“Tell me about your family,”


      “My family,” Mark shifted his weight, resting sideways looking down on Sydney’s quizzical eyes. “Damn, where do I start?”


      “The beginning,” she settled into his warmth.


      “We were the typical mid-west family I suppose. I grew up in Iowa,”


      “Iowa!” Sydney’s eyes flew to his face.


Mark smiled down. “Yeah, Iowa. Why? Does that surprise you?”


      “To be honest, yes it does. Then again, you growing up in Iowa explains a lot about you.”


      “Like what?” Mark asked kissing her finger tips. Sydney felt her skin come to life watching his lips press gently against her hand.


      “You don’t have an accent and there’s a genuine frankness in the way you speak.”


      “Ha!” Mark laughed. “Did you just call me rude?” pulling her atop him.


      “No, I didn’t call you rude. I meant to say that you don’t mix words however there is,” she stopped unable to piece her thoughts together in a precise manner. This wasn’t the first time his presence rendered her mute but it was the first time she’d allowed herself to stay in the moment long enough to figure out why. “Let’s just say that you don’t come off like a power-hungry, self-centered idiot.”


Mark frowned; his eyes darted around the room piecing together his rebuttal. “Thank you, I think. Um, well you don’t come off like a two-faced, malicious succubus,” he eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Sydney quietly followed.


      “Take that back!” she looped her arms around his taut naked body. “I’m the best succubus money can buy,”


      “Very true.” He lifted her to his back, carrying the rest of the way. “With my hectic schedule these last few weeks, having you around has certainly made it bearable. It feels nice to have someone that understands what I do.”


      “Thanks,” she hopped down as Mark started the shower. “What’s your family like?”


      “I guess they’re normal. I’m not close to them any longer,” his gaze fell on her. “My family doesn’t accept my lifestyle. I haven’t seen my parents or siblings in ten years.”


     “Don’t they grasp what it is you do?”


     “No, they don’t nor do they have no interest in educating themselves. They think I sleep with all of my clients, like some sort of depraved prostitute.” Mark said gathering his towels.


     “They don’t understand that this lifestyle has little to do with physical intercourse,” Sydney remarked as she brushed her hair out. “It’s a common misconception. Some people can’t see past the sexual nature of what we do, or they do see past it and secretly want to take part,” she turned to Mark. “But they’re too ashamed or afraid of what others will think of them.”


Mark watched her in amazement. “You nailed it. What about you? What’s your story? Don’t tell me your family closed rank on you as well.”


Sydney felt a knot tighten in her gut. “No, my family does understand my choice. We’re extremely close as a matter of fact,” there was sadness in her voice. “I wouldn’t know what to do without them.”


      “You’re fortunate,” he stepped into the shower. “Are you coming in?” Without hesitation, Sydney climbed in. She loved his chiseled body. Mark began washing her back as she ran her head under the water. He liked the way her hair turned to tiny spiral ringlets when wet. “How were you introduced to Kink?” he asked.


      “It sort of happened on its own; there was no ‘Wow moment’.  I’d been into the scene for a long time but I didn’t dive into the profession until after I graduated college. Slowly, my reputation grew and the clients began calling. Such is life,” she shrugged.


      “What was your major?”


      “Music, I wanted to be a stage singer like my mother. She sang with the Sallie Martin Singers as a youngster,”


      “Really?” Mark replied not actually sure who or what the Sallie Martin Singers were.


Sydney rinsed the soap from her shapely body, her tone heavy. “Yeah, my mother has a beautiful, almost angelic voice,” she chuckled humorlessly.


       “I didn’t know you sang,” he moved her hair to one side and kissed her neck. She felt his energy pass through her.


       “There is a lot you don’t know about me.” they fell quiet and Sydney continued. “What about you? I wouldn’t think the Kink scene would be popular in Iowa.”


Mark turned allowing Sydney to wash his back. “It’s growing in the larger cities but I drifted in and out when I was younger. Then I moved to Montreal, got hooked on smack, whored around for a few years, and was in and out of jail before finally cleaning myself up.”


       “Really!” Sydney eyes widened.


Mark smiled over his shoulder. “No, not really. I went to Montreal on an academic scholarship and moved here after graduating. The scene is booming in Montreal; I was hoping to move back but never got around to it.”


       “Wait, you went to college on an academic scholarship?” Sydney queried.


       “Yes I did, why does that surprise you?”


       “With your body I figured…”


        “You figured that I was a meat-head,” he interjected. “Sorry to disappoint you but I majored in journalism. I wanted to go into television and movie production but Kink pays; and very well, I might add.”


        “Amen,” she agreed. “It pays very well. For me it’s more about the rush I get from my work, helping my clients explore that side of themselves, knowing that I’m giving them something no one else can.”


       “But you can’t say that you don’t get something out of it in return,” Mark asserted.


       “I must admit, I love the element of control and watching their conventional beliefs dissolve, it turns me on.”


Knowing the serious nature of his next query, Mark hesitated. “Can I ask you a question?”


      “Sure.”


      “Do you sleep with your clients? The reason I ask is because I have slept with a couple of mine.”


Sydney wasn’t taken aback by his question, she expected it. “I’ve heard about your affairs,” she reached around slowly taking his thick cock in her hand. “How else would I have known about this?”


Mark drew a sharp breath, his expression soured. “It wasn’t about sex with them. I’m not sure what you were told but they weren’t affairs. I was in a relationship with both women at the time.” He stepped out of the shower.


      “Whoa, you’ve dated your clients?” Sydney asked, shutting off the water and exiting the bathroom. “Are you crazy?!”


Mark turned to her impatiently. He hated having this conversation. “Yes, I dated two of my clients or at least that’s how it started out. It didn’t work out between us.”


      “It never does,” she said flatly, flipping her hair over, wrapping it into a towel. “You should know better than to let your guard down.”


       “Thank you, Mistress Clever. I’ll be sure to remember that bit of advice the next time I have valid feelings for anyone.” He said frankly, finishing getting dressed. “Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson. It’s strictly business from now on.”


Sydney fought her inquisitive temperament yet noted the dull intonation in Mark’s voice and clinched jaw, almost as if he spat the words from his mouth. It was apparent that whatever happened between him and the two ladies took its toll on him emotionally. But uncharacteristic for a Dom of his caliber, Mark had chosen to temporarily damage his reputation, in turn being labeled a skirt chaser, rather than reveal that he’d been hurt. This left her both impressed by his courage and terrified by his recklessness; she would never allow anyone that close to her.


      “It’s funny, but I didn’t know much about you personally before we tried to fuck each others brains out the first time. I mean, everyone knows your reputation as a Domme but no one could say anything about you on a personal level. What gives?”  Mark observed, as he leaned back on the bed watching Sydney dress.


      “I don’t involve others in my personal life. Like you said, it’s strictly business, right?”


      “Even with me?” he asked his gaze heavy.


She turned and walked towards him then straddled his lap. “Yes, even with you.” Kissing him, a light whimper escaped her lips.


Mark grinned and whispered onto her lips. “Are you sure about that?”


       “Positive,” she replied coldly and continued kissing him passionately, their mouths lightly pulling at one another's. She felt for the bulge in his pants, he moaned as her hand glided over its thickness. Mark held her face in his hand, she moved closer until there was no space between them. Sydney pulled his shirt over his head, quickly tossing it aside. He reciprocated the gesture, palming her sensitive tits while continuing to devour her lips.


He pulled away. “I thought you had enough, we’ve been going at it all morning,”


       “That’s way too vanilla,” her sensuous kisses on his neck were met with throaty grumble. “You know me better than that,” she moved down his torso, removing his pants and underwear, disposing of them hastily.


       “What are you doing?” Mark asked, and then took a sharp breath as Sydney flicked her long tongue around the head of his cock and then sucked the tip before pressing her tongue against the bottom of it; she took a breath, and then pushed down again. “Oh shit, suck it,” he said as he studied the way her full lips enveloped his cock, working him deeper and deeper down her throat. In one hand, he took hold of her hair while the other held her face, watching for signs that his shaft was choking her.


       “Sydney, don’t try to take it all at once. You can’t…Oh shit!!” Mark cried as she took in the fullness of his length and messaged the head of his cock, masturbating him with her throat muscles while employing sadistic variations of sucking and pressing with her lips and tongue. With his cock at her mercy, Mark fell back onto his pillows, the sounds of Sydney’s insistent slurping serenading him into a languorous trance. His cognitive abilities waned as Sydney effortlessly served up the one thing he craved yet none of her predecessors had been able to provide, the holy grail of oral pleasure; deep-throat.


      “You were saying?” she asked coming up for air. Her suction rendered the use of proper verbal communication null and void; reducing Mark’s vocabulary to guttural monosyllables.


From her kneeling position, Mark’s unmistakable tremors of pre-orgasm tapped the back of her throat like Morris code, transmitting his urgent need for release, she sucked harder and faster. Mark’s grip tightened in her hair, she slurped deeper and tighter, her own orgasm mounting as she watched him surrender to her unrelenting suction. “Oh fuck, Sydney,” Mark cried, his orgasm intensified as Sydney placed her thumb at the base of his cock, blocking the vessel through which his cum ached to erupt.


Sydney had him right where she wanted him. “Damn, please let me cum,” he begged as the sweet wave of her moaning reverberated around his shaft lodged deep within slick throat.


Bingo.


With the release of her thumb, Sydney unblocked the passage, dislodged him from her throat, her mouth sucked, her hands stroked ravenously until Mark’s body grew stiff, shooting his full load into her eagerly awaiting mouth. His eyes rolled into his head, he gasped for air and animalistic grunts burst forth as she struggled to control his vicious thrust, slowing her pace until he lay motionless save the sporadic jolts of exquisite phallic agony, Sydney lay holding him as he recovered and fell asleep.



      “What are you doing?” Sydney asked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t get caught up in him. It’s bad news.” She turned to see Mark shifting in bed, still fast asleep. “I have to get out of here before he wakes up.” Collecting the rest of her belongings, Sydney left from Mark’s apartment and out into the cold autumn evening without so much as a goodbye.




                                     *********




The snow was melting but the weather could scarcely be considered warm. Sunset had rapidly approached casting a murky gray patina on the homogeneous urban landscape and sent its occupants scampering to the comforts of their homes. Sydney pulled her coat closed against the bitter rushing breeze, head low watching the fallen leaves crumple underneath each of her boot-clad steps. She swung open a small wrought iron gate and fished for her keys as she approached her father’s door. 


       “Dad, are you here?” Sydney called as she closed the door and began unwrapping herself. “Sorry I’m late.” She looked around her father’s dwelling; there was no sign of him, only the chilled hush of her childhood. She sat with her coat folded neatly across her lap and breathed a long relaxing breath. “Dad,” she repeated lightly.


      “You rang?” his husky voice answered.


“Where the heck were you?” Sydney relaxed and lay staring up at the lattice details on the ceiling. “I was beginning to worry.”


      “Worry about what? Me?” he chuckled. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m fine. You need to take better care of yourself, sweetheart.”


      “You are going to lecture me about this again? I told you I’m doing perfectly well.”


      “I’m not going to lecture you,” there was a smile in his tone. “Cover yourself, it’s cold in here.” Sydney obeyed and curled up quietly.


      “I like what you’ve done with the place. Funny, but it hasn’t changed much since we moved but it seems different.”


      “Just like me, this place never changes. But you have. You have been looking happier these last few weeks,” he observed with delicate warmth. “Are you at peace now?”


      “I’m better but I wish I could spend more time with you,” Sydney paused. “I met someone, Mark is his name. We have been spending a lot of time together lately and, you know, sometimes he reminds me of you. 


      "Ha!” he laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me he’s an overworked chain smoker.”


      “No,” she smiled. “He’s steadfast, dedicated to his craft and genuine. But we’re just friends so don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “He’s a Dom; I take that back, he is the most sought after Dom west of the Rockies.”


      “Ah, this complicates matters,” he sat and brushed Sydney’s smooth skin she’d inherited from her mother.


      “Its of no consequence. We’re friends.” She remarked. A tinge of loneliness crept in her voice but her father’s gently reassuring hand relieved it.


      “Sydney, it’s alright if you’re not just friends with him. You do understand that, right?”


      “I understand, daddy.”


      “You have to open yourself up, Sydney. It’s been a long time, you have to let go.” He fell silent then continued. “If I could give you an ounce of the happiness that your mother and I had, I would.”


      “I know you would,” she whispered. “How is mom? Does she ask about me?”


He caressed her face. “She asks about you all of the time, sweetheart. You are never far from her thoughts.”


      “I miss you both so much,” Quiet tears began to flow in streams down Sydney’s face and puddle on the cold concrete floor of her family’s mausoleum. “I can’t hear mom’s voice anymore.”


      “You were so young when she passed away, it’s a wonder you can remember her at all,” 


      “I remember very little,” she choked. “I’m afraid that your voice will fade as well.” She cried.


      “Shh, calm down,” his rich voice comforted her. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re happy and with someone that deserves you. Calm down, sweetheart.”


She lay curled on the cushioned bench staring blankly at her parents elaborately carved sarcophagus, the soothing voice of her father singing “This Bitter Earth” filled the stark empty space around her.