Chapter 1
Sir
I’d been watching her for
weeks now; stalking her, if you will. After all, she was my prey. Her body, her
mind—my quarry. I knew it was just a matter of time before I would claim this
woman as mine, and what’s more, she would beg me to take her.
Though I hadn’t been
looking for another woman in my life, she caught my attention anyway.
I watched her every
move—twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I watched her at home, at work
and, of course, I watched her at play.
She was beautiful, with her light brown hair that cascaded in
waves to the center of her back. She had an amazing body, but what had really
caught my attention was her almond shaped eyes. Even from a distance, I could
see tiny flecks of what looked like gold dust in her dark brown orbs. It wasn’t
the color that caught my attention, nor her lashes, which were extraordinarily
long and full. What caught my attention was the way she kept her eyes downcast,
showing me that above all else, Rebecca Summers was a natural submissive.
It was easy for me to observe
her. You might think I was a disgusting pervert, preying on an innocent girl
like that—a predator even. You would be right. I am a predator, lethal in every
way, and I’m not even human.
At six foot two, with
coffee colored hair and eyes that have been described as the color of root beer
popsicles, I appeared harmless. My body was perfectly conditioned, but not so
bulky as to alarm people. Like males of most species, I was attractive. In my
case, though, I used it as a weapon to draw in unsuspecting victims.
My vision—superior both in
the daytime and at night—let me see things clearly, even at a distance. It
allowed me to observe Rebecca most nights from my apartment in the building
across the street. Sometimes I even listened to her from the balcony of her
apartment, hidden from view, though I didn’t like it when I couldn’t see her.
She caught my attention one
night while I was looking out my window. The entire western wall of her
high-rise apartment was made of glass, allowing anyone to see in. She had been
lying on her bed, nude, pleasuring herself. Sure, she kept the lights off in her
apartment so that no one could really see her, but that sense of voyeurism had
me captivated. I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
After some research I
learned a bit more about her. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that she
worked at a company owned by my family. Under the guise of wanting to work
there I was able to observe her more.
I scrutinized the way she
would interact with her co-workers. She always did as she was told, and
although she was clearly intelligent and very competent at her job, she seemed
to be content to follow her boss’ every instruction, never making waves—even
when it was warranted.
I continued to observe her
and was pleased to see that this was also true in her life outside of work. She
was independent and lived on her own—without a roommate—but instead of living a
wild life of a single woman in her twenties, publicly, she followed all of the
rules, right down to waiting for the walk signal when crossing a street. In the
privacy of her apartment was a different matter.
Privately, she was
confident, sexual and wild. I wanted nothing more than to have her at my feet.
The information I’d gathered changed her from being a person of interest into
the woman that I wanted to have submit to me.
I couldn’t wait to have
her...and I would. There was just one small thing to take care of first—one
small blonde thing.
Gretchen was, in theory,
the perfect sub. She never made a mistake, never said no, never called ‘red’.
It’s not that I wanted a
sub to call red, but no matter what I did, Gretchen’s response was the same.
She never showed nervousness or fear. She took everything I had to give and
more. I had spanked her so hard I had left imprints on her ass and thighs,
which, though they healed quickly, were very painful. I had fucked her once for
over twenty-four hours without even a whimper. She was perfect, too perfect,
and that was why I needed someone else, someone new—someone human.
It wasn’t like I just threw
Gretchen away. I’d done this before, though I had to admit, it had been a while
since a human had caught my attention. Although she wasn’t my collared sub,
Gretchen was as close as I had. She had been faithful to me, and as her Dom, I
wanted to make sure that her needs were cared for.
After picking her up, I
brought her to a BDSM club downtown that had a separate floor used by my kind.
The air inside smelled of sex, human sex. The odor of excitement mixed with
fear aroused me and served to reinforce my reason for being here.
“Off,” I commanded, nodding
to the long, grey coat she wore. She peeled it off immediately, revealing a
leather bra and matching thong, both adorned with silver studs.
“On your knees.”
She dropped instantly, as
she always did.
I removed a black leather
collar from my pocket, clipped it around her neck and attached the matching
leash. I didn’t usually put a collar on my submissives, as they knew that when
they were in my presence they belonged to me and were to serve me always. There
was nothing special about this collar. I’d used it before on several
submissives. It wasn’t a symbol of a deep commitment; it was simply to signify
that she was my property.
I didn’t do relationships,
and I’d given up long ago on finding my mate. I had submissives to use as I
wanted, to play with, to control. The only yearning I had for a woman was to
have her serve me.
I’d never been a monogamous
Dom; taking a submissive when I wanted was my prerogative. In the past when I’d
had a human submissive, I’d had one of my race as well. It allowed me to find
sexual release by fucking her after a night of flogging the human’s ass.
I would have kept Gretchen
just for that purpose, but I knew that she wanted more. I could tell that she
wanted a permanent collar, and that was just something I didn’t do.
Eventually, I figured that I’d have to replace
Gretchen, but I didn’t want to think about that now. For now, I wanted to focus
on tonight and making sure she was cared for. Hopefully, if all went well, we
would both be on our way to getting what we wanted—Gretchen would get a Dom who
was willing to collar her, and I would be free to pursue my relationship with
butterfly.
I looked down at her in her
inspection pose as she waited for permission to greet me. I nodded once, and
she placed herself in a prone position, almost as if she were praying. She
kissed the tops of each of my shoes and sat back up, waiting for her
instructions.
“Good girl,” I said,
patting her head. “Now rise, it’s time.”
She knew where we were
going. We had talked about it earlier in the week when I told her I had wanted
to end our arrangement. Tonight, I was presenting her to a new Dom. If they
were both agreeable, I would be handing her over to him to care for and see to
her needs.
Nodding to the doorman, I
asked, “Where’s Ian?”
“Room six,” he replied
after looking in the book.
I headed down the hall with
Gretchen trailing from the end of the leash, her eyes down as a perfect sub
should.
After knocking, I was greeted
with a gruff, “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal a
man, muscular in build, with the upper half of his body in stockades. Ian had
him by his hips and was thrusting hard into his ass. I recognized the man as
Vincent. I’d seen him around the club on occasion, though never in a submissive
role, and I had to assume Ian was training him to be a Dom.
“Oliver,” Ian said, pulling
out of Vincent and walking over to me, his dick bobbing with every step. He
extended his hand.
Shaking it, I replied,
“Ian.”
He glanced at Gretchen and
then at me. “Is this her?” At my nod, he spoke again. “And you’re sure about
this?”
“Yes,” I answered, not elaborating
any further.
He turned to Gretchen.
“Well, let me see you, little slut. Get in your inspection pose.”
When she looked to me for
permission, I nodded.
She quickly took off her
bra and panties and knelt on the floor—legs spread wide, chest out, head down.
Ian walked around her, looking at her closely, touching her at times. He
reached between her legs and pulled back a wet hand. “Such an eager little
whore, aren’t you?” The question was rhetorical and Gretchen, of course, did
not answer. I knew from our previous talks, however, that the possibility of
finding a Dom who would permanently collar her was exactly what she was looking
for.
He brought his fingers to
his lips and licked them. “She’s delicious, Oliver. Are you sure you’re willing
to give her up?”
“Yes,” I answered again,
looking at Gretchen whose eyes were downcast. “Look at me,” I commanded,
pleased when her eyes snapped to mine at once.
“We’ve talked about this,
about your need to be dominated. Is this what you want? Are you willing to
serve Ian as well as you have served me? Speak.”
“Yes, Master,” she said,
her eyes dropping back to the ground.
Satisfied that she was
willing to serve him, I turned my gaze to Ian. “She has agreed to a one week
trial period to ensure compatibility. If things do not work out, she
understands that she is on her own in finding a new Dom. Thank you for your
willingness to help with this.” With that, I handed him the end of her leash.
He took it with a nod and turned to Gretchen.
“Alright, slut, you belong
to me now. Slut will be your name until I can think of something more suitable
for you. Now, I want you to position yourself under pig over there.” He pointed
at Vincent. “Do you know why I named him pig?” he asked me as Gretchen quickly
situated herself under Vincent.
“Why?” I asked, moderately
curious.
“Because the first session
I had with him, he squealed like a pig when I fucked his ass. Do you know how
amazing it is to emasculate a man in that way? To shoot your come into his ass,
or down his throat?”
I shook my head. I’d have
to take his word for it, as I had no intentions of ‘emasculating’ a man.
“And he gives the best blowjobs.
You want him to give you one? As kind of a thank you for giving me your slut.”
“No, thanks,” I said,
trying to be polite. Call me old-fashioned, and I know that’s ironic given what
I like to do, but I don’t think I could ever come from a man giving me a blowjob.
Ian had already moved to
stand back behind Vincent, positioning his cock at his asshole. “Slut, I
hope you are good at blowjobs, because the rest of your night is going to
depend on how well you can give one.”
Gretchen nodded.
“You will try to make pig come,
and if you do, you will be rewarded. He will try to control himself, and if he
does, he will be rewarded. The person who fails will be punished. Do you
understand?”
They both nodded.
“Good, you have until I come,
slut, now get working.” He smiled at me and thrust into Vincent. “Are you sure
you don’t want that blowjob?” he asked again.
While part of me was
curious as to how this contest would play out, and how Gretchen would do, I had
plans for the evening. Big plans.
“I’ve got to get going,” I
said truthfully. It was getting dark, and I had somewhere I wanted to be. I set
the envelope with Gretchen’s limits that he and I had gone over a few days
before on the table near the door. With a nod to Ian, I turned to exit the
room.
I gave one last glance at
Gretchen, who was already sucking on Vincent in earnest. Her cheeks were
hollowed out and she had him in balls deep. He’d better have some serious
self-control or he was definitely going to lose this challenge. After all, she
was perfect, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I had made the right
decision.
No, I reassured myself,
this was what I wanted. I didn’t want perfect. I needed my playthings to make
mistakes. Human mistakes.
I made it back to my
apartment in plenty of time. Tonight began just like the others, but I knew it
was going to end differently. Tonight I was going to make contact. Tonight, she
was going to know I existed.
I sat down on a leather
chair in front of my large living room window and watched her nightly routine,
cock in hand. Once she climbed into bed, I began to stroke myself slowly.
I loved how she always
fucked herself with her curtains open, giving the world a show, and tonight was
no different. She was wearing just a t-shirt, no panties. Even from this
distance, and through the glass, I could see how wet she already was.
I felt myself harden as she
let her legs fall apart.
Her fingers found her
swollen pussy and began rubbing slow circles, gently teasing her clit. Her head
fell back and her breathing increased.
I loved to observe her when
she was like this.
Her hips moved in time with
her fingers. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before she became rougher with
herself.
As if on cue, she pulled
her t-shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Her dark hair cascaded
down to take the place of the discarded garment, settling over her breasts and veiling
her pink peaks. She brought a hand up, brushed the strands aside and tugged on
her nipple.
Her eyelids fluttered and
lowered, hiding her caramel colored eyes behind thick lashes. I watched, never
blinking, as she increased her pace and brought herself to orgasm. It was
beautiful the way her body unfolded, feet tucked up to her ass, knees falling
to the sides. I loved the way they moved up and down, like the fluttering wings
of a butterfly. I began to think of her as butterfly the first time I had seen
her pleasuring herself.
She arched her back,
oblivious to my spying eyes, and met her climax with a shudder. I found my own
release at that moment and wondered what it would be like to feel that pleasure
while coming all over her body. That could only happen if she knew I existed,
and tonight she would.
You would be surprised at
how easy it was to find personal information on someone when you had a small
amount of information, the internet, and a bit of money.
Her driver’s license
described her as five-foot-five inches, 115 pounds with brown hair and brown
eyes. That official document did her no justice. What it failed to mention was
that, though not tall, her legs were long and toned, her breasts were ample for
a girl her size, and her hair that was identified as “brown” had strands in it
that looked like gold when the sun hit it just right.
The document also described
her as “white,” which was completely untrue. As a professional who worked in an
office building, her complexion was on the paler side—more of a creamy ivory
that resembled porcelain, than “white.” And, if the few photos I’d found of her
on a social networking site of a trip she’d taken to Florida were any
indication, her skin turned to a golden bronze if given the opportunity.
Rebecca Ann Summers was
twenty-seven-years-old. She’d attended The Chicago Institute of Design,
graduated with a GPA of 3.8, and immediately began working at Voltz
Games. She lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the fourteenth floor of a
twenty-six story apartment building in Chicago. She was an only child, and her
favorite flavor of yogurt was strawberry banana.
Of course, I also knew her
social security number, family and job history, and had access to her medical
records through the personnel files at our company. Among a multitude of other
things, I had her phone number, as well.
Rebecca was unusual for a
person her age because she had both a cell phone and a land line—tonight I was
calling her landline. Picking up the phone, I dialed the numbers I had
committed to memory. I watched as she climbed from the bed and answered the phone.
Though I’d already had my number blocked, I loved that she didn’t even bother
to look at the caller ID.
“Hello,” she said, still
out of breath from her orgasm.
“That was beautiful,
butterfly.”
I hung up the phone without
saying any more.
She looked around the
apartment quickly and then out the window. I followed with my eyes as she walked
towards the large pane of glass and stared out into the night. The lights were
off in my apartment, and I knew that she couldn’t see in, but I was sure that
many of the lights would still be on in the other apartments in my building,
drawing her attention.
She shrugged and headed
back to bed, apparently dismissing the call. I continued to observe her until
her breathing slowed and she was asleep.
