Wednesday, March 31, 2010

What Did You Say? (Literotica by Domina Vontana)

Two years too long. War is a long way away. Life moves on, like a bus. W/e were there on the bus with the Mistress, a tall lean blonde Goddess with piercing green eyes and a laughter that could fill the room. There were a few dozen of us in service on that trip, enough to fill most of the seats, when they boarded our bus and when he came for her at last.

He was well over six feet tall, with black steely pupils and a smile that never surfaced. No one knew who he one but they came for her one day and with a typical nonchalant toss of her hair and shake of her shoulder she said with a smile, "I'll be right back." She said it to him, she said it to us, she said it to herself.

According to the man's accusations Mistress had posted something online that was unacceptable. Something the black eyed man didn't appreciate. We helped Mistress search for the offensive material, but nothing was visible.

We waited, in the dark, on the bus, in downtown DC along the river while he took her by the wrist and led her off the bus and into the bushes. The other slaves sang songs and made jokes with one another to pass the time. I wrote in my journal and gazed out the window in the direction she had disappeared.

What seemed like only a moment later Mistress returned. Her knees were dirty, he skirt was torn. Her tail was swinging a little and her smile was unmistakable. It was the same smile she had after playing with a slave or two. But what was the dirt on her knees? Who tore that skirt...did she tell him that's what she wanted? It was in fact her duplicity that kept us all mesmerized of her mastery.

She followed the man to the back of the bus and sat down backwards in the seat infront of him and began chatting with his traveling companions in a very nonchalant manner. She was a tremendous flirt and a charmer. She turned to the tall mystery man, made one final comment we couldn't hear, and then returned to join us, her stable, at the front of the bus. Mistress was giggling and touching our heads. At some point later she turned to gaze at the man again, but he was gone. He had gotten off at one of the many stops the bus had already made, this time without saying goodbye, again.

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