#henrycavillsmut

A day later, you nervously paced around your apartment, waiting for Chelsea, your best friend and also a very talented photographer, to arrive. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You had been meticulously preparing for this day, wanting to create something special for Henry that would convey your love and desire for him like never before. The thought of posing in front of the camera in lingerie and even without any clothes made your heart race with both nervousness and thrill.

When Chelsea finally arrived, you greeted her with a warm hug. She had been your friend for years, and you knew you could trust her to capture the most intimate moments with artistic sensibility. She set up her camera and lighting equipment, while you fussed over your appearance, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the straps of your lingerie.

"Are you ready for this?" Chelsea asked with a reassuring smile, sensing your nerves. You took a deep breath and nodded, "I am. I want to make this special for Henry." Chelsea nodded in understanding, and she began to guide you through the shoot, suggesting poses and angles that would bring out your natural beauty and sensuality. Currently, you were in a red lingerie set, that barely covered anything. Your man loved it like that. Chelsea suggested you take off the bra, and cover up with your hands, being just in your panties. Her gentle and encouraging words helped you relax as you posed on the bed, feeling vulnerable yet empowered at the same time.

"Arch your back a little more, that's it," Chelsea said, her eyes focused on capturing the perfect shot. "Look into the camera with those gorgeous eyes of yours. Show Henry how much you desire him. Remove the hands, pinch your nipples. Make them hard for him. Just like that." She encouraged and you followed. It was as if with each word of hers your inhibitions were leaving your body, making you bolder. You followed Chelsea's instructions, letting your body express your love and longing for Henry. You stretched out your legs, pose just in your panties.

"Beautiful!" Chelsea exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious. "You're doing great, babe. Henry will be blown away by these photos. How about we try something bolder?" She suggested a d you nodded. She was definitely good with her work you thought. She suggested you take off everything and just pose in the necklace he gave you. Just like Rose from Titanic, and you did. She even took some candid shots of you taking off your clothes, spreading your leg wide, your pussy well on display. This was obviously becoming more than just a boudoir shoot, but you were enjoying it. As the shoot progressed, you felt a growing sense of confidence and liberation.

"Okay, let's try something a little different now," Chelsea said determined . "I have an idea that I think you'll love." You watched with curiosity as Chelsea rearranged the sheets on the bed, creating a cozy and inviting setup. She suggested you lie down and let your hair cascade over your shoulders while intertwining yourself in the sheets. You hesitated for a moment, but then you decided to trust Chelsea's vision. As you settled into the sheets, feeling their softness against your skin, Chelsea started capturing some of the most sensual and intimate shots of the entire shoot. She slowly guided you into some of the sex positions like doggy style, sidh your ass puckered on display. You let yourself get lost in the moment, forgetting about the camera and fully immersing yourself in the experience. You even started fingering yourself moaning, as Chelsea just kept clicking. She then put some glitter in your hands and as you played with your nipples, and clit, moving your hands across your whole body, you ended up creating a beautiful art peace on yourself.

This was definitely getting wild and you had never felt this empowered before. You bit your lip as she even took some shots of you cleaning yourself up in the shower, and then later with sex toys and hand cuffs. There you were, ond if your hand tied to the bed, while you pushed a plug in your butt with the other. "Mmm, were you a pornstar or something? You're doing it like a professional girl." Chelsea said, but kept clicking without trying to make it awkward for the two of you. The chemistry between you and the lens was palpable, and you knew these photos would be incredibly special.

After the shoot, as you and Chelsea reviewed the images together, you were amazed at how beautifully they had turned out. Each photograph was a work of art, capturing your love and desire for Henry in a way that words could not express. You were blushing at some of the slutiest shots you took, but ended up feeling so confident in that. You were grateful to Chelsea for her skill and artistry in capturing these precious moments, and you knew that Henry would cherish these photos for a lifetime.

"Thank you, Chelsea," you said with tears in your eyes, "These photos mean so much to me. I can't wait to see Henry's reaction when I give him the album!" You said as she gave you a big hug all the while convincing you to star in a porn movie, or maybe atleast do something like 365 days with Henry. Although that does sound like a nice idea, now that you think about it.

~

Finally the day was here, and you had sent off the package to him. You anxiously awaited Henry's call, your heart fluttered with excitement. You had carefully coordinated with his manager to set up a box in his room and run a hot bath for him, complete with bath bombs, oils, and all the things you knew he loved. You couldn't wait to hear his reaction when he saw it all.

Finally, your phone rang, and it was Henry's familiar face on the screen. He looked tired, but his smile brightened as soon as he saw you. You greeted him with warmth and affection, telling him to return to his room and relax. You could see the curiosity in his eyes as he followed your instructions. As Henry entered his room, he was surprised to see a huge box with a note that said, "Open me after the bath." He made his way to the bathroom, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw a hot bath waiting for him, just like how you would set it up at home. The scent of the bath bombs and oils filled the air, reminding him of you. He couldn't help but grin, knowing that you had thought of every little detail to make him feel loved and cherished.

Just as Henry was about to undress and slip into the bath, his phone rang, and it was you. He answered eagerly, and your voice sounded as soothing and enchanting as ever. You could tell he was already in a better mood, and it made your heart swell with happiness.

"Hey, babe," Henry said, his grin widening, "You won't believe what I found in my room. It's like you're here with me." You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad you like the surprise, love. I wanted you to have a little piece of home while you're away." Henry's voice softened, and he couldn't help but express his love for you. "You're amazing, my princess. I can't believe how lucky I am to have you. Honestly, I don't deserve you babygirl" Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "You deserve every bit of it my lovely man. Now, go ahead and relax in the bath. You deserve it."

Henry smiles and slips into the warm water, and you could see the tension melting from his body as he sighed in contentment. You both sipped on your favorite wine, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, just like it always did when you were together. "I was having probably the worst days on set, and it was as if you knew it." He says as you chuckle. "Always here to rescue my man" You say as he chuckles and all you could do was admire that. Both him and you didn't know he needed this so much. Just the gesture made him feel so much better, and seeing him happy made your heart feel light, as if a huge weight was lifted off of it.

As you talked, you couldn't help but imagine Henry's bare body in the bath, and the thought made you smirk. You knew he was equally captivated by your presence, and you could sense the desire and love he had for you through the screen. It made your heart swell with affection. "I wish you were here with me," Henry said softly, his eyes filled with longing. You felt the same way, but you knew that this care package was the next best thing to being physically together. "Me too, Hen," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness, "But just imagine, we're sharing this bath together, even though we're miles apart." Henry's eyes sparkled, and he nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass. "I can feel your presence, princess. It's like you're right here with me."

You smiled, feeling overwhelmed with love for this man who meant everything to you. "I'd never leave a good looking man like yourself alone anyway." You chuckle as he laughs with you. Henry's gaze never left the screen as he nodded, his eyes filled with adoration.

As the water grew colder, you both decided to get out of the bath. You quickly changed into one of his oversized shirts. "Enjoying the view Cavill?" You say chuckling and giving an intentional wiggle to your bum. "Yes ma'am" That's all he said as he gawked at you. "Go change and you can finally open the package." He chuckles and changes into his sleeping shorts, then sets up the camera so you can both see each other. You watch as he opens the box, and your heart swells with excitement.

He looks through the notes from your family, smiling at the sweet messages and even laughing at the funny ones. But then he reaches the letter you wrote him, and his expression changes. He reads it slowly, and you can see his eyes light up as he takes in every word. You watch him with a smirk on your face, knowing that you've turned him on with your words. As he finishes reading, he looks up at you with a smile and says, "Damn, babygirl. You know just how to make me feel loved and desired at the same time."

He then reaches the naughty things. Grabbing your panties with excitement as he immediately brought it up to smell it. "Fuck" He growled and you can see the bulge growing in his shorts as you squirmed yourself. He was addicted to your smell. He then reached for the fleshlight and lube and then looked at you. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" He said, as he pulls it open, and slowly drives a finger in it, giving you a show. This was turning you on like crazy and you could feel the wetness building in your pussy. "God, baby," he says, a little breathless. "You're killing me here." He adds as you just squirm with all his teasing. He then retracts himself from teasing you and finally smirks seeing the candle you gave him, he immediately lights it up and a moan escapes his mouth. He is awfully hard. "God baby you really thought it all through. Didn't you?" He adds as you can't help but blush at his reaction. You know just how much he loves it when you take charge and get a little naughty. It's one of the things that makes your relationship so fun and exciting.

As he continues to look through the package, he comes across the boudoir album you sent him. "What is this...?" He lifts the album and flips through it."Holy fuck" He's almost shocked as he looks through the pages, and you can tell he's having a hard time keeping his composure. He has so much love for you, but at the same time, he's incredibly turned on by what he's seeing, and it's visible by the tent in his shorts. At the back of the album you had also put a QR code through which he could easily view the digital copies. Something you thought would come in handy for him.

You chuckle as he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "God, babygirl," he says again. "You really outdid yourself with this one. You are the best, you know that?" You smile, feeling proud of yourself for being able to bring him so much joy and pleasure. "I'm glad you like it, Henry. I wanted to do something special for you, something that would make you feel loved and desired." "Well, you definitely succeeded in that," he says, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to see you in person and show you just how much I appreciate everything you do for me." You feel your own body responding to his words, and you know that you're both feeling the same intense desire for each other. You can't wait to be with him again, to feel his body against yours and to lose yourself in the pleasure of his touch.

"Strip baby girl" He says as he very quickly just grabs the fleshlight, lube, your panties, and the album. You nod as you get rid of the only articls of clothing on your body, his tshirt. "Fuck you're beautiful baby" He says as he sets himself up on the bed and palms himself giving you a view of his cock. "Mm, baby open the second drawer and take out your vibrating dildo." He commands as you just nod. He just wanted to rip through the screen and eat that juicy pussy of yours that you left on diplay for him. He takes a huge whiff of your panties and growls pouring lube on him and palming himself. "Fuck sweetheart." He puts the digital copy of the boudoir on his TV screen as he started to push the tortch down his hard pulsating cock. "Mm fuck my love, take the vibrator, and rub it on your clit." You do as he says like a sex drunk doll awaiting to be pupiteered. "Mm slap your pussy with it whore. Just like you beg me to do it." He growls moving the torch on his cock as he sees the live view and also the images you sent him. He can't belive that it's you. That it's his girlfriend, that he owns that beautiful baby. "Mm put it in you princess imagine my cock in you, stuffing you up" "Mm yes daddy, fuck. This is nothing compared to you" You growl, the dirty words definitely riling you up further, as you start to move it in and out of you. Henry could control that dildo through his phone and he increases the vibration as you start to move it. "Take it like the good slut you are for your daddy princess, take it well". "Jesus fucking Christ Daddy. Fuck!" You moan loudly as he instructs you to grab the buttplug and slowly slip it in as well. You just follow his instructions as he beats his meat. "Fuck baby". He looks at the pictures and just as the shot of you spreading your ass standing naked on the window pops up, Henry loses it and cums hard, as you do too. "Fuck princess" he growls as his hot cum spurs out onto the fleshlight, he takes one last sniff of your panties before looking at you in the screen, a panting mess. You catch your breath. "Fuck daddy, that was good" you say as you were about to pull out the buttplug too, but he stops you. "Tut tut tut, that stays. All night long. Sleep with it in you. That's the first thing I want to see when I call you tomorrow." He says in his husky deep voice still trying to catch his breath.

As you two ride out your orgasm you can see the physical satisfaction on his face. He's happy and much more relaxed. You realise that this is the first time in a while you've seen him so relaxed. You can see his keep everything aside, as he switches off his television. Sleep is heavy in his eyes. "This was truly amazing baby. I mean it. Not just the package but the date, and this. I am so lucky to have you in my life my love. I can't wait to see you. I love you so freaking much." He says as your heart gets filled with love and joy and you chuckle as you see him tuck himself in the bed. "Mm I can't wait to see you either. I love you so much more. Go off to bed now. I know you're sleepy." You can see the struggle in his eyes as he almost fights to keep them open. "Goodnight my love. I love you* He says as he knocks out and you chuckles disconnecting the call. You were happy and proud as you wen to bed yourself. You wanted to amke your man feel special and you did, and that made you so much more happier. You loved him dearly and so did he. You finally slipped to bed moaning the rest of your night in the sleep because of the buttplug.

___

“Can I see it?”

“Not yet.” he blocks you from entering the room.

“Why won’t you just tell me what you got me? I’m sure it’s not this serious.”

He steps into you, cupping your face, “sweetheart, you have to be more patient. Also, your pajamas are ridiculous”he laughs.

“O come on! These are adorable!” you said gesturing towards the butt flap of your footie pajamas. He responded with an eyeroll, ever impressed by your childish antics. “Well can we watch a movie or something? Since I’m not allowed to walk about my own house now?”

“Sure.” he kisses you on the forehead before following you downstairs and into the livingroom. You sit on his lap, curling up to him; he cradles you as you inhale the warmth of his chest. 

Elf wasn’t exactly the romantic holiday movie you had wanted but, both of you had seen it so many times that at this point it was merely a courtesy to glance at the screen.

It wasn't a surprise when his hands began to wander. You loved that he never tired of your body no matter how much it changed. You ignored, as he delicately undid the flap towards the back of your pajamas. He calmly palms your butt cheek, letting out a low growl as he does.

You ignore it, pretending not to love the fact that he can’t control himself around you.

He moves his hand further into the space behind you,toying with wetness at your core.

You let out a small whimper as he dips one finger inside of you.

“Shhhhhh, hush  baby. You know you can’t be loud like that.”

You look up at him,eyes wide; hating when he toys with you in that way. You were never able to keep quiet when it came to him.

He pumped his finger in and of you, patting your hair softly while your eyes plead with him for more. You are sure you know he’s growing between his legs but his face doesn’t let on.

“You’re doing so well little girl.” his voice rumbles lowly , and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip. 

You can feel how wet you are, soaking his fingers but, you know it’s only a tease. And he knows you never cum from just riding on his fingers.     

“Please can you fuck me daddy?” you ask.

“Shhhh.shhh be patient I told you.”

“Well can we atleast go upstairs?”you ask, pushing his limits.

“I said be quiet.” he warns,grabbing your chin in his hand. Your eyes search his face and then you lean in to kiss him. 

He holds you back by your chin again stopping you from reaching his lips.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” he asks, finally leaning in to let you kiss him. 

“Yes daddy.”you nod excitedly jumping up.

He almost laughs at your vigor before asking you to go upstairs and put on the outfit he’s laid out in your bedroom. 

I'm not even certain how it happened. I was just slogging along like everyone else, checking off plagues on my 2020/ 2021 bingo card, trying not to lose my mind. I couldn't watch the news, THAT was an exercise in insanity: watching allegedly grown-ass humans argue about the benefits of their rights versus the health and wellbeing of thousands of others....fish tank cleaner, for crying out loud.....Horse de-wormer. I had been going to work every day. As an *essential* I quickly figured out THAT meant the same thing as expendable, but I loved my work, and loved my clients even more.

Home, work, home, work, occasional trips to the grocery, mask, gloves, wiping things off before I bring them in the house, and praying that I don't get sick. As an extrovert, all the things I would usually do to replenish are prohibited. So, no gathering with friends, no going out, no dinner parties, no seeing people, no performances, nothing. Sure, zoom. But that's not the same.

And then the phone rang.

And I looked at my cell, and I didn't even recognize the sequence of numbers, and the program I have that blocks Unknown callers kicked in, and that was that, or so I thought. It rang again. And again. Fourteen times from that odd sequence of numbers, no area code I was familiar with. When I'm home, the phone is on its charger. No one calls me. Truly. I'll get messengered. I get IMs through various programs, but almost no one calls. Especially with my work schedule. I honestly didn't know there were that many calls. I'm headed out to work in the morning, it's about four am when I leave, and that when I see how many calls have come from that odd number. " Determined little bugger aren't they? " and I hop in my little black Club Edition Miata MX5 and turn on Pandora to my 80's Euro-pop and start shredding gears.

I'm not going to apologize for my musical taste. Some of it's a function of my age. I happen to like ABC and Scritti Politti. I think "My Aim Is True" was LIGHT YEARS ahead of its time. Besides, it's great to listen to while driving a six-speed manual, and I get to work in a great mood. So far, pretty much like any other pandemic day. Phone appointments with clients, stay on top of my documentation, grab a smoke where I can, and Google that phone number.

Which is where it got weird. Turns out, it's a what do you call it? A Solicitor? Some firm in the UK. Lots of names; their website looks lovely, but that doesn't tell me much. Why in the name of Odin's panties would a solicitor be trying to reach me? I mean, that didn't make any sense. I've never even been to the UK, and the closest I got to Europe was three hours in Orly airport about a hundred years ago when they took all our luggage off the plane, had all of us deplane; in the rain, I might add ..... So we could all identify our bags and get back on the plane. I was eight.

I added the solicitor's number to my contacts, figuring that would stop it from getting blocked by Robokiller, and then perhaps they might leave a message or something. I went on about my day and didn't give it another thought.

Soon, it would consume my every thought. How was I to know....

They left a message. A rather cryptic message. I must have played it six times and when I pulled over I read it an additional four times.

“We are trying to contact you at the behest of our client to set up an initial meeting to ascertain if terms may be agreed upon for a mutually beneficial relationship. The client wishes your knowledge and expertise in certain areas and would insist upon the utmost discretion. ”

Reasonably certain I am nowhere in line for the throne, and even more certain I have not been left a peerage, I’m at a loss as to what this is even about. I mean at one time I had been told that my biological father was English, a subject of the Crown. Having gone looking for medical insight and falling into that rabbit hole known as “every genealogical and DNA site known to humankind” I now know that is a fiction. There goes the last imaginary stab at long lost relations across the pond, right? I put it in the back of my brain and then I got an IM from a dear friend and MC I have had the pleasure of working with, “you’ll never guess who wants to talk to you!!!!’“

I look at the instant message and assume it is a prank. I send him love, inquire after his husband and cats, and then, almost ladylike, I tell him to sod off. “Oh you’ll be eating those words, you will. I swear on her Majesty the Queen’s diamond tiaras". OK. Surely he was serious. Gay men do not swear on crown jewels frivolously. John calls and regales me with the story of his last gig pre pandemic at Fringe Festival in Edinburgh and the massive crowds, and how well it was going...John says “One day this bloke comes backstage with his mates and they were quite taken with the international man of leather bit. It seemed they had a tonne of questions”, and while Jon said they’re good-looking, they…..didn’t play for his team. So we chat a bit about that, and then he says he has to ring off.

I’m still befuddled.

I get home, kick off my shoes, take off my damned bra, and there’s a knock on the door. I look out the little window and it’s a person in a polo, from a courier service. I open the door a crack, they ask my name, I confirm my identity, show proof, and they hand me this envelope. Very mysterious. Ok. This is some next- level weird shit. Is there a cell phone in the package? Will it direct me to take the red pill and meet Morpheus? Become unplugged from the matrix? So, I light a cigarette, grab my reading glasses and see just how far through the looking glass we are about to venture.

It appears to be a non-disclosure agreement. Pretty serious shit, I might add, that will penalize my sole descendant and her descendants, which by the bye do NOT exist as of this date, in many courts, in several languages, in perpetuity. If I agree to the terms, I am to sign it, scan it, email it, and upon receipt, a link will be sent for a secured video call, but not with the principal. Well, it wasn’t worded that succinctly. The language was a bit more flowery. And in Legalese. Oh for crying out loud….. I cannot even imagine for whom THIS level of crazy would be necessary, but now, my curiosity has got the best of me, and I’m in.

Not only do I sign, I add a drop of blood and the retinal image from my last eye exam ( what? You didn’t ask to keep yours?) I figured if we’re going to be extra, well, by all means, let’s be extra as FUCK. No sense in trying to disguise my sense of humor, either.

Off it goes, inconveniencing electrons, and then there’s the email notification. Secure video call. My God. I click the link, seven extra steps and I’m video chatting with a very nice man in a very nice suit who explains that his client would like to engage my services.

"My services? For what, exactly?” I’m running the possibilities through my head. Slapping drinks out of the hand of a Kardashian adjacent ne’er do well? Certainly not as an MC or a joke writer. I don’t know how to write jokes. I can tell stories, but that doesn’t seem likely as an engagement of this magnitude. No one pay that much money for a story teller. By process of elimination it appears safe to assume that this might be connected to …… umm……. My extra curricular activities.

This seems as good a time as any to explain, I suppose. I’ve been a part of the Leather Community for some time now. Kink, sure, but Leather is different. Not just in the material.

If kink encompasses a whole list of things; think you may have seen, things you might even have done, and you may not even identify yourself as kinky. That’s really ok, perfectly fine. At some point you might decide “ hey, I AM kinky” and we’ll be right here waiting for you, eager to show you all our toys and the cool things we learned along the way, various tips and tricks, wardrobe options, all the things we gush over with other like minded folx.

And while I did say Kink, and you’ve probably connected the dots to BDSM being a part of that- I did specifically say Leather. Leather, TO ME, and I really do need to clarify that this definition is situational, contextual and not universal, is about a set of shared values. Honor, service, duty, community, family; it informs the way in which I move in the world as much as the twelve Steps do. It is about how I treat people, how I would like to be treated, it encompasses integrity, honesty and my personal ethical compass as well as my love of mixing sex and power. It’s between consenting adults, there are rules, protocol, a hierarchical structure, AND it makes my heart happy.

Back in the day, all right not THAT long ago, I was a Femme Domme of some renown. I had submissives, slaves, people in service to me. I travelled around this part of the globe teaching classes at conferences about interpersonal dynamics within hierarchical relationships, classes on negotiation, safety, the ins and outs of entry in the Community and I loved giving back that information which was freely given to me at the start of my journey. I played in conference dungeons with all manner of implements of destruction. I had written more than a few published articles and I still MCed and judged contests.

It HAD to be that, right? But why me?

“Well, we would like to retain you, as an advisor. You’ll be compensated, of course. Your travel will be taken care of, as well as the quarantine period and any testing. Should you travel while we are still experiencing restrictions due to the Global Health Crisis, you would fly privately, and expect to spend fourteen days in a superior accommodation until the end of the quarantine. Then, you would travel with our client. Your meals would be provided, you would be paid a generous per diem…”

“ Exactly how long did you imagine you might need my advisory services, do you figure?

"Well…..we were thinking approximately six months with the option to extend.”

And I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. My brain had vapor locked. SIX MONTHS? I had a job, a life, and a home, and bills and things. Regular people stuff. I couldn’t just chuck it all for half a year, could I?

“I do have a career I’m quite fond of, and I’m not ready to retire…. ”

“Your compensation will be more than worth the inconvenience….” And he threw out an almost incomprehensible number. Six figures. For six months of work. And no expenses. I actually could retire. “Ok. Who is your client, and in what capacity do they want me to advise?”

“ We would have to calculate the time difference, coordinate schedules, and get back with you. You’ll be hearing from us in a few days. Good to have you onboard”. And the phone call ended.

Right as that happened my phone notification went off. My bank showed a wire deposit of eight thousand dollars.

Indecorously, I’m certain my mouth was agape. Eight thousand dollars, for a phone call? Surely they were barking mad. Criminals, perhaps. Something. This was just so…..weird. I took the documents to bed, picked out my clothes for the next day, then re-read them as I wound down for bed.

Thankfully there was the usual amount of sheer chaos at work to occupy my thoughts and I got through my sympathy unscathed.

The drive home was fun. I can always fix anything with six gears, loud music, and ignoring the posted speed limit. I had a few hours, so I did dishes, tossed in a load of washing, and was about to get a few more chapters done in my edX Harvard class when the phone rang.

An odd set of numbers? Check. Similar to the Solicitors office? Check.

“ Hello? Yes, this is. How can I help? Secure call? Yes, I’ll hold… ” and I’m sure that my heart could be heard pounding through my chest…. “Hello.” This lush beautiful full-bodied husky voice on the other end…. “ do I have the pleasure of speaking with miss Y/L/N? ” “ yes, this is. You appear to have me at a disadvantage, I don’t believe I got your name? ”

“You didn’t.”

“ Are you shy, cautious, or just a bit of a rake, kind sir? ” He laughed, and it was an infectious sound. Women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be him, charming. Very charming. “Then how do you prefer I address you? Sire? My Lord? Sultan? Or perhaps Daddy is more to your liking.” That got me a sharp intake of breath…..I smile, make note of that.

“Was there some purpose for this call, or do you usually make secure phone calls for no apparent reason?” Silence. I could hear background noise, but he didn’t speak. “ You’ve paid for my time, if you would prefer we spend it silently, so be it. I will put you on speaker, so I can at least continue with my classwork. ”

“Classwork? In what subject? ” That voice. Twenty years in radio and I process everything through my ears; his voice was dynamic, rich tones, well-modulated. “It’s a class on the Opioid Epidemic. When I finish, I’ll have a certificate from Harvard to add to my collection.”

“ Collection? ”

“Yes, I collect alphabets.”

“ You what? ”

I laughed. “It’s a bit of a euphemism: for letters, after my name. Professional certifications. ”

“I hope you don’t think THAT’S why I’m contacting you…”

“ Truthfully? It crossed my mind. There’s no shame in getting help if you need it, and I can see where having a personal sober coach would be a benefit. That would explain the drop everything and travel. ”

More silence. Not awkward, but not at the companionable stage, either.

“Well, I’m not planning on calling you by some honorific, and you still haven’t provided your name, so I shall give you a name. Yes. From two of my favorite book titles. Hero Solo. All right, Mister Solo… What is it you need from little old me?”

And then he laughed again, a deep belly laugh, like there was a great joke, but, clearly, I wasn’t in on it. When he stopped laughing he said “ I ran into a friend of yours. I was with friends and he was doing stand-up comedy, and some of the things he talked about were…… Intriguing, shall we say? So I went round after and one thing led to another and he said you were the woman I needed to find. ”

Now the gears are spinning, processor speed doubling every few seconds, a United Kingdom stand-up act…. and it clicks into place. "I can teach you what I know, and what I like. But there are still issues that may prove insurmountable.

For you see, Mister Solo, I know who you are, and why you came to me. “

Having finally figured it out, who the caller was, I was amazed I hadn’t freaked out and hung up. Internally I was fangirling my ass off, OMG I am on the phone with HENRY CAVILL.

And I can’t tell anyone. Damn my ethical standards to seven hells, and that Non-Disclosure Agreement didn’t help, either. But, it made sense. I had gotten some scene vibes from watching him. From some of his roles, August Walker, if I have to tell you, but also in interviews, and thought there might have been something else besides Big Dick Energy there.

Thankfully, he spoke. “ Issues? Like why I had to have solicitors involved? ”

“Well, that, of course. But there are other considerations. While what it is we do has become more mainstream, it is still taboo, and playing with sex and power can have consequences. Especially for dominant men. Too easily twisted, and too easily misconstrued. And, you have a bright future to consider. Fifty shades of crap did a great deal more PR harm. I mean, if Christian Grey hadn’t been wealthy, it would have been an episode of Criminal Minds.”

He laughed again “ John said you were funny.

“Oh I’ll have you holding your sides, but I’m not professionally funny. I do like your laugh, so that’s an incentive. But, here’s something you may not have considered. How do you explain me? I cannot just pop into your universe, and become some orbiting satellite. I mean, look at you for fucks sake.” I knew I was starting to sound a bit exasperated, but it couldn’t be helped. “I’m ….. Well…..I’m …. Well shit. I’m at least twenty years older than you are.You can’t be seen with me. You’re not Keanu Reeves, and even Keanu Reeves took a ration of flack for dating a woman his age. And, besides, I look like, well…. Me. ”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You do realize I have seen photos of you. I don’t believe they do you justice.” That voice. Those words. And I wanted to let it pour all over me like a balm for my bruised soul. I could feel it oozing into the dented places, soothing the hurts. “ So you admit to being a stalker too, Hero? I hope you got great shots of me on my way to work. Or did you pay someone to hack my social media? That’s rich! ” Now I was laughing.

I could genuinely like this man, and that was a great place to start. But, I still had a mirror, and he still had paparazzi. We’d been on the phone for three hours, and it felt like minutes, but, I had to go.

“ This has been delightful. I’ll send your money back. I feel terrible for taking it. The NDA will remain in effect until the stars fall from the sky, or the end of the world. You’re safe. Thank you for a lovely conversation. Goodbye. ”

And I hung up.

I only wished I could stop thinking about it. And him.

As though the Gods themselves had conspired to create a perfect man.

Tall, broad shoulders, thick dark hair, blue eyes that I swear could see through me, with that brown part in one eye, so he’s still mortal. Strong chest, covered with the perfect amount of hair….. Which I was willing to bet was the right combination of crisp and soft. So you’d want to play with it, bury your face in it but just rough enough to harden your nipples.

Well as it turns out the solicitor was having none of that. They sent a rather tersely worded email reminding me I was under contract and that the funds would not be able to be returned and that I may wish to rethink the terms I had agreed to and they expected me to fulfill my obligation. Damn my sense of leather sensibilities and that ethical compass. Now I had to figure out how to make this work in some way shape or form.

Days pass. I go to work, do my thing, help a friend through a rough spot, and find myself reading entertainment industry sites. Can you roll your eyes at yourself? Is that internal, or is there a facial expression that accompanies that action?

I deduce he’s in Hungary, try and fail to calculate the difference in time ( I have always sucked at time mathematics) and while I know there’s an app for that, I have no idea what a production schedule looks like. I also have no comprehension of what a typical day might be, or if there even is such a thing. I send an email to the Solicitors General and suggest that email may be a temporary solution, given scheduling constraints, and make a call.

“Benji! I am so glad I caught you! You aren’t currently dressing anyone fun? …Not that you can tell me at the moment…..did you ever get contact information for whoever did those designs for Patti Lupone in Ryan Murphy’s Hollywood? I know!!!! "We both squealed. "She looked AMAZING! " we said practically in unison. "So do you have a few minutes? Can I pick your brain? What does a typical day look like for a principal, on location?”

I took notes. Good intelligence and reconnaissance are always important. Turns out there isn’t any typical. It'sseldom what they need to shoot, but rather what got screwed up, what requires different angles, or lighting, or even who needs to be worked around. Maybe the horse is having a bad day.

Maybe I could find out what his interests were, what he’d done, what worked, what didn’t, what he wanted. See if he’d read anything or if he needed to unlearn any foolishness, and in the meantime, I’d do my best to keep my mind from wandering off on tangents about hoping he was switchy. That maybe he wanted to feel what it was like to not be in control, or there were sensations he was very interested in exploring.

Oh, I’d very much like to restrain him and tease him. I would love to see what sorts of noises he might make…. Moans? Growls? Threats? Promises of retaliation? Sharp intakes of breath? I wondered how fun it might be to edge….see how close I could get him to cumming, and then stop. With my hands or my mouth, show him what a woman with very little gag reflex is capable of. Or slow down, or change gears. How many times could I do that, I mean before he exploded?

Part of me KNOWS that he is busy, working. But the asshole who lives in my head cannot resist the opportunity for a stroll around my neuroses. He’s not going to contact you….. Because LOOK AT YOU. It’s good that you’re funny. At least you have that. You had your few minutes. Be grateful for the call and the laughs that you got. It’ll never be anything more. Don’t kid yourself loser.

And can we just talk about THAT for a minute? As someone who spends a bit of time in the public eye, granted a different public, but still.. and who had gotten misquoted and had it taken out of context and then there was a shit storm, you completely understood where that whole debacle had come from. His parents raised him and his brothers to be gentlemen. If he ever even did anything that would make his mother wince, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

And we’re not talking about “ alternative” sexual activities between consenting adults, right? We’re talking about actual consent violations, Harvey Weinstein stuff, the things that make you need a Silkwood shower. He likes wooing women, loves flirting, enjoys that whole interplay, but in the current climate, he could see where there might be a potential minefield.

He’s famous. Why do you think he had to have you sign a non-disclosure that was binding three generations forward? As in your great-grandchildren, yet unborn, couldn’t talk about this? Some people look for an easy out, sell their stories to tabloids. I mean that triad, where one of them was a fucking sex doll? And they ( the other two ) talked about her ( I am assuming her gender pronouns based upon her looks and I shouldn’t, but as the doll is mute it cannot verbalize any other preference) as though the doll were an actual third party in the relationship WHO WAS AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT.

And when people started talking about it on social media, had all the nerve to be offended that misconceptions were being fostered. Darlings, YOU gave the interview to the tabloid.

So in interview he said ““There’s something wonderful about a man chasing a woman,” he said. “There’s a traditional approach to that, which is nice. I think a woman should be wooed and chased, but maybe I’m old-fashioned for thinking that.” Cavill went on, saying, “It’s very difficult to do that if there are certain rules in place. Because then it’s like: ‘Well, I don’t want to go up and talk to her, because I’m going to be called a rapist or something.’ So you’re like, ‘Forget it, I’m going to call an ex-girlfriend instead, and then just go back to a relationship, which never really worked,’” he said. “But it’s way safer than casting myself into the fires of hell, because I’m someone in the public eye, and if I go and flirt with someone, then who knows what’s going to happen? Now? Now you really can’t pursue someone further than, ‘No.’ It’s like, ‘O.K., cool.’ But then there’s the, ‘Oh why’d you give up?’ And it’s like, ‘Well because I didn’t want to go to jail?’”

And I can see that he’s a) old school and b) loves women.

To silence the asshole that lives in my head, I researched. There’s not a lot of anything about this man to be found on the interwebs. Pictures, Photoshoots, Ad campaigns, that horrid GQ Australia interview.

I can also see that he has no idea what the “new rules are” if one could put words in his mouth.

And he thinks that it would be easier to go back to someone he already had a ‘ relationship ‘ with because it’s a known commodity, even if it didn’t work.

And you can’t fault him for THAT, we’ve all done it.

Oh come on, a show of hands, everyone that had sex with an ex because you really needed sex and the battery-operated boyfriend was not cutting it.

I keep trying to do research, see who and what I’m dealing with. I mean between living my ordinary mortal life, paying bills, fretting about clients, making my productivity numbers. What surprises me is the utter lack of anything even remotely negative about this guy. No one has anything bad to say about him. His third-grade teacher, the kid down the street who used to play toy soldiers with him, heck, even the women he’s no longer dating have NOTHING bad to say about this man.

That tells me one of two things. Either a ) he really is some kind of a pod person and he’s an artificial construct; or b ) he really actually is that nice.

I’m cynical. I have a hard time believing B. But, all the data tells me otherwise. I watch hours of video, read all manner of articles, talk to people that work in the industry. Everyone says the same thing. “ What a great guy, Lovely, really. Nicest man, So kind. Someone you could really just talk to , I mean if he weren’t a world famous superstar. Not at all stuck up”

But, there are some interesting tidbits. Like that whatever that was with that actress from Big Bang Theory. That was a PR stunt. I think they were together for a coffee. He was with Marisa Gonzalo, who is a game hunter……. Odd choice considering his causes, and well she went and posted pictures of their vacation to social media, and whoops, trap door opened and she fell through. I think she engineered that whole thing, finding out the gym where he worked out and putting herself right in his path.

The women he seems to have stayed with the longest are Gina Carano ( The Mandalorian) and The professional show jumper…. what was her name….. they were ENGAGED for crying out loud….. but, the common thread is, I think with those women he didn’t have to hold back. I mean, he could. That’s always an option, to be gentle, soft, tender. But at over six feet, all that training, all that muscle, all…. that….. thrusting power……to HAVE to hold back, because you’re afraid you’ll damage your partner? Actually hurt them? and , you know not in a nice way? Like not in that “ oooh every time I sit down, I get that twinge in my nether regions and then I recall how I got that_ particular_ soreness and it makes me blush, and my undergarments get dampened” that sort of thing? More like “ I think I may have torn something and they might have to put an episiotomy stitch or two in that” sort of thing.”

Come on. We’ve all seen the pictures.

Blue sweat pants. You know EXACTLY the pictures I’m talking about. That is NOT the introductory class. Not by any ( pardon the pun ) stretch of the imagination. { I know, I’ll see myself out }

So I think that is part of why he is looking for additional dimensions to his extra curriculars, as maybe that might be a key. And I can see it. A submissive or a slave would inherently be more willing, more geared to his wants and desires, and if he were the proper sort of ethical owner operator, then he would be more geared to hers. It is after all power exchange, not power theft. If you’re going to surrender your will to another individual it’s based upon a deep level of trust and love that they’re going to cherish you and care for you and not do anything to damage you. That everything is consensual, negotiated and communicated.

It’s like a very complicated but elegant tango, really. So stunning to watch. Mesmerizing, looks effortless, but so much goes into it, years of work and practice, to make it look that seamless and easy. But that’s how he approaches things. This is the person who thought that the leather jerkin for The Witcher needed to look ‘ lived in’ so he lived in it. Slept in it, wore it constantly. Didn’t have some production person do it, HE did it. Does his own stunts. He doesn’t have to, he’s just that invested, and just that authentic. So , if this speaks to him, this power exchange, this Dominance and submission, then he’s going to approach it the same way, I would imagine.

Makes me wonder what he’s up to, wherever he is……

The phone rings.

It’s that odd series of numbers again, and it’s been a while but, I know, he’s busy. International superstar and all that. Filming, training, playing with his Bear Dog Kal. Yes, I know, not actually a bear, but a pretty good impersonation, really.

“ Yes? “

“ Is that how you answer a telephone?”

“Only when I know it’s you, Hero.” Trying to calculate the time difference is making my brain hurt. I light a cigarette and wait.

There’s a few moments of static and silence and then he speaks. Gotcha.

“ I read some of your writing. It’s …… not traditional. I rather like your perspective.”

“Thank you. Was it difficult to locate?”

“ No, not once I had the right parameters.”

“ Well, I do apologize for some of the drivel that surrounded it”.

Again, that laugh. “ That was more what I had come to expect, and not at all what I was looking for, really. “

“ Where do you find the time? “

“ Well, my schedule is a bit unusual, so I have time, it’s just not when one would expect. And I also found those two books. The Third Piano Concerto? Rachmaninoff? That was really quite a tale.”

“It’s one of my favorites. I read it at least once a year, despite the fact I can probably recite it from memory. I’m surprised no one’s made it into a film.”

“ Was that a..?”

“No, no not at all”, and I laughed.

He had some questions about my take on D/s dynamics and how I saw it a bit differently, that I didn’t think it possible that oneperson’s needs could be met simply by meeting the needs of another person. And that it wasn’t possible for it to be elegant gold chains and constant cocksucking, with a platinum butt plug in twenty two hours a day. Real life, you know? We have jobs and families and parents and responsibilities and interests, and fiction isin fact fiction, for a reason.

He talked about how it intrigued him, and I asked him which side of the dynamic. There was a long silence. In fact I wasn’t certain if the connection had been lost, but I waited. He said he wasn’t sure. I said that there was no shame in not deciding, and that it was perfectly reasonable to want to explore prior to making any determination.

“ Did you buy the first Bentley you saw, or did you drive one or two? Maybe take an Aston Martin for a spin? Pretend you were a Bad Guy in a Bond movie and get behind the wheel of a Jaguar? Drive a high end pasta rocket until you realized there is no place to put take away? “

“ Yes, exactly” .

“ What you need is a test drive. You have no idea what you like, but you probably have a better idea of what you don’t, perhaps.”

He paused again. “ Late at night, when I’m by myself, I know what excites me. I know what gets me hard. And it isn’t always the same things. And I’m not certain what to do about that.”

“ They’re fantasies. And they’re yours. You do whatever you like with them. If you want to try them out, great. If you want to keep them to yourself, that’s great too. Some of them are meant to stay in our heads. There’s no judgement. But, you won’t know unless you try. And I’m the safest person to try.”

“ I had hoped you would say that. I really had hoped you would say that “

“ I know. My role is to figure out what it is you want, even if you can’t tell me , or don’t quite know, and then serve it to you, on a silver platter. The term you’re looking for is Service Top.”

The phone calls continued, at odd hours. He would occasionally leave voicemails, saying things like “ I know you’re at work, but I wanted to pick your brain about….. ” or “you’re probably asleep, I don’t know what time it is there…” At one point I suggested emails, so if he wanted to discuss something then he could just send it, and not have to concern himself with time constraints .

I almost wish I hadn’t. I found myself checking my email more often, and my pulse racing when I saw one from him. He was sharp, inquisitive. Had stellar questions and a brilliant mind. Rather unfair, really, to be that good looking, nice AND smart. At this point now I’m starting to look for his Shakespearean tragic flaw. Like, there has to be SOMETHING wrong with him, doesn’t there?

He tells me how production is going, the training and the fight scenes. I give him shit about the comment he made in an interview about Geralt’s leather pants and how they had to change that because the leather would stretch out and then look….. Baggy. “ You ride a Ducati, don’t you? ” “You know that I do.”

“And do you ride in khakis? ”

“No, that would be excessively foolish. One dresses for the fall.”

“ And your riding gear is leather, yes? Does it get…. What was the word you used in the interview? Baggy? ” I was thankful in that moment we weren’t doing video calls. I don’t think I could keep a coherent thought in my head with that face looking right at me, while that voice was speaking to me at the same time. That’s enough to fry a woman’s circuits. Well, mine, anyway. And there was that damned laugh again. It turned my insides to goo. If the heat in my face was any indication, I was probably blushing. And I’m reasonably certain I do not blush.

“So you’re saying if they were made out of the right leather…..?”

“ Exactly. Leather pants should fit like you were dipped in leather, and left to dry. That spectacular ass you work so hard on should be framed like the work of art that it is, and if I’m to be completely candid… ”

“As if I could stop you…”

“ You did contract for my opinion …. You’d be sin personified in the right pair of leather pants. And the right cock ring. But I’m not certain I’d share that vision with anyone. Certainly not the media. There’s quite enough speculation about your endowments, and if we gathered all that up and prominently displayed it, well, I daresay I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the cardiac incidents. ”

I ask him to have his costuming measurements sent. I may have a trick or two up my sleeve. I know someone who does couture leather. Works with theaters and television. He tells me they will be wrapping up soon, and hopefully won’t need reshoots. I ask how much time before the press tour and he says he has maybe a month after they finish shooting, maybe more. “ Hmmmm. A month. That would be a start. Are you ready? ”

There’s a pause. I hear him breathing. I hear ice cubes in a glass. I wait.

“Yes. I mean, I think so. Or, I will be. That didn’t come out right. I sound like an idiot.”

“ You sound honest. Which is the perfect starting point. ”

“ So, what now? ”

“All sorts of things. Fun things, boring things, logistics, because you’re a royal pain in the ass, do you have ANY idea how difficult it is to locate an evil overlord impenetrable lair on short notice? Much less to MY exacting standards? And some basics. Ground rules. Limits. Interests. …I have assignments for you.”

“ Ok. ……Ma'am ”

“Oh, you’re going to be delightful, and probably evil on the other side of the switch. That’s why we need ground rules. And safe words. Ma'am….. Oh you make my cold black heart go pitter patter, Hero. Anticipatory behavior gets rewarded. I’ll mark that in your book. ”

I told him to find an exhaustive list of activities, fetishes and kinks and mark all that he had done, and loved, done and liked, done and didn’t care one way or the other about, done and never wanted to try again, NEVER EVER wanted to try, was interested in but hadn’t done, thought about, and which ones got him harder than Graduate Calculus. He said he would and rang off.

After that phone call I laid there, covered in a light sheen of sweat, panting, cunt throbbing, aching to be completely full of cock, and having to be content with the orgasms I had. I rolled over, lit a cigarette and contemplated the twists my life had taken of late. It was almost incomprehensible. And it occurred to me I hadn’t been paid lately, and I wasn’t entirely certain that I minded. But apparently thinking about it triggered something at the solicitor, and sure enough, another balance notification. I called my friend that did couture leather and asked if they had time to construct a few things. Measurements sent and funds transferred, I felt rather pleased with myself. Very cat with a saucer of cream, you know?

I had gotten the list back of the kinks and fetishes, and, as I expected, he was thorough, and precise. There were things he was interested in exploring, and things he wanted to experience, and he specified which he had done, and which he wanted to do, and from which side of the equation. I smiled. I KNEW he was switchy.

It didn’t change the fact that he had yet to lay eyes on me. That he hadn’t come face to face with the age difference, my additional pounds, and all of that could still be a deal breaker. Oh. Great. Hello, asshole that lives in my head. I figured you would show up about now. I was having too good of a time for you not to destroy it. So, sure, hit the highlight feel and let’s revisit EVERY bad decision I’ve made since third grade. I lit another cigarette. This was going to be a long night.

Now, in the right frame of mind, for the right individual, I can be very submissive. But I’m much more of a bottom. I’d prefer to still be in control….. Ok, we’ll do this ,this, this, you’ll do this to me, this to me, and, then, we will fuck like wild animals…..ready? Go!

Nothing jumped out at me as I went down the list, face fucking, choking, some August Walker shit…. Not surprised…bondage, edging, orgasm control, restraint, ice, wax, knives…..ooooh… I LOVE knives….hair brush spankings, I’ll bet that goes with the Daddy thing…teasing, spanking, hair pulling, oh, yes…..this was going to be fun!

If this was actually going to happen, then I needed to start putting things into motion. I called a friend at Mr. S in San Francisco, and gave them my shopping list. Butter soft leather, custom construction, suspension cuffs, wrist and ankle restraints, a few brand new floggers, one in certain for warm ups, one in buffalo that’s thuddy, almost like a massage, and then I started searching my stored toys.

Paddles, canes, needles, first aid kits, my singletails, harness, dicks, it had been a while since I had a submissive of my own, but, some things a Domme can never part with. It gave me something else to focus on rather than my rising panic. Even if I strapped myself to a treadmill and ate a rice cake a day…..just stop. We are not even going there.

Having extra money means things get done faster, shipped faster and in a matter of days I had the leather pants and all the custom work from Mr S. Yes, I wickedly overpaid. I even bought new leather suitcases. Well, toy bags. Suitcases. Whatever.

The next time the phone rang, it caught me off guard. I had been daydreaming, I suppose. Thinking about actually meeting him. Seeing that face, those eyes, and looking at me, and smiling. I don’t even think I registered the ring tone. “ Hello? ”

"Oh, it’s hello now, is it?“

” Yes, well, one must try to keep some air of mystery…. You must be completely done in. Any new injuries? “

” So far I have been fortunate, the training has really paid off. I am looking forward to not wearing contact lenses for a while. “

We talked about Kal, the press schedule, what was next, the new Netflix movie and I said I really like the longer curls. "Just enough to grab a hold of” and he got quiet.

“ And where do you think we’ll be going? Know of an island, do you? Where they won’t impound Kal? Someplace you don’t get mobbed? Wait, I know… Another planet? You haven’t even told me your name.

"Did I cross a line?”

“ No. … I …. Just….. ”

“You think you might enjoy that. You’re surprised I mentioned it. I think there’s a great deal you may enjoy. And I’ll have you know I’m working very hard to not sing ’ A Whole New World’ from Aladdin very off key. I’m a terrible singer but enthusiastic. But that’s….”

“ not the point” he interrupted. “These phone calls and emails are great. But I… We…. Can’t make any inroads this far apart. I know you’ll need a two week head start, for quarantine, even if you have a negative Covid test. ”

“And you haven’t even asked my name. “

And I hung up the phone and I had a good cry.

I did a few laps in my pity pool, a bit of water ballet, since I was already wet, and then I shook it off. You’re too old for that flavor of foolishness, I told myself, and I tried to get on about my business. All right, maybe I did need a bit more concealer than usual, but, that’s not the point.

My work was rewarding. Exhausting but rewarding and I dearly loved my clients. About three hours into my day a delivery man arrived, asking for me. My director pointed my office out and an enormous floral arrangement came around the corner. It looked like it was moving under its own power, since the person carrying it was actually obscured from view. White roses, green roses, hyacinth and Lily of the valley. Fresh start, new beginnings, and deeply traditional apology flowers. They smelled heavenly. I had no idea where I was going to put them. They were bigger than the clear space on my desk. I thanked the delivery person and went to get my work bag to tip them. “Oh, no, ma'am, that’s been taken care of, more than generous, really, thank you.”

I reached for the card.

My darling, can I call you that? Of course I DO know your name, Lord knows I’ve moaned it a time or two in the recent weeks, I’m surprised you didn’t feel me. I feel that connected to you.

I knew right the moment it went pear shaped, and I didn’t mean to come off as such a wanker. I just thought you felt it too. If you don’t forgive me, I shall have no other alternative than to learn the Rach Three, and join the French Foreign Legion.

Yours,

Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill

ps did I mention how absolutely sorry I am? Can I make it up to you over dinner? At four, your time?

What the apricot flavored fuck was he up to?Dinner? At four? Ok, that completely fits with my schedule,but he’s on the other side of the planet, and I’m not sure how this works. Instead, I wafted on the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers, tucked the note VERY close to my heart, and smiled when everyone and their cousin wanted to know why I got flowers.

“Just because I’m amazeballs."

” Damn straight.. That in fact you are! “

“All right I’m handing out homework for group, cause Miss Rona is no fun at all. Get it back to me TOMORROW, or you don’t get credit! “

I wish I had video of me trying to get this arrangement of flowers into my two seater. That was all flavors of funny. There was no way it went in the trunk, it didn’t quite fit on the floorboard, I didn’t want have to put the top down and let the wind at highway speed have at it. But, I prevailed, got it in the house and managed to make a section presentable for a zoom date. I stood in front of my closet for a good 45 minutes, freaking out. What do I wear? All dressed? Casual? Waist up? Alluring? Slutty? Screw that. It’s August. The temperature is best described as Satan’s front porch. Elegant and comfortable. Maybe my stomach will settle and I won’t throw up.

At precisely 3:45 my doorbell rings, and it is delivery people. I open the door and they come in and set up a small table , set it, plate the food, put some things in the kitchen and leave!

Food’s out, my mouth watering, and you have an upcoming video talk with possibly the world’s most good looking man. Nothing to panic about, at all.

I look and find a case of all the different flavors of No 1 water and remind myself to thank him for that as well. Mint. Ok. Let’s give that a try.

And throwing any and all caution ( and self preservation, I suppose) to the wind, I power up the laptop, and click the zoom link in the email.

Yes, by the way, it IS possible to drink a half a bottle of No 1 mint water in one swallow, especially if you’re desert parched and nervous as fuck.

And then my heart stops. And I swear to every God and Goddess I can recall, time stands still, and I’m praying that my mouth is not hanging open, because he is perfection. The angles of his cheekbones. That jaw line. Oh my God those blue eyes. Literally I could just fall into them, and never be heard from again, and I would be ok with that. The slightly messy sable curls, begging to have hands run through it, and all of this is short circuiting my poor overloaded brain in the space of SECONDS.

"Hi”

Seriously? Hi??? Is that the best you can do? You blithering idiot. Just turn off the computer, and find a hole to crawl into.

" Thank you for accepting my apology, and my dinner invitation. I really am sorry that I made such a dog’s dinner of it. I just, well, we were getting on so well, and it was comfortable, and I made a cock up of it. “

I remembered to breathe. In and out. You’ve been doing it for years…

” Well, I suppose I will let it go this once, but I reserve the privilege of punishing you later. “ And I smiled.

He looked down for an instant and then back at me, through his lashes, and there was a wicked twinkle there that wasn’t present before. "Deal.”

Dinner was delicious, and if I told you I recalled what I ate, it would be a bald-faced lie. It was eleven in Hungary, and the end of a long day for him, I’m certain, but the conversation was easy and light and a little flirty. I have no idea when I grew a set of balls that big, but, since no one had come back to tell me that reincarnation was a thing, I might as well swing for the fences. At about the two hour mark, I realized I was probably being very selfish and I should let him get to bed, and said as much.

"That’s the thing that technology lacks…“

” what’s that? “ I asked

"At the end of a marvelous date, I would see you home, and then I would take you in my arms, and I would kiss you. First kisses are important. You can tell a great deal about a person from how they approach a kiss.”

" You mean like long, slow, soft, wet, deep kisses, that last three days? “

"And the small of a woman’s back, and opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve”

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Henry"

"Thank you, y/n"

The next morning there was an email.

***The other thing I rather dislike about current technology is that I would have preferred to write this to you on proper paper. With an actual pen. There is something about the right paper stock, the feel of it, how the ink glides along the page. I do so love handwritten correspondence. Perhaps we can make that part of our dynamic. That is what we are constructing, is it not? I would hate to think we were not, for I feel as though we are, and I find myself floating in it, and at the oddest moments.

I spend, as you might guess, a great deal of time in make up and hair, and I use the time to go over lines and scripts ,changes, fight choreography, and then I see your eyes, laughing, with me, and I feel warm inside, and content. In a way I can’t quite put into words, but I definitely want more of, and soon. I think of things I want to talk to you about, and there is so much that I don’t know. I really should start keeping a list. I think about how your hair fell in front of your face during dinner, and the way that your voice changes in tone and how that does something to me. I want to lose myself in you. Can I do that? Will you allow me that?

The difference in our age doesn’t make a DAMN bit of difference to me. I find you captivating, elegant and so very real. You intrigue me and I need more. I suppose you may already know I had a relationship of some importance with a woman older than I, when I first came to the US. It’s odd, talking about it, now, with you, and when I think back to almost being cast in ‘50 Shades’, well, it’s rather ironic, isn’t it? And, oddly no one batted so much as an eyelash when I was romantically involved with a girl not old enough to drink in a pub.

I would love to be able to run away with you. Please let’s make that a reality. I have about four more weeks here and then I could get away. Anywhere you like. I want to be able to court you properly, hold you, kiss you, feel your hand in mine. If you leave in two weeks, your quarantine will be completed by the time I arrive.

Are you up for an adventure, y/n? Take a chance, on us? On this?***

I’m certain the word I was looking for was gobsmacked.

I had a difficult time staying focused all day and started and rewrote at least seven or eight emails in response. But my mind kept wandering off of its own volition.

He and I laying in the sun, laughing, Kal playing in the shallow end of the pool, secluded enough that I was working on an all over tan, and didn’t feel the need to dress. The kitchen was stocked, so we had no need to go anywhere and were free to enjoy each other’s company.

I got up and walked to the outdoor honeymoon shower to cool off and Henry came over and stepped behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and placed his head on top of mine. He pulled me into his embrace and we were both standing under the fall of water. I turned, and lifted my face to his. He gently brushed his lips with mine and I pressed my lips to his and leaned into the kiss. His tongue darted between my lips and I moaned, my nipples pebbling with desire and the added friction of the hair on that rock solid wall of a chest. My hands slid up his back and I pulled myself closer to him, still kissing, our tongues dueling for dominance and I can feel Henry getting hard.

"You’re incorrigible, like some randy teenager, aren’t you?“

” And maybe I’m just happy to see you"

“Maybe you’re just like Big Dick Richie and you finally found the pussy that fits that monster. How long has it been since you didn’t have to hold back?”

"About an hour or two" and he picked me up and slowly impaled me, inch by delicious inch on that weapon he calls a cock.

In between clients and panty dampening daydreams, I managed to formulate a response.

*****Ok, Hero,

Somehow, I knew you’d be a pen and paper sort of gent. And I would wager you’re particular about your choice of pens. Has to have the right heft, glide just right across the paper. I have specifications about pens myself.

Somewhere secluded. No press. I can go anywhere, and no one will notice me. You, on the other hand will cause a stir anywhere you go. Has to be someplace Kal can go. This isn’t going anywhere if the baby bear decides I’m not ok. I wouldn’t have anything to do with someone my dog didn’t trust.

I’ve probably spent more time than I should have thinking about kissing you, holding your face in my hands, losing myself in those eyes, and building this whatever this is. We will need some ground rules, safe words, and I would imagine your preferences, needs, wants and requirements will come into play. You’ll need to keep up your training, I’ll need to be aware of any dietary issues. There’s probably someone you trust enough for me to coordinate with on this, I would imagine.

I apologize. This is rather choppy, stream of consciousness, isn’t it? Multitasking, let me show you it. Or, maybe you just want to go home? Simple enough to get me into the UK, stick me in a hotel for two weeks and then it’s done and you have all the comforts of home. I can bring what I need and with minimal fuss, we can begin.

Your choice.****

So how IS this going to work? I mean , really? I keep telling myself this is ridiculous. I mean, for all of the reasons that my brain keeps playing on death loop; and then some. Let’s see, I could:

Go do medical tourism, have a frame off restoration, get an entire body lift and then MAYBE feel good enough to perhaps get caught by a photographer within twenty miles of him.

Invent a really good cover story about who I was and why I was anywhere near him.

Become some long misplaced relation who was lost to adoption two generations ago. Some charity case he took pity upon.

Believe me, it just gets worse from there. My brain is a very inhospitable place.

Instead, I forced myself to think a tad more pragmatically.

I looked at the list of things he wanted to do, and thought of the things I was willing to do and decided it was time to begin something that looked like negotiation in the time of the pandemic.

****Hello Handsome:

How are things in Dorking? Which, I have to say is probably the most aptly named place in the hemisphere, since you’re there, you dork. I hope they’re at least being kind to you and not beating you up too badly. With any luck, you’ll save some of that for me.

I’m compiling a list of *activities* and some of them intersect. I can’t say I’m too keen on arm wrestling you to see who gets to top first, so we shall defer to age before beauty. Treachery over youth and skill? There is a skill set that goes with some of these toys, and while it is referred to as play, some of them are considered weapons, and can do damage.

First things first. Safety and trust. If you didn’t trust me, we wouldn’t even be considering this, and at any point you can use a safe word. I won’t assume you know what that is. I will go from the concept that you know nothing and we can adjust from there. it should be a word that doesn’t come up in every day conversation, that’s unique enough that it won’t be misunderstood, but not so complex that you may forget it. For instance, the word I usually use is aardvark. But, in your case, maybe I’ll change that to kryptonite.

I am imagining you laughing. I hope you’re laughing. I’m laughing.

I will never damage you. I will hurt you, and ideally, you’ll like it. I hope to cause you exquisite pain. Erotic anguish. It is what you said you wanted. Been spending any time thinking about it? I have.

Anything that might cause marks will need to be healed back up by the time you have to be on set, or be able to be camouflaged. How do you tend to heal? Do you bruise easily? And never the face. Dear Gods no, not that face. We’ll start slow and go at what ever pace you feel comfortable. I honestly don’t think I can harm you and I’m probably more likely to injure myself on the mountain that is you.

Speaking of injuries, I expect you’ll pay for any damage you do. We may need to find a concierge physician who makes discreet calls. I might have a hard time explaining how I was injured. Should things go really sideways and I perish, I would only ask that you provide for my daughter. Nothing extravagant, just so that she is ok. And she doesn’t need to know where it came from, and it just needs to be enough to keep a roof over her head and gas in her car. Other than that, I don’t really think anyone will make that much of a ruckus. You’ll figure out a way to dispose of my remains. Make me into a diamond, put me in a pinkie ring.

I don’t think I’m destructible. I’m pretty hearty. Now if you want to have a training buddy, I’m down for that too. I could stand to be more fit, and would love a bit more flexibility. I can cook, and will learn what you like. But, there are some ….. concerns. I smoke. You drink.

I know you used to smoke and you’re extraordinarily health conscious, but I don’t have any intentions of quitting. So we will have to figure out some compromise. You drink and I’m twenty seven years clean and sober. I’m not going to tell you not to drink, but I don’t ever want that flavor profile in my mouth, not even in kisses. Something tells me I am going to love kissing you.

We’ll have to figure out a work around for that as well.

However I do think the part you’ll like the best is not having to hold back. Whatever it is, I can take it. And I look forward to you trying to wreck me.

Sweet dreams*****

And then I hit send. And cackled

Instead of an email, I received an attachment.

Not a picture, but a video. I guessed it was a “This is where we are shooting, and here’s my dog, and see how I look before they put this wig on me, or I thought I’d say hello while I was waiting for all the prosthetic scars to dry. “

You know, cell phone video of Dorking, wave hi to my cast mates, here’s where Joey fell into a mud puddle, that sort of thing.

Oh. No. While that may have been what I was expecting, that was not what I got. I clicked the link and damn near died. It was cell phone video, no doubt there, and I knew precisely whom. Panning down that rock solid chest sprinkled with all that chest hair he kept teasing to the women ( And men) of the planet…. and I thought about the nights I dreamt of my face buried in that chest hair, sweaty, satisfied, using him as a human weighted blanket. In my dreams he protested, said he was too heavy, surely I must be crushed by him, and I smiled trying to find the words to tell him how happy it made me, how safe I felt.

My eyes traveled down the eight pack…yes. Holy smokes he has an actual EIGHT pack. Is that even possible? Can humans do that? And I can hear him….

“Do you see what you do to me? One dinner? A few phone calls, some emails and look at this…..”

And God help me, I could not tear my eyes away. His hand, stroking up and down his very erect ,even bigger than I had extrapolated, beautiful thick huge cock. It took my breath away. My heart started to pound. I wished I was closer. I could see the pre cum leaking from the tip and my tongue licked my lips in anticipation. What I wouldn’t give to be able to show him in person what a grown ass woman with no gag reflex can do.

He was purring. That’s what it sounded like, a back of the throat kind of growly thing and his hand was moving faster, and I swear he said “ I’m hard like this almost constantly, dreaming about what will happen when we can actually be together, I want you…..” and he moans, and tightens his grip , and speeds up. His cell must be propped up, because I can see his other hand cupping his balls.

And his abs tightened up and ropes of cum splashed all over his taut stomach, watching some of it slide down those sinful iliac furrows……now I know why gay men call those cum gutters, and I swear I was drooling. I just wanted to lick him clean. My nipples were so hard they hurt and my pussy throbbed with need.

Muttering and cursing under my breath about the time difference I sent back a text message.

* Breakfast looked delicious. Wish I could have helped with that. I’ll see what I can do to make that worse, later. Flights and scheduling are up to you. Good night and sweet dreams, Solo.

You bastard.

Destroyed me, for days you did. Can’t even think properly and all I see when I close my eyes is that…..Dear God above. I’m dripping. Just dripping wet.

W A P indeed. This is ridiculous. My thighs are sticky, my panties are ruined, and I cannot stop thinking about that concealed weapon and how well you wield it.

You owe me a slew of sex toys. So many of those poor defenseless mechanical bastards lost their lives because of you, their numbers decimated, families destroyed….. “ mum, why won’t daddy ever be coming back to the bedside drawer? He’s been gone so long. I’m worried…. ” She doesn’t know how to tell her poor insertable battery operated offspring bout the power surge that cost da his life, and how hurled across the room in frustration, he had shattered on impact, and they couldn’t even have a proper burial…..

Oh I’d get so goddamned close, feel my center coiling up, tighter and tighter, nerve endings on fire…muscles tensing, cunt throbbing

, My toes would curl, and my legs would shake, and I’m making all sorts of noise…….And then…..

Slipped through my grasp, and I’m whimpering in frustration. What’s worse, is I can see you doing that for little lip biting thing that you do, trying to appear sympathetic, whilst at the same time trying not to laugh, and failing that, you actually laugh out loud. A deep resounding belly laugh. The infectious kind that has everyone else laughing. Mocking me.

So I don’t dare mention it.****

And the tension builds. I become testy. I descend into irritated. I have genuine concerns that I will make the complete transition to bitey angry velociraptor and lose the ability to morph back, or occasionally pass for humanoid. A best friend took pity on me and sent me this fantastic toy her girlfriend swears by. One end is insertable, it’s rechargable, has a billion different intensities, and then the other part is , how do I describe it? Well, there’s an indentation. More like a hole, really. And that’s where your clit goes.

It isn’t like it actually comes with instructions. That’s fair. Neither do we.

So, I messed with it. Some of the intensities were lovely. Some of them were waaay too much. A few of them annoyed me. I’ve never been a fan of the start stop thing. Apparently, there was some sort of harmonic convergence, and everything lined up, nudge nudge wink wink, and between the internal stimulation and the external felt almost like sucking, I swear.

Well, the top of my head came clean off, the skies opened up, the choir of angels sang to me, and you KNOW they all looked EXACTLY like him.

I think I passed out. I’m not certain how long I was blissed out, but I can say it put a smile on my face, and restored my faith in humanity. I was also no longer evil.

Once again fit for human consumption I resume sunshine and rainbow emails. “ Hi! How’s your day been? ” That sort of shit. He’s pretty but he’s not stupid. Video call request. Uh oh.

" Would you like to tell me what is actually going on? “

” Since you were kind enough to give me a choice, no, I would rather not. It’s embarrassing. Would you be satisfied with I have it sorted now? “

” No, I don’t believe I will. And, I love the haircut. Quite fetching"

I blushed, which was even more embarrassing. I don’t blush.

"Thank you. I needed a change. They pushed my start date back on my new job, and I was struggling a bit “

"You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet about that video I sent, and that took a great deal of trust and nerve on my part…”

" oh my stars! I can ONLY imagine and I may never have the words to tell you what sort of an effect that has…. Ummm…. Had….. I really think this is a conversation better had in person…… This is…. gah…..I …. Damn you. I used to be articulate. “

And then he laughed. I slapped the webcam away so it stared at the wall. I was going to need a minute to pull my shit together.

"Y/n? Are you there? Where did you go?”

" Just a second. …. “

I flipped the camera back, features all in place. ” Sorry. I know. I’m hysterical. If I’d had the opportunity to do stand up school you might have seen me rather than Jon at Fringe Festival. “

"But I want to see you. I hate that you have to quarantine.”

"Montenegro and Rwanda have no quarantine requirements. However, I don’t know that either of them are a ) recommended or more importantly, safe for Kal. There’s always Dubai and French Polynesia" I said laughing .

" I’m pretty sure you just want to go home, sleep in your own bed and have your own routine. I get that. There isn’t anywhere you can be invisible. I on the other hand, already am. So, if you want me somewhere, then, you make that happen. My needs are simple. Books, coffee, life water, or maybe you know someone who can actually hook me up with that botanical water I keep hearing about, that I can’t freaking get in the middle of the US? IfI have to stay put in one place for two weeks, ideally I’d love to smoke, I’ll need to eat occasionally, and a treadmill would be the cherry on top. Don’t you have people for things like that, Hero? “

And I smiled at him, with a devilish twinkle in my eye, because, now, it’s ON.

In retrospect, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that they pushed back my start date. I mean, I didn’t think anything of it. He was working , for fuck’s sake. Damn Netflix to eight hells for telling me there is a thing that exists called Inside the Episodes, and then when I go to play it? Oh, NO, y/n. You may not have this viewing pleasure. I’m starting to think it’s a conspiracy.

Two days later, there’s a knock at the door. I get my firearm, and I answer. Look, I’m American. I know that the neighborhood I live in can be a bit touch and go and don’t get me started on the “entertainment” that emanates from next door, but I don’t get visitors, and no one just knocks on the door. I look out, and it’s a man in a well tailored black suit, and there’s an SUV in my driveway. What the fuck?

I open the door, Glock at my side, behind the door frame, “Can I help you?”

“ Are you Y/n L/n? ”

“ Yes, but there must be some … ” the man hands me an envelope.

“I’ve been instructed to wait in the car”, and he turns on his heel and walks back to the SUV, gets behind the wheel and states straight ahead. I’m looking for a camera. What kind of stunt is this? I shut the door, put down the gun, light a cigarette and open the envelope.*****I’m tired of waiting. I enjoy the getting to know each other part, but distance is not helping. Throw some things in a bag, and come on. If you forget something, I’m certain it can be duplicated. You had mentioned you may have picked up a few things. I hope you don’t forget those.

And he signs it;

“Tired of being Solo”

Did I mention it was on?

Well I’ve had a bit of experience packing for trips, there was a time in recent memory when I was traveling thirty six weekends out of fifty two. I am quite talented at gathering what I need, making sure it fits in an appropriate case, that I can manage, and have the right things in the requisite number of carry on bags. In precisely thirty seven minutes, I locked the house, engaged the alarm and startled the driver by knocking on his window.

“Did you want to unlock the door so I can put this in the back seat, please? ”

I watch with intrigue as men hurt you, ravish you. Spoil you.

Make you cum. Make you unravel, loosen up. Give in, give up. So we can give ourselves to each other; a tight embrace.

Closeness. Divinity. Divination in each other's eyes and hearts.

I see you, my love, as deeply as I sense that you see me.

It’s a sensibility I have.

Similar to the sensibility I have for darkness, dark experiences and emotions.

They drive me. They make me strive to become better. Do you better. Do better for you. Pleasure you. Be there for you, if you will have me, in times of need.

I need you. Please.

Walk with me. Talk with me. Talk to me. Hear me. Listen.

The raven sings. It’s singing. It's a love song. A song for you, my life. My love. Do you hear? Do you feel it in your chest?

My heart is pounding. The drumbeat to the raven’s melodies and love-songs. Serenade.

Let’s go back home, drink lemonade.

We can put in some alcohol, if you want. Get drunk. Make love. Compassionate, passionate, devotional love to each other.

My devotion is you, to you, my love. Purely. My love is tainted yet at once pure. It’s only source, the only goal is you, your heart.

If you want it. My love. Mine. You are. My heart. Do you hear? Feel it?

Put your hand on my chest, my love. My life. Feel the beat behind my ribcage.

There is a bird in there; captured, encaged. In rapture, enraged, in love and dazed. Bewildered, seeking forgiveness. Seeking expression. There aren’t enough words to explain, to express. My love, my life. You. My heart.

My raven. It sings, it sings such a beautiful song. If you could only hear. If you would only listen. To my love, my life, my heart.

It’s here for you, my love. My heart’s for you, my life. My raven sings, flutters, as my heart, for you, my dear.

My utmost devotion, all that I have to give. Do you feel it? With your gentle touch?

Hit me, hurt me, as long as you feel me, hear my call, my song, my expression.

Tears run down my face, do you see? Do you see how strong my love is? My heart? My bird?

It’s crashing in my chest, it’s pounding in the cage, bursting through. I can’t hold back.

---

“Hello [y/n]. Looking beautiful as ever.” He pulled his lips into a smirk. Giving your body a slow look over, stopping in all the usual places. 

This was the spot you had met some months ago, in a small isolated park. You had been reading next to a small creek, while he had been smoking his pipe under an old oak tree. Every Sunday morning, the two of you followed the same routine. The two of you would sit ten yards away from each other, but never speak. It took a month for him to come speak to you, blabbering on about how bad your taste in books were. 

“Would you like to sit beside me, Holmes? The water feels fabulous.” Your feet were bare, drawing figure eights in the running water. Spring had finally come, melting away the ice, leaving the water brisk. 

“Do I look like the sort of fellow to put my feet in a creek? Homeless men probably bathe in that water up stream.” The bright sun outlined his silhouette as you peered up at him, creating a foreboding figure. 

“Are you always so serious?” Teasing had become somewhat of a sport for you since you had met Sherlock. A sport that was more fun if you had a partner.  You ran your left hand through the blades of grass to your side, marking his seat. The other combing through your loose hair.

“Yes. Yes I am.” His fingers began unlooping the laces on his shoes, pulling them off in one go. His socks shortly after. Sitting down beside you, his hands fold out behind him in support. His large feet sank into the cool water, slowly moving in tiny circles. 

“Sherlock, I have a question for you.” You rested your chin on your shoulder, gazing at him. “My intuition tells me you will ask me whether I want to hear it or not.” He stares straight ahead into the tall oak trees, seeming unaware of where you were about to take this. 

You scoot over quietly, and rest your head on his broad shoulder. The contact making him finally look down on you. His breath hitches, unable to regain composure. You move your hand behind you, slowly moving and caressing his in the grass. His veins are prominent, his fingers somewhat calloused.

“Do you ever think of me?” He desperately tries to keep his cool facade intact. “It is difficult to have a conversation with someone if I don’t think of them.” That is not the answer you wanted to hear. Slowly you wade your feet over to his in the water, creating more friction between you. “Do you ever think of me outside this park?” Between every question grazing up his calf further. “Maybe when you are at home?” His breathing had now come erratic, unlike his usual demeanor.  “Maybe when you are lying in bed? All alone with no one there to please you.” 

Sherlock always welcomed your teasing, but now it had gone too far. You had gone too far. There was no turning back for the two of you now. “You would like that wouldn’t you? Imagining your lips around me while I chase my own pleasure?” Sherlock had never truly figured you out, only what you had let him see. If he knew one thing though, your teasing hid your true desire. To be dominated, controlled, manhandled. Your eyes were practically begging for him to take you right there.

“Oh I have no idea what you are talking about.” The two of you holding eye contact, while you batted your eyelashes like a naive little schoolgirl. The truth was that hearing Sherlock say that made your body react, in many many ways. Your clit was now sensitive enough to feel the friction of your underwear, your folds had slickened, your body was welcoming him in like a long lost friend. Your thighs pressed together to feed into your hunger for more friction, and Sherlock after all notices everything.

He bends down to your ear, his breath hot. “That isn’t what your body is telling me [y/n].” His body moves back from the creek, his arms pulling you onto his lap. His grip on your arms is so firm, you knew you would have to explain away bruises the next day. Your yelp only excites him more, giggling at the growl he makes when he goes in for your lips.

Your lips pressed firmly against his. His curls were being combed by your fingers, slightly tugged and his scalp kneaded. Sherlock’s massive hands now covered your back, pulling you closer onto him. This action perfectly places your already sensitive center on his hardened cock, causing the both of you to swallow the others moans. 

He was becoming hungrier with his kisses and hands, desperately wanting more. Mindfully spreading your skirt, you begin grinding against his erection confined by his trousers. 

“I am going to take you right here in this park. I don’t care if we are seen.” His voice gravelly and deep, the vibrations went straight to your core. All you could do to respond was nod. 

“Unbuckle my trousers.” Your hands complied, his stern tone stoking your fire. His fly comes open and you palm his erection through his underwear, causing his head to fly back until he fights to regain his composure. “Are you gonna be a good girl, and take me in your mouth?” Again, you nodded. Your hands guided his underwear down, and grasped his length. 

Twisting, squeezing, and pulling, your hands prepared him for your mouth. His size matched his frame, very large. Beginning at the base, your tongue slowly drew a line up to his time. Sherlock shuddered at the feather light touch of your tongue, his hands landing in your hair. Licking up his precum, you wrap your lips around him. Your mouth sinks down onto him as far as you can go without it hitting the back of your throat, and use your hands for the rest. You gaze up at Sherlock through your lashes, your eyes capturing the most erotic thing you could imagine. His face was so relaxed. His mouth was agape, his eyes peering down at you, they were dark with desire.

“Fuck, you are doing so good. Such a good girl, even with such a sassy mouth.” The hands behind your head lift you off of him and up to his lips. His fingers yank your underwear down sharply by the hips, so sharply you hear them tear. You lift off the ground, pressing up on your knees allowing Sherlock to press into you. His thick cock stretching your walls, your body adjusting to his girth. You both suck in a long breath as you sink lower and lower onto him. 

“So tight for me. I am going to make you scream. Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He dips his face into the crook of your shoulder when you start moving up and down his cock, his breath tickling your collarbone. Your skin felt like you had stayed out in the sun for too long, all your lungs could manage was shallow breaths. 

“You make me feel so good baby. Just give it all to me, I can handle it.” You had started grinding down on him, letting him bottom out inside you. He was hitting a place, you had previously thought was unreachable. “Are you sure?” “Yes baby.”

Flipping you onto your back, he never exited you. The grass tickled the back of your neck and thighs. With rough motions, he pulled your skirt up to your shirt allowing him a view of your carnal actions. “So pretty for me.” He placed your legs being on top of his shoulders, and thrusted hard. So hard his balls slapped against you, creating a lewd smack. Your eyes screwed shut, and your mouth hung open. You were no longer a person, just a vessel of pleasure for him to fill. He exited slowly, and thrusted again. He did this over and over, gradually becoming faster and even harder.

His hands traveled to your swollen clit, rubbing in harsh circles. Your lungs felt as though they had been filled, making it impossible for you to even let out a squeak. Your legs were tensing. You knew your end was coming, and so was his. 

“I-I-”

“Come for me [y/n]. Come on, be a good girl.”

Your entire body tensed, unable to do anything on your own. Waves of heat ripped through your body from your center, even reaching your toes. You felt your walls gripping onto him, like your body never wanted him to leave. Sherlock’s eyes stayed locked on your face as you had come undone beneath him. He let himself go, shooting warm spurts into you. His jaw hung open, the only thing being released was his silent gasps.

Sherlock fell beside you down in the grass. You both lay there shocked at how amazing that felt. He pulled you in close to him, his chest still trying to calm his breathing. Your head laid on his chest, your hands feeling his hard stomach. 

The harsh CIA agent sits on the sofa wearing a strained look on his face. It has been a long, frustrating day at work and he hasn’t even had the chance to take off his suit. He stirs the bourbon in its lowball, watching the little vortex that forms in the agitated golden-brown liquid

And there she is, his little kitten. She sneaks into the great living room with the  obvious intent to welcome him back. Wearing makeup like an actress from an old French movie, she dons a sheer pink babydoll dress over a luxurious lace lingerie set and golden high heeled shoes. 

Diamonds sparkle on her skin as the sunlight kisses them through the open window. She never owned diamonds before, she’s  not a materialistic girl, but August loves seeing her adorned with expensive necklaces and bracelets as if she is a doll to play with.    

And his to covet.

With a sweet smile of her face, she begins to dance for him in slow, snake-like movements. Her hands caress her soft skin, twirling her long dark hair before she throws it back and lets it fall against her rounded ass. 

August sips the bourbon and grits his teeth as the spiced liqueur hits the back of his throat. His eyes fix on the treasure, the way those slender hands run through her own body sinfully, approaching the mysteries that belong to him, where his big rough hands should be. He muses to himself; the only person allowed to touch her except for himself is her, and only when he permits it.      

The first article of clothing, if you could call it that, falls from her body like a feather floating down the air. She kicks it away with her high heel and pushes her shoulders closer to squeeze her breasts against one another as they’re still locked inside that lacy Victoria Secret’s bra. 

Also a present from her dear love. Cotton-candy pink, of course. He loves her sweet, the way she is. 

The bulge in his trousers becomes overwhelmingly evident. She eyes it while letting the strap fall off from her shoulder, sucking her lips and putting a finger inside her mouth to let him know how badly she wants to taste his cock. August places the empty glass on the end table next to the sofa, the sound sharp against the surface. He places his knuckles against his mouth and ogles her with pure fascination while his other hand rubs at his erection to slightly ease the need.

She exposes her delicious breasts, hugging a hand over them while her bra slips between her fingers. A large smile slowly spreads on his face. He loves it when his kitten acts so innocent, it makes his cock twitch with double the excitement.

There is an ocean of admiration in his eyes for his little pet, his little piece of gold in a pile of coal that is this horrible world. In her, he sees all that’s pure and delicate in this world, the sweet among the bitter. He likes to pretend she was a virgin when he met her, even though she told him she wasn’t, never wanting to lie to a man like August. Yet he’d like to think he’s the only man who picked her ripe fruits and every time he fucks her, his dirty soul defiles her body and steals some of the purity in her soul.   

At last, she reaches for her underwear. Her dance moves are stilled as she looks deeply into those beautiful malicious blues and allows the flimsy piece of lace fall from her thighs, exposing her silky smooth mound. 

Just the way he likes it.

“Leave those on.” He commands, seeing as she means to take off her jewelry. 

Ever so obedient, she nods and then sensually crouches on the floor, crawling naked on the carpet, hair thrown back and resting on her back.She moves to where he is seated with his legs spread conveniently to accept her while massaging the bulge in his groin. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, watching his kitten give him that sweet naive look. She gazes at him with big eyes, adoring her master, greatly devoted to him. She presses her cheek against his thigh, humming gently as he entangles his fingers in her soft hair. 

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs, tilting his head while looking at her dreamingly. Her creme-painted nails scratch at the hard bulge, tracing the metal of his belt buckle against her tips.    

“May I, daddy?” She asks for permission and is granted a pleasant smile as his hand waves away from her head, allowing her space to work on freeing his painful cock from the captivity of his trousers. Her nimble fingers do quick work on his belt. The sound of leather slipping through the metal clasp makes her shiver and the rich juices that drip from between her legs are becoming a burden, but she is not allowed to touch herself yet.

It’s forbidden.  

August growls as her hand sneaks into his trousers, her small digits taking him in her palm, appreciating how vast and beautiful he is. She shifts her thumb across the pulsating veins, trailing across the ridged surface until reaching the head of his cock where sheer precum drops greet her sight. 

His groans are melody to her ears, music that makes her heart flutter and her core throb. She wants him to unload himself in her in any way he chooses. 

Nothing in her body is scared anymore anyway, he made sure of it. 

She lowers herself, breasts brushing against the soft material of his trousers as her tongue slips between her lips to taste him. Her velvet tongue swirls around the tip, eliciting the most pleasant groans from his beautiful lips. Carefully, he is taken into the warmth of her mouth while her gaze is fixed on his and his cock disappears between her succulent lips. 

August throws his head back, relaxing as his kitten works her mouth up and down his big shaft. Her back arching, her ass sticking in the air behind her. An erotic view for him to feast upon with his ocean blues. 

But it’s not enough. He needs more, he needs to be buried deep inside her lush walls, to have his anger surge through her body and cleanse his soul.

His fingers cup her chin, gently pausing her ministrations. There’s a slight worry in her eyes, afraid she might have wronged him in any way but the enamoured look in his eyes relaxes the surge of anxiety that runs through her heart. 

He takes her hand and guides her to sit on top of him. Legs spread with knees to each side of his hips, she sinks herself onto his meaty erection, gasping as he spreads her walls inch by inch until he is sunken in her depth. Her ankles lift in the air, the heels of her shoes point upward as her head falls back. 

“You’re so big!” She yelps, nearly powerless, feeling full with his cock reshaping her taut canal. The tightness of her cunt makes it impossible to move so she remains still, keeping him inside her abundant warmth. 

He grips her ass, squeezing the flesh and guiding her, bouncing her on his cock while taking her breasts into his mouth. His teeth nip at the tender flesh and then licks at the hollows that his teeth created. 

The thrill of the pain and the comfort that comes after makes her body comply with his invasion.,He leaves her no choice anyway, he will keep going even if it hurts, but he’d rather have her enjoy herself as well.

“Good,” he groans, watching her as she begins to ride him, swaying her hip and dancing on his cock, letting her clit grind against him with every shift she makes. He thrusts up to meet her pace, biting his teeth as he enjoys the desperate look on her beautiful face. She looks as if it hurts to have him in there yet the pain brings her so much pleasure. Her body wants to resist and take him at once whilst she is driven into madness by desire. 

Fire begins to tingle in her core, increasing her pace. Something inside her breaks, and his little angel turns into a succubus in front of his very eyes. Her body is thrown back hanging in the air with only their sex keeping them together. Her hand grabs at his tie for support while she squirms onto his girth in an urgent rhythm.

He grunts, nearly choking as the noose tightens around his neck. It does nothing but make him harden even more inside her already too tight heat. Letting one hand glide at the small of her back, he holds her from falling and puts his right hand to his mouth, coating his fingers with his saliva before pressing them against her clit. 

“Who does this pussy belong to, angel?” He asks, another guttural grunt escaping his lips as his kitten tightens around him while he manipulates her clit into submission.

“Yours, August!” She wails, feeling the warmth increasing, fury burning between her thighs. 

“No,” he rasps, pressing harder against her clit. His cock swells inside her, his sack squeezing beneath her ass. 

“Da...daddy!” she cries out, pulling back with all her might as the fire consumes her, making her melt with ecstasy with him hitting her cervix. He lets himself go right after her, coating her walls with his liquid and continuing to push into her until it drips between them, warm and smooth. 

“I’m sorry, daddy…” she bites her knuckle, letting go of his tie and looking at the mess she made.  

He gives her a smile, with his hand still on her back he pulls closer against him, laying soft butterfly kisses all over her face and then nuzzling her temple.  

“Don’t worry, angel. Daddy’s not mad, not this time.”