The Order of Dionysus: The Pass

There really wasn’t anything special about her. Well, other than her curiosity.

I saw her almost every day on the A train. She often wore that sort of post collegiate uniform of the early 2000s; tight dark blue jeans tucked into calf high leather boots, a gauzy white blouse, various Anthropology accessories.

Yet there was something unique about her smile and the way she looked around the subway car. No phone in her hand, no book, just perusing people.

Admittedly, there was also her tits and her hips and her ass. They were large. Her breasts were almost too large for her frame, though they were often camouflaged by her loose blouses, though occasionally on display with a low cut sweater.

That day it was a tight, light gray, low cut blouse with a wine colored cardigan over it. The deep line of her cleavage extra pronounced because of her rather awkward position between a bespectacled octogenarian and shopping bag laden hausfrau.

It wasn’t the first day I noticed it, but that day she was rather prominently displaying a symbolic pin on her jacket. It was the golden symbol of The Order of Dionysus. A bunch of grapes, resplendent with leaves and tendrils, and in the center a little O and a little D. The letters only really recognisable to someone in the know.

The Order was a somewhat secret group which I belonged to as well, though I had never seen her at any our meetings or events.

The group was dedicated to lust, desire, opulence, and the enjoyment of life. As well, it had all sorts of games, rules, secrets, and clandestine workings that members could participate in.

Knowing that we both got off at Chambers Street and we had a ways to go, I did something I almost never do. I popped the collar of my jacket a bit and exposed my own badge. It was a bit different from hers and from her reaction I assumed she noticed both the symbol and its difference from hers.

A flourished “F” was etched on the bottom, telling that I was one of the original founders of the Order.

Her eyes met mine and we shared smiles.

Her eyes went to the book I was reading, then my shoes, then again my eyes. She then stretched and yawned and exposed the pale tan of her neck to me. She then looked down to the floor of the train.

This simple act was significant. Like the pin it was symbolic. The “showing of the neck” symbolized someone who, at least in that moment, was submissive and recognized someone else as a dominant.

I smiled. I watched her and she squirmed a bit under my gaze.

I took from my inside jacket pocket, my wallet. From it I removed a card, only slightly different than a business card. A bit more square with no phone numbers or the like.

When she looked up I held the card between two of my leather glove encased fingers, right in front of her.

She considered me and the card. It was a deep red paper, as thick as a credit card and deeply engraved in gold ink with both the symbol of the order and certain markings I was positive she would recognize.

Her eyes went from the card to my my face and then back.

“Might I have one moment?” she asked politely.

It was an unusual reply but I nodded that I would allow it.

She reached for her phone and typed for a bit. She waited then typed more.

“Would two hours do?” she asked.

I felt my face darken. That was not an appropriate question and she knew it. One was to say yes or no. I had second thoughts then, but I decided to see how it would play out.

She looked down again, apologetic, and reached up and took the card from me.

We got off together at West 4th, Chambers street be damned.

As we exited the subway into the crisp morning air I took a deep breath and then I took out my own phone and started up the familiar app I used in situations such as that one.

The app had been created by another of our founders. It found small offices or apartments one could rent for meetings or naps. Sort of AirBNB for micro engagements. It used half hour increments. It had special elite accounts for members of the Order.

I found a place on 6th. Eighth floor. The nearby offices wouldn’t be occupied for hours.

She followed me for four blocks. She dutifully stood next to me as I stopped into a deli and purchased four large bottles of water and a bar of dark chocolate. She bit her lip as I led her into the building and then into the elevator.

She seemed like she was trying very hard not to look nervous. She was failing.

“Show me that neck again, I didn’t get a good look the first time,” I said.

She was confused, but raised her chin. I brought my gloved hand up and brushed the back of my fingers against her skin. She shivered.

I closed my gloved fingers around her throat lightly but released her when the elevator dinged to signal our floor.

We went to the room the app specified and I punch the code the app gave me into the door’s keypad. We entered a beautiful little office. There was a large gray couch, a table with six chairs around it, and various helpful tables and materials for a board meeting or a creative review.

I walked to the window, making sure no other offices were in direct sight. They weren’t. I turned off the overhead light and turned the two lamps in the corners on. I placed my briefcase on the large table.

She was sitting on the couch, her jacket off, her jeans tight on her thick thighs, her breasts heaving with fear. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it. Enjoyed the beautiful woman who had followed me to this anonymous place and how the best things in life were knowing what you wanted, getting what you wanted, and being wanted.

“Be a good girl and take off those jeans for me,” I said as I opened my briefcase and removed a short length of rope that I kept for just such occasions.

She removed her boots and and worked to get the jeans over her thick hips. She looked pretty with just the blouse and the cardigan and the boy cut gray panties. Not date panties, just comfortable cotton.

I took off my jacket but left on my gloves.

Next to the couch was a small table, on it I placed the rope, a condom, and then I slipped off my belt and coiled it next to them.

My belt was old leather, thick, black, hand worked, soft and heavy.

I took her by the hair and put her how I wanted her, kneeling on the couch, facing the back, leaning over with her ass in the air, her head against the back of the couch. I stood in front, my hands falling to her hips.

She was shivering. She was wonderfully warm. Her ass was gloriously round and my eyes closed as I squeezed it and left my fingers dig into her skin.

“Pull down your panties for me,” I said, no more than a whisper.

She did it slowly, reading my mind. She pushed her ass back and let that cotton stretch and the elastic cut into her skin as it slowly exposed inch after inch of her ass, then finally the pretty little peach of her cunt.

I stopped her, the panties halfway down her thighs. Between that and having her top on it made it all look so much more illicit.

I grabbed her ass again and gave it a single swat. She let out a little yelp.

My hand drifted down a bit. My fingers just briefly passing over her asshole and then plunging easily into the wetness of her cunt as I pulled my phone out of my pocket with my other hand and checked the time.

I did have an early lunch meeting. I didn’t have much time to dawdle. She was deliciously tight though and remarkably wet. I slowly fucked her with two fingers, putting away my phone and slapping her big ass with every thrust of my fingers.

What was my life? Seeing a pretty girl on the subway, flashing a smile and a pin, a few minutes later having her half naked and ready to be used.

I reached over and pulled her by the hair so that she was kneeling on the couch. I walked around the couch to face her.

“Take off your shirt for me.”

She did, slowly like she did with her panties.

“Do you know what the symbols on that card you took mean?” I asked with a smile, watching her enjoy teasing me by slowly stripping off her shirt.

“Yes, sir. It said that you, as a founder, are offering up one of your ‘boons’ for the use of my body,” she said just as her blouse passed over her breasts.

“Now the bra,” I said with a smile.

“Why do you think I did that?” I asked as she unsnapped the bra and slipped her arms out, holding it to her chest, prolonging the reveal.

“I suppose because you liked my body and though it would be useful,” she said, letting the bra drop.

She leaned back down, her eyes locked with mine. I reached up and took her hair in my hand again and moved my other hand to her mouth, letting her take two of my fingers between her lips, which was just as wet and hot as her cunt.

“It’s sad that I don’t have a lot of time,” I said, taking my fingers back and walking around the couch again.

My fingers slipped back into her as I slapped her ass again. I took her hands and pulled them her behind her back. I tied my red rope around her tan wrists. I needed that little flash of color and that little extra power. The knot was something to hold on to.

I fingered her, letting her push back against my fingers as I undid my pants. I let them fall, pooling around my feet along with my boxers. I stepped out of them, smiling down at my black socks.

I put the condom on and positioned myself behind the stranger’s ass. I guided my cock down, feeling the head push into her warm welcome cunt. I groaned. One hand took the rope, the other grabbed her thick hip. Then everything was just tightness and the pounding rhythm, the softness and the firmness of her body pushing back at me.

At some point I let go of her hip, leaned forward and took a greedy handful of her breast, the breast I had ogled just minutes before. The delicious tender curves of a stranger, now mine. All mine. Her body mine. Her hole and every other useful part of her mine.

I liked the feel of my rope in my fist, holding her hands together. I liked the smell of her pussy and the constant rhythmic whimpers she let out as I fucked her and the confused moans as I spanked her.

Then the sea was in my ears, my own heartbeat and crashing waves and I came and came.

After a moment I stumbled backwards a bit. I coughed and caught my breath. It was more intense than I imagined it would have been.

I turned her around, pushed her down on the couch, facing me.

She was panting, eyes wide, face flushed, body hungry.

“Now fuck yourself while I clean up. Put on a show for me while I get dressed.”

She moved with eagerness, spreading her legs and sitting back on the couch, her hands going to her cunt, legs spread wide.

I disposed of the condom. I washed myself off in the bathroom sink. I came back and meticulously dressed and straightened, all the while watching her wet fingers plunge in and out, watching her paw at her large breasts, eyes closed.

Finally I stood in front of her, smiling down at her as she tried to get off, for herself and for me.

“So pretty, whimpering in need. What do you need? What do you need to come, pretty girl?”

She looked up at me, a desperate pout.

“Could you, please, just put your hand on my throat?” She begged.

I smiled. I put my gloves back on. I moved in and grabbed her hair, keeping her head still, then I closed my other hand around her pretty neck, holding back the flicker of darkness in the back of mind that wanted to squeeze and squeeze.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. A gagging cough and then a series of moans and cries and curses. She came and came as her face reddened and purpled.

I let go. I looked down at her now smiling puddle of a body. She looked up at me hopeful and pleased with herself.

“I’ve got a meeting. No need to straighten up. Just close the door behind yourself,” I said, donning my long coat and picking up my briefcase.

“Sir, could I-um, could I have a kiss before you go?”

It was quite out of the ordinary. To use a pretty thing, that was the way, but a goodbye kiss?

Still, her wide eyes and her bare breasts were tantalizing, and that curiosity again in her gaze. I moved in, just close enough for her to reach me. I dodged her lips for a moment, teasing, prolonging, making her second guess, then we connected. The world swam and trembled, her soft thick lips on mine, all salt and sweetness and desperation.

I almost dropped my briefcase. I almost dropped my guard. I almost dropped everything and slipped my arms around her and sank back into the couch with her.

But my phone vibrated and the light from the window told me it was getting late and I pulled myself from her kiss.

She floated back to the couch to lounge, smiling and content and I stood there for a moment, wondering who owned whom in our brief exchange.

And then I went back into the cold New York streets, a secret under my lapel and in my heart.

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