Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 4 - A Word With Tara

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 4
A Word With Tara


Saturday
Halfway home, I registered my cell phone in my pocket and called Tara.  "Want to come over?" I asked her, hoping that my tone remained neutral.

It did not.  "Uh oh," she said.  "Sure."

"Alright, I'll be home in a few minutes, if I'm not there, just wait outside."  I clicked the phone shut and continued my trek down the street.  I supposed that a cab would have made more sense, but I wanted some time to walk and digest what I'd heard.

I tried to stare into the swirling tornado of emotions in my head and tried to pick one out to focus on.  Excitement seemed to want to step up to the plate.  The opportunity to get answers to questions that I had been asking the walls of my apartment for years was something I hadn't even been able to register.  My relationship with Tara aside, I had never had the confidence to even think about approaching another succubus with questions.  It seemed almost like an assault, to pick them out of their lives and bombard them with curiosities that had haunted me since I was a child.

It wasn't as though Miss Reed made me much more comfortable.  There was definitely an amiability to her, but lurking just beneath the surface was the strong personality that was required to run such a place as Freedom of Restraint.  The prospect of that personality being unleashed frightened me.

But there were others like myself, Doms and subs alike, and it seemed reasonable that at least a few of them would be a little more approachable.  There would be coworkers, and clients...and Tara.  I opened the door to my building.  How stupid of me, I had asked the girl over and then completely forgotten about her as a resource.  I guess so much of that was based on not knowing how the conversation would go.  What she was, how that related to me, and even how I felt about her hiding a part of herself from me.

When I stepped onto my floor there she was standing patiently by my door.  When she saw me, she blushed and looked away, like a child that had been caught in a fib.  Instantly much of my trepidation left me.  Of course it wouldn't matter...the dynamic between us wouldn't change.

I keyed the door and let her into the apartment, setting down the rather useless binder that I'd toted with me to the interview on the counter.  "Come sit with me," I said to her, gesturing to the couch.

She gently set herself down next to me, sliding a hand behind my back and kissing me on the cheek.  "It's okay," I said, nearly laughing.  "You don't have to suck up to me.  Well not right now at least," I said with a smirk.

"You're not mad?" she asked, flashing me her best doe eyes.  God they'd look good with her mouth full of pussy.

"No, what I am is curious," I said.  "I don't even know where to start..."

She slid her arm out and pulled away a few inches.  "Well this should answer a few things."  She pulled up her lip, and as I curiously watched, her canines became long and sharp.  I couldn't tell if they were growing out or merely just appearing, but when she was finished they were about a half inch longer than normal.

"Vampire?"  Tara gave me a glare that coming from the natural submissive, surprised me.

"So...yeah..."  I couldn't think of a follow up question and hoped Tara could pick up the slack.

"Well, yes, we need blood to survive.  It's important, but we're not crazy for it like you see in the movies.  My boyfriend provides more than enough, and if that's not a possibility, I always keep some in my fridge...or if you were human, I could eat you out while you're on your period," she said with a devilish grin.

I gagged at the thought.  Succubae can't reproduce, we can only harvest semen for our incubi counterparts to impregnate others.  Unfortunate perhaps, but it means we have no need for some of the biological trappings of humans, and most of them are unpleasant.

"Okay so what about the other stuff...strengths, weaknesses, whatever," I blurted, trying to find a concrete question to ask.  "You know all about me..."

"Alright," she said slowly, "well with the blood, it goes beyond us needing it.  When we ingest the blood of another, we gain whispers of their abilities.  If I were to drink from you, my sense of empathy would increase, and I'd be more successful with my filtrations, borrowing that ability from you, though we vampires tend to be skilled in that regard already."

"The bad part of it is," she continued, "that I can't go out in the sunlight.  I thank you for keeping your blinds closed at all times."  As a relatively pale person myself, I wasn't much for the sun either.  "We also need to be invited into a residence to be allowed to enter.  Only the first time, the rest of the times I've asked have been out of submissive habit...or else willing you passive aggressively to pick up on the implication."  She smiled shyly.  "And we have to return to the soil of our birthplace regularly in which to sleep.  Not all that difficult to accomplish, especially in today's world.  I have plenty in my room."

I nodded, not really registering much after I'd gotten the basics, trying to think of what I could ask next.  "So what do you know about me?  About succubae?"

"Truthfully not much," she admitted, fixing her hair.  "Probably nothing beyond what you already do.  You need sex, you can read emotions, you can influence people.  You're resistant to pain and death like us.  Only irreparable damage to your head, heart, or sex organs will kill you."

"Good to know," I said with a nervous laugh.  I'd always felt...more durable somehow.  I guess now I know why.

"You're weirded out, aren't you?" Tara asked.

I nodded, "a little.  It's all so new, and I'm sure it's only a small part of what actually exists.  We're only two of what...seven races?  I don't even know that much about myself, let alone everyone else."

"Give it time," Tara said, putting a reassuring arm around me.  "I can tell you a little bit about Lycans too since that's what Evan is."

"You're dating a werewolf?" I asked with a note of surprise.  "Isn't that kind of...weird?"

"Well, some people still aren't fond of...comingling between species.  But for the most part people are okay with it.  Some races tend to be more dominant than others, so there are a lot of mismatched couples that are good fits.  As far as Vampires and Lycans...yes traditionally we don't get along."

"So what about Evan?" I pressed, curious to have more to wrap my mind around than a name and an impression of dominance.

"Right...well, I'm sure you're familiar with most of the basic myths.  They're half true.  Lycans do transform into the wolf at the height of each full moon.  But what the scary stories frequently leave out is that they also transform every other night.  It's merely those nights around the full moon where the animal is most difficult to control.  Evan locks himself away on those nights.  Outside of that week though he's hardly more than an overbearing dog," she said, smiling fondly.  "It took a while before he transformed in front of me.  I think he was afraid of hurting me even then.  Good Doms are as protective as they are controlling."

I nodded, trying to conjure the image of a large grey wolf with a human demeanor.  It was difficult.  "So how did you come to know about FoR?" I asked as the question suddenly dawned on me.  There was so much that I was trying to cram into my head it seemed like things kept spilling out, only to be rediscovered later.

"Evan is a member there," Tara replied matter of factly.  "I'm hoping to become a member myself as his sub.

"I thought everyone was a member," I said, somewhat confused.  How else would they be able to gain access through the mysterious doors.

"There are full members, partial members, and nonmembers, though every non-human race is allowed entry aside from certain people that are specifically barred."

"Full members go through an extensive background check, must pass a series of tests, must pledge their allegiance to the club and to the code of ethics pertaining to their position within the BDSM community, and must be involved with the club for over a year.  They receive a collar denoting their status, full use of the facilities and dungeons, and a certain level of authority over other club attendees, again depending on that status."

"Status?" I asked.  "You mean like Dom, sub..."  I thought back to the man I'd seen on the street, the incubus.  He'd had a collar on that seemed to share certain magical properties, though I didn't see what status it indicated.  Was it one of those collars, or something else?

"Yeah, but it's more complicated than that.  Miss Reed can tell you more than I really," she said.  "Partial members meet some of the above, but not all.  Most often they've passed their checks and trials, but lack the experience, or they're employees.  Anyone they hire is automatically a partial member because of the background checks they do."

"Then the nonmembers.  The non-humans that come and go sporadically, only using FoR as a lounge or a sanctuary amid a mostly human world, or those that don't delve into the BDSM culture.  They really only care about the restaurant and bar and the arena downstairs."

"So how come you're not even a partial member?" I asked, noting her lack of collar.

"Evan didn't think I was ready until not that long ago, and for races that tend to live a while, the background check takes quite a bit longer.  I'm a little...old.  I gave Miss Reed your name when we first met and I realized what you were, and that you were into bondage."

"Thanks for cluing me in," I said sarcastically.  Tara's expression dropped so fast I had to struggle not to laugh.

"Sorry Ma'am."

"Oh stop it, it's fine," I said somewhat irritably.  "I'm an adult, I can deal with such things...as long as you tell me the truth from now on...the unvarnished truth..."

Tara perked up a bit and nodded before breaking into a slow grin.  "How exciting, you'll be an employee of FoR.  Maybe you can play with me there after hours," she said with a wink.

"Actually I haven't accepted yet," I said, recalling the earlier conversation I'd had with Miss Reed.  The phone number for her office was sitting patiently in my binder.

Tara practically tore me off the couch.  Goddamn Vampires were strong.  Was she faking it every time I restrained her with my hands?  "Well, go do it," she said, giving me a stern look that made me feel like a small child.

Without thinking I grabbed the number and rooted around in my pocket for my cell phone.  "You sure you're a sub?" I chided Tara.

"Submissive, one step above the bottom," Tara said proudly.  Rather than wonder what she meant, I opted to dial the number instead.

"I thought I'd be hearing from you sooner rather than later," she said before I'd even had a chance to speak a word.  "You can start on Monday.  It'll be one of your off days, but it's a perfect day to begin since there shouldn't be a lot of people.  Show up at noon."

"Yes Miss Reed," I replied dumbly.  Even her voice had a way of taking me over.

"See you then," she said, and hung up the phone.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 3 - The Interview

Saturday
I awoke from a short three hour nap at around ten in the morning.  The interview wasn't until the club 'opened,' (I don't know if you could ever call a private club 'open') at two, so I had some time to kill.  Realizing that I was running low on food, I opted for a short shopping trip.  Like many other things, I didn't need food, but eating regularly lessened my dependence on other things.

I liked the fact that the city was always some level of busy whether it was mid-morning or midnight.  It was comforting to know that at any given time there was so much going on, so many other people simply living their lives.

And admittedly, I liked gawking at the other incubi and succubae that I saw.  The wings were a dead giveaway, and at times it seemed absurd that the people around them didn't notice.  It had made me wonder if there were other races, with more subtle differences that even I could not see.  I could rattle off half a dozen that I'd found in browsing for information on myself, but the existence of each seemed more absurd than the last.  Sometimes I felt like otherwise normal looking humans knew what I was, but I had always quickly dismissed the feeling as paranoia.

I fell into step behind a tall winged man, no more substantial in girth than myself, but at least a foot and a half taller.  His wings seemed like they could block off the entire street if they unfolded and I had to again try and find the courage to engage him in conversation.  How would I begin?  What would I say?  Was our common heritage enough, or would I be dismissed as though I were nothing?

After following him for a block and a half, I noticed something else, a collar around his neck that gave off the same visible, yet not visible vibe that his wings did.  About an inch wide, and dark leather, it bore no identifying marks.  I couldn't even tell how it was fastened around his neck, and the black material along with his tanned skin, and snowy gray hair produced an interesting mix of colors.

As we stopped to wait for the light at the next street, I pulled up next to him, trying to study his body without appearing to look.  I was surprised, even though his lightly colored hair suggested at least a middle aged gentlemen, his smooth facial features suggested that he wasn't much older than me.  Or perhaps he was, there were several accounts of how my kind does not physically age.

I was not nearly as subtle as I'd hoped to be, and he noticed my stares.  I could feel his eyes tracing the outline of my wings before they came to settle on my neck.  Looking for...what?  "Morning," he said with a nod and a voice that was surprisingly soft and amicable.  I don't know what I expected.  Mythology said my kind was evil, but I didn't feel particularly so, and it made sense that I wouldn't be alone in that regard.

All I could do was smile like an idiot as the light changed and he started forward with the crowd.  My destination was only a few feet off so I was forced to merely wonder and watch him fade into the distance.

Grocery shopping was as quick and easy as I expected it to be.  I picked up a few basic things that I could eat out of the box, like cereal and chips, along with stuff that was easier to make into something a bit more substantial like eggs, cheese, bread, and cold cuts.  Unfortunately the trek back to my studio apartment was neither quick, nor easy.  I have many qualities that humans do not possess, but above average strength and endurance are not among them.

By the time I'd set the bags down and was keying my door,  my arms throbbed with dull pain.  Putting everything neatly in its place, I sat down with my laptop to hunt for some good porn and to prepare for the interview.

*    *    *

I looked up at the brown brick exterior to Freedom of Restraint.  The letters were prominently displayed on the outside of a set of frosted glass doors with wooden borders that looked far too ornate for that part of the city.  It seemed strange that such a private establishment would advertise so readily, but as I drew closer I realized the letters gave off the same sort of impression as my wings did, and the man's collar had earlier.

I took a deep breath as I stood for a moment on the sidewalk.  Judging by the depth of the buildings, and the fact that there didn't seem to be much else around, the interior of the place could be massive.  The fact that the entrance was ominously sunk a couple yards into the architecture didn't do much to soothe my nerves.

I walked into the shaded alcove and gave one of the large brass handles a tug...then a push.  They didn't move.  As I stepped back I saw that there were silhouettes of hands etched into the center of each door about head high.  A pair of handcuffs sat around each wrist with a chain connecting them.  Those hadn't been there before...right?

Intrigued, I walked up and fit both of my hands within those on the door.  The glass warmed to the touch, causing me to jump back.  As I watched, the chain disappeared link by link and I heard a soft click.  Trying the doors once more I found that they easily swung outwards.

The interior was not what I expected, although it seems stupid to say so since I didn't really know what to expect.  I guess I would not have been surprised if I had stepped into a scene straight out of some tawdry romance novel with some sort of faux medieval decorum, but the place looked much more modern.

The carpeting was a crisp grey, halfway between white and black and the walls were similarly dark with crimson trim.  The muted style seemed to be more than a counter for the surprisingly clean lighting dimming the room to a romantic level without the yellowness that enveloped so many similar places.  It was as though the designer had wanted to blend a modern level of cleanliness and precision with an ancient atmosphere, and more than succeeded.

The short but wide entry hall opened into a fairly large room on the left, and another set of double doors straight ahead.  I wandered through the archway to the left into what appeared to be a waiting area.  There was a large desk in the corner and a series of short metal chairs and padded benches tucked into a large alcove near the side of the building that faced the street.

There was no one around but as I approached the desk a tall thin woman in a dark grey blazer and knee length skirt came out of a door behind it.  Her dark black hair, prim bun and thick horned glasses reminded me of a librarian, but the woman gave off an aura that said she was anything but prude and tidy behind closed doors.

"You must be Lena Marov, I'm Vivian Reed, you can call me Miss Reed." she said, shaking my hand.  The voice was exactly what I expected, calm, authoritative, and with a subtle hint of friendliness.  She was in charge, but at the moment, she was nice about it.  "We're going to have to go for a little bit of a hike, the formal section of this place, that is the offices and conference rooms, are on the third floor.  But at least you'll get a little tour on the way."  She flashed me a smile that both calmed my nerves and seemed to undress me at the same time.

I followed her out of the waiting area and through the double doors that led deeper into the building.  As the floor transitioned from the grey carpet to hardwood that was a similarly dull shade of brown, they opened into a large dining area with several tables scattered throughout the center and a long bar along the back wall.  There was a succubus, stereotypical in appearance, tending bar lazily and a few scattered people whose races I could not place sitting at a few of the tables.

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"This is our restaurant area," Miss Reed said, slowing her walk.  "Over there are a few play-cubbies for those that like exhibitionism," she said gesturing to a few alcoves along the left wall.  There were a myriad of hooks and handles attached to the walls and a few benches and St. Andrew's crosses in each corner.  "I trust that you know enough about what we do here to not be embarrassed by such things?" Miss Reed asked.

"No, not at all," I answered trying to ignore the stares that were coming my way.  The succubus in particular, seemed very interested in me.

"Good," Miss Reed said, continuing forwards.  She led me to the back right corner of the dining area and up a wide staircase.  The derriere of Miss Reed as we ascended was not an unpleasant sight.  With the outfit, the hairstyle, and the glasses, she might have looked a bit mature for my tastes, but even shaded by so many layers, I could tell that her body was as perky as mine.  And the dark hair didn't hurt.  I was a sucker for dark hair, especially in women.  Maybe that's a little vain considering it mirrors my own appearance, but fuck, dark hair is hot.

"This is our first floor of rooms," she said, pausing on the landing at the top of the steps.  She gestured to the right where a walkway wrapped around the outer walls.  I could see a series of numbered doors along the hallway, and look over an intricate crimson and gold railing into the dining area below.  "Most of these are taken up by temporary residents, sort of like a hotel, though the actions that take place within are far from innocent.  They're often taken out for extended play sessions that our private dungeons in the basement can't accommodate."

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She stated up a second set of stairs directly ahead.  "The third floor is similar to the first, with a few more rooms and our offices of course.  We have a few that reside in this building permanently.  We passed some of them on our way up."  Finally we stepped out onto the third floor.  I paused for a moment to look out onto the street through the window atop the stairs before following Miss Reed around the corner and down another hallway.

"Originally we wanted to keep the administration part separate, locked away," she said as we passed a series of cubicles on the right.  But the employees only sign at the bottom of the third floor is enough to keep visitors away.  Plus our screening process is extensive so we trust our full time residents."  We stepped through an entry way into what had been a former hotel room, but now housed more desks and a few cubicle partitions.  Along the back wall of the room there was a large wooden door in the center that looked like it was older than anything in the city.  "I have to look at least a little intimidating if I'm going to own this place," she explained, pushing it open.  She walked behind a desk that seemed too large for the room, setting herself down in a tall backed leather chair.  Now things were starting to look a bit more stereotypical.

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My seat was a relatively nice, but diminutive in comparison leather armchair in front of the Nimitz sized desk.  "Should we hire you, you'll be spending most of your time up here, though you're more than welcome to enjoy the services of the establishment should you so choose."  She said with such a knowing tone that I had to wonder what Tara had told her about me.

It seemed my question was to be answered as she spoke again, "Tara tells me you're into bondage, which helps you stand out."  For the first time it registered that I had no idea how Tara had come across such a place.  I knew she had dirty inclinations, but she didn't quite seem like the bondage club type.  "We certainly want people who are at least okay with the lifestyle working with us...and if they're active participants, all the better."  She flashed me a grin that seemed to dissect me before folding her arms over the desk and leaning forwards.  "What do you consider yourself within the BDSM culture?"

"Uh, a switch I guess," I mumbled softly.  This was not how I expected the interview to go.

"Mmm," she murmured softly before pausing for a long moment.  "Well it's neither here nor there to me, but should you delve more into the community you might meet a few foes.  Switches aren't very highly regarded within the community."

She smiled at me.  God damnit, she knew how embarrassed I was.  "I'm what we call a Power Domme," she said with that smile.  "Can you tell?"  I nodded meekly as she continued.  "Well I suppose the real reason why you're here is the job opening we have.  I was merely curious about your personal life...how you'll fit in here."

"I like your resume, and I like what Tara's told me about you," she said, shuffling a few papers.  "So I don't really have a whole lot of questions for you.  The job is fairly simple, but there is a lot that goes into it.  We have cooks, bartenders, professional Doms and Dommes, security, myself, yourself, our receptionist and a few temporary employees from time to time.  We have live shows in our basement arena, bondage demonstrations, concerts.  There are food orders, equipment orders, time billed for appointments, rent checks and probably a whole host of things that I'm not even thinking about."  She paused for a moment to look at me.

"Good, you're not overwhelmed," she said.  "Rather you're thinking about how it all goes together."  Damnit, how the hell did she know that, was she telepathic?  "I'm good at reading people...and your facial expressions aren't very subtle."  Fair enough.

"Well, we have a computer system to track most of the employee time.  Everyone enters their information, clients, appointments, etcetera into our computer system and that all flows down to your position.  You don't have to monitor things too closely, just look for big discrepancies.  If an appointment runs long by ten minutes, fine.  If a client cancels and the appointment still gets billed...that's a bit of an issue."

"All the tangible things are listed and inventoried, by the various departments, and that comes to you as well." she continued.  "It's all billed weekly.  All of this will come to you Friday afternoon, and you have to approve and submit it by Tuesday at four.  Then I look at it, but if you don't have any comments, I'm just going to trust your eye and pass it on through," she said.

I took a deep breath that didn't go unnoticed by Miss Reed.  "Like I said, it's not very difficult, but it's a lot.  You'll be trained to use our accounting software, and once you've got the hang of it, it's all pretty easy.  It's mostly checking things and making sure we don't go bankrupt," she said with a smile.  "Not much worry there."

"I'll be up front and tell you that we intend to offer you the job.  You get paid a salary of $35,000 a year for being our bookkeeper.  We only require that you be around between four and eight PM Tuesday through Saturday.  Some days the job will take more time, some days less.  There aren't many around besides our residents on Sundays and Mondays so you won't have to be here for more than an odd handful every year.  Once we get you set up with the software, you'll be able to access it from home so while we don't have a sick or vacation day policy, I don't mind doling them out generously.  Most of what we do is appointment based, so when someone gets sick we just reschedule.  Do you have any questions?"

I gulped and thought for a moment.  I had expected a tougher trial.  Questions, inquiries into my schooling.  The meeting had been more like an orientation than an interview.  I almost didn't register that she'd told me that I had the job if I wanted it.  "Why me?" I blurted somewhat stupidly.  Fuck.  "I mean, I'm honored that you think so highly of me so soon...but Tara couldn't have given me that glowing of a testimonial."

Miss Reed laughed and smiled, making me feel naked for the umpteenth time.  "While Miss Burnham was willing to go into great detail about your...skills," the fuck? "the main reason behind our faith in you is because you meet one of our very stringent policies for our employees.  You aren't human."

Not human?  My mind tripped over itself and landed flat on its face.  When it had picked itself up, dusted off its pants and started to move once more, I was able to ask my question.  "Not human, so you're..."

She moved a hand to her hair, pushing back the strands that had covered the tops of her ears.  "Dark elf," she said with a hint of pride, revealing their pointy tips.

"Dark elf?" I asked incredulously.  With her fair skin, Miss Reed was not a dark anything.

"The name given to those of us that have embraced some of the things the human world has to offer, such as technology...or erotic pleasures.  The rest of us remain hidden, resigned to the rapidly shrinking unexplored, or rarely visited areas of the earth.  We decided to embrace the modern world on our own terms.  They will eventually be forced to join us whether they want to or not."

"Wha..er..." my mind was being pulled in at least six different directions.  "Okay, I had no idea elves even existed."

Miss Reed chuckled, shaking loose a few rogue strands of hair.  "Yes Miss Burnham said you were a bit sheltered.  It's one of the things that makes me think I can trust you.  We'll likely open your eyes to a world you never knew existed...but always held out hope for, is that right?  Miss Burnham said she's seen your head snap around to wistfully watch others of your kind wander by.  You must have so many questions..."

"Wait Tara...what is she?"

"I think Miss Burnham would prefer to tell you that on her own," she said with just a hint of a scold in her tone that I felt like a rebuked child.

"Okay, so how many different races are there?"

"Well, Incubi and Succubae of course, Elves, Vampires, Lycans, Elemental Nymphs, and Humans."

I put my head in my hands, trying to process what I'd just been told.  So Tara was one of those six...I never knew, how was it possible?  "I can see this is a lot to digest," Miss Reed said, chuckling again.  "You have the offer, and you know where to find us.  Go home, think about everything and come back when you're ready  The doors know to let you in.  Confront your friend, but be gentle, being afraid of revealing what we are is part of our nature."

With that she led me back through the building.  She stopped to point out a few more things on the way out, but my mind was too fogged up to even register them.  Before long I found myself outside once more, walking home.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 2 - Tara Finishes the Job

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 2
Tara Finishes the Job

Friday

"Good heavens, you're so pathetic," I said with a good natured grin as Tara looked up at me from the floor.  She had that 'yes Ma'am, I'll do anything you say' look on her face that was so cute it make me want to give her a hug, and at the same time, so arousing it made me want to pull her long blonde hair until her face was buried between my legs.

I sat up on the edge of the bed, spreading a few inches so she could look up and see the wetness that she was so close to enjoying.  I loved how effortless it was to reinforce the power I held over her, how she chose to give me that power in a way that made it seem so inherent, as though being below me was her natural place.  At the invitation, Tara nearly melted, leaning a few inches closer to me in anticipation.

"You can stand up now," I said casually.  Tara begrudgingly pulled herself to her feet, struggling and failing to hid her crestfallen look.

"Oh don't pout," I chided her, standing and walking a slow circle around my prey.  I stopped behind her so that I could lean over and whisper into her ear.  "As much as you and I both delight in the fact that you're so willing to be my little toy, you'll always be my friend first."

Sometimes Tara needed the reminder.  "I have a boyfriend, but he says I can fuck whatever women I want," she'd told me proudly within five minutes of our first meeting.  "And I'd definitely fuck you," she had followed.

Tara relaxed visibly, snapping out of her sub-mode into the odd in-between area where I could talk to her about something as innocuous as the weather before asking her to strip in the very next sentence.  "What did this one do?" she asked.

"Too insecure, I don't know what the hell happens to the young ones that they're so concerned about their size, their performance, their level of experience, but it's getting annoying."  I maintained my position behind her.  I knew the fact that she couldn't see me, and was too obedient to turn her head would keep her on edge and remind her of her place for the evening.

"Too bad the dominant side of you manages to attract the wimpy boys," Tara said with a smirk that I could see even from behind her.  "Evan has no indecisiveness to speak of...and no insecurities."

"That explains why you're so well behaved," I purred.  "Arms."  Instantly she was reaching towards the ceiling as I slid my fingers beneath the thin white layer of fabric that she called a tank top.  I paused for a moment, letting her enjoy the warm sensation of my hands so near her skin, before lifting it off her body and tossing it aside.

"How is the boyfriend anyways," I asked casually, ignoring for the moment that she hadn't worn a bra and that her perky A-nearly-B cup breasts were hanging just out of my sight.

"Are you asking because you want to know, or do you want me to make you wet with tales of rough sex and blowjobs?" she asked with a smirk.

A firm swat on her ass quickly wiped it off her face and I noticed that her wince lasted longer than usual.  She likely had marks on her that hadn't quite healed yet.  Something I could use to my advantage.  "Good, and for non-orgasmic reasons.  Some people wonder how such a relationship can work but...we fit."

"Put your hands behind your head."  She jumped at the whisper that came from lips mere inches from her ear and quickly complied.  It was funny, I had never been brimming with confidence, certainly never enough as to where I'd been able to picture myself standing over a half naked blonde while she did everything I told her to.  And yet I knew exactly how to push Tara's buttons, knew exactly what would have her dripping with excitement.  Most importantly I knew how to boss her around in a way that made it just as enjoyable for her as it was for me.  I don't think bondage works unless it's a two way street, and I knew she was looking forward to planting her lips on me as much as I was looking forward to having them.

"Excited about your interview tomorrow?" Tara asked.  It was one of the things I liked about her, despite being submissive, she wasn't afraid to take some initiative, or if necessary, drive a conversation.

"Of course," I replied, running a finger lightly up her spine.  "I still get the feeling that you're withholding information from me, but I suppose I'll find out soon enough."  Tara could do nothing but sigh at my touch.  I couldn't quite place the reason for my suspicions, but it always seemed that Tara had a little smirk that suggested there was something about the potential job that I wasn't quite getting, that she was keeping some dirty little secret from me.  Try as I could to wrangle something out of her, she was either superbly good at keeping things in, or I was merely being paranoid.

I traced downwards with my finger until it hooked inside the waistband of her pajama pants, and pulled outward slightly.  The gap revealed the type of tanned and completely bare ass that only a leggy blonde like Tara could possess.  You could take the girl out of California... I thought to myself, allowing the pants to snap back into place.

"Hmm, I thought better of what I said before," I informed her.  "Remove the pants and kneel on my bed," I said matter of factly.  She didn't need to be told twice as she undid her drawstring and left the plaid pants in a pink puddle on the floor where she'd stood.  Within seconds she was on the end of my bed, facing towards the pillows, and was even obedient enough to put her hands back on her head affording me a full view of her body.

"I feel so ridiculous sometimes, being the one in charge when you've got about eight inches and thirty pounds on me," I told her, climbing onto the bed with her.  I laid back, resting my head on the pillows, knowing that she was just aching to touch me.  Sliding forward, I rested my feet on her shoulders, enjoying the way she tried not to giggle when I poked at her neck with my toes.

A few more inches and my heels were nestled behind her neck.  Just before she could realize the advantage I had, I used it, pulling her forwards.  Her arms flew out as she rushed to catch herself and I deftly grabbed a hold of her before her head could "accidentally" land somewhere on my body before I wanted it to.

She struggled to lift herself to a position on all fours and I moved my legs over the top of her arms, pinning her hands and elbows to the bed.  My right hand had a firm grip on her silky hair as it spilled over my fingers, holding her head close enough so that she could smell the sex radiating from me.  My left hand softly caressed her cheek as her eyes started to roll back in her head.

After a few seconds I brought her back to reality with a hard slap that she enjoyed more than she let on.  "Show me you want it," I said, gesturing downwards.  The tug on my grip was sudden and so severe that I nearly let her have her prize before I wanted her to.  It was impressive how willingly she could ignore the pain in the pursuit of the carnal delights that she wanted to bring to me.  Impressive for a human anyways, worse had happened to me that I hadn't even noticed.

Her desire spilled over onto me, and I started to melt a bit myself.  Being a creature that depends on sexual pleasure for sustenance, I had always had the ability to sense what my partners wanted.  Equal parts delightful and frustrating since it meant that I could instantly cater to a lover's desires, only to see my own efforts unrequited.

My mind slowly dripped back to Tara who was starting to risk losing significant amounts of her hair as she struggled against my grasp.  I spread my legs slightly and whispered to her, "you can lick anywhere...but my pussy.  I'll move you when I'm good and ready."

My fingers loosened and my other hand joined its counterpart as I enjoyed the subtle sensation of my fingers twirling around her soft hair.  Tara's tongue on my inner thigh was like the first stream of warmth from a satisfying shower, shocking, and infinitely pleasurable.

I could feel just how wild the teasing was driving Tara and that heightened my own anticipation.  "Mmmph," I moaned, arching my back as Tara's nose brushed a spot it was not yet allowed to.  I tightened my grip once more and pulled upwards.  The slap was harder than before, but I followed it with a knowing grin, one that elicited a sheepish look from Tara.  "I know you're not sloppy enough for that to have been an accident," I chastised her.  "I'm going to make you pay for it."

"Sorry," Tara said genuinely.  She was getting that look again, the one that told me that my friend was slipping away, and the pleasure toy was taking her place.  This time, however, I didn't mind so much.

"Take a deep breath," I said, pushing her head down.  If the first few licks on my inner thighs had been a stream of warm water, her tongue working its way between my lips to wrap itself around my clit was a full immersion in bliss.  Nine in ten men may have disappointed me, but Tara never did.  The girl knew what the fuck she was doing.

Strange that I could be in a position that gave me every advantage, but have the power shift back to her.  She could make me cum in mere minutes if she wanted, maybe even seconds, but she knew that I liked and deserved better.  She knew exactly how and exactly when to press all the right buttons to an extent that sometimes I could swear that she was of my kind.  She knew when to lick, when to suck, and if I decided to let her, when fingers could turn a good experience into a great one.

"Unh, right there," I breathed as her tongue found my clit again.  She didn't need to be told.  Her eyes looked up at me over my knotted stomach and I could see the smile in them.  We both knew what was about to happen.  She brought me to the edge again and again until I could stand it no more.

"I swear to god," I moaned between licks.  "If you're teasing me this time...I will beat you til you cry."  She shook her head back and forth, bringing a speed to her tongue that I didn't think was possible.  My hands looked around for something to grab and eventually found hers and I squeezed well beyond what was comfortable.  The orgasm seemed to want to flex every muscle in my body and rip me apart as Tara's immaculate tongue played me like a finely tuned instrument.

At some point I roughly grabbed her head and pulled her close because after some time I slowly began to register her hands swatting comically at my legs, asking me to allow her to breathe.  I let her suffer for a few more seconds before letting her go.  I didn't have to open my eyes to know that she was wiping the evidence of our encounter off her face and licking her fingers, but the thought brought a smile.

I stood and stretched, trying to defog myself.  "Go get me a drink, I'll put in a movie," I told her.  When she started to walk away, I grabbed another fistful of hair and gave her a hard swat on the ass, adding to the subtle redness that was still visible in the right lighting.  "Next time no tricky shit," I told her.

"Yes Ma'am," she said as I let her go.  I conjured up a movie we'd seen a dozen times and pulled on a gray tank top and pajama pants of my own as the title screen loaded.  A few minutes later Tara returned with some hot cocoa, still nude.   She knew better than to get dressed.  As she settled down beside me and pulled a blanket over the two of us, I decided that as further punishment, she'd be returning to her apartment that way.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 1 - Lena Marov

Freedom of Restraint: Episode 1
Lena Marov


"Ugh get off...and leave too," I said, pushing my somewhat paunchy companion away from me, and nearly off the other side of the bed.  He was a pale skinny college boy in his late teens, probably an attendee of nearby NYU, but it didn't matter.  As a nighttime companion he'd been adequate, but unspectacular like too many his age.  I thought about showing off my wings just to scare him into departing with a bit more urgency, but that might provoke some unwanted questions, and even less wanted attention.

"What?" he asked dumbly, sitting up.  His curly brown hair, which had been fun to run my fingers through, started to annoy me for some reason.

"Get dressed and get out," I told him simply.  "I have an interview tomorrow afternoon so I want to sleep alone tonight."  The words were half true.  While sleep did tend to clear my head, I didn't need it for rejuvenation, not as much as sex anyways.

"Well alright," he said, running a hand through his hair and finally moving.  He started to dress as though he was doing it under water, too slow, like he was waiting for me to change my mind and ask him to stay.

"Are you sure you don't want-"

"Now!"  I cut him off.  He had crossed the threshold from minor annoyance to full fledged pain in the ass.  Smiling somewhat devilishly, I turned on the charm.  "You will be out of my apartment within two minutes," I purred, "and you'll be leaving your pants here.  I'm sure the cab driver will love your boxers."  The jeans looked like a comfortable trophy, and he'd pissed me off enough so that I had no issues with making him embarrass himself.  When the effects of my influence wore off about halfway back to his dorm, he'd feel pretty foolish at wandering out in his underwear.  I wouldn't be around to see it, unfortunately, but the mental picture was nearly as good.

"Okay," he said slumping the jeans over the edge of the bed.  Within seconds, everything else was in place and I was closing my door after watching him disappear down the hallway and into the elevator.

I sighed and stretched my wings.  Large and seemingly unwieldy for such a petite girl like myself, the tips nearly reached opposite walls in my small studio apartment.  I wasn't sure what they were exactly in the tangible sense.  They were always present, though they could only be seen and touched by human beings if I desired.  Substantial enough to be able to lift me off the ground, and yet ghostly enough for me to be able to wear clothes or lay on a bed without any annoying problems.  They are a mystery, like many aspects of my existence.

I stumbled into my undersized bathroom and studied myself in the mirror, prodding at the spots amid the short black hair on my head where mythology said my horns would be.  It had taken an absurdly small amount of research for me to figure out what I was.  There was a remarkable amount of information on the internet regarding succubae.  Some of it fit, some of it didn't.  My appetite for sex had been rather similar to a vampire's appetite for blood since puberty.  Masturbation could tide me over for a little while, but I needed either a dick inside of me, or lips planted firmly on my nether regions or I grew weary and began to waste away.

It had been a harrowing time for my foster parents, their little fourteen year old impaling herself on everything she could find.  It strained relations at the least, and they were not sad to see me leave when I was eighteen.

Fast forward a little over three years and time had me where I am now, staring into a mirror, wondering about myself for the millionth consecutive night.  I've never known any others of my kind, but I have seen them, and different races too.  I don't know what it is that makes humanity so oblivious, when we are not.  Still, the courage to approach someone, to inquire about my existence has eluded me.

It always amused me how little the mythological representation of succubae and my own appearance intersected.  Typically the women are shown as tanned, voluptuous, horned demons with malicious stares and large leathery wings.  The wings are pretty accurate, and my firm C-cup breasts match the ample bust of many of the pictures, but everything else is way off.  I would never be called anything even remotely near voluptuous, or intimidating.  In fact, as far as mythical creatures are concerned, minus the wings, I am more elfin than anything.  A pixyish tapered face, a willowy body, barely palpable hips and fair white skin...  My appearance still has me attracting the eye of many a boy and girl, but it doesn't exactly scream slut, harlot, or any of the other delightful words meant to describe what I am.

Sighing, I stepped into the shower.  I don't need them.  I never get sick, never have an odor, and dirt seems to have no interest in attaching itself to my body, but it feels natural since everyone else around me does it, and the warm water always feels good, especially after unsatisfying sex.

I was looking forward to the interview the following afternoon for a bunch of different reasons.  After three years rushing through an accounting degree, it was gratifying to be making a foray into the real world.  The money that my biological parents had left me had been able to sustain me, and would continue to do so for a while, but it wouldn't last forever.  And the desire to make a contribution to something with my time had started to outweigh the desire for an easy life.  Sitting around doing nothing wasn't much fun, and attending classes and completing pointless assignments seemed a little too close to doing nothing for my taste.

Then there were the less professional reasons that the interview had me brimming with excitement.  First off was the nature of the establishment that was evidently hoping I'd prove intelligent enough to be allowed to keep their books.  Freedom of Restraint is, for lack of a better term, a professional dungeon, (and I suspect an occasional fuck parlor).  There are many dungeons scattered throughout New York City, specializing in providing a variety of bondage related delights for their clientele, but FoR is different.  Private to the point of almost seeming shady, the only reason I found out about an opening there was my friend Tara.  I would call her my corrupter, but I don't think a succubus that started having sex when she was fourteen can consider herself less corrupt than anyone or anything. 

Still, she had been the one to ward off much of the guilt that I'd felt from engaging in an activity that society labels as "dirty," and also the one to introduce me to some of the more delightful aspects of sexual play.  Tara had been the ever-willing dictionary that defined the word bondage for me and she had relished the opportunity to introduce me to the many delights of submitting to, or dominating someone sexually. 

I turned the shower off and seemed to dry almost instantly, something I've never quite gotten used to.  Wandering back out into the living area and over to my bed, I fished my cell phone from beneath the sheets and dialed a familiar number.

"Heard you tumbling around down there," Tara said, her words dripping with anticipation and lust "thought I might be hearing from you tonight."  She lived in the apartment directly above mine, it was actually how we'd met.  She had come down one evening after I had enjoyed a particularly rough go at an almost painfully large and more than deliciously skilled guy, presumably to tell me to fuck off and to keep it down in the future.  Instead of the heated argument she'd prepared for, our conversation had actually been rather friendly.  Her eyes had glazed over once she saw me in my tiny cami, and I knew immediately that she was attracted to me without even having to use my suggestive abilities.

"Yeah, it wasn't good, do you want to come over?"

"Do I ever not?  I told you that you didn't have to ask.  What are you wearing?"

I smiled, knowing she'd detect the implications in my voice.  "Nothing..."  The phone went silent and I knew she'd be knocking in under a minute.

Sure enough before I'd even had a chance to rummage around the floor for the phone charger, a gentle tapping came from across the room.  "I keep telling you that you can just come in," I called, dumping the phone on the nightstand and turning to greet my visitor.  The door opened and shut with a series of soft clicks.

"Sorry, habit," Tara said shyly, making no attempt to hide the fact that her eyes had glued themselves to by body, and would probably remain there for most of the night.

I grinned at the perky blonde knowing that her submissive nature had her wrapped tightly around my finger for as long as I desired.  Tara had confessed her attraction to me early, as if I needed to hear the words.  What had surprised me was her utter willingness to act on those desires without requirement of reciprocation on my part.  The girl was made to please and while a feminine touch had always proven less fulfilling of my needs than a masculine one, it was no less welcome especially since Tara was so good at her craft.

"Get on your hands and knees, and crawl over to the bed," I said with a smile, taking a seat on the edge and enjoying my show.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Freedom of Restraint: Introduction

This is going to be the home to what is to be called Freedom of Restraint from now until I stop writing it, whenever that should happen.  I've been going over a lot of this stuff over at A Criminally Vulgar Blog, but I figure that I should rehash some of it here.

Freedom of Restraint will be a fantasy series with new episodes posted every week. Episodes are likely to be between 2 and 10 pages long, probably mostly falling into the 3-5 page range.  It will be fantasy in the sense that there will be non-human creatures, though the setting takes place in modern day New York City.

Most importantly, the story will be extremely Not Safe For Work (NSFW) as it will feature heavy themes of sex, bondage and Bondage-Domination-Sadism-Masochism (BDSM) culture.  By being here, you are confirming that you are of age to view those materials and in a place where viewing said materials will not compromise any part of your life.  Aka don't read this shit at work, stupid.

I'm going to try and stay a few episodes ahead (the first one is actually already written) so I should be able to hold myself to posting on a specific day at a specific time each week.  Updates will be sent to twitter, facebook, and A Criminally Vulgar Blog so it should be pretty easy to find what you need/want.  The Episodes will be numbered and tagged as such, so hopefully it will be extremely easy to navigate.

That having been said, enjoy.