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Master Wade 132
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THIS IS A REPOST OF A PIECE FROM THE ARCHIVES. IT WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME, AND I AM POSTING IT AS A CRTESY TO THOSE WHO DON'T HAVE PKZIP. I WILL IGNORE ALL REQUESTS, BLAH... BLAH...
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE CONTENTS OF THE STORY ARE, AND TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEM. IF YOU ARE SILY OFFENDED, STOP READING THIS GROUP, AND GET A LIFE.
--OH YEAH- > ALL YOU UNDERAGE FOLKS-- STOP READING NOW!
++ MrWade132 ++
MRWADE.132 By Master Wade
Latin Lust
Chapter Three
Paul parked his Mazda 626 across the street from the club
under the shade of the big Oaks that were spaced evenly along the
west side of the park. He loved black cars, but one had to be a
bit more aware of things like shade with them than some of the more
reflective colors. Lifting his gym bag from the trunk, he jogged
across the street during a lull in the busy afternoon traffic.
Entering the club, Paul was greeted by one of the owners,
Peggy Stanley, a long-time friend. Peggy was leaning against the
office wall, her arms crossed under her still-perky breasts, her
tanned legs crossed at the ankles.
"Well, hello, stranger!", she said, smiling warmly. "I was
wondering when you were going to hit the fitness trail again, but
frankly, from the looks of you, I'm not sure you need it all that
much."
"Hello to you, gorgeous. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta
do, you know. I need a little toning up, and it has been a while."
It had been almost a year since Paul had visited the club.
When Peggy and two of her girlfriends had first opened it, Paul had
been in regular attendance, but then he and Peggy had been more
than friends then, as well. Actually, they were still more than
friends, and always would be, even though they were no longer
involved.
Peggy watched Paul as he walked to the dressing rooms,
remembering fondly the intimacy they had shared. She knew Paul
Medlin better than almost anyone, and she knew, without having to
be told, that his renewed interest in working out had to do with a
woman. She also knew that there was much more to Paul than most
people realized, even the women who found him most attractive. As
they had both realized during the time that they were involved,
Paul was a natural dominant sexually, a genuine Master of
submissive women. He had been reluctant at first to admit his
interests and even some of his tendencies, but Peggy had known such
men before, and it was overwhelmingly obvious to her. She
encouraged him to explore that side of himself, sharing her own
submissive nature with him, guiding him in his efforts to find his
way, to develop his own style of mastery.
It didn't happen quickly, but over the space of two or three
years, Paul came to understand himself sexually and to develop an
understanding of submissive women. What had thrilled him so about
it was that it had seemed then and still seemed now so natural. He
understood submissive women primarily because he was a dominant
man. The things which excited him, which thrilled him, also
thrilled and excited Peggy. As he soon came to discover, with some
understandable variations, what excited him also excited almost all
submissive women. To be effective as a Master, all he really had
to do was to be himself. The freedom to be so honest with himself
and with his sexual partners was liberating and powerful, and oddly
enough it brought the same kind of feelings to those who submitted
to him.
Peggy watched him as he worked out on the weight machine,
remembering the many times that she had watched his muscles flexing
in much different surroundings. There were times when she still
ached to be with him, and she knew that all she had to do was call
and he would be there for her. But alot had changed for both of
them, and even though the sex would still be wonderful between
them, they both had already been through the hard work of
separation, and neither wanted to have to do it again.
Peggy walked over to the weight machine and knelt beside Paul
as he continued to work the weights.
"Who is she, Master?", she whispered.
Paul paused and turned his head to look at her. There was no
point in denying it. Not with Peggy.
"An associate in the firm. She's unbelievable, Peggy. I
don't even know for sure that she will go out with me, but it's all
there, in her eyes, in the way she moves, in the way she talks."
"How long has it been for you now?"
"Since I had a slave? Two years. It seems longer than that,
but I guess that's all."
"This girl must be very special, Master. You turned up your
nose at some exciting women. I heard some of their stories, you
know."
"It wasn't like that, Peggy. I dated some, yes, but I didn't
turn my nose up at anyone. There just hasn't been anyone who I
could make the connection with, until now. Until Anna Maria."
"Anna Maria." Peggy smiled. "A latino lawyer slavegirl. How
old is she, Master?"
Paul smiled, anticipating Peggy's response to his answer.
"She's 23, and doesn't look a minute older than that."
Peggy whistled long and slow. "Twenty-three...whew...does
that make me feel old! Are you going to bring her by here, let her
work out sometime? I'm dying to meet this girl, you know."
"I'll see. She might enjoy it. Then again, she might not.
It's early yet. But she is going to be good, Peggy. Really good!"
"She's a lucky girl." Peggy paused, reminiscing, then stood.
"I hope it turns out well, Paul. You deserve it."
Paul wanted to say something to Peggy about their time
together, and how much he owed her for helping him grow, but she
was gone before he could speak the words.
"Who is that hunk, Peggy?", one of the college girls who often
worked out at the club asked her, as she turned the corner toward
the office.
"Paul Medlin. He's an attorney, and an old friend."
"He's a doll!", the girl said, barely able to contain herself.
"Yes, he is that," Peggy replied, looking back at him. "But
he's taken. Again."
Later, feeling refreshed by the exercise and a long shower,
Paul stood at the window of his apartment and looked out at the
Richmond skyline and the play of the setting sun on the waters of
the James. He sipped his Jack Daniels, feeling the warmth of the
whiskey spread through his body. His thoughts were of Peggy and of
the two since her who had served him, surrendering themselves to
him completely. Each of them was special to him, and always would
be. But as he thought about Anna Maria, he realized that she was
different from the others. She was different in a way that had
nothing to do at all with her youth, or her ethnic origins. The
difference was the remarkable combination of things that made her
the unique and beautiful person that she was.
Briefly, Paul pictured Anna Maria bound, her legs apart, her
chest rising and falling from heavy breathing, but he quickly
turned that image off. It was too much for now. He'd just have to
wait and see.
Sitting at the large table he used for a desk, Paul turned the
computer on and called up his word processor. Across the top of
the page, he typed: Anna Maria. He then began listing his
observations of her. Her tastes in clothing, her daily routine, as
he knew it at this point, anything and everything he knew about
her, or even suspected about her. Over the days to come the list
would grow longer and more complete, but even now it was surprising
how confidently he could prepare his list.
When he had exhausted his current state of knowledge, Paul
read over the list of things he knew about her. He was surprised
to discover that he had been able to list fifteen different dresses
that he had seen Anna Maria wear, describing them with considerable
detail. She was a size six, he thought. Certainly no more than a
size eight. Size five panties, most likely. Probably a 34C bra,
maybe a B, depending on the brand and style. He could remember at
least two occasions when he was certain that she had worn a garter
belt, and judging by her excellent tastes, he was confident that
meant she owned at least two of them. Whether she wore pantyhose
or not, he couldn't be sure, but he would watch that more closely
in the days ahead.
Tomorrow he would call Dean Franklin at T.C. Williams. He and
the Dean had graduated from UVA together, and he knew he could find
out all he wanted to know about her years in the law school. He'd
also make some inquiries about her family, if for no other reason
than to spare her any embarassing questions involving family
skeletons later on.
Paul looked most forward to finding out all about Anna Maria
from Anna Maria, but he would have to go slowly. He didn't want
their relationship to interfere with her advancement in the firm,
and they would have to be careful about that. For his part, he
could retire any time he liked, but Anna Maria had a bright future,
and he would do nothing to rob her of that.
Just before heading for bed, Paul slid the heavy leather gear
bag out of his closet and went through the items inside it. He
would look forward to using them again, but once again he forced
himself to avoid thinking about the use of them on Anna Maria.
He would need to call Maxie, who owned the old warehouse on
River Road, to see if he could still use it as he had so many times
in the past. The brick walls and heavy beamed ceilings of this old
building which had been used for a tobacco warehouse for over fifty
years were responsible for a large part of its charm. But it was
the brick building within a building which had served as a
plantation overseer's home and later as the office for the
warehouse, which offered the seclusion and privacy required and so
much appreciated. If he knew Maxie, the office had gone untouched
since Paul last used it, and it would take only a bit of cleaning
up to make it useable once again.
Nude between the cool white sheets, and only vaguely aware of
the sounds of the traffic on the street below, Paul's last thought
before he fell asleep was of Anna Maria looking across the table at
him during the firm meeting, her eyes full of promise, and, he
thought, desire.
Continued in MRWADE.133....
The entire Master Wade series may be found in The Mansion, the
adult portion of Wade's World BBS (703)-694-5460 (8,N,1, Ansi
terminal emulation, 1200-9600 baud).
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