Wallbanger (8 page)

Of the nine, there were but three dolls he
could identify without having to read the appellation off the
bottom. The smallest was Misha, his half-brother. He was born and
raised in America, and the only kinship he felt toward the teenager
came from knowing Nikolay had abandoned him too. With their father
gone, Misha’s youth was all that protected him from Sacha’s
wrath.

Next in the line was Sacha himself.
Naturally, he liked his doll the best. Though there was nothing
particularly distinct about it—small with the features rather hard
to make out—he found it the most aesthetically pleasing of the
bunch. And the most important.

After him was Nikolay’s, dressed in a
business suit with a cap of silver hair and shrewd eyes. It wasn’t
until two weeks ago Sacha realized this doll was out of place. And
it was the first time he could remember wishing his sack of shit
for a father wasn’t dead.

Another line of cocaine made it’s way into
his bloodstream, but instead of having the desired effect of
dulling his problems, the alertness caused by the drug seemed to
make the situation shine brighter than any other. He stood from the
desk, jumping at the sound of the chair toppled by the move, and
then stalked to the door. Flinging it open, he looked down to see
his puppet waiting there obediently.

He liked this particular toy, not so much
pleased by her as a person, but as property he was proud at the
acquisition. A dark-haired Russian with creamy skin, she was
completely new to the Lifestyle, and had come to him shortly after
his release from jail. One could only take so many fingers from a
man before there were simply no more fingers left to take.

The girl’s face was nice to look at, not more
beautiful than his, but it would do. She didn’t speak much, a
desirable quality in his puppets, and when she did it was with
respect for him as her Master and only in the tongue of their
people. Uneducated, she couldn’t have been more than twenty years
of age, and the skin covering her thin body was still soft and
supple, so that every time his tools met it, her flesh was left
nice and rosy.

With the clarity that comes from the brain
being numb, Sacha studied her prostrate form and realized why this
puppet was so enjoyable. She knew her place. Every puppet needed a
little molding, and he’d sculpted this one a bit, but she’d taken
to it the fastest. She immediately recognized she was the weaker
member of the species and reconciled with her status in life.

He recalled her fear during that first
encounter to his Dungeon; could almost smell it on her skin as he
lashed her; taste it seeping from her pores while he rammed his
dick into the too-tight, virgin pussy. And when he’d fucked her
ass…Oh! Her screams were heaven; not rehearsed like some of the
other puppets. Hers was a cry of genuine terror and he soaked it up
the way eating Black bread before a binge soaks up the vodka and
makes room for more. He’d given it to her good, had left his mark
on her, and like a devoted bitch she’d taken it.

He crouched a bit to pet her glossy mane,
then curled his fingers and lifted her from the ground by her hair.
She gasped in surprise, and he felt his cock thicken in his slacks.
She was like the perfect toy that never broke no matter how hard he
played with it; always afraid the way he needed her to be. He
pulled her through the door to his office and slammed it shut,
then, leaving her in the center of the room, made his way to a
bookshelf and slid it aside, uncovering a panel disguised to look
like the rest of the wall. Pushing it inward revealed a dark
chasm.

“What were you doing at the door?” he asked
in heavy Russian, approaching the sub again.

She fidgeted, gaze at his feet. “Waiting for
you, Kukol´nik,” she replied softly.

The answer was what he’d expected, after all,
he’d instructed her to remain there an hour before. Staring at her
naked body he noticed her knees were a shade of bright red, ignored
that, and focused on the important fact—the cuts from their last
session had nearly healed. It was an injustice he would have to
rectify. And, while she wasn’t the person he wanted to beat, she
would be a nice diversion from his reality.

“Is that what you wished to do?”

“I wish only to do as my Master tells me,”
came the meek answer.

The response sent a shiver through his body,
and he inhaled the power deep into his lungs, exhaled heavily
through his mouth. “Undress me.”

Her fingers shook as she worked the buttons
of his shirt and pushed the fabric from his shoulders. With
reverence, she folded the clothing and placed it on his desk. Then
she knelt and untied his shoe, carefully lifting his foot to remove
it and the sock beneath. When she returned the foot to the floor
again, she dipped lower to press her lips to the top. Sacha had
never instructed her to do this, but that she thought of it
furthered her subservience, and that delighted him.

Both feet kissed, she reached up to unfasten
the buckle of his belt, unhinged the snap of his trousers. It was
the only time she was allowed to look up at him. In any other
setting he would have taken it as disrespect and punished her for
it. But this was a matter of position, and Sacha was not an
unreasonable man. So long as she was quick about it, he dismissed
the violation and let her continue her assignment.

She inched the black slacks from his hips,
revealing his erection. Raising his foot to free him of the pants,
she repeated the move on the other side and folded the fabric
neatly, settling it beside her. Task complete, she clasped her
hands in her lap and cast her gaze downward again.

Sacha’s body was near exploding. That she
could come and perform her duties so exacting spoke to his
proficiency as a Master. But a new problem arose: to wait until he
had her in his Dungeon, or to allow her the honor of starting him
off now.

“Suck me.”

The puppet rose up on her knees, hands
grazing his thighs as she opened her tiny pink mouth. Her tongue
snaked out to lick the precum from his dick and then circled the
head.

Unable to wait any longer, Sacha thrust past
her lips, shuddering at the heat gloved tightly around his cock. He
pulled back slowly then shoved in again, hearing the soft gags she
made with the force. Gripping her head, it didn’t take long before
the first round of cum exploded from his shaft, and his puppet
swallowed it down with enjoyable slurps.

Just enough to take the edge off.
Sacha looked down and frowned. “Missed a spot.” Her tongue rounded
now-rosy lips in search of the stray fluid, lapping at the corner
where his seed had been located. He turned away and preceded her
through the hole in the bookshelves.

“Come along, puppet. Your Master wishes to
see you dance.”

* * * *

McLean, Virginia

Daniel Gilbert had another club soda in his
gut courtesy of the intriguing Miss Lana James. The match was hard
fought, but in the end, he’d walked away the victor.

For her efforts, Lana downed three shots of
tequila in succession, cringed at the strength, and sucked on a
wedge of lime before announcing, “Woooo!” Shortly after, she
decided to call it a night. She pulled on her jacket and pushed out
into the darkness.

Daniel followed right behind—his last square
of gum going into his mouth.

“So,” she said once they were clear of the
bar’s noise and smoke. “I guess you just might be the best. Did you
have to pull a Robin Hood on that last leg of the game? Made me
look bad.”

He chuckled at her saucy pout. “You were
showing off, Lana. Had to take you down a peg. You can have a
rematch.”

“I’ll take a rain check. Gotta get back to
campus—early class…” she trailed off.

He didn’t make a move, the second-hand
confidence from the bar now absent.
Chances of getting laid—30%
and falling.

Lana stuck out her hand. “Glad I met you,
Danny Gilbert. You take care.”

He nodded, returned the gesture mechanically,
his brain occupied with cursing his cowardice. “You, too, Lana.”
They stood for a moment, hands locked, before he tugged her closer,
leaned down to risk a peck to her mouth. Her free arm snaked around
his neck, and he took the hint, kissed her deeper. When they pulled
apart her eyes were closed and she hummed, dragged her tongue over
her lips.

“Let me…walk you to your car.” He said it
nervously, as though a different man inhabited the body of the one
she’d pulled into a dart game a couple of hours before.

“Is that what you really want, Danny? To get
me safely to my car and watch me drive away?” He sputtered and she
smiled. “You’re awful cute when you’re flustered. What do you do,
Danny?”

His eyes shifted away from her nervously.
Don’t blow this.
“Risk assessment.”

Lana nodded. “Explains the Jekyll and Hyde
routine you’ve got going. So in the bar you thought you had a
chance, but out here…?”

Like an idiot, Danny didn’t respond. Her
frankness hadn’t been accounted for.

“How about this,” Lana said. “Walk me to
your
car. I took a cab here. You up for letting me
ride?”

He watched her mouth again. The cadence of
her voice was slow, and pink lips formed each word perfectly as
though she was trying hard to keep from slurring.

Tequila’s setting in
….

“Danny?”

He snapped out of his stupidity long enough
to act. Gripping her elbow, he guided her to the plain sedan across
the street, unnecessarily checking for cars. It was nearing one in
the morning in the little town of McLean. Anyone not at The Pub was
already in bed. He opened the passenger door and saw her in, then
rounded the bumper and slid into the driver’s seat, fitting the key
in the ignition. “Where to?” The dependable car fired to life and
he waited for directions.

“Your place works for me.”

His brows went up. “Thought you had an early
class.”

“I’ll be there in time. I don’t plan to
sleep.”

Before he managed to bungle this opportunity,
Danny pulled from the curb. Lana leaned toward him and brushed his
neck, her hands trailing down his chest. His heart raced. He hadn’t
fucked a hot co-ed since college, and from the way she was
behaving, he was about to break the streak. He would have closed
his eyes but he had to focus on driving the distance to his
apartment.

With one hand she worked at his belt,
masterfully disengaged it from the buckle, then unfastened his
slacks and tugged down the zipper. Her knuckles grazed his lower
abs when she dipped her hand into his briefs and his foot jerked on
the accelerator. He immediately corrected, heart pounding in his
chest.

“Careful, sweetie.” She massaged his cock in
her warm hand, slow strokes away from his body. He could feel
himself leaking against the pad of her thumb, and she rubbed the
wetness around the sensitive crown.

His foot hit the gas again. “Lana,” he
warned. How could something so heavenly be so dangerous? If she
kept it up they’d wreck.

“I want you ready for me once we get there,”
she whispered, “so all I have to do is hop on and ride.” She
continued to nip his neck, licked the sensitive spot below his ear.
“Just breathe, baby.”

A red light loomed up ahead, but Daniel
couldn’t wait. Without slowing, he wheeled the car into an empty
lot and slapped it into park.

Lana looked out at the loading bays of an
abandoned business complex and giggled. “Nice place you have
here.”

“Come on,” he said hurriedly. Yanking the bar
beneath his seat, the chair slid to the back of the track. Then he
leaned forward to push the steering wheel up as far as it would go
to give her room. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Condom first. Minimize the risk, right?”

He didn’t have condoms, or any other sort of
prophylactic, but if he didn’t come soon he’d feel it for days.

Lana’s hand in her purse quelled his anxiety.
“Don’t worry. Got you covered.” She pulled out the rubber and a
jumbo pen.

“What’s that?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t so
far out of the loop when it came to sex that he didn’t know an
adult toy when he saw one. But they came in so many shapes
nowadays….

“Insulin,” she said, a little
embarrassed.

“You’re diabetic?”

She nodded and unrolled the condom down his
turgid shaft, stroking twice from root to tip firmly. Every other
thought left his brain, moaning as she continued, slowly at first,
then pumping faster and faster until his hips lifted from the seat
and he bucked into her hot hand.

“Oh, damn!” he screamed, part delicious
agony, part anger at not being inside her as his cum filled the
condom. His body was locked in a rigor state, spasming so hard he
didn’t initially feel the tiny jab in the side of his neck.

“Wha—?” He looked at Lana, trying to make
sense of why his arms and legs were starting to tingle. And his
face…it tickled too.

Lana started on his dick again, and he turned
his attention there. “Just breathe, baby,” she coaxed, smiling at
him. “Don’t fight it, let it come.”

This had to be the best orgasm ever if he
couldn’t feel his legs! But then, he realized, he couldn’t feel his
cock, or her hand on it either. His ribcage throbbed; the pound
reverberating in his ears. In a panic, he gasped for air, not
feeling the clean stuff burn his lungs.

Throat closed, heart seized, the last image
Daniel Gilbert’s saucer-size eyes would ever capture was of Lana
James pulling off a sandy blonde wig.

Nope. He hadn’t calculated that.

* * * *

Gale reached over the warm body and checked
for the lack of a pulse. “Thought ya’d never die.”

She wanted to spit. Kissing the man was like
eating toe jam seasoned dirt with a rusty mint undertone, and
trying to numb her taste buds with tequila hadn’t worked. Couldn’t
he at least have bought orange flavored Nicorette?