking, ‘He’s not wearing shoes. He came out of nowhere, all six-foot-three of him and he is barefoot.’
“My cabin cruiser is that one there; I’m roughing it,” Aaron said, jokingly and pointing in the direction he came from to rescue me from them. That explained his bare feet and what he was wearing. “But first,” Aaron, offered me his hand, “My name Aaron Blackthorn, Miss, and you are?” I was thinking, ‘He’s not wearing a wedding band.’
“My name is Sandy Anderson,” I replied, taking his hands in both of mine and squeezing, “I want to thank you for coming to help me the way you did. I’m not from around here. I’m on vacation with my girlfriend, Mary. We’re staying at a little bed and breakfast on James Street,” and I was thinking, ‘Maybe he will offer to walk me home.’
“I know where it is; the red house on the historical registry. It has green, yellow and violet gingerbread trim and white wicker furniture on the porch. Good choice, I know the proprietor, Joyce Barnes. All that aside, it is late, and I insist you let me walk you home after I put my sneakers on. I won’t take no for an answer, Miss Anderson.”
“How long will you be in the Bay, Mr. Blackthorn?” I asked, hopefully, wanting to know more about him. “I’m leaving in the morning, Miss Anderson.” He answered, “I’m returning to Pittsford and back to my office. I’m interviewing for a personal assistant, slash secretary. The job pays well, and she must be willing to travel at a moment’s notice. And I will be interviewing three prospective candidates over the next few days.”
“Yes, please, Mr. Blackthorn,” I said, accepting his offer, “and call me Sandy. I’d very much like you to escort me there.” “I will, Sandy, and you must call me Aaron.”
I learned the origins of many biblical names in Sunday school. In Hebrew, Aaron means “Mountain of Strength,” and I thought, ‘Aaron’s name certainly seems to fit him. I wonder if he’s seeing anyone.’
Aaron left for a moment, and he returned wearing sneakers. He took my arm, in his, and we leisurely walked to James St., making small talk. I did most of the small talking, primarily asking him questions. I learned he is a consultant, financial counselor, and a negotiator. He oversees a network of people, an organization he calls the Circle. The Circle has diverse investments, financial interests, and prime real estate throughout the Country.
I also learned the personal assistant position required bachelors or better, and the pay and benefits are more than generous; four times than I was making, not counting the perks of travel. It was the perfect job if I could convince him to hire me, and who knows what might happen from there. I was thinking, ‘For that kind of money, I can pay off my loans in no time. I’ll have to update my resume and fast, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s eye candy.’
Aaron is a handsome man, with a hard, trim body and the ropey, steel corded muscles of a mixed martial arts fighter. His brown eyes can be calming, and kind; or hard and resolute, or worst case, dangerously terrifying. He was 30 years old when we met. My love has dark brown hair that he keeps cut short and neat, and he is clean shaved. He was wearing faded cut-off blue jeans that night and an honest white cotton tee shirt. That is how my Daddy describes good men, “He wears an honest white cotton tee-shirt,” in other words, he is down to earth.
It is difficult to explain the deep emotion I felt for Aaron that night, a total stranger. They were warm and overwhelming. In my heart, I felt very safe with him, and coming here on vacation was one of the best decisions I’d made to date. We sat on the porch and quietly talked for a while, and I can’t remember how long. Finally, he stood up to leave. At that moment, I trusted him as if I’d known him all my life. As we stood on the porch of bed and breakfast, I hugged him and thanked him again. “Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Sandy.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out his business card, and said, “If anything comes up, if you should need me, this is the best number and address to reach me.” He then took both my hands and kissed them, wishing me a good night.
That night, I made up my mind to apply for the job. I couldn’t get Aaron out of my mind. He was in my dreams that night. They were varied and pleasant, some erotic. I woke up around ten in the morning from a dream of Aaron in our bedroom, and he was brushing my long hair.
FAST FORWARD; I returned home the next day, cutting my vacation short.
I had Aaron’s business card and drove to the address to check it out. Aaron’s Office was in a two-story cobblestone house, with a small cobblestone barn converted to a garage by the previous owner. A fieldstone fence borders the property, and the backyard ends at the Erie Canal. There was a small floating dock with a cedar strip canoe on it, and the setting was quiet and peaceful.
Wasting no time, I returned home, made myself a cup of tea, and updated my resume, rehearsing in my mind what I would say to Aaron.
The following morning, at ten-thirty, I delivered my resume personally, and when he answered the door, Aaron greeted me warmly, “Sandy, what a pleasant surprise! I thought you were on vacation? As you can see, I’m not barefoot,” and he smiled, “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to apply for the job, Mr. Blackthorn; my resume,” I handed it to him, and he accepted. Aaron was wearing a tailored navy blue suit, and white shirt with a maroon tie, and he looked stylish, imposing, and professional.
“I haven’t made a ***********ion yet, Miss Anderson. One of the three is already out of the running. She was 30 minutes late for her interview, and it wasn’t an emergency. She also has an issue with traveling and doesn’t like to fly. However, I have an appointment for the next applicant in 30 minutes, and one tomorrow at nine,” Aaron opened my resume folder and briefly scanned the contents. Closing it, he said, “I can interview you tomorrow morning, ten-sharp; be prompt. His demeanor changed, and his eyes became stern, almost uncompromising, “Come inside, please.”
I stepped inside the flag-stone floored foyer, and he closed the door behind me. “My office is to the right, please have a seat,” and when I did, he put my resume on his desk and remained standing, “I maintain a strict dress code during business hours. Business hours are nine in the morning to four in the afternoon Monday through Thursday when not traveling. Friday is a paid workday. However, it is an on-call day to be available if needed.
My assistant will be required to wear a modest, conservative blouse and skirt, or a dress of the same, including Friday during business hours. I strongly suggest comfortable shoes. She will address me as Mr. Blackthorn, or Sir, particularly with people present. I will show her the same respect and courtesy, Miss Anderson.
Do you have any questions?” “No, Sir.” I was thinking, ‘What unusual hours, but think of all the time off, including being paid Friday, if I’m not needed. All I have to do is dress like I’m going to church.’
“As for your hair, Miss Anderson.” “What about my hair, Sir?” I asked, touching my ponytail, and concerned his dress code might require me to cut my hair short. My hair was half-way down my back. “Will I be required to cut it short?”
“No, no, nothing that drastic. It would be a sin to cut your beautiful sunlight golden hair,” and his eyes softened, “I would require you to wear your hair up in a bun or other upswept style.” That was a relief because my stomach was in knots at the mere thought of cutting it short, and I was thinking, ‘He thinks my hair is beautiful, and golden sunlight beautiful. Of course, I will wear it up for him, or down for him or any way he wants me too.’
Aaron offered me his hand and helped me up from my chair, “It is wonderful to see you again, Sandy,” “I’m curious, though. Your legal name appears on your resume as Sandra May Anderson. Sandy is the softer, more feminine, and I assume the shorter version of Sandra.
Are you aware Sandra is the shorter version of two classic women’s names in history or literature, Alexandra or Cassandra? I prefer Sandy. It is more in keeping with your youthful appearance and golden strawberry blonde hair that enhances your cornflower blue eyes,” and he again took my hands in his and kissed them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, at ten sharp.”
I AGAIN DREAMT OF AARON the night before my interview. Most were pleasant, dreams. I dreamt he was elated with my job performance and completing my work promptly and efficiently. My alarm clock woke me three hours before my interview, to be on the safe side. I awoke from dreaming I was kneeling at Aaron’s feet, naked as he braided my hair into pigtails, except now my hair was waist length. In my dream, I did something to displease him.
He was fair and gave me a choice for my punishment, braids, or a short haircut. As he braided, Aaron admonished, “You will wear your hair this way in public until I say otherwise.” In my dream, Aaron also warned, “Sandy, if you insist on behaving like a disobedient child, you may look like one.”
I lay in my bed, thinking about my last erotic dream, becoming aroused at the thought of being Aaron’s submissive, obedient woman with my hair in pigtails. It was a harmless, pleasant fantasy. Ephesians 5:22, says in part, “Wives, submit yourselves unto your husbands.” The Bible recognizes men as natural leaders and protectors, and women the nurturers and caregivers.
I was to be interviewed and already knew Aaron is strict about appearance and punctuality. I will comply with those as conditions of employment should I get the job.
I closed my eyes as my fingers found their way to my plump pussy, and I parted my pink lips to my sensitive, swollen clitoris. I pleasured myself, stroking my flower bud while rubbing my long hair on my breasts and sensitive erect nipples, thinking of my Sir as my subtle orgasm sated my sexual needs.
I would have preferred to spend more time in bed fantasizing about him but showered instead. I wondered as I toweled off in front of the mirror if Aaron preferred my pussy, shaved or unshaved.
I HAVE A PETITE FIGURE, and I’ve always chosen my wardrobe carefully; choosing quality over quantity. I have clothes set aside, timeless classics; some professional business attire that fits perfectly and seldom worn. The dress code was casual at the Barista, and I wore a logo ball cap, blue jeans or Capri pants with colorful blouses, with a plastic name tag attached and comfortable white sneakers.
This interview was a turning point in my life. Even though Aaron wouldn’t see my sexy silk and lace undergarments, I’m sure he would approve. I would secretly tease him, during the interview, although I openly teased him in my dreams.
I wore gray wool, knee-length pencil skirt, not the tan or navy-blue. They are my favorite style of skirts. They have a high waist, seamed front, center back slit, giving me a clean, crisp profile that enhances my figure. They came with a matching, fitted, waist-length jacket adding to the versatility.
So many little decisions to look nice for him, and to make a good impression.
I wore a white, silk georgette blouse, one of my favorites. I have three of the same; the other two are in pale sea green and a vibrant red. They have a point collar, genuine mother-of-pearl buttons at the concealed placket, a shirttail hem and a back yoke with a box pleat. The French cuffs give them a sophisticated finish. Sir, suggested comfortable shoes, no problem, I wore my Italian made flat square toe black calfskin pumps. Hose was a choice between a few shades of colors; to be safe, I wore nude ultra-sheer.
I put my hair up in a sleek and elegant French twist, hoping Aaron would approve. I made one final check in front of the full-length mirror before I left; something was missing, a splash of color, and a blessing. I put on my Aunt Miranda’s gem-quality red bead garnet necklace, a family keepsake, passed on to her from her mother, and her gift to me when I graduated from college.
I WAS A HALF-HOUR EARLY for my interview and sat in the parlor next to Aaron’s Office waiting while he interviewed his first applicant of the morning, my competition to finish. I caught a glimpse of her leaving, and I was thinking, ‘What a relief. Her hair is short, and she has no sense of style. Not Aaron’s type with those thin, stingy lips.’ I had other uncharitable thoughts about her, closed my eyes, and said a brief prayer. I spent the rest of my wait with much more pleasant thoughts, such as where I would kiss, and lick, Mr. Blackthorn; those erotic thoughts interrupted when he came to get me.
“Good morning, Miss Anderson,” he greeted,” I read your resume, and it appears to be in order, follow me, please,” as we walked he continued talking, “The applicant before you decided she didn’t want the position because she is a professional, and certain things are beneath her dignity, if not outright sexist.
Your hair looks lovely by the way, very sophisticated and elegant,” I accepted the compliment, and I wanted to hug and kiss him, or he, me as I sat in a chair across from Aaron at his desk.
“Let me get two crucial questions out of the way, Miss Anderson. I’m looking for an assistant who will bring me a cup of tea or other little things of that nature. Do you have a problem with that? Is it beneath your dignity?”
“No, Sir,” I answered truthfully.
“I require exact and unquestioning compliance with my instructions, rules, and procedures, Miss Anderson, spoken and unspoken. You may find me unconventional at first, perhaps even rigid. However, I believe you have the imagination and intuitiveness to adapt and be content working for me.”
“I know you are somewhat unconventional, Mr. Blackthorn, especially after you rescued me and the way you did it,” while thinking, ‘You were more concerned about me, a stranger to you than your safety. You then dominated them; one big splash, two lightning-fast punches, and disgusting game over for them.’
“I very much like to travel, and being paid to travel is a blessing. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I will work very hard to please you, Sir.”
“Excellent, Miss Anderson,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes, and making me feel warm and safe. “Consider yourself on probation for the next two months, give or take. You will start next Monday. Until then, Sandy, tell me a few things about you not listed in your resume.”
MY TWO MONTHS of probation were over in a blink of an eye. My days working for him are the highlight of my week. I looked forward to Monday and hoped to be called in on Friday, which happened once, for half an hour.
I went to his office to meet with my landlord. Aaron convinced him to let me keep my small apartment with no increase in rent.
Sir was very strict with me for those two months. It is an unspoken mandate that my makeup and hair must be perfect. He notices any small changes in my appearance; subtle shades in my lipstick or eyes shadow, for example. When Sir compliments me, or nods, he approves. His silence means he does not, and I will strive harder to please him. He has many unspoken rules and preferences that I instinctively know, which is why I’m perfect for him, and I gladly comply to please him. I have honed my senses to recognize them, and at times, it seems I can read his mind.
Sir does his visual inspection of me when I bring him a pot of green tea first thing every morning. He will smile and nod his approval or compliment me, on my appearance, and we will sit quietly and sip our tea together, while he caresses me with his eyes.
I took every opportunity to touch him, and he lets me flirt with him when there is nobody there to see. I was shaving and waxing my pussy, a nice surprise when I undress for him. I was hoping he would respond and more. For the first time in my life, I was on birth control pills to be ready when the time came.
Part of my duties is to screen Sir’s telephone calls and answer the front door.
I will go out and bring back our lunch. I may order anything I want, regardless of the cost, as one of the perks of the job. Other times we went out for lunch. Of course, I put myself on a strict exercise regime and diet to maintain my figure for him.
When we have associates of the Circle, I will act as a hostess, offering, and serving refreshments. I sit in on all meetings, except when he is counseling or interviewing someone, not of the Circle.
Sir has extensive encrypted computer financial files on all of them. I have the unencrypted redacted files of pertinent personal information and important dates for them and their immediate families. One important aspect of my job is sending Birthday Cards, Anniversary Cards, etc., with a check enclosed, or a small gift, including flowers to Aaron’s people in the Circle. After my probation, I too would be of the Circle.
Aaron is an Alpha-male, and most men desire to have their cocks sucked on. Before I met my Sir, I was a virgin saving myself for marriage, and then I was a virgin saving myself for him. One way to learn how to be a submissive lover is the erotic stories about dominant men and their submissive women. There are also websites and blogs of dominant men and submissive women who have chosen that lifestyle and are offering suggestions and advice. One mantle of respect that sticks with me is the interchangeability of the words “Sir” and “Master,” in this lifestyle. They are the same.
“Given the woman, I was when I first met Aaron, and my lack of experience, watching a porn video on the internet was a convenient and private way to learn the proper techniques to give a blowjob. Two of my favorite women-porn stars, are Camille Crimson and Fellucia. They look up into a man’s eyes when they lick and suck on a cock. They elevate blowjobs to an art form, “The Art of a Blow Job,” starring Camille Crimson, and hers are slow, sensual, and erotic.
Every day, after work, I practiced slowly undressing for Sir in front of the full-length mirror on the inside of my apartment entry door. I also practiced all slave girl poses; especially kneeling; poses described in the erotic literature I was reading or from the pictures or videos on the internet until I could do them gracefully and properly. I worked hard to be his ideal secretary, and his submissive lover to cover all contingencies.
My time on probation was full, enjoyable. I worked hard at achieving my goals. I slept well nights, waking up happy and refreshed, often dreaming of Aaron. Mom and I were talking again as if nothing happened, and my Dad, when I talked to him, seemed less distant, and was more supportive.
I was planning a trip home when my probation was over, and I was saving money to pay my sisters back; it would be a surprise. Aaron suggested I set up savings accounts for their children; my nieces and nephews, and add a small amount to each every month, and so I did.
FAST FORWARD AGAIN: There was a knock on my apartment door early in the morning: 7:00 AM, according to my alarm clock. It rained the night before, but it would turn out to be a glorious day in October, balmy and bright. The leaves on the trees were at the peak to display their autumn dress of yellow, orange and red. It was a Friday, and it was the first time he visited my apartment.
Aaron was dressed casually in faded blue jeans, and a red-and-black checked unbuttoned flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he was wearing a white tee-shirt, and a noticeable change from his signature tailored and starched long-sleeve white dress shirts; he only wears long sleeve white dress shirts with his suits. He was wearing scuffed and comfortable brown Wellington boots, as opposed to his polished and gleaming dress shoes. I was wearing a short pale green cotton nightgown and nothing else, and my long blond hair up in a neat and polished ballerina-style bun in preparation for the day.
“I’m here to take you out to dinner this evening to celebrate all to which I’m thankful. The most important is you, Sandy. You are my treasure, and I know how much you adore fresh seafood,” He announced, “Pack your overnight bags!”
“I don’t understand Aaron, but please come in, and good morning,” I said surprised as I closed the door behind him, feeling flustered and elated.
“You’ve passed your probation early, Sandy. We are not at the office now, and after all your flirting, and touching, and rubbing up against me for the past two months all I’m getting is “a good morning?” Yesterday, you boldly took a sip of tea from my cup before you handed it to me, teasing me with your eyes. I took my first sip where your lips touched the cup, in acknowledgment that I want you for my lover.
You’ve made it clear you want more from me. Shall I take what I want, and what you desire?” I was thinking, ‘Yes, Aaron, yes. I have so much to share, and I’ve saved myself for you, Sir.’
Aaron stepped closer and put his strong arms around my waist, pulling me close and gently crushing me to his hard body. I felt my nipples harden as I pressed against his chest. I felt the moistness of arousal between my legs.
He was freshly shaven, and I could smell the scent of citrus and cloves of his cologne.
“Your nipples are hard, Sandy, and I smell the sweet musk of your arousal.
I see much potential in you, and your untapped sexuality needing to be released and nurtured, my lovely virgin. You are the perfect efficient and loyal secretary. Are you willing to embrace your true nature and submissive sexual potential with the erotic pleasures and glorious orgasms that go with it?”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, yearning for permission, or the opportunity to suck on his cock, to show what I learned for him, and surprise him, since he knows I’m a virgin, in as much as I’ve never had coatis’ with a man.
“Are you sure? Master is merely a title. However, if it pleases you, you may call me Sir, or Aaron as long as you know your place. Are you willing to submit to me? Carefully think before you answer me for there will be no turning back. There will be no safe words. Only I can release you from your promise. You must trust me to know what is best for you.” I felt his hands caressing my hair near the nape of my neck, giving me goose-bumps.
“Yes, Aaron, yes,” I said softly, almost whispering.
“Then submit, to me, Sandy and learn; but first, I want to taste your warm, generous lips.”
I reached up and put my arms around my Sir’s neck, closing my eyes, and I kissed his lips long and deep, enjoying the moment; one moment in time I’ll never forget and the tingling of every nerve ending in my body; the currents of pleasure washing through me.
“You kiss very nicely, Sandy, and you taste delicious. There is a car service waiting downstairs to take us to the airport.” As his Personal Secretary, I know the jet was the property of the Circle. “We’re going to Portland, Maine,” Aaron continued, “for our celebratory fresh seafood dinner. It will be a short vacation for anything you want to do. That is all you need to know for now,” his hands shifted, and he was now rubbing my ass, “Take your nightgown off,” He commanded quietly, and I understood I was not to speak. “You will pose for me,” and when I removed my nightgown, “Excellent, he praised, as he critiqued, “You are a beautiful woman, and I will treasure and protect you.
I shall begin with your face, and particularly your eyes of cornflower blue. They are a vibrant cornflower-blue, enhanced by the wholesome, healthy fair complexion of a Nordic Princess. You have a small and slightly turned-up nose and delicate, dainty ears. Your luscious and generous full cupid lips complement her youthful appearance.” Aaron took my face in his hands and lightly kissed my lips and said, “Luscious and enticing.”
Aaron is a strong man who takes what he wants, me, and is not afraid to talk to a woman this way.
“You have a curvaceous and delightfully sexy and petite little figure, beautiful, and you’re blushing. I find that to be refreshingly sweet. I will very much enjoy holding and cuddling with you for that is what lovers do.
I estimate you’re five-five tall, at one-hundred twenty pounds.
I see you’ve shaved your flower, and I approve. It shall remain that way, always-on display and available to me. The petals on your flower are enticingly pink and plump and wet from the dew of your arousal. Put your hands behind your head, and turn slowly to display your breasts. Yes, that’s right. Stop. They are exquisite, Sandy; your marvelous breasts are round and firm; perfectly in proportion to your figure with wonderfully pink upturned nipples.
They are begging to be licked and caressed. Turn until you are facing away from me, stop. Excellent, I am pleased, although not surprised to see you have not marred your body with tattoos. Put your hands on your ass cheek and squeeze them for they are shapely and firm. Bend so I can see your flower and squeeze your cheeks, excellent. Stand straight and place your hands to your side and close your eyes. Don’t open your eyes until I tell you. Good, turn around and walk towards me slowly, until I tell you to stop…stop. You are magnificent, kneel.
“Open your eyes, Sandy.” Aaron’s boxers and jeans were around his ankles, and his hard cock was standing at attention. “Given your lack of experience and the fact you are a virgin, I surmise and am pleasantly surprised you have been engaging in after-work activities, and I approve. We can discuss those particulars later this evening. You know what I want.”
I began licking the tip of his hard cock, teasingly while he removed the hairpins from my hair. Aaron’s hard cock was pulsating and twitching as I licked; I love teasing him this way.
“Very nice,” he praised, stroking my long ponytail, and commenting on the length, softness, and thickness, “You will grow your sunlight golden hair longer to what many refer to the classic length and my preference as well.”
Soon, my hair was completely unbound and loose over my shoulders and down my back as I continued to lick and suck on his hard pulsating cock, probing and teasing him with my tongue and lips while looking up into his eyes as I did so.
I momentarily stopped sucking and licking his cock, and licked his balls. Shortly after, Aaron’s ‘hands were buried firmly in my hair, controlling the blowjob, pulling and directing as he pushed his cock deeper into my mouth and preventing me from looking up.
I licked and sucked ravenously savoring every inch of it, all wet and sloppy.
I was fantasizing his cock buried in my pussy. I wanted Aaron to fuck me hard and ravish me like a woman; wanting him to fuck me hard while pulling my long blonde hair. Thinking of this, I felt my orgasm growing inside of me.
His orgasm was an onslaught of testosterone-laden energy as his hard member assaulted my mouth and tongue, followed by pumping a torrent of his thick, rich semen flooding my mouth for me to swallow. However, I didn’t swallow his seed right away, but instead closed my eyes and held it in my mouth to savor it, and I came violently. Oh, dear God. My multiple orgasms were a heavenly rapture on earth.
Still kneeling before my Sir, with my eyes closed in the glow of my first multiple orgasms, I leaned forward all the way placing my head on my hands, my hair falling forward covering my face, and pooling at his feet. My legs were partially spread, exposing my flower to him. Aaron had already pulled up his boxers and jeans and buckled his belt.
He gathered my hair in a ponytail and wrapped his hand around it. He then pulled my ponytail for me to look up into his eyes and warned me sternly, “Kneel and swallow all of it.” And of course, I did, “Open your mouth and show me, now let me see your tongue, Good girl. Lick your lips. Let me see you pout, very nice, “and then Aaron helped me to my feet, and said, “Your lips taste delicious, and I crave your hugs and your sweet kisses. “Bring me your hairbrush and two elastic hair-ties and then sit in that chair,” he directed, pointing at it.
Aaron brushed out my hair, parting in the middle, and expertly and efficiently braided it, giving me childish, but cute three-strand pigtails. Sir’s message was clear. My hair is thick and full, and I would have preferred a single three-strand braid or a side braid. I particularly adore the classic French braid.
Aaron stroked my thick silky pigtails thoughtfully and said, “The blowjob was adequate for your first time; you will learn to do better. How much time do you need to pack? It’s impolite to keep them waiting much longer, Miss Anderson, and consider this a casual Friday. We’ll dress accordingly and be comfortable while we travel.”