Whispers

David had been my best friend for over five years. A hard working guy, he had turned to me for all kinds of life advice and I had freely given it. We were different that way. He was eight years older and ran the bar where I liked to hang out. I was a lawyer and usually in a suit, which wasn’t the safest outfit in his place. But David always protected me.

I didn’t think anything of it when he invited me to see a fight at his place. Just some guys he said. The tipoff should have been when I arrived and it was just the two of us. But I didn’t care. I got to feel many and have a beer and it all seemed fine.

It was after numerous beers that he came closer. It was hot and my shorts seemed a good idea at the start. Now, with his hands gently tapping it didn’t seem so good. I made an effort to squirm away and he just smiled, then made the comments. Skin like a girl. Sweet disposition. I pulled back of course and tried to sound angry. That led to his fingers snapping the first button of my shirt. Please, I said, and that didn’t help either.

He changed then, his mood darker. Now his voice was demanding and
my begging doing nothing more than excite him. Soon the shirt was gone and I was ordered to my feet. He dragged me by the hand to his bedroom and then I started to cry.

Please….please David. He tossed me face down on the bed and stripped me quickly enough. It was the start of what I would come to learn was my new life. His belt came off because he liked to strap my bare bottom till I sobbed. Soon instead of David I was calling him Daddy, and begging Daddy not to spank me.

He did then and does now, all the time. I’ve become a wife, keeping the place neat and tidy till his return.

At least that might have happened. What did happen is that I glanced up to find him looking at me quizzically. You look like you’re dreaming kid, wake up. You want another white wine? I heard a loud male guffaw near me. Sure. Hey David can I ask you a question? Yeah, of course. The fights, like boxing? Yeah? You ever watch them?

Sure, all the time. Oh, my wife won’t let me. Do you think maybe…

He laughed as he poured for another customer. Sure, Mikey, I’ll pick one and we’ll have a date. He slid the beer down and leaned over the bar grinning.

Or should I call you Michelle he whispered.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 5th, 2009 at 8:10 pm and is filed under Fantasies.