The Collector

Chapter One-3

Ah, no need to wield plaited leather when the best punishment was flesh to flesh, the way it should be! How pleasant it was to watch that slender, graceful hand rise so slowly, pause dramatically in silent threat, then streak down, again and again and again, flashing as it slapped and reddened that burning ass at its whim! Yet arousing as it was to watch the abused girl whimper and bite her lip, it was even more so to see how the spanking affected the woman who gave it. She posed as calm, judicial, self-possessed, but still her passions seethed unacknowledged. Mm, he loved to see the stern lady’s white-knuckled fist pinning her victim’s wrists behind that narrow, bent-over back, loved to see her nostrils flare and the heavy waves of sable bounce about her bare shoulders as she took out her every frustration upon her beautifully squirming prey. Through it all, even as she pretended aloofness and restraint, what she did to the other girl—the way she controlled her, punished her, forced her—thrilled as well the woman who meted out the punishment, and as her cheeks grew warm, perhaps she found her moist thighs clenching rhythmically together in their secret arousal…

Yet he had something of a predilection for a bit of n****e torture as well. Oh, nothing too terrible—but sometimes it was just too, too delicious to watch the erect dark n*****s of some helpless bound maiden stretch, stretch, stretch, wasn’t it? Now and then, back in the days of wealth and comfort and normalcy, Garrett had used the services of a very high-class and impossibly discreet escort service, one offering immaculately beautiful girls whose services cost $10,000 per hour and were worth every single penny. Even with these experienced, sultry-eyed, professionally discreet courtesans, however, he had always hesitated to ask for some of the things about which he could not help being so secretly curious. If he paid extra, he had wondered sometimes, would this lovely, oh-so understanding young lady of pleasure allow him to savage the tender points of her upstanding n*****s until she whimpered and squealed and moaned? Or would she think him some sort of pervert for merely broaching the subject?

It had been a pleasantly strange predicament, really. On the one hand, when Garrett had contacted the escort service, he could select any sort of pleasant temporary companion he happened to wish. Depending on which girls were already out on a call, and depending upon how much advance notice he gave when he called or texted the helpfully solicitous concierge, the options were tantalizingly wide and varied—he could request a very decorative, suavely charming lady of almost any description that fit his mood. If he happened to desire, for example, a doe-eyed little lass who looked like she had just turned eighteen the day before and was worried about what her daddy would think if he knew she let strangers spread her pale virgin thighs and ejaculate inside of her for money, then that was how he would amuse himself. Of course, they had women his own age, too, and even older ones as well.

The escort service employed mature, full-bodied, yet still attractive women in their fifties, and apparently even sixty or more. Probably these ladies’ main clients had been businessmen of equally advanced years, but Garrett suspected that younger patrons sometimes tried them out, too—he had once, after all. On a dirty whim, he had wondered what it would be like to f**k someone old enough to be his mother or his aunt, to dominate and control the type of female that in his childhood years he had always had to look up to and obey. Rather than kowtowing to his elders—to his austere and unapproachable middle school English teacher, for example, or to the condescending lady next door who had frowned every time a football went over her hedges—he could stick his d**k inside one of these smug, self-satisfied old ladies and leave her heaped over and swimming in his splooge!

Feeling very naughty about it, therefore, he once had requested such an object for his frustrations, and in due time arrived a full-bodied but regal older lady with gleaming silver-gray tresses wrapped up in an elaborate bun held together with jeweled combs. Her breasts were solid and heavy, her waist rather on the thick side, and her clothing restrained and fairly conservative. Despite his original bravado, it had been a bit awkward at first, for he felt suddenly foolish in the knowing gaze this more experienced creature who already had seen so, so much of the behavior of men. Suddenly it was almost embarrassing to think of exposing his needs before her—he hardly even knew where to begin. He shook her hand very formally, and he felt his cheeks color.

She coaxed him, however, as gently as some older widowed neighbor-lady might a college boy back home over summer break. There was something very sweet about it, and yet somehow secretly naughty as well. Sitting next to him on the couch as he tried to chat with some semblance of normalcy in response to her innocent openings about the weather, his opulent home, his business, the things he had invented, and whatnot, the woman had laid her wrinkled hand upon his trouser-clad thigh, and as he felt his flesh begin to respond instinctively, his breath caught in his throat. She did not draw back, however, but merely smiled matter-of-factly, and he began to realize that regardless of the somewhat forbidding age difference, she was still indeed a woman, and perhaps that was all that mattered… Suddenly he was helplessly erect within his clothing.

“There you go, Mr. Garrett,” she had nodded indulgently. “Now, that’s what we both need, isn’t it?” Smiling, she began to stroke the thing through the thin, expensive fabric of his trousers, watching the man shudder comfortably, and it had seemed so natural then to lean over and begin to kiss at the side of her soft, full round neck. Happy as a teenager, he started to grope her big body. She was solid and fleshy, but she was all woman, and she felt good in his hands.

And the size of those plump, blue-veined old breasts! In wonderment he dug them out of her sturdy yet still delicately lace-edged brassiere, watching entranced as they bounced and wobbled and stretched when he let go. Her n*****s were absolutely enormous, and she merely watched him in gentle amusement while he played with them double-handed. In the most frank sort of curiosity his hands roved her jiggling white mounds, pinching excitedly at the great crinkles of erectile tissue that crowned the lolling things, pulling energetically on those tempting n*****s, twisting them, tugged the engorged nodules high, so high. Eventually, of course, he began sucking at the great pink-brown mouthfuls. Ah, the innocent oral joy of it all!

Smiling to herself, she pulled with complete unconcern at the upstanding pillar of his manhood all the while. Yes, and then he rolled the unresisting creature upon her back, and he spread her meaty thighs to expose her to him utterly, and as he pushed himself contentedly into a thick pubis sheathed in silver curls, he learned that the soft, pillowy flesh of such a reassuring, almost motherly figure was indeed a pleasant thing upon which to gratify oneself. Ah, the way those crease-flanked old eyes had smiled up at him, so kind and understanding, as he clutched mindlessly at her overflowing bosoms, red-faced and sweating and happy while he whimpered out his sweetly draining climax in the bottom of her oh-so experienced womb!

And from the escort service he could have a girl of any ethnicity that struck his fancy right then, and of whatever build he wished, whether tall or short, slim and athletic or full-bodied and busty. Garrett enjoyed the variety. In a way, after all, despite his great success, it was difficult for a man in his position to meet women in any normal fashion—his wealth either made women fawn, or it was off-putting and made them feel awkward and self-critical of their own perceived shortcomings. To simply order himself a sleek, six-foot Scandinavian with glossy blonde shoulder-length hair whose gleaming straight bangs fell almost to her shapely eyebrows, for example, was a very pleasant way to relieve his bodily stresses. In a casual way, though, he went through all types. Once, just for fun, he even requested a pair of skinny little Japanese girls only five feet tall, guaranteed to giggle and pretend not to speak English, yet obey any dirty command a great big, strong American man might wish to give. Another time he had a wide-hipped black girl whose big fat titties had the most intriguing plum-colored n*****s.

And manner of dress—well, of course, it was a given that this could be specified in exacting, fetishistic detail if the client so desired. Usually he had left the choice of clothing to the girl, but every now and then he had indeed developed a craving for something very particular. One night he might have a hankering for, say, a glossy blonde with a choker of pearls wearing a cream-colored silk blouse, red thigh-length skirt, and seamed black stockings atop shining red stilettos. Or perhaps he would enjoy a crooked-lipped redhead in a shimmering sheath of clingy deep purple whose neckline plunged almost to her pretty navel so that he could blink fondly down into the delicate profile of her pale, unrestrained little bosoms anytime he stood to one side. If the mood struck him such that he wished for something so specific, well, then, with his wicked c**k already half-erect with the naughtiness of it, he had not hesitated to describe in patient, leering detail exactly what type of wrapping his pretty little present to himself should have in order to satisfy his needs.

Why, once he even ordered that a girl arrive at his door naked. There had been a slight pause on the other end of the line, but then the calm, unflappable voice assured him deferentially that this of course was not a problem. His escort arrived at one of his secluded homes in the hills, then, not in a taxi but in one of the service’s nondescript, highly polished cars. The dispatcher, however, must have understood his request perhaps even better than he himself did, for rather than pull up close under the overhang at the grand entryway, the driver apparently had orders to let the curvy brunette out when they were still twenty or thirty yards away across the broad paving stones. As soon as she had shouldered an elegant leather purse—full, Garrett had been certain with a comfortable little shudder, of various s*x toys with which he could experiment upon her desirable young body—the car simply sped away to leave her standing there bare in the afternoon sunlight, and the nude girl strode calmly up to his door, her n*****s dark and bold against her soft olive skin, and a heavy triangle of lustrous curls gleaming richly between the tops of her smoothly scissoring thighs.

Oh, how glad he was, the poor man realized suddenly, that they had given him a girl with a beautifully hairy cunt like that! Yes, sometimes it was pleasant to enjoy a pubis shaven gleamingly smooth from hipbone to hipbone and navel to anus and everywhere in-between, and sometimes he was entertained by a thatch that was left partially intact, yet artfully groomed and sculpted. At other times, though, how delightful it was to have a girl with a full dense muff, a crinkly triangular forest to ogle and feel and smell and taste! She would have showered just moments before the ride out to the countryside, he was sure, but he was equally sure that those soft hairy lips would already be fuming deliciously with the scent of her own arousal, an aroma compounded by her sweetly intimate shrubbery.

Yes, she was merely doing her job, and getting paid handsomely for it, but no young lady would seek such employment unless she had a penchant for it as well, would she? For a girl like this must truly enjoy flaunting her pretty body, certainly, in the age-old game of feminine coquetry. Even while in the eyes of society she degraded herself for filthy money, she had to be secretly flattered by the way men’s faces light up at the mere sight of her body. Yes, and for a girl like this, to cause her supposed masters their helpless erections and then, all too soon, to guide the swollen red things graciously down between her obediently upraised thighs was not a thing to be ashamed of but a thing of pride, a thing that aroused her deeply.