Mirage Lady and the welder

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Disclaimer: The following Erotica is entirely fictional. Any similarities to people, names, places, and real-life events, past, present, or future are mere coincidence.

Act I

He didn’t know what to do but just to exhaled in frustration, mostly. Melinda, his slave, was just being more obnoxious than usual. “Why today? Why him?”, the tall bearded man wondered. This time she just won’t go away. “Just kick her out.” whispered his monster into the left ear. “Tempting!”, the welder said out loud while trying to clean his hands with a dirty rag. Not loud enough for his slave to hear, however.

He managed an escape to the unkept washroom. As he tries to catch a glimpse of the man in the broken mirror, he hears a car pulled right in front of his overcrowded shop. Full of broken dreams, and half-done projects. “Who the heck now? Can a man make a buck in peace?” He grumbles.

There she was looking around clueless and clearly lost asking for a craftsman.

“The who?” Melinda said amused with the strangely dressed woman’s accent that was now by her. That is when he realized who this woman may be and to his failure, he tried not to show delight. The two women started to argue and he rushes in but stops dead when he bumped into the dryest look that commanded a halt.

The foreign woman finally turn back around to look at him with a triumphant smirk. “Get rid of the annoying creature already.”, she demanded in a sweet voice. By now possessive Melinda was beyond bruised up especially after hearing this woman saying, “Thank you, papa bear.” With no alternatives, she takes off yelling threats. “I don’t get that lucky!”, he angrily yelled back.

It can’t be. Just couldn’t be! She was actually standing there; in flesh and able bones. It appears. Right in front of him, at last. What a heavenly sight. No, he just doesn’t get that lucky. Must be a mirage.

Act II

Next thing he knows, his intrusive thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his belt. Followed by a sharp slap. “Shit! Ow!” he reacted in distress. “Apologize to me right fucking now!”, she imposed and with a perplexed face, he slowly offered a short apology. “That is not how this works, loser boy. Can you ever learn something for good?”, the lady started to lecture him again as she takes off his leather belt. Taking a few steps back away from her, he started to claim that he didn’t agree to any of that. His biggest mistake.

On his detachment from life in general, he forgot to touch base with his Mistress.

A Caribbean beauty made out of the fire and ice. Although she could have easily reached out to him, it was humiliating having to do his work. Worst, being neglected by someone like him. Beneath her, he stands, while she hugs his throat with his own belt. Short on breath, he kind of hears her saying that she doesn’t need permission from a simpleton welder to be herself.

Nobody could have possibly guessed how quickly she had his arms tied up on his back and to the brackets of his filthy jeans. Her loyal companion, a handkerchief that unlike him, has never failed her. “There is so much wrong here that I am starting to think you are just not worth my time at all.”, she contemplated out loud.

“What the fuck is this?”, Melinda cried in distress. Of course, the loser boy missed closing the door to his shop. Catching his breath he kind of hears Mistress explaining that to make it up to her, she wants to watch him break Melinda’s heart. Nicotine smell started to fill the warehouse while the tension builds up at a rapid speed. Fearing that he might lose all of his privileges, this now dangerously obedient man, releases and dismisses his slave. Final. No appeals. A wave of despairs tried to company the tobacco while he shuts the locks.

It can’t be. Just couldn’t be. She was actually sitting there; in lace and red leather. It appears. Right in front of him, at last. What a heavenly sight. No, he just doesn’t get that lucky. Must be a dream.

Act III

Mistress seizes him by pushing him against a nearby wall and reciting his slave’s rights. None. Time slows down. Vigorously but effortlessly, she made her way to a throbbing cock. Her boots step over his as she forces him to look into her eyes until he agrees to the new demands.

Weak on his knees he gave up the little fight left on him whilst licking clean the white downpour off the dusty floor. The will-less property falls asleep exhausted as he was waiting for further commands. Only to awaken the next day, apparently, but fully clothed on his smelly recliner.

It can’t be. Just couldn’t be! She was actually gone. It appears. Yes, he knew all about his bad luck. Must have been a delusion…

…he ponders as his uncle wonders why the redheaded nephew has bruises on his neck.

The End

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