One Man's Trash

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha sighed, rocking back on her heels as she eyed the piles upon piles of cardboard boxes with a venomous hatred. The plastic bags, tied stacks of magazines, mountains of unread newspapers, shapeless drop clothes draped over lumps that could barely be distinguished as antique furniture, wooden chests, ancient trunks used for traveling, their colorful stickers from far off places faded and peeling, all dominated by a sprawling bookcase with stacked rows of leather bound, flowery scripted, long-winded titled books, all of which were eyed with equal contempt.

Brushing back her disheveled blonde hair, she stood and stretched the kink out of her neck that she had received from carefully examining the neatly wrapped tobacco tins that had once been her father’s. Sasha watched the dust motes dance lazily on the piercing ray of sun that stabbed through the grime of the front window, wiping the dust from her eyes as she glanced at her watch. Later today, a realtor was supposed to be showing around a possible buyer for the house, as well as a man who was interested in having many of her mother’s jewelry and collectibles appraised.

Turning back to a stack of photographs, she worked her way through a vaguely accurate time line of the Brooks family. Before she even turned over the silver-edged opal frame, she recognized it. With a twisted fascination she stared back into her own eyes, only eight years younger and glowing with her usual vivacity and feisty spirit. A wedding picture of her and Tyriel, a mistake that she seemed to be reminded of everywhere she went. When you’re twenty, you marry for all the wrong reasons, as she was proof of that. He had used her for sex, intrigued by the novelty of having a “full-time” mistress. She was equally guilty and money was a large factor, for although she came for a wealthy family, they had cut her off at her decision to quit school and go into business for herself. Not to mention his risky lifestyle; she had been attracted to the glint of danger that she was always want to resist.

It had taken her eight years to acknowledge, come to grips with, and rectify her mistake with a divorce, but at twenty eight she felt as if she had thrown her life away on a man who never cared. She had recently sold off the café she had owned, and was now free as a bird, to perhaps start again.

With the cry of a woman scorned, she threw the yellowed photograph against the far wall of the attic, where it hit with a satisfying crash and the tinkle of shards of broken glass raining down. Her friends had advised her to take out her pent up anger doing something constructive, like sorting out her late parent’s estate. But she found this side track quite constructive, if not exactly what traditional therapists may have had in mind.

Shaking her head, she walked to the other side of the wide attic, ducking at the sloping beams of the peaked ceiling. This top floor, a veritable vault of long forgotten treasures and heirlooms, although small compared to the rest of the large house that bordered on palatial at times, seemed an almost insurmountable task. Opening a cherry wood armoire, she admired the sable fur coats as well as quite a collection of sequined and bejeweled gowns that blended perfectly with the long gloves that were neatly folded in the bottom. Admiring the flashy wardrobe, she began the task of folding and bagging, trying to push the thoughts of love into the darker recesses of her mind.

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Ivan Boris Petrovitch was by trade an art dealer, schooled as he was in the renaissance period. How the hell then, he wondered had he come to be assigned this particular account? Sure, Susan was feeling poorly with morning sickness and that left the house shorthanded. But damn it man, most of his friends were suddenly either married, having kids or both these days leaving him curiously left out. Here he was once again, taking up the slack for another "breeder". Well, it could be worse, he reasoned. He could be appraising that atrocious pottery collection over on 5th avenue.

He pulled his black cadillac STS up to the curb. It was a lot like he was, subdued at first glance but a real tiger under the hood. With its huge Northstar engine, that STS could leap off the line and drive like the wind. God, I love this car Ivan thought. Now what was her name, S something. Sara, Sharon, here it is! Ivan clutched the post it note with the her name scrawled in ink. Sasha Hey this may not be so bad after all! A great name, perhaps she too was of recent Russina descent. Well at least he had a conversation starting point he thought. Don't get your hopes up old boy he told himself. Probably just some elderly female goldigging relative. Whatever you do Sasha , please don't immediately start rifling through some dusty old boxes asking item after item the same mantra how much is this worth? And this? Ivan shuddered. How do I get drawn into these messes he thought again as he rang the doorbell.

Looking around he saw the former grandeur of the place, the unkept hedges and lawn belied what the house had been in its heyday. Would you look at that, Ivan thought. A real lead doorknocker of the type he had only previously ever seen in Europe. As he reached for it the door swung open.

A rather harried looking young woman stood before him, strands of her long blonde hair getting in her eyes. Usually never at a loss for words, Ivan was startled into silence by her contrasts. Simple beauty, on the one hand. The pain of innocence lost in her eyes was evident on the other hand. This kindled in him an odd desire to protect her, to comfort her. Ivan stood mesmerized. He thought to himself, what is this magic that draws me to her? Call it my need to provide, call it physical magnetism call it ....

"Yes?" she asked, interrupting his silent reverie. Clearing his throat and verbally fumbling like the high school jock he used to be so long ago he lamely asked "Sasha? Its me Ivan, from the auction house. Here's my card." He frantically fumbled in his pocket for a business card all the while thinking was that me? Could I have come across any lamer than that? What was that again? Did I really say here's my card? Ivan groaned inwardly but it came out audibly. He looked up to see Sasha with an amused expression on her beautiful face laughing silently at the spectacle before her!

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Hearing a car drive and slow along the usually quiet, willow-lined street, she leaned over to peer out the cramped attic window. A black Cadillac was parked there, its hood catching in the sunlight. No sign of the driver but she had to give him credit for his good taste. Don't judge a man by his looks, judge him by his car. Even against her pretentious, showy Lexus SC430 it could hold it’s own.

Taking the back stairs two at a time, she opened the door to find the art dealer looking up at the three stone stories of the house . Her mother had impressed upon her time and time again that he was the best there was in his field. Standing before her, she took in the well-dressed man, slightly older than herself she would have guessed, but she was never good with ages.

I hope this isn’t mother’s matchmaking grand finale at attempting to hook me up with a ‘decent, respectable young man’.

When her parents had not been griping about lost education and college tuition down the tubes, it had been this furtive nonsense about finding her someone worthy of their baby girl. They didn’t give up when she married, quite the contrary; it became an obsession. Arrogant about controlling her own life, and disgusted at her parent’s dislike of her husband, she had scoffed away any and all advice and the many attempts to put a new man in her life.

But, leaning on the doorframe and looking down at Ivan, she had to admit that her mother knew her type better than she. He was clean cut, but not overly self-possessed. Blushing slightly at his stumbling introduction, she raked a hand through her disheveled hair self-consciously. Remembering her manners, she ushered him in delicately offering him her hand, half expecting him to raise it to his lips and kiss it instead of shake it in the confident manner he managed despite his tangled tongue. He seemed a bit tense at the moment, so she cut the most likely akward pleasantries short.

“Shall we...?”

Nodding towards the drawing room, she stepped through the fold of red velvet drapes that dressed the door, crossing the room and flipping a switch to illuminate the far wall. Gesturing to the vivid Spanish landscape that hung before them, she spoke from memory for art was one of the few interests that she and her mother had shared.

“Landscape in Segovia ...Enrique Vera Sales...it was given to my mother as a wedding gift by a close friend of her’s whos grandfather had lived in Toledo while Enrique was painting there.”

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Things were looking up! Having gotten past his momentary discombobulation, Ivan now began to hit stride when he saw the painting. Instantly he recognized the artist. Sasha seemed genuinely interested in art. That was all the encouragement he needed. Ivan spoke.

"Enrique Vera Sales was indeed a famous impressionistic landscape painter from Toledo. Born in 1886 and died 1956." Ivan continued, slipping by habit into his professional voice, "In an original period salon frame, I see. Look here, you can tell it's by Vera Sales since he had this unusual affectation of both signing his name solely Enrique Vera sans the Sales, but also signing the title of the piece, in this case simply Segovia.

Ivan withdrew a step so that Sasha could see the the signature in the painting's lower right hand corner. " Quite a nice example I'd say. Probably start at auction in the $ 5,000 range in today's market, although I'll have to run the numbers to make sure." Ivan loved to scoop Sotheby's whenever possible.

He saw the respect towards him grow. Ivan grinned inwardly, far be it for him to not show off a little! Ivan couldn't help but notice the absence of a ring on her wedding finger, although the lines where one had recently been were plainly visible. So she was newly single! Opportunity abounds! Squaring his shoulders a bit more, he spoke again.

"If you have any other pieces like this one, I'd love to see them. I am here to help you appraise every item that may be auctionable though, not just the art. Before we begin, however, can you take a moment and tell me about the history of this house? After that, may I suggest you take me on a tour of all of the rooms. The tour will serve as a perfect vehicle for me to get an overview of all the large pieces. This place is really quite remarkable. "

Ivan stopped then, and for the first time allowed himself to look at Sasha directly again. This time he noticed her fine high cheekbones of all things! How nicely they angled together sloping forward on her face. Sasha spoke ....

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Ivan was certainly quick on the rebound. Babbling like a freshman one moment, cool and knowledgeable scholar the next. His keen eyes seemed not only to be taking in the art that peppered the faded wallpaper and tiny crystal figurines on the mantle, but appraising her as well. Trailing her hand lovingly over the painted brick, worn with age, that covered the doorways of the room, Sasha strained to remember what she knew about the house.

"It was built in 1894, a combination of the late 19th century Romanesque and Shingle Style Victorian mansions. All of the dormers, stone cut archways...even most of the tiles and wood flooring are original. The previous owners had at least two live-in maids to keep up with the demands of the house. The third story hasn't been used in years, or for as long as I can remember it at least. Most of the doors up there are locked, and I was never given a key. But as a kid I know my parents expressly forbid me to play up there. Unsound floor beams and lack of structural support, or something like that."

She shrugged, thinking for the first time that it was indeed rather strange to have never explored this portion of her house. The stairs creaked horribly and the rugs of that floor were all torn up. Whenever she had to go up to the attic, she bypassed that floor looking straight ahead and with a quick tread, for with its cobwebs and resident spider colony it clearly brought back her fears of this house as a child. No wonder she had always been afraid of the dark, living right under what could easily be an elaborate set to a grade B horror flick.

The downstairs rooms had almost all been refurbished for utilitarian use only...the kitchen, a seldom used dining room, the stretching hallway, the sitting room, and two powder rooms. Boring, quite typical, and almost modern. But the second floor was a treasure. Great pains had been taken to recreate it with turn of the century furniture and a contemporary stylishness that her hand had helped to create.

Leading Ivan up the stairs, Sasha brushed the remaining dust off the front of her tightly knit, heather gray sweater. He had made an impression of her, and she intended to do the same. With a laugh and a flourish, she gestured to the royal blue carpeted hallway with doors leading off the corridor on both sides.

"Feel free to poke around...I don't think I have too many dirty secrets to hide...or that many skeletons in my closets."

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

As soon as Sasha told him about the third floor, Ivan's mind started racing. Sasha must have been way different from me when she was little, he thought. If his parents had ever told him don't go in a room - much less an entire floor - he'd have been all over that floor within the week! Ivan wondered whether she was still as demure and obedient now as an adult as she was as a child. "I doubt it" he exclaimed, realizing he had spoken aloud. As if to answer Sasha's quizzical look, Ivan smiled and said:

"Don't mind me, I was just talking to myself. I am going to accept your invitation to explore. Thanks. I'll go grab my notebook, be right back. " Ivan soon returned, Franklin planner and gold Watermark pen in hand. " It's a little dusty, think I'll remove my jacket first."

With that, Ivan took off his suit coat and draped it carefully over the bannister. Ivan felt Sasha's eyes heavy on him not missing a detail, watching his every move. Ivan was glad for all those hours in the Power House Gym just then. He was wearing his favorite braces, dark blue against his white Ungaro french cuffed shirt. Ivan's large cufflinks glittered in the afternoon sun, each gold in the shape of a circle. From his head to the tips of his handmade Italian Nebuloni shoes, Ivan was glad that he had dressed the way he had that morning.

"Lets be bold Sasha, shall we? Sample the forbidden fruit, as it were. Third floor mysteries beckon." Ivan bounded to the first door on the right. With a loud groan from its unused hinges the door swung open. "Ladies first", Ivan said holding it open for her with a dazzling smile...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

How refreshing it was to see a man with good taste in fashion. Watching him take off his jacket a bit too closely, Sasha glanced quickly away when he met her eyes. Moving towards the third story, she instinctively stuck closer to him, those adolescent horrors and persistent dreams coming back in living color. As he pressed open the first door they came to with his shoulder, her sense of curiosity won out.

Brushing past Ivan, she flicked the light switch up and down a few times before accepting that the bulb was burnt out. The windows had thick, hunter green drapes over them that complimented the house quite well from the outside, but let in only slivers of light on the inside. Feeling her way across the room, she bumped into a long piece of wood, chest height, after only taking a few steps. Grasping it and running her hands along the grain, she found a post at the end and a lacy material that just brushed the arch of her forehead.

A canopy bed?

What was a canopy bed doing in the middle of a long-abandoned room?

Maneuvering around it, she went to pull back the velvet folds, casting a square of grimy light through the seldom-washed panes. In the checkerboarded shadows, the room took on a sinister look. Looking at the...interesting...decorum, wide eyed, she coughed on the musty, stale air. Sasha wondered if her father had been a bit more obsessive that she realized about his hobby of collecting authentic artifacts from a multitude of time periods. Hung on the walls were various daggers and scimitars, scattered throughout with the occasional battle ax. Beneath this impressive collection were iron wrought manacles, looking as if they had seen the days of restraining unruly prisoners under the heavy hands of a monarchial rule.

With a gasp both from the sight and the cloud of dust that had been disturbed by her movement, she hurriedly moved to block Ivan’s path, unsure if she really wanted him to see this too. Leaning on the door frame, she offered him one of her radiant smiles.

“Nothing interesting, really. Just alot of old junk that I’m sure couldn’t be worth anything to anyone.”

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Nice try Sasha!

Ivan thought to himself. There was no way in hell that he wasn't going in there to explore that room! Ivan had surreptitiously looked into the room as Sasha had groped her way to the heavy green drapes. He was amazed at what he had glimpsed. It wasn't the weapons on the wall that held his attention it was the bed. The bed that to the uninitiated eye was a simple canopy structure. Ivan knew that the bed had been used to restrain its occupants. No sleeping in its sheets! He became aroused at the thought of what must have transpired there and what wild times its occupants had endured.

Back to Sasha. Blocking his path, a mere three inches from the front of his chest. She stood there, bosom heaving, grey sweater deliciously rising up and down with every inhale and exhale. Standing over her, Ivan calculated that she was tall, 5'10". He was an excellent judge of height, a holdover from his basketball days at Temple. Now it was his turn to inwardly laugh. What a sight! Sasha looked at him quizzically, and before she could say anything more he spoke:

"Sasha, this is what I do. You never know what I may find. For instance did you know that some celebrated artwork was very small in size? Van Gogh's 1887 masterpiece Restaurant at Asnières was only 18.5 x 27 cm! My practiced eye can discern these things, quickly! I promise not to waste one more minute of your time than necessary. Please let me in. This is after all, what you are paying us for". Ivan stopped then, and gave Sasha his best encouraging smile...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Despite her desperate attempts to close the heavy door behind her with her heel, Ivan managed to glance over her shoulder. Leaning his frame over hers, she backed up a step, and then another as he continued talking. Slowly gaining ground on her, she finally stepped aside and dropped her eyes away as she allowed him to pass. Walking around the room, he fingered the fine carving on the foot of the bed and examined the tarnished hilts of the displayed weapons. Hefting a shackle in his hand, the short chain clanking loudly in the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them, he looked inquisitively up at her.

Sasha took all this in with a cool eye, although she was afraid for a second he might launch into a speech about the use of such items as if she were an innocent lamb. Groaning inwardly, she searched the walls for something with which to distract his attention. Although there were paintings, as in every...normal...room of the house, the subject matter in all was off-color and many times blatantly taboo.

A woman, dark and stately, eyes closed and lashed to a black slate inscribed with Pagan signs...A fallen dagger, cushioned by piles of lace undergarments strewn over the floor...A more modern vixen dressed in red, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke in the face of who could only be Satan. And the piece that really called out to her; a fainted maiden draped in white with a stony-eyed creature outfitted in black, glistening scales and a pair of neatly folded wings perched atop her, a hungry look about it.

Gesturing feebly around the room as if there was, in fact, nothing at all out of the ordinary that should draw his attention, she smiled faintly and ironically.

“See, now what did I tell you? Nothing of interest here...unless you spy something that fancies you.”

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Ivan's first instinct was to examine each and every painting, etching and drawing on the walls. The entire left side of the room was covered in scenes of rape in one form or another. He opened his mouth to inform Sasha of the following set's origins. There at the top were copies of the famous 1931 series by Picasso The Rape (Le viol), the originals Ivan knew were held at the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. Ivan decided against it, he had proven his art bona fides to Sasha already. There was nothing of great monetary value here, and he knew that wasn't the point. It was what these objects really were, that mattered, how they had been used, and might - Ivan thought - looking at Sasha lewdly for the first time, be used again!

Slowly realization dawned on Ivan! Sasha knew what this room was about. Her flushed face and heavy breathing were not symptoms of embarrassment as he had thought. They were from excitement, born from her personal experience. His longing for Sasha grew exponentially. Ivan's mind shifted totally away from business now, to pleasure. The task at hand was no longer chronicling the objects of art. The goal became letting Sasha know that he knew about her, and to make her at ease enough, bold enough, and impetuous enough with him to play out the wild fantasies that were racing through Ivan's brain!

Ivan must be careful, he couldn't be too aggressive. She was his client after all. Let her show any inclination, any physical or verbal opening and Ivan was determined to press the advantage. Ivan spoke:

"On the contrary. So many objects here interest me. Sasha, I'm fascinated by what's here. The stories this old room could tell! I am sorry to say that unless those weapons prove to be rare, the artwork here is not of great financial worth at auction. But that is not the point, is it ? I wonder if these old manacles still work? Look here is a set with a key that turns. Hold out your hands, let's be a little crazy and see if they fit. Or, would you rather I was the one to be shackled ~first~?

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Nodding at Ivan’s assessment of the multitude of captivating images, she concurred with his opinion that most of these were not worth much, for she recognized many of them as famous works. She was taken aback at his comment about being shackled, though, for she had to admit that the idea sparked something deep within her.

Sasha wondered how much of Ivan’s words were intended implications and how many dark thoughts that she was just reading into his vocabulary. The glint in his eyes was worthy of a fox, but still he kept his manners in check and behaved. With an equally devious sheen to her own pair of emeralds, and a tone that was playfully ironic, she gestured for him to step closer.

“Lets have gentleman first this time...”

Standing next to him, Sasha took the key from his hand and held it between her teeth as she accepted the heavy manacles from him. He rolled up the cuffs of his shirt casually and offered her his forearms. Pressing the iron band around the width of his evenly tanned skin was a tight fit though. The heavy clasp snapped shut finally, with a satisfying click, which sent her thoughts back to the nights when she had leather straps used to bind her body and her will. Tyriel had also indulged her longings with his utter submission now and then, but it was infrequent and just a taste of the power she craved.

Herding the untamed thoughts to the back corners of her mind, locked the metallic binding in place and slipped the key into her back pocket. Laughing as Ivan looked at her with a new emotion, perhaps it was respect or perhaps it was something more lustful, she reached for the other cuff to do the same.

“Now this is what I call being a slave to your job!”

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

“Lets have gentleman first this time...”

With these words, Ivan's heart leaped. So the gauntlet laid down had been taken up. Let the games begin. Ivan slowly rolled his French cuffs up both arms, and saw the unexpected look of malevolence in Sasha's eyes. The first clasp closed with a heavy. solid sound. There would be no voluntary escaping from these superbly forged shackles. Ivan turned backwards, extending his arms now behind his back. Sasha positioned his wrist, and clamped the other end into place. The heavy chain between the iron cuffs was only seven links long, short enough that Ivan's hands could not extend beyond his hips, in fact his chest was forced outwards slightly bulging in Sasha's direction as he turned to face her.

The power Ivan had granted her made Sasha's bosom heave now in anticipation. He was her's to rule as she saw fit. They both knew that. Still, Ivan needed to make sure that Sasha had an overt green light to proceed. He suddenly longed for her lips to be upon his, for her hands to roam his body unrestricted by any boundaries. With a sigh, Ivan understood that these things were not his to request. Sasha was in control, completely and totally. It would be her will done, not his. Ivan spoke softly, searching for the words to convey this message, yet not be blatant, giving her an out should she desire to take it:

"Yes, I am a slave to my job! But it would also seem that I am a slave to you Sasha. With these shackles I am in your complete control. Within this room, it seems only appropriate that I subjugate myself to your will."

Ivan noticed how the dark green emeralds shone with an almost unearthly glow against her body. Her ears and her neckline were shimmering in the light. The "green light" had indeed been given as the stones themselves winked this message with her every movement. Ivan thought, the elements themselves are conspiring for this to happen. Realizing that he truly was not in control, he shuddered involuntarily, continuing:

"What is it that you desire, ~Mistress~ ..."

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Sasha’s heart fluttered in a taught sense of anticipation at his words, his hungry tone, and the emphasis he placed on the single title of Mistress. At first she had thought he was only playing along, somehow having caught wind of these dark fanatasies usually reserved for lonely nights...but now she was unsure. Could this man, whom she had met only a short hour ago, in all honesty be willing to subject himself to her every whim?

“Mistress...”

She smiled as she rolled the seldom-heard yetpowerful word over her tongue, enjoying the way it sounded mixed with the dusty air and the faint outside light.

“I like it. It has a nice flow.”

She was unsure how to continue, his truthfulness not yet obvious. Reaching to the second finger of her left hand out of the nervous habit she had of toying with the white gold wedding ring that had been firmly seated there until recently, she again felt that joyous sense of dismay that she was finally free. Free from the delicate metal circle that had symbolized captivity and monotony much more truly than it had love.

Sitting on the canopied bed that was positioned just a few feet out of reach from Ivan’s straining figure, legs crossed and slung over the slightly raised footboard, she tried to guess what realm of desires he was imagining as he referred to them.

“Penny for your thoughts, Ivan...”

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Ivan missed nothing, despite Sasha's obvious distress, the electricity that was in the air was palpable. When she sat on the bed, and crossed those long delicious legs, Ivan knew without a doubt what he wanted yet this afternoon. More forceful reinforcement of his intentions was in order, yet he was determined to couch his desires in playful terms.

"I can see that your are nervous. If you were to ask me why it is that I have these shackles on, I couldn't tell you. I'm running with a special impulse, all caution has been cast aside. When these bonds were put into my wrists Sasha, work ended for me. A time for flights of fancy and role play began, your desires as the aggressor, the dominator are what matter now. Take a chance with me, the day is yet young, and the entire night stretches out beyond that. Indulge yourself. The choice is yours now on how this plays out." Ivan saw even through her sweater and bra that Sasha's nipples had hardened, Sasha's body betrayed her non commital words, showing her inner desires as plainly as a 30 point headline in the New York Times.

Ivan continued, turning his back to Sasha: "If you want to pretend this never happened, just use your key and unlock my restraints." Turning back to face her, Ivan said "I'll not say another word. The spell will be broken. I hope that you will not do so, ~Mistress~, take me as you will... "

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Sasha had started out this morning not looking for the love she had so recently found, rather, lamenting her life as a whole and second guessing every important decision she had ever made. She had every intention of curling up on the sun-warmed window seat with her favorite canine companion, a good Stephen King book, and enough bonbons to make even Willy Wonka jealous. Perhaps Misery, she mused, in which she could easily picture herself as Annie and the infamous Tyriel as Paul Sheldon. Taking sweet, vicarious revenge would be enough to change her whole outlook...for awhile at least.

But now she found herself at a crossroads. Another important decision to be made. Was her afternoon destined to be filled with the aforementioned pleasantries. Or could this fashionable, clean-cut, sultry-eyed, tight assed, mother approved, hell...even classically schooled, stranger's intimate desire for her accosting tongue win out?

Standing and turning away from him, Sasha stepped seamlessly from the world of mundane daily rituals into her glinty-eyed, sten-voiced, no nonsense alter ego. The one she had been denied for so long.

She placed one finger on Ivan's chest, drawing it up slowly until the tip of her nail settled into the dip of his jaw bone, turning him until he was facing her, their eyes locked.

"Take you...as I...will?"

Raising an eyebrow as if to say this was a hilarious notion, she drew back the hand from his face, crossing her arms as she gave him a steely look.

"What makes you think that you are worthy of me?

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it. This old adage flashed across Ivan’s consciousness, never had it been more true than right now. As a whim, he had thrown in that last phrase, Or, would you rather I was the one to be shackled ~first~. That really wasn’t the plan! Sasha had taken him up on the offer, and now he stood before her wishing he had never uttered that phrase.

There was a marked difference in Sasha’s attitude and bearing. Gone was any hint of sweetness, the naiveté vanished as if it never was. An almost imperial bearing had taken its place. Sasha now stood straight and tall fully rising to her most imperious height. Her extended forefinger, the one Ivan had once thought looked so long and sexy, now jabbed at him like a hypodermic needle.

Ok smart guy, you got yourself into this, how you going to get out? Face it you are clueless on how to proceed! Somehow, Ivan had lost total control of the situation. What had started off with delicious verbal sparring between intellectual equals had ended with Ivan in iron shackles! Sasha had risen to bait. Bait! Ha! It was Ivan that had fallen for his own bait! Ivan could, no should bail, eat crow.

And yet, and yet, there was some dark corner of his soul that did not want this to end. Every look he took at Sasha renewed his lust for her. And there was still his macho pride that would not admit being verbally beaten not to mention out-classed, out-thought, out-witted by this woman.

No Ivan said, I’m not a quitter. Forge ahead. Play this out. Look for an opening. Strike when able. Hmmm, for now then how to proceed? In a moment of sudden inspiration, Ivan bowed at the waist, and bent low on one knee, kissing the leather top of Sasha’s left black boot.

“I am indeed, not worthy Mistress” ….

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Ivan had the look to him of someone under the premise they were wading in an ankle deep stream only to find themselves in over their heads. Sasha smiled softly as his eyes darted back and forth, seeking a route of escape where none existed. As she felt the weight of his lips pressing leather against her bare toes, she brought the tip of her boot up mercilessly against his mouth. The force caught him sharply in the chin before he had a chance to jerk hurriedly away, as a reminder not to be so hasty in his acts of passion next time.

“Look but don’t touch, Ivan.”

Sasha gazed cooly down at him as she drew her foot back. Bending over before him, the v-neck of pale gray revealing ample skin, she clutched his collar, half dragging half prodding him to his feet. Selecting a tiny, palm-sized dagger from the vast collection that adorned the walls, she placed it delicately between her teeth as she returned to her position in front of Ivan. Holding the top button of his dress shirt between two fingers, she used the blade to slice through the thread attaching it. He flinched slightly as the cold metal nicked his skin, and she drew it to his throat in a flash, raising an eyebrow and speaking if this were common sense that he ought not to have to be told.

“Hold still.”

Slowly sawing through all but one of the remaining buttons, she ran her fingers down his chest, parting the folds of white as she went. Slipping the tip of the dagger against his bared flesh above the last button, Sasha leaned against him with a malicious look but a steady grasp on the knife. With the unoccupied hand she grabbed roughly at his crotch, her nails painful even through the layers of dark blue, daring him with her eyes to remain motionless against the biting tip of steel.

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Ivan stood as still as he was able, his chin’s aching only offset by the newer sharper pain in his crotch. Nature’s defense mechanism was working perfectly. Adrenaline was pumped into Ivan’s bloodstream that his body needed to either fight or flee from the imminent danger. The problem was, Ivan’s brain willed him to do neither. Having no release, the chemicals that coursed his veins in waves caused his body to tremble ever so slightly.

My God, when Sasha had the blade of this small dagger to his throat, Ivan had never before felt such a mixture of fear, surprise, pain and oddly, lust. It was an intense jumble of powerful conflicting emotions. He felt so alive! Every sense was at its peak. He smelled Sasha’s exotic perfume, he felt her hot breath on his now bare chest. The lust for her grew, intensifying with each passing minute. The kind of raw lust that Ivan had never imagined he could feel for a woman. When he was free, Ivan would turn the tables on this wench ravaging her without mercy.

With an audible deep breath, Ivan began to will his body to quiet. Bide your time. Wait. Be patient. Ivan widened his stance slightly stilling his trembles. This was the first minute of a very long game. Ivan steeled himself for the ordeal ahead and returned Sasha’s unblinking challenge with defiance in his eyes and a grim almost cocky smile on his face. She’ll falter and when she does, she’s mine.

Ivan did not yet understand the true import of releasing Sasha’s repressed inner demons. He soon would …

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Sasha grinned with pleasure as Ivan never broke eye contact or arched more than slightly against her commanding grip, abiding her wishes without question. But still, there was that ever present expression of his rebellious natures, as if his mind was still unsure about the simple fact that she owned him completely. Ah well, it would be interesting to see how much of this he could take before he broke.

Making quick work of the last button, she cut along the seams of his sleeves and tore them off. Throwing the tattered fabric on the warped wood floorboards, she tossed the dagger haphazardly onto the bed and returned her pleased gaze to his cuffed form, gesturing to the shapleless pile with a smile of irony.

“I highly doubt you’ll be needing those anymore.”

Pulling off his shoes and peeling back his socks roughly, she jerked the button of his slacks loose with the ferocity of a starved sumo wrestler, then paused. Raking her hair back from her thoroughly flushed face, she fanned the excitement and anticipation that coursed through her, forcing herself to draw out these sensations. Yes, she realized, she was in control and damned if this wasn’t going to last as long as she wanted it to.

With a new sense of her aim, she returned to Ivan. Taking his zipper between her teeth, Sash smiled flirtatiously upwards, enjoying the moment. Her breathing intensified and her nostrils flared as she inhaled his spicy, raw scent. The sexual tension in the room was as thick as the plentiful layers of dust, invaded only by the steady parting of metallic teeth.

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

Ivan's mind which had wandered from subject to subject just scant seconds before, was riveted on the lithe form in front of him now. Sasha was bold, her sexiness exuded from every pore.

Ivan noticed each and every detail of her, his senses drank her in. He enjoyed her as if she were a smooth scotch. His body absorbed her essence slowly and fully. A warm glow began to build from Ivan's loins as he watched the incredible picture of her with his zipper in her teeth.

Struggling mightily now for control Ivan firmly stood his ground. He watched as Sasha's strong jaw muscles worked their way with the zipper. Ivan's mind reeled at the thought of how those muscles would work the same when she inhaled his now hard cock. His eyes followed the curve of Sasha's back, as her form magnificently widened to an incredible ass. Ivan ached to move to her, free his hands that he may make long slow love to this woman.

The day was not his. Sasha remained in complete control. Ivan began to relax as Sasha's wishes were his at least for the moment ...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Working her fingers against Ivan’s skin, Sasha tugged off the barrier that separated her from what she craved. Like most things had for her in the past, it fell away without question, his garments falling atop the tattered pile of shirt scraps. The icing on the cake, if you will.

The fact that Ivan had been a total stranger, a man she could have passed by on the streets without a second thought, paying him only a moments attention, just enough time to think nice umbrella or hurry up or a multitude of other uninspiring comments, turned her on to no end. Her blood pounded as she thought about her position, for in a few minutes, if not now, this man would truly be putty in her warm, practiced hands. But her thoughts were overcome by an intrinsic need for the carnal desires that had plagued her since the moment she had laid eyes upon his solid body.

Sasha’s motives were simple, the results to be tantalizingly sweet. Under her sharp gaze, one hand idly stroking the flat of his chest, Ivan’s obvious excitement grew. And when she knelt, her hot breath spreading over him like a blanket of sheer ecstasy, his painfully stiff cock jerked, pleading for attention. With a swift flick of the tongue, she swirled her mouth over the tip of his awaiting member, pulling back with equal deliberation, delighting in his savory taste. Pulling at the corner of her mouth with a dainty finger, as if dabbing away the remnants of a meal with an embroidered white linen napkin, she looked up at him again, the keen emerald eyes taking in every passion-wrought contortion of his face and the helpless grasping of only air between his fingers. Oh yes, the results would be undeniably sweet...

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

As the last of Ivan's clothes hit the floor, Ivan saw how green Sasha's eyes were. So feline there crouched before him like a wild cat, teasing him. Toying with her prey.

He realized he knew nothing of this woman. It only heightened his desire, deepening the very fabric of this erotic experience. That mouth, the tongue taunting him with sudden quick licks when she knew he wanted more, so much more. If his hands were free, he would have grabbed both sides of her face and holding her by the hair - plunged his cock deeply down her throat.

Alas! This was not his fantasy, but hers. Sasha called the shots here. Ivan focused on her, wishing he could see Sasha naked before him. He would pleasure every inch of that maginificent body, building a desire within Sasha up to be equal to his own.

Ivan was now literally writhing with his desire for her. He waited for the next move by this sultress ...

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Sasha knelt, the floorboards groaning in slight protest as she slid forwards on her knees towards Ivan, her lips pursing slowly as she forced herself the hilt of his cock. The desire in his eyes was readable, in fact almost as tangible as the sultry, purely masculine taste that invaded her senses. Purring softly as she stroked his thighs, she nibbled her way back and forth pulling gently at his tightened skin.

The hardened shaft of Ivan gliding against the slight ridges of the roof of her mouth was an overwhelming experience that peaked Sasha's erotic senses. Pushing her lips firmly against his skin, the friction of her mouth causing him to burn with the untimely delivery of it all, she slowed her erratic pace until he gasped for her to continue. Long, slow sucks interspersed with her sharp jerks and stinging caress of teeth kept him on his toes, literally, straining against the chains to arch him back and plunge himself deep into her awaiting mouth. With a sly smile, she pulled away, rocking back on her heels, lipstick smudged slightly onto the ivory skin of her face, speaking in a hoarse tone that dripped with raw sexuality.

"Ivan, tell me what you desire..."

 

[darrenfate]

IVAN

"Danger! Danger Will Robinson". Ivan's brain flashed back to the old TV series Lost in Space as the robot madly flailed his arms when it detected a potential hazardous situation for Will.

This was exactly how Ivan felt. What did Sasha mean by asking him what he wanted? She already KNEW he desired her. Ivan's cock was fully erect pointing right at her, throbbing slightly upwards with every pounding heartbeat.

Sasha, with her smeared lipstick and provocative stance looked every inch the slut role she was playing. Her breath was coming in great gulfs of air as she calmed herself, teasing Ivan mercilessly. Her hand wandered between her legs as she waited for his reply, only adding to the persona.

Ivan decided the best course of action was to defer to Sasha, he risked her wrath regardless of what he said. Ivan thought of the famed defense attorney Gerry Spence. The last line he always said to the jury. Cupping his hands together, Spence would say "Imagine that my client is a helpless baby bird in your hands. You ask me to guess whether the bird is alive or dead. If I say alive you crush the bird and present its body to me. If I say dead, you open your hands and let him fly free. No matter what I say, only you are truly right, the decision is yours alone." . Ivan thought, yes, it is I who am that bird, and within Sasha's cupped hands is where I am.

" I want many things from you, Mistress. But what I want is not the issue. I have fully accepted the fact that you are in control. It is you who should be pleased. Therefore, I ask this question in all humbleness, What is it that you want of me? ..."

 

[Mistress Jorja]

Sasha

Sasha let out a low laugh around the torrid shaft she had once again gripped in her jaws at Ivan’s reply, her mouthful of flesh impeding her vocals to some extent. He was playing it safe and was more aware of her devious subtleties than she had realized. Perhaps she had underestimated his will, but he was the one shackled to the wall, wasn’t he?

Tightening her lips as if in response to Ivan’s comment, her fingers kneaded the flesh of his ass viciously. Sasha kept up a frenzied pace until she felt him tense distinctly in her mouth, cruelly digging her fingernail into the base of his cock, denying him for the moment the release he craved. Sliding out of reach once again, she pursed her lips and looked at him from beneath heavy lashes.

“I’m not finished with you quite yet, hon, and as they tend to say in situations like this, good things come to those who wait."

In a single fluid motion, Sasha crossed her hands over her chest, caught the bottom hem of her sweater between her fingers, and pulled it off with a flourish. Cupping her petite breasts in slender-fingered hands, she pulled gently at her rosy nipples as she dangled them teasingly inches from his face, watching as he licked his lips in a subconscious gesture of approval. Hissing in his ear as she bent to let him run his wet mouth over her bare chest, she let her tongue dance flirtatiously over the skin of his neck.

“And this would be one of those good things.”