“Go ahead, silkstockingslover,” I continued, and now her cheeks went ruby red, and her eyes got huge like saucers, “If you’re like the submissive characters in most of your stories, then your legs should be getting weak about now, your mind fighting a losing battle, your desire to submit consuming you, and your need to obey me overcoming any last vestiges of your willpower.”
“Kevin…” she repeated, her entire demeanor one of shock, the slowly building look of lust in her eyes giving away the inevitable punch line to this confrontation. Which was very much like I’d just described it to her.
“Knees,” I ordered, just the one word. A word that she herself employed in lots of her stories. A word that always led to the prey sinking to her knees. Soon followed by a cock in the woman’s mouth, or her face buried in a pussy. Ironically, it was the same word she was sometimes criticized for overusing. Yet just as she sometimes argued in her own defense, I too couldn’t think of another word that could possibly achieve the same impact. Just the one word, uttered with a firm tone, and the new hierarchy was established clearly.
“Kevin, Ben is upstairs,” she said, fighting off her inevitable submission more effectively than I’d anticipated, although since she was now taking regular glances down at the joystick between my legs, her resistance was weak at best.
“He went to see his girlfriend,” I said. “He called out to you saying so, but I guess you didn’t hear him, since you didn’t answer.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, now with more hesitation in her voice, and allowing herself a lengthier glance at my dick.
“Yeah, I watched him slip into his shoes and leave,” I said, my hands still resting on her shoulders, still suggesting but not insisting.
“Why do you think I’m silkstockingslover?” she asked, still hedging her bets… hoping against hope I was bluffing.
“I feel slightly bad about this, but your laptop was open, so I got curious, opened your browser, and went right to your Twitter page,” I answered. “Which I was already very familiar with, since I’m a big fan.”
“Oh,” was all she said, realizing her own carelessness had led to my potentially disastrous discovery.
“Your secret is safe with me, in part because for a couple of weeks I’ve been creating some secrets of my own. And you write terrific stories,” I both reassured and complimented her.
“Thanks,” she said, her head in a complete daze, just like many of her characters. Then with a cagy look in her eyes, she asked, “What kind of secrets are you gathering?”
“Okay, fair enough,” I agreed. “You know Joan Walsh?”
“Yes of course, she’s your mother.”
“She’s also my submissive pet, and I fuck all three of her holes on a regular basis,” I revealed… sensing because of Jasmine’s writing persona, her secret submissive lesbian side and the fact she wrote a plethora of kinky incest stories made her a rather safe secret holder.
“Wow! That’s a pretty big secret,” she said, a little surprised.
“Well, I know you like your incest stories,” I said.
“I do like writing taboo stuff,” she agreed. “I mean, with some name changes I could likely write your story.”
“Really?” I said, thinking I haven’t even told her about how it al began.
“Yeah, the only thing hotter than a taboo story is a true taboo story,” she added.
“Well, then I’m more than willing to give you my wild story,” I said.
“About to get wilder,” She smiled.
“Oh, I have only told you a sliver of my pets,” I smiled, enjoying having another wise woman to share my conquests with. “For example, my Mommy-slut is also your Mistress Danai Grady’s submissive pet, but Danai is one of my growing pet harem.”
“Shit, appearances sure can be deceiving,” she said.
“A big fat cock changes everything,” I smiled
“Agreed,” she nodded, as she glanced down at my hard dick. “Maybe I should take a more up close and personal view to get to know the cock I will be writing about.”
“I love the way you think,” I agreed. “So let’s role play that you’re a hot MILF character in a real life version of one of your stories,” I said, gently pushing her down. This time as I’d anticipated, she obediently lowered herself to her knees.
Then staring at my hard cock, she gasped in complete astonishment, “Holy shit!”
“Like?” I asked, gazing possessively down at her.
“It’s so big!” she said, as she mindlessly grasped it in her left hand.
“Which is most impressive?” I asked. “My length or my girth?”
“They’re both very impressive,” she answered, completely captivated by my cock.
“Are you enjoying performing as a character in your story, instead of living vicariously through them?” I asked.
“You’re eighteen, right?” she asked, not looking at me at all, but fixated on the cock she was clutching in her hand.
“Yes,” I answered.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, even though she kept stroking my hard cock.
“How many times have you masturbated about a student of yours?” I asked, knowing from reading her Twenty Questions essays, many of her personal fantasies were about being seduced and dominated by a student… male or female… although she tended to write more about females taking charge of her.
“You’re not one of my students,” she pointed out.
“True, true,” I nodded, not that she was looking at me. “Then how many times have you masturbated or written about someone named Jasmine being sexually dominated by a younger man?”
“Lots of times,” she admitted.
“And how many times has this fantasy become a reality?”
“Never.”
“Then it’s time to turn fiction into fact,” I said, as I traced my cock head around her lips.
“But you can’t tell anyone,” she reminded me, as her gaze remained transfixed on my cock.
“Oh, I don’t fuck and tell,” I said, which was mostly true. “For instance Mom trusts me only to tell a very select few people about her, and as soon as I get home, I’ll tell her that you know about her. I think she’ll be thrilled! And I don’t think either of us keep many secrets from Danai.”