Post by goldenmyst on Sept 21, 2020 23:29:02 GMT -6
If Botticelli’s Venus Was An Amazon
“Folks I’m going to take Paul home now.” Rosa grabs me by my shirt collar like a child. She leads me out of the restaurant. Once home she pushes me down on the bed.
“What’s wrong honey? Why are you mad at me?”
“Do you realize you were conversing with Jill more than me? In fact, you pay more attention to the other men’s wives than me when we go out on group dates.”
“Come on darling. I just like socializing when we go out. You and I have plenty of us time together at home.”
“Shut up. I mean it.” I shut my trap like a good boy.
“Oh Paul, I’ve been too harsh. You are a big healthy hunk of a man. But your cholesterol is through the roof. Your EKGs are normal, thankfully, but tonight I’ll be your fairy godmother and grant your heart’s desire. Unless we grow wings we’ll never spend summer in St. Tropez on our Barista salaries. Yet I’ll take you on a holiday without leaving home. Just name your destination.”
“Rosa you entertain me just by being here.”
“Do I have to use sexual interrogation on you? You’re hiding something. But I’m still hungry. Paul, I don’t feel like cooking supper. Take me out for veggie burgers.”
“Rosa, you are my neon Goddess whose face could launch an armada.”
“Darling you say the loveliest things. Each word sings me into feminine heaven. But there is something I need to know. Why can’t you romance me when among company? Are you embarrassed?”
“Aw honey I just get shy among groups. I’ve always been that way. Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“OK, I can dig that you’re bashful when we’re in public. But I want you to just make an effort to speak of your passion for me in public. Just step outside your comfort zone for me.”
“If I could get through graduate school surely I can overcome my timid nature.”
“I know you can. But I’ll start you off slowly. These things often take time. Take me out for soy burgers. We’ll sit in the most crowded area there. You’ll have the safety bubble of being among strangers whom we aren’t socializing with. But I want you to wax poetic on me. Give me that and I’ll massage your derriere when we get home. I know you love that.”
“It shall be so my love. You take the keys, Rosa.”
“It will be my pleasure. I’ll even open the door for you when we arrive. Your machismo pride won’t be trespassed by a woman opening the door for you? Will it?”
“Of course not, I grew up opening doors for women. But I am open to role reversal and not just with the door opening.”
“Oh, you tease. You want to role play in bed. Don’t you? You want me to be dominant for a change. Well, I’d love too! Why didn’t you ask before?”
“Because you are not a brassy woman.”
“Paul my alter-ego is a lady-cop in the man’s world of law-enforcement whose favorite duty is interrogation where she takes out her frustration on male suspects.”
“Could you really wear the badge?”
“I already am the heat. Actually I feel empowered by the prospect of taking a dominant role with you. We’ve hardly talked about my needs as a woman. This has been on my mind a lot lately. Turning the tables would be good for both of us.”
“Never would I have anticipated you to even entertain this notion much less for this to be your secret fantasy,” I say.
“You always took the wheel before. Being in the driver’s seat is different but feels good and natural. And you thought Rosa was just a cute little seductress” she says.
“I guess I didn’t know how you’d take it. But now your man is feeling beside himself with joy. I can’t wait to get home.”
“You know what? Screw the burger joint. Public displays of affection can wait. We’ll have peanut butter and jelly. Let’s do the dominatrix tango. Oh, I am so ready for this! The bed awaits us. I’ve never felt this liberated before. This is way better than a happy meal.”
Once we get back to our house and open the door, Rosa escorts me down the hall and ushers me into the living room. “Now follow me. You like the view from behind me don’t you? Well, I’m going to sit my bubble butt on this plush sofa. You sit on the chair.” Her hair is soaked in pheromones, the essence of female aggression.
I excuse myself to the powder room and come out wearing my jammies. “Paul, why are you wearing pajamas in the afternoon? You are not to wear sleep clothing during the day.”
“I feel more comfortable in them. You said I was too tense and need to get more relaxed.”
“Can’t you chill as most people do? Take a long walk because you need aerobic exercise.”
“But pants are so restricting,” I say with a pout.
“There is a reason for that. What if my friend Carol came over to visit and you got turned on? A man can’t hide that in those flimsy things. Imagine my embarrassment. Of course, she wouldn’t say anything, but I would be mortified, as should you.”
“But honey I can control myself,” I reply with my sad puppy eyes.
“Like hell, you can. Just the sight of Carol would get your rooster crowing. In a staring contest, Carol the Medusa would turn your Cyclops to stone.”
“Do you really believe I have so little self-control?” I ask flabbergasted as if I am insulted.
Rosa laughs, “Paul, your eyes took a stroll all over Carol last time she was here. And don’t think I didn’t notice your focus.”
“Come on honey. I’ve never strayed. My peepers may poke around, but my big man stays where he belongs.”
“He ain’t tall, but he sure is robust and mighty.” She smiles and draws lazy circles on my chest.
“How refreshing it is to hear something uplifting and elevating,” I grin.
“How dare you counterpart me. Right now you’re not in a position to talk back to me. I’m the head honcho. The more you flap your gums the worse it will be for you,” is her no joke command.
“Honey, you can’t hold it against me that my baby blues wander into forbidden places. That’s called being a man.”
“Hah. If that’s being a man, I sure am glad I’m a woman.”
“Your feminism is the sugar in my tea.”
“Good ole iced tea coming up, with a twist of lemon for that tangy flavor you love. You like your women tart just like your Lipton I do declare. Do you want your feminist to wield the whip in bed and a mop in the kitchen?”
“Well, you seem to like the arrangement.”
“That’s enough sass from you. I’m woman enough to give you a lesson. Are you man enough to take it?” she commands again.
“I take it this isn’t algebra,” I quip.
Then she says, “The key to a dominatrix session is that the domme decides what’s on the slate. If it was up to you then it wouldn’t really be putting me in charge.”
“Oh, darling whatever you have in mind will be wicked.”
“Good, this will be so kinky you’ll turn every shade of red. But this won’t be the traditional femdom session.”
“No whips and chains or naughty things?”
“As a rule of thumb, remember if you behave yourself among our friends you get apple pie for dessert. But if you act like a spoiled brat you get plain yogurt which is healthy but bland.”
“Aren’t you going to touch me?”
“You may do a warm-up exercise on yourself until we get to the juicy part.”
“Sex is a contact sport.”
“Sexologists say men get more satisfaction from self-love than intercourse. So get to it! Now your arms will be bound in such a way that only your hands will be free with your cock fortuitously grippable. There we go, bucko, all secure. Tonight we’ll indulge your Oedipal complex.”
“Are you going to pretend to be my mother?”
“You’re on the right track.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She prances to the phone. “I promised you a maternal experience. So we are going to call Sherry, your boss who always henpecks you. I’ll put her on the speakerphone since you’re indisposed at the moment. But you are all out of breath. What will she think?”
Rosa dials the number. “Oh, Ms. Sherry, your maître d wants to talk to you. Paul, say something to your boss.”
I try my hardest to make my strokes light enough to bring just a tingle without aerobics but I am so close that my natural reflex is ungovernable and so I moan.
“Muuuh Sherry…” is all I can articulate.
Sherry says, “Paul, are you alright? You sound like you’re having a heart attack. Should I call the paramedics?”
Rosa says, “Ma’am he’s just excited about our new place. He gets that way sometimes. Paul, try to say something intelligible to your boss.” Rosa brushes me into electric curtains from the Aurora Borealis which crackles my north pole.
“Paul, you may have asthma, as your Dad did. You must see a pulmonologist,” Sherry says.
Rosa clasps my seed pod in the warmth of her palm cusp to coax the transaction to completion.
Sherry says to Rosa, “Is he wearing his favorite polo shirt, the one with the paisley design?”
Rosa says, “Ms. Sherry, he is. He was working out on the treadmill.”
Sherry says, “Tomorrow is casual day and I expect he’ll want to wear it but make sure it is washed and ironed. I don’t want him looking frumpy. Our wait staff has to make a good impression on the public.” Sherry begins giggling. “And there is to be no aerobic exercise before bed. He must be well rested to welcome our patrons. Do you catch my drift?”
“Ms. Sherry, trust me, I’ll put him to bed early and no hanky-panky, oops. I guess I let the cat out of the bag.”
“Honey, I know the variations of deep breathing. That feline was out of the bag the moment I heard Paul.” Paul gets his second wind.
“Sherry, it was Rosa’s idea. Can you ever forgive me?”
Sherry says, “This had the trademark of a Rosa production all along. I can forgive you if you don’t lollygag about getting to work on time.”
I say, “That is a deal, Sherry. I’ll be there in time to make the coffee.” We close the phone conversation.
I say, “Rosa, do you realize you exposed my boss to our sordid affair?”
“Don’t blame me if you couldn’t control your hands. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind. Your embarrassment should make you think twice when the urge to be disobedient to me arises.”
“Surely, your repertoire of techniques to control my behavior isn’t limited to shaming me.”
“How could I be so insensitive to your needs when you’ve waited all night for this? I will wear my leather gloves and smack your ass while you’re taking me. You deserve that for being such a good hubby.”
“Being chewed out by you was better than being tied up. I haven’t had this much fun since Ms. Mitchell caught me writing dirty words on the chalkboard before class. She took me to the closet to paddle me but I ran between her legs like a fly which she couldn’t swat.”
“Me too! I haven’t had this much fun since scaring off a purse snatcher by chanting, ‘redrum, redrum.’”
“You know getting a playful spanking gives an endorphin release similar to aerobic exercise which is good for my cardiovascular system,” I proclaim.
“Well, then I shall administer them to you for the sake of your health. Just remember my little hand stings like a wasp even for a hairy-chested and red-blooded man like you. But honey, you won’t die of arteriosclerosis. I’ll stuff you so full of antioxidants and healthy foods you’ll live to be over a hundred. I can bring home tofu and sauté it up in a wok, but you’re the man of the house.”
“Folks I’m going to take Paul home now.” Rosa grabs me by my shirt collar like a child. She leads me out of the restaurant. Once home she pushes me down on the bed.
“What’s wrong honey? Why are you mad at me?”
“Do you realize you were conversing with Jill more than me? In fact, you pay more attention to the other men’s wives than me when we go out on group dates.”
“Come on darling. I just like socializing when we go out. You and I have plenty of us time together at home.”
“Shut up. I mean it.” I shut my trap like a good boy.
“Oh Paul, I’ve been too harsh. You are a big healthy hunk of a man. But your cholesterol is through the roof. Your EKGs are normal, thankfully, but tonight I’ll be your fairy godmother and grant your heart’s desire. Unless we grow wings we’ll never spend summer in St. Tropez on our Barista salaries. Yet I’ll take you on a holiday without leaving home. Just name your destination.”
“Rosa you entertain me just by being here.”
“Do I have to use sexual interrogation on you? You’re hiding something. But I’m still hungry. Paul, I don’t feel like cooking supper. Take me out for veggie burgers.”
“Rosa, you are my neon Goddess whose face could launch an armada.”
“Darling you say the loveliest things. Each word sings me into feminine heaven. But there is something I need to know. Why can’t you romance me when among company? Are you embarrassed?”
“Aw honey I just get shy among groups. I’ve always been that way. Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“OK, I can dig that you’re bashful when we’re in public. But I want you to just make an effort to speak of your passion for me in public. Just step outside your comfort zone for me.”
“If I could get through graduate school surely I can overcome my timid nature.”
“I know you can. But I’ll start you off slowly. These things often take time. Take me out for soy burgers. We’ll sit in the most crowded area there. You’ll have the safety bubble of being among strangers whom we aren’t socializing with. But I want you to wax poetic on me. Give me that and I’ll massage your derriere when we get home. I know you love that.”
“It shall be so my love. You take the keys, Rosa.”
“It will be my pleasure. I’ll even open the door for you when we arrive. Your machismo pride won’t be trespassed by a woman opening the door for you? Will it?”
“Of course not, I grew up opening doors for women. But I am open to role reversal and not just with the door opening.”
“Oh, you tease. You want to role play in bed. Don’t you? You want me to be dominant for a change. Well, I’d love too! Why didn’t you ask before?”
“Because you are not a brassy woman.”
“Paul my alter-ego is a lady-cop in the man’s world of law-enforcement whose favorite duty is interrogation where she takes out her frustration on male suspects.”
“Could you really wear the badge?”
“I already am the heat. Actually I feel empowered by the prospect of taking a dominant role with you. We’ve hardly talked about my needs as a woman. This has been on my mind a lot lately. Turning the tables would be good for both of us.”
“Never would I have anticipated you to even entertain this notion much less for this to be your secret fantasy,” I say.
“You always took the wheel before. Being in the driver’s seat is different but feels good and natural. And you thought Rosa was just a cute little seductress” she says.
“I guess I didn’t know how you’d take it. But now your man is feeling beside himself with joy. I can’t wait to get home.”
“You know what? Screw the burger joint. Public displays of affection can wait. We’ll have peanut butter and jelly. Let’s do the dominatrix tango. Oh, I am so ready for this! The bed awaits us. I’ve never felt this liberated before. This is way better than a happy meal.”
Once we get back to our house and open the door, Rosa escorts me down the hall and ushers me into the living room. “Now follow me. You like the view from behind me don’t you? Well, I’m going to sit my bubble butt on this plush sofa. You sit on the chair.” Her hair is soaked in pheromones, the essence of female aggression.
I excuse myself to the powder room and come out wearing my jammies. “Paul, why are you wearing pajamas in the afternoon? You are not to wear sleep clothing during the day.”
“I feel more comfortable in them. You said I was too tense and need to get more relaxed.”
“Can’t you chill as most people do? Take a long walk because you need aerobic exercise.”
“But pants are so restricting,” I say with a pout.
“There is a reason for that. What if my friend Carol came over to visit and you got turned on? A man can’t hide that in those flimsy things. Imagine my embarrassment. Of course, she wouldn’t say anything, but I would be mortified, as should you.”
“But honey I can control myself,” I reply with my sad puppy eyes.
“Like hell, you can. Just the sight of Carol would get your rooster crowing. In a staring contest, Carol the Medusa would turn your Cyclops to stone.”
“Do you really believe I have so little self-control?” I ask flabbergasted as if I am insulted.
Rosa laughs, “Paul, your eyes took a stroll all over Carol last time she was here. And don’t think I didn’t notice your focus.”
“Come on honey. I’ve never strayed. My peepers may poke around, but my big man stays where he belongs.”
“He ain’t tall, but he sure is robust and mighty.” She smiles and draws lazy circles on my chest.
“How refreshing it is to hear something uplifting and elevating,” I grin.
“How dare you counterpart me. Right now you’re not in a position to talk back to me. I’m the head honcho. The more you flap your gums the worse it will be for you,” is her no joke command.
“Honey, you can’t hold it against me that my baby blues wander into forbidden places. That’s called being a man.”
“Hah. If that’s being a man, I sure am glad I’m a woman.”
“Your feminism is the sugar in my tea.”
“Good ole iced tea coming up, with a twist of lemon for that tangy flavor you love. You like your women tart just like your Lipton I do declare. Do you want your feminist to wield the whip in bed and a mop in the kitchen?”
“Well, you seem to like the arrangement.”
“That’s enough sass from you. I’m woman enough to give you a lesson. Are you man enough to take it?” she commands again.
“I take it this isn’t algebra,” I quip.
Then she says, “The key to a dominatrix session is that the domme decides what’s on the slate. If it was up to you then it wouldn’t really be putting me in charge.”
“Oh, darling whatever you have in mind will be wicked.”
“Good, this will be so kinky you’ll turn every shade of red. But this won’t be the traditional femdom session.”
“No whips and chains or naughty things?”
“As a rule of thumb, remember if you behave yourself among our friends you get apple pie for dessert. But if you act like a spoiled brat you get plain yogurt which is healthy but bland.”
“Aren’t you going to touch me?”
“You may do a warm-up exercise on yourself until we get to the juicy part.”
“Sex is a contact sport.”
“Sexologists say men get more satisfaction from self-love than intercourse. So get to it! Now your arms will be bound in such a way that only your hands will be free with your cock fortuitously grippable. There we go, bucko, all secure. Tonight we’ll indulge your Oedipal complex.”
“Are you going to pretend to be my mother?”
“You’re on the right track.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She prances to the phone. “I promised you a maternal experience. So we are going to call Sherry, your boss who always henpecks you. I’ll put her on the speakerphone since you’re indisposed at the moment. But you are all out of breath. What will she think?”
Rosa dials the number. “Oh, Ms. Sherry, your maître d wants to talk to you. Paul, say something to your boss.”
I try my hardest to make my strokes light enough to bring just a tingle without aerobics but I am so close that my natural reflex is ungovernable and so I moan.
“Muuuh Sherry…” is all I can articulate.
Sherry says, “Paul, are you alright? You sound like you’re having a heart attack. Should I call the paramedics?”
Rosa says, “Ma’am he’s just excited about our new place. He gets that way sometimes. Paul, try to say something intelligible to your boss.” Rosa brushes me into electric curtains from the Aurora Borealis which crackles my north pole.
“Paul, you may have asthma, as your Dad did. You must see a pulmonologist,” Sherry says.
Rosa clasps my seed pod in the warmth of her palm cusp to coax the transaction to completion.
Sherry says to Rosa, “Is he wearing his favorite polo shirt, the one with the paisley design?”
Rosa says, “Ms. Sherry, he is. He was working out on the treadmill.”
Sherry says, “Tomorrow is casual day and I expect he’ll want to wear it but make sure it is washed and ironed. I don’t want him looking frumpy. Our wait staff has to make a good impression on the public.” Sherry begins giggling. “And there is to be no aerobic exercise before bed. He must be well rested to welcome our patrons. Do you catch my drift?”
“Ms. Sherry, trust me, I’ll put him to bed early and no hanky-panky, oops. I guess I let the cat out of the bag.”
“Honey, I know the variations of deep breathing. That feline was out of the bag the moment I heard Paul.” Paul gets his second wind.
“Sherry, it was Rosa’s idea. Can you ever forgive me?”
Sherry says, “This had the trademark of a Rosa production all along. I can forgive you if you don’t lollygag about getting to work on time.”
I say, “That is a deal, Sherry. I’ll be there in time to make the coffee.” We close the phone conversation.
I say, “Rosa, do you realize you exposed my boss to our sordid affair?”
“Don’t blame me if you couldn’t control your hands. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind. Your embarrassment should make you think twice when the urge to be disobedient to me arises.”
“Surely, your repertoire of techniques to control my behavior isn’t limited to shaming me.”
“How could I be so insensitive to your needs when you’ve waited all night for this? I will wear my leather gloves and smack your ass while you’re taking me. You deserve that for being such a good hubby.”
“Being chewed out by you was better than being tied up. I haven’t had this much fun since Ms. Mitchell caught me writing dirty words on the chalkboard before class. She took me to the closet to paddle me but I ran between her legs like a fly which she couldn’t swat.”
“Me too! I haven’t had this much fun since scaring off a purse snatcher by chanting, ‘redrum, redrum.’”
“You know getting a playful spanking gives an endorphin release similar to aerobic exercise which is good for my cardiovascular system,” I proclaim.
“Well, then I shall administer them to you for the sake of your health. Just remember my little hand stings like a wasp even for a hairy-chested and red-blooded man like you. But honey, you won’t die of arteriosclerosis. I’ll stuff you so full of antioxidants and healthy foods you’ll live to be over a hundred. I can bring home tofu and sauté it up in a wok, but you’re the man of the house.”
