Was he pushing me to do scenes on camera? I decided to take his words at face value rather than read a manipulation into them.
Sophie: I am looked forward to trying new things and finding out what the rest of those shopping items were for. I’m becoming a very greedy girl, and I want more.
MC: What were some of the lowlights or things about the session you didn’t like?
Sophie: Hmm. That I had trouble finding the right toy at the right moment. I was scared of taking too long and displeasing you, so that made me fumble around even more.
MC: You are on a learning curve and you will be better prepared once you know more about my demands and expectations. I thought the first live session went well, and they will only get better. Last night we enjoyed a positive session, and I’m looking forward to taking you even higher and further. I have to get back to work soon, but first I have an assignment for you.
Sophie: Yes, sir.
MC: Today will be fuck day. Every hour on the hour I want thirty strokes in that wet cunt. You will find the privacy and fuck yourself counting backward from thirty to zero. I want you to be a hungry li’l whore all day. Understood?
Eek. I was volunteering at the library today. How would I do that?
Sophie: Yes, sir, I understand.
MC: One more thing—I don’t want to see Dom spelled with a lower case d again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Usually the letter ‘a’ makes an aaaaah sound. As in apple,” I said.
“Like in bad?” Juanita asked.
“Exactly!”
The Mexican woman and I sat in one of the library conference rooms. We went through the rest of the alphabet and Juanita picked up the basics quickly.
As summer progressed, I made sure I got involved in more activities that got me out of the house. One of them was helping adults learn to read. It blew my mind that a person could get through school without that basic skill, but some did. And others, like Juanita, dropped out early to do menial work and never really mastered it.
But I could tell she was smart and would be zooming through a newspaper in no time. Teaching people to read was fun for me. It didn’t matter if it was a child or an adult—watching the light come on in their eyes when they “got it,” and seeing the look on their faces when the pieces of the puzzle came together in their minds—it was a privilege to be a part of that experience.
“Let’s try this reader.” I placed a simple phonics-based primer in her hand.
Juanita looked anxious. “I don’t know…”
“Just try,” I said, smiling encouragingly.
She did and I helped her, but only when she stumbled.
I enjoyed these Wednesday afternoons at the library. I had three adult students, and after I was finished with those appointments I browsed the stacks until I had an armful of books to check out. It was the day of the week I looked forward to the most, and the day MC knew not to give me tasks.
After Juanita left, I was headed toward the fiction section when I ran into my friend Jackie and her twins. Apparently, the identical blond poppets came to story time in the children’s section of the library each Wednesday afternoon. I tagged along while Jackie got her little darlings seated in the circle around the elderly librarian, who opened a book that featured a pile of puppies and talking farm animals. Then Jackie and I snuck to the back to catch up.
“How is it, being home with them? I’ll bet it’s great,” I said.
“It is, but they are so much work. I love them, but I swear working is easier than being home with twins.” Jackie sighed.
“But they are precious.”
She smiled. “They are, aren’t they?”
I nodded.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m good.”
“Really? What about Spencer? How’s that going?”
“The divorce is coming along. I’m fine, really. Over it.” Even as I spoke I wondered if that was true or if I was just hiding from my feelings with my internet sexcapades.
“So are you dating yet?”
“Not really.”
“Well, you should really get out there. Get back on the horse, you know. Or at least have some fun.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I will,” I said, though I was thinking, “If she only knew.”
A couple of weeks later I set down an armload of bags on the floor in my living room, located the bottle of wine I’d opened the night before, and poured myself a glass. Taking a sip, I sank into my comfy couch and put my feet on the coffee table. After an afternoon of shopping with my mother, I was ready for some relaxation.
I considered turning on the television, but MC and I had a “date” planned for that evening, so instead I fired up my laptop to see if he messaged me. It had been several days since our last session, and I was really looking forward to another one. Sure enough, there was an email from him. Subject line: FOR THE THIRSTY SLUT. That made me smile, in an “aw, isn’t he cute” kinda way. Shaking my head, I wondered if my mind was now permanently warped since I thought it was cute for him to call me a thirsty slut.
You will be all set up by midnight. I want you in your fuck chair, riding that cock, and watching these videos while you wait for me… Understood?
And no coming!
Then he gave me a list of video links and signed his note:
Be a good fuck-whore.
Nice. I giggled to myself, trying to picture any man I knew in the real world saying something like that to me. It seemed totally over the top and insane, but the man knew how to use profanity and capital letters to his advantage, I’d grant him that much. For the session he asked me to get out my rubber band belt, individual elastic rubber bands, and my “fuck chair.”
I imagined the pain the elastics would cause and winced in anticipation. Our tryst via Skype wasn’t for several hours so I relaxed, made myself a sandwich for dinner, and took a long bath. Even though he wouldn’t “see” me, I spent a lot of time primping for our date. I couldn’t help myself. I was excited, and it made me feel more attractive, getting ready for him. The scent of perfumed lotion filled the air and I blew my hair dry, even though he would have never known it if I’d left it wet and dripping onto my shoulders. When I was satisfied with how I looked and it was about ten minutes until the appointed time, I assembled all the toys he’d requested on the bed, and clicked a link to the first video he told me to watch.
I wasn’t sure when he planned on getting online, but since there were several videos, I positioned myself over the dildo on the fuck chair, mounted it, and hit play. The first video was of a girl fingering herself. I tried to mimic her movements, reminding myself the whole time that I wasn’t allowed to come. I’d learned enough from MC by now to know that he loved me to come close, and then make myself hold off because he said so. It was part of the control I found so intoxicating.
The second video was interesting. It involved a naked woman stimulating a man’s erect penis with the bottoms of her feet. There she was, lying back on what looked like a doctor’s examination table, her legs bent like a frog’s, but the bottom of her feet cupped and stroked an erect penis. The man wasn’t visible, only his penis, and it freaked me out a little how much his voice sounded like MC. He wouldn’t have me watch a video of a woman jacking him off with her feet without telling me it was him, would he? But then why have me watch a foot stimulation video anyway? It was bizarre, and not really a turn on.
The third video was labeled “amateur deep throat.” It was mildly hot, but mostly there was a lot of spit and eye makeup running down the girl’s cheeks. As I watched it, I halfheartedly raised and lowered my pussy on the dildo in my chair, wishing MC would make his appearance. Without him, I was getting bored. The video was just finishing when I heard the whale call of Skype. I answered breathily, “Hello?”