Tag Archives: BDSM

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part Six

Mister McIntyre’s Secret
Part Six

April 19th, 1964

There is a large lavish hotel room. Rich crimson and gold wallpaper, a huge bed, gilded chairs and lavish mirrors. Mister McIntyre is standing in front of the largest mirror straightening his tie. He is in his black suit, the one he wears to big meetings. His shirt is harsh white and he is wearing his cornflower blue tie. He is freshly shaven, his hair is parted neatly and slick. You can count the comb lines.

Marcy Peterson, his mistress, is walking out of the washroom. A slinky low cut black dress. Her black hair long and silk soft falling over her shoulders. Her lips are dark red and glimmering.

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part Five

She didn’t say anything when she walked in. She just brushed me aside and sauntered in with that strut she had. She looked around as she pulled each finger of her glove and then took them off and slipped them into her purse.

“You don’t look sick.” she said looking me up and down as I closed and locked the door.

“I mean, you’re pale and your hair is dull and lifeless, but I’m guessing you always look like that.”

Why was she in my apartment? Obviously Mister McIntyre sent her. Why her?

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part Four

Mister McIntyre’s Secret
Part Four

There was a line and it had been crossed.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew how I looked, how I acted. I was his puppy dog, his whipping post, his girl Friday. I swooned around him, I knew I did that. For all my dedication and obedience I got a pat on the head, not even on the butt. I was sexless on his eyes, but at the same time he took advantage of my attraction to him. I was alright with that. In fact it made me work harder. I wasn’t doing it to win his heart or get a kiss. I served Mister McIntyre because I wanted to and it made me happy and he deserved it.

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part Three

Mister McIntyre’s Secret
Part Three

April 19th, 1964

Half asleep, rolling around in my worn white sheets. The clock says I have a half an hour before I have to get up. My heart is already starting because of a half remembered dream.

In the dream there is a large lavish hotel room. Rich crimson and gold wallpaper, a huge bed, gilded chairs and lavish mirrors. Mister McIntyre is standing in front of the largest mirror straightening his tie. He is in his black suit, the one he wears to big meetings. His shirt is harsh white and he is wearing his cornflower blue tie. He is freshly shaven, his hair is parted neatly and slick. You can count the comb lines.

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part Two

Mister McIntyre’s Secret
Part Two

Deep breath.

It’s 11:45 and that means that Mister McIntyre is… he is in his meeting. He is in his hotel room right now. He is doing things, things that make me bite my lip just thinking about. How am I supposed to work? How am I supposed to act like nothing is going on. Right now at the Pierre Hotel he is fucking her. Right now he is doing it. Are they naked? Does he take off his socks? Does he make noise?

“Want to go to lunch with us Abigail?”

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Mister McIntyre’s Secret – Part One

Sitting at my desk before he gets to the office I cross my legs and watch helplessly as they bounce nervously.

Every Monday it’s the same. I don’t know why. I get in early, sort the mail, clean things up, change my typewriter ribbon. When it hits 8:45 I start shaking a little. I have to concentrate on not biting my lower lip or I’ll mess up my lipstick.

I keep a little check list under my typewriter on a little board so I can slide it out and look at it. Make sure his glasses are clean, make sure his desk is organized. Garbage can empty. Check the bulbs in his lamps. Dust his globe and book shelf. I get the special coffee he likes and keep it in a thermos. If he isn’t in by 10 I go get some more so it will be hot and fresh for him. I have to guard the milk I keep in the refrigerator, Mister McIntyre doesn’t like cream. The Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times on his desk. He reads the New York Times on the train.

read more

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Prose: Pet

We start kissing in the cab, my hand sneaking under her dress when the driver isn’t paying attention. She was waxed clean and smooth and always wet, my little pet, and that made it so my fingers slipped right in perfectly. She slaps me away, wanting to be a good girl until we get inside.
Continue reading

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments