Thursday, May 24, 2007

Serving The Beast

My fingers shaking as I press the number four on my phone, the speed dial taking over with it’s familiar beeps. One ring…two….

“Are you there?” His voice comes from hundreds of miles away.
“In the parking lot.” I say.
“Turn it on.” The Beast in my ear gives the command in a tone as cold as steel, but at the edge of his words I can hear his excitement. I reach into my pocket, where the control is hidden and feel the tiny red phallus come to life, fresh batteries making even the first setting an intense thrill.

A small whimper escapes me a result of both the sudden buzzing in my pants, and the realization of what it is I am about to do. His responding gasp eggs me on. It is nothing to me to be in my car with it on, still not too big a deal being semi public, but I am about to be fed to the wolves.

Take a deep breath. Step out of the car.

Excitement taking over me, mixed with urgency and embarrassment, I walk toward the entrance. The motorized doors making their hiss and sounding strangely normal to me, like somehow my actions, my intentions, should have changed their sound. I move toward the shopping carts, his voice rings out as if he’s reading my mind.

“Don’t take a big basket; get one of the small ones.”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice obedient, knowing he can hear it shaking, and wondering if he knows it’s as much from fear as excitement. This whole time my mind is screaming, ‘Stupid thing to get arrested for.’ And I try to push it aside. Moving slowly, carefully, because I am already so close to coming.

Whimpering and moaning under my breath, preying no one hears me, and hoping that my Beast still can, I walk the aisles, nervously chattering into the phone, rambling about all the things I’m seeing around me.

“Aisle One” I tell him, “Baked goods, and prepared foods.”
“Take a loaf of bread,” he tells me. I choose a loaf of sourdough; its phallic appearance not lost on me, and place it in the basket on my arm. I wander on, not really knowing what I’m doing, or what I’m expected to do, snaking my way up and down.

“Aisle Three, Sire.” I report, trying to keep my voice even.
“Go ahead and turn it up to two.”

My hand reaches obediently for the switch in my pocket, the sensation jumping into me as I comply. Somehow, I keep moving, walking up and down the aisles like a lost child. I’ve broken out in a cold sweat, my knees want to buckle, and I find myself stopping every few feet, giving in to the machine, so relentless, tucked up tight against my clit.

“Turn it up to three.” Says this Beast, this relentless, beautiful animal, knowing full well what it’ll do to me. There is no escaping the yelp that rings out clearly from my lips as I comply. Clutching my stomach, bending down, looking for all the world like I’m sick as a dog, I stare at a row of cereal, the brightly colored kid friendly boxes swimming before my eyes as I give up, give in, allow the orgasm to take over.

“Such a good girl, so eager to please.” Hearing his voice shake, knowing how much he’s feeding on this, sends me to my knees, and I feel the fluid rush of my orgasm collect in my panties. Grunting and gasping into my earpiece, and hearing his excitement on the end of the line, my whole world contracts to a single point. Only my labia dancing against the vibrator, and his ragged, intense, breath matter. My climax does not really end, it only steps back, the bite taken off of it a bit. I gather myself and rise, beginning to move down the aisle again, so very slowly.

“You may bring it down to two.” He says, with a sadistic giggle at the relief he hears in my exhale. With little ability to control my legs, I shuffle on, more afraid than ever of staying in one place, random noises spilling from me, like a forgotten tea kettle spitting and whistling on the stove, all the while his sharp voice rambling in my mind. The Beast is intense, more worked up than I’ve ever heard him, his voice trembling as he asks,” Are you near the restroom?”


“It’s at the end of this lane.” I say, his question striking through my heart like a bolt of lightening.

“Go ahead and go there.” Like a gift, and I rush to the sanctum, stopping for a moment as I see an employee stocking shelves in front of the restroom, the sharp purr of the vibe making the decision an easy one. The door barely closes behind me and I am lost to it, catching the latch to the big stall and falling to my knees, flushed and flowing and crying out, and I hear him echo my passion, so close, so ready to give me what I’m working for, he drops phone in his excitement. Through my own cries, I hear fumbling, buttons pushing, and silence…. The dreaded accidental hang up that seems to plague my best sessions.

Fumbling, myself, now, on all fours in the stall, cursing and coming, trying to get ahold of my phone, pressing the button and thinking of how I must look like a crazed animal, a picture of my cat, crouching in the midst of her heat, flashing through my mind. The ringing, the line opening, but I hear his breath has calmed. “Are you calm enough to leave?”

“I think so...” Comes my throaty whisper.
“You may turn it back down to one, then-“
“-OH Thank You!”
“-leave the room when you can.”

I take a moment to run some cold water across my cheeks and stare deep at myself in the mirror, ‘What are you doing?’ I think, and again, ‘Stupid thing to get arrested for.’ My face is flushed, I look feverish, sweaty.

Breathe. Leave the room. Go. LEAVE.

Somehow I’m in the store again, walking past the same blonde, teenaged, emo-boy stocking mac’n’cheese in the entrance, he stares after me as I walk past, I’m sure he heard. There’s no way he didn’t. Bending carefully to gather my “shopping” (still just a lonely baguette), being kept ever on the edge by my little phallic friend. I whisper to the Beast about the boy and hear his excited whimper egg me farther on.

Still lucky, most of the aisles are clear, it’s the middle of the day on Wednesday the store is only sprinkled with people, and those are members of the ‘geriatric set’ shuffling around. But as I turn the corner from aisle six to seven I see a pair of employees in the corner of my eye. And from seven to eight there they are still, I freeze. Whispering to the Beast about them I grab a bag of potato chips and feign intense interest in the ingredients as they pass. I overhear them, something about a co-worker and a manager, not about me, I release a sigh and tell him it’s ok.

“In the freezer section now,” I tell him, pressing my face to the cool glass of the ice cream cooler. And elderly couple wanders by, looking at me with watery eyes, and I wonder if their ears are strong enough to hear it buzz. It’s the polite way I greet them, they way you always feel obligated to recognize strangers that make eye contact, I think, that sends him over his own edge. His moans and gasps growing stronger in my ear, a rush running through my body, it’s the moment I’ve been working toward, and I feel both satisfaction, and grief at the sound of it.

“At the end of this aisle, stop.”
“Yes Sir.” A few moments lost in travel, punctuated with our puffing, excited breath.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, Sir”
“You are going to set the vibrator back to three-“
“-Oh God!” I make no attempt, this time, to hide my whimper.
“-you will return to Aisle 1 and put the bread back. Once the bread has been returned, you may leave the store. You do not have to walk casually for this.”

Breathe. You’re almost done. Breathe. Move! GO!

I move like I’m wading through concrete, the tiled floor stretching out before me into eternity. Tunnel vision. Somehow I’m next to the bread rack and swimming through loaves trying to remember where my own loaf came from, crazy manic energy making it important to put it in its place. I focus on the bright green and yellow of the package to guide me. The bread released, so are my legs somehow, and my pace meets my pulse as I walk through the doors. That hiss not sounding so desperately normal, now.

I orgasm twice more trying to walk to my car, and really let myself go once I’m safe in the driver’s seat, giving the Beast a feast of sounds, gasps and curses, clueing him in to how much I was effected by this task. Before our connection is severed, He assures me that I’ve done well.

“Such a good pet.” He says to me. And I thank him for the chance to show him how willing I am to please. “We will talk again.”

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

I can visualise this completely. I love to control in this fashion, and love to know that I am having such an effect on someone. It is such an amazing feeling to know that my words are being listened to, obeyed.

Your words still captivate me, Breathing. Don't stop.

- Ð

Breathing said...

D-

This one, my friend, was not a story, but a command performance, as was it's publication.

I'm truly thrilled to have you enjoy it.

B-

Anonymous said...

Breathing,
The fact this is a real event makes it an even better "story". Now I have read it knowing that you've actually been through it... Well, it puts the tale in a whole new light.

I think it would be an excellent read for you to add real events mixed with your fiction, and note them as such. You have such a way with words, I sit here engrossed reading, then re-reading your blog. Keep it up.

- Ð

Breathing said...

D-

I'm glad to know this new light only enhances this experience for you.

I have a feeling we'll have a little more erotic non-fiction from time to time...

As for reading and re-reading - Sir, I bow deeply to your complement.

Thank you, always for your words,

B-

Thag's Place said...

What an excellent story/event.

The art of the short story is being lost. And I thank you for making such a erotic breath of freash air.

I have to say, it was a very erotic story. I wasnt expecting it and I am usually not turned on at all by dominating stories, but this one is quite different.

I have to say, this is onw sex call I would have liked to have made.

You have a wonderful imagery, and I honestly felt like I was there for both parties.

Thank you for posting.

Breathing said...

Thank you for reading.

I'm glad you've enjoyed it as much as we did.

B-

Anonymous said...

I would be honored to have such a lovely slave in my life!!

Breathing said...

Given the right kind of care from her master, the honor would be hers...I'm glad you like what he has done for me.

Jeremy said...

I love the way this tale is transcribed. I feel like I am in control even though I am merely an outsider observing the events. Your prose is exceptional and striking. The way the story is told is just as exhilarating to me as the content and this is a perfect example of both of those coming together to create a truly erotic experience.

Breathing said...

What else can I say? A thing is itself... it's written this way because it felt this way, I'm happy to have it enjoyed.

Each new comment on this post brings a little of that day back, a thrill. I guess the Beast knew what he was doing when he told me to post this...

B-