EXTRACT FOR
DOMINATED: ULTIMATE DOMINATION BUNDLE
(Kim Hardwick)
"Are you certain that you are out of stock? I distinctly recall ascertaining its availability online just before heading out to the mall."
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I had specifically requested if a white, Sea Island cotton broadcloth shirt with French cuffs were available. I would not have made the trip to the mall had I known that there existed a disconnect between actual stock and advertised stock. Sloppy way to run a business, if you ask me.
"I'm sorry sir, I thought I saw one earlier." The sales clerk was cute enough and I suppose she felt sorry enough. I don't believe it was a deliberate misrepresentation on her part. Nevertheless, I was annoyed.
Before I could respond with some pithy rejoinder, I felt a hand on my elbow. Turning to face this unknown person who would dare lay their hand on my person, I saw a most delightful woman facing me. She was stunningly beautiful with brilliant blue eyes and stunning red hair. Her figure was one any woman in her thirties would be proud to have. And her breasts and nipples were magnificent. I was instantly captivated.
"Mr. Smith, I just found out about the white shirt. I want to apologize for the misunderstanding; it seems that our computers accidentally listed the shirt as being in stock in our store, but in reality, they are at our warehouse nearby."
I listened to her excuse with a detached air about me. as a regular at their fine store, I usually spend upwards of $5,000 a suit (and I have about 60 suits) each time I shop. Therefore, her solicitous display of appeasing me was appreciated (as well as how she showed me her cleavage) and I couldn't help but note with approval as to how tightly her dress fit her.
"No need to apologize; these mistakes happen, Miss, I don't believe I caught your name."
A slight blush betrayed her emotions. As the manager she obviously knew who I was and how much I spent and how I had a messenger in a Rolls Royce come pick up my orders. Yes, she knew exactly who I was.
"I'm Mrs. Towers. Thank you for your understanding. I feel so horrible to have inconvenienced you like this." Her eyes betrayed her lust. In the one second it took, I could tell how unhappy she was in her sexual life.
Women who are sexually frustrated always give off an energy; a vibe. The key is to distinguish between a normal bored housewife vibe and the vibe of a desperate masochist. I do believe I detected a hint of the forbidden hunger in her eyes.
"Mrs. Towers, as long as I am here, I was wondering if you still carried this beautiful silk and cashmere smoking jacket in a burgundy paisley pattern made by Derek Rose. I know I saw it several months ago, but I am hoping you still have it available." Let me see if I am mistaken in my appraisal of her carnal desires. If I am, then no loss; I end up with a silk and cashmere robe.
She smiled and turned to search for said robe. As she did so, I noted with approval the curves of her buttocks; the generous width of her hips; the way her gait complemented her oozing sexuality. In short, she was definitely looking for a protein sandwich.
"Mr. Smith, I have good news and bad news. The Derek Rose smoking jacket is available; however, it needs to be pressed. For some reason, it has been wrinkled and I wouldn't allow you to buy it in its condition."
Nice. A very nice tactical move on her part. She is now testing me to gauge my interest in her. Well then, as I've often said, when in Rome.
"Mrs. Towers, don't put yourself to such trouble. All robes eventually have to be sent to the dry cleaners. "I pretended to hesitate, let her wonder if I would buy the robe.
"However, if it wouldn't be too troublesome, do you think you could have someone deliver the robe to my residence tonight? I find myself without a thing to wear. Of course, I will pay extra for the delivery and tip. Say an extra five hundred dollars?"
The way her eyes widened and the manner in which her nipples came to attention confirmed my initial assessment of Mrs. Towers. She was definitely hungry for a meatier conclusion.
"Well, to be honest with you Mr. Smith, we are ready to close in twenty minutes. If it wouldn't be too much of a bother, I could drop by your address after I close up and bring you the robe. Of course, that is if it's alright with you?" She approached me and I could smell her perfume. I could see her nipples were getting more excited as well. Additionally, I could see the girl who had attended to me earlier lurking in the background folding shirts and giving her a venomous look. Women are all so vicious towards each other.
"Why no, it wouldn't be a bother! I am so glad you could accommodate me!" I handed her my credit card and while she was ringing me up, so to speak, I wrote down my address on a slip of paper. I folded the paper and included five one hundred dollar bills inside of the note.
When she returned with the sales slip, I noted that she had reduced the price by twenty percent. From ten thousand dollars to eight thousand. Not bad.
"Thank you so much for your giving me a mark down on the robe, Mrs. Towers. This is my address and a little something for your trouble."
As I handed over the note, our fingers touched and she maintained contact for several seconds longer than necessary. She stared at me and we both knew that she would be home later than usual that night.
BUZZ
That must be her. She's on time. In fact, she's early.
"Yes?"
"Marcus? Hi, it's Wendy."
Excellent. I open the gate and ride the elevator so as to accompany her up to my loft; my inner sanctum, so to speak. I am almost manic with excitement. I always froth at the mouth when entertaining 'vanilla' women. There's something about exposing a normal, well-bred woman to the lure of my world. And without fail, once a 'normal' woman gets a taste of being restrained, as well as a healthy serving of pain, she's hooked. Once she gets whipped, she's a goner.
The elevator comes to a slow, noisy stop. The gears and chains in need of lubrication. As I open the gate, I have to control myself at Wendy's breathtaking beauty. The intensity in which she returns my stare suggests she is no need of lubrication.
"Wendy, I can't thank you enough for taking the time to bring me my robe; I am truly grateful and humbled." I grasp the package from her and my hand lingers on her hand. The feel of her flesh is intoxicating. The softness of her hand, the warmth fills me with lust. My mind instantly fills with a vision of her hands stroking my erect cock and then placing my engorged and leaking cock into her mouth. And in my mind, I can see her ruby red lipstick leave a telltale mark on my shaft.
Oh my. I have a horribly savage erection and my fly is open. She looks down and notices it. Her eyes widen and she smiles.
"I see you're as glad to see me as I am, Marcus."
A very cute response which only makes me want to impregnate her after savaging her nipples and her buttocks.
"I was in a rush to let you in and, to be frank, you are a very beautiful woman. Please come up to my loft so I can better explain why I leave my fly open all the time."
She laughed and stepped into the elevator and as she stood next to me, she reached down and started to stroke my cock. I leaned back and closed my eyes. It was all so wonderful. And all this was unplanned.
I somehow kept my composure long enough to close the gate and push the button to my loft. I soon felt the warmth of her mouth on my cock. It was so nice. I opened my eyes and saw her squatting down, her left hand holding my cock and her right hand vigorously playing with her clit underneath her skirt. She was so nasty.
The elevator stopped at my floor, and I opened the gate and left it in its open state. This was just too good to stop. Her head, bobbing back and forth on my cock, her cute, dainty little hand stroking my cock and her skirt pushed up to her hips, while she savagely attacked her clit. This was almost too much. But of course, for her, the party was just beginning.