Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (4 page)

“Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives.”

Bertrand Russell

Chapter 8

The prostitute knocked on the hotel room door, and the man opened it.

She was pretty, probably a co-ed, bleached-blond hair, but it didn’t look bad. She was no more than twenty-three. She wasn’t dressed like a whore at least. She wore very little make-up, she didn’t need to, and a gym outfit.

She looked like a young soccer mom. Maybe she was.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sorry. Sure.”

She walked past the man, and he checked out her ass. Not bad. She continued walking into the room, checking things out as she did. She was looking around for some clue as to who this John was. The man didn’t bring any personal items with him, so good luck with that one.

“Did they tell you on the phone how much I charge?”

“I seem to remember they didn’t forget that part.”

“Well…?

The man gave her the money. The transaction finished, she unzipped her top and took it off. The man looked at her. She had nice tits. He had gotten the “mom” part of the soccer mom right anyway. She took off her sweatpants as well and stood in her underwear, waiting for a cue from the man.

“So what are you into?”

“I wish I knew,” said the man.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. What’s your name?”

“Candy, what’s yours?”

Yeah, right.

“You can call me ‘That Guy.’”

She giggled. “Is that your first, or last name?”

“Both. My parents were simple people. You see, their last name was Guy and they only referred to me as ‘That.’”

“You’re putting me on, right?”

“Probably.”

“OK, That Guy, it’s your money and you paid for an hour, but the clock is ticking.”

He looked at her eyes and could see the hardness just starting to creep into them. He decided to move his mind up a plane and see what he could see in them. He slipped the mental gear into place. He noticed his lower mind was carrying on the conversation and putting her at ease. Good.

He stared at her eyes. They were bright blue.
Fake contacts
, he thought, then slipped behind them. There was blackness and rot gnawing at the edges of her soul. She wasn’t lost, but she soon would be if she carried on her current mode of thinking. He slipped out of her and went back to his lower mind.

“…of course, you can’t expect him to understand that.”

“No, they never do,” he heard himself say. “Most men are assholes.”

“Yes, they are. You know, you’re different. I kind of like you. I’ll let you fuck my ass for fifty dollars more. I know you like it.”

“I have a better idea.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Hint of suspicion in her voice.

“How about if you just take the money I just gave you, and here,- here’s fifty more,- we call it a night, and you spend it on your child?”

“How did you know I have a child?” Suspicion real now. She started putting her clothes back on in a hurry.

“I don’t. Lucky guess. I figured it was 50-50, I’d be right.”

“OK,” slightly mollified.

“Do you have kids?”

“Yes, I do.

“Boy or girl?”

“A boy.”

“Trust me, you don’t want a daughter.”

“I don’t?”

“No. For one, they are only interested in their daddies. And their daddies are usually assholes.”

“OK, thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. But seriously, I think I want to be alone.”

“Yeah, you said that already. So why’d you call then?”

“I don’t know. Desperate, I guess. Or maybe just stupid.”

“But after seeing me naked, you’re not as desperate or as stupid, huh?” She zipped her top up, and started putting on her track shoes.

“No, really, it isn’t like that. You’re gorgeous. It’s me.”

“It’s your money. You won’t catch a disease, you know. I’m clean.” She said as she slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

“I know. I might catch something worse,” said the man to the empty room.

“To fulfil a fantasy is the quickest way to destroy it.”

Duane Michals

Chapter 9

Mia had fantasies…

She would sometimes imagine herself in various situations. Of course, it wasn’t real, and she would never do something like that in real life. She had been brought up in a proper, religious family, but the fantasies remained.

They were always a part of her present reality. Most of the time her daydreams remained on the outskirts of her mind. Never quite daring to venture into the main street of her consciousness. Just beyond the edge of town.

Sometimes they lay buried, other times they rose like a ghost in the fog of daylight daydreams. But they were there. Most days she could deny them, even ignore them. Other days she couldn’t.

At first, her fantasies were benign in nature. She secretly wanted someone to take control of what she felt were major life events slipping past her. She felt she had fallen into deep, dark, water and didn’t know how to swim and kick to the surface.

She had the nagging feeling, always gnawing at the back of her mind that she was overlooking some key detail, which would come back to haunt her. At first, the fantasies were just stress induced. She knew that. Like the night before her first day at work, she dreamed she arrived at the school in her underwear. Silly stuff like that.

But then the daydreams turned sexual. The fantasies involved submission and domination. Her submission usually to a strong man. At first, the men were faceless.

Mia liked it that way. Anonymous. Because faceless she could still deny them. She liked that the faceless man was in control, and she didn’t have to make decisions. He told her what to do and she did it. So that she didn’t have the cares and responsibilities of everyday life.

She could surrender, completely, totally, to the desires of one man, and in return, he took away the other burdens of her life. She didn’t have the pressures, the decisions, and the weight of every pressing problem of her everyday life. Just like that…Poof! They were gone. In their place was just longing for something that wasn’t.

In their place was wetness…

Soon the longing became a craving. Then the craving became an obsession. She thought about strange hands on her long, smooth, legs. How warm they were when they opened her thighs.

How insistent his desire was. Even though she was in a committed relationship, his hands wouldn’t take no for an answer. She knew she couldn’t, but the fantasies were still there. Soon in her fantasies her legs were opening.

Other fantasies came unbidden. That he was tying her up. Her arms over her head, lifting her breasts up the way she knew he liked. She knew he liked the feel of them.

He would stare at her tits, mesmerized. He would walk behind her, his warm hands cupping one, then the other. Then slowly, his fingers sliding down her flat stomach. She could feel how her body turned him on.

She could feel his seven inches of hardness growing as he pushed against her ass, and ran his hands all over her body. She was helpless as his hands explored every inch of her. No private area was left untouched and unfingered. She liked that too. He understood her body, and understood her needs.

Mia had fantasies….

Everyday the fantasies grew stronger, and more detailed. Soon she could see herself in her mind’s eye. She saw every detail as he ravished her. She saw how much her submissiveness turned him on. She could see the faraway look in his eyes as he imagined her helpless and under his control. He wanted her. He wanted to control her. He wanted every part of her, to serve his needs and desires.

And his desires were vast. His sexual imagination was without equal, or limit. He was experienced in domination, and he wanted a submissive. He knew how to take her to the edge, but not over it.

While he was dominant, she knew, deep down, she was also in total control. She could stop him if she wanted, but she never wanted to. He knew just how to make her wet.

Whenever she thought about it now, the warmth would start immediately inside her belly and trickle down to her pussy like warm oil. She got wet even in her dreams.

When she woke up, her pussy was already slick as she mounted her husband’s hard, morning cock. She would fuck up and down on his cock while her mind was far away. He went away happy. She went away hungry and unfulfilled.

Mia had fantasies...

“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Chapter 10

“Mia, I got a call from your boss, yesterday,” her husband started off first thing in the morning.

“It appears your winning personality is pissing everyone off, as usual. So here is what I want you to do. I want you to be especially nice to him. He’s a school superintendent, and they are thinking of throwing the school’s legal work in my direction. That would mean good things for both of us. So you’re going to do your part. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes. I’m to do whatever he says,” said Mia, resigned to her fate.

“Good. How do you feel today?”

“Good,” Mia winced from the pain in her butt and had to shift to take the weight off her ass.

“That’s great because the welts I left all over your body last night look absolutely beautiful.”

He left the house, but not before twisting her nipple viciously.

Mia had the day off since there was no call for a substitute teacher that day. She decided to write. She found herself thinking about her pen pal, wondering if he was going to reply.
I probably scared him away, unloading on him like that,
she thought.
Why did I do that?

She didn’t know why she did. It just felt good to say something to someone about what was pent up inside her. She felt like he wanted to know how she truly felt about her writing. He still hadn’t written back. Maybe he wasn’t going to. He probably ran screaming away from his computer when he read it.
He doesn’t care about me. It’s just in your mind. Grow up! Get a grip,
she told herself.

Then the email chime sounded, and she saw he replied.

OK, I’m up to speed.

The romance genre is a tough one to crack, so don’t be in a hurry. Keep doing what you’re doing…reading and writing.

A word of advice…non writers never understand writers. Keep it to yourself. With spouses, the best plan is to wait until you get to the point in your writing (Like published and making money) where they ASK YOU, if they can read it. Until then, most spouses don’t get it.

If they aren’t creative themselves it’s even harder.

In terms of your writing “eating your brain,” it sounds exactly like a writer. But don’t expect anyone else to understand the craving though. :+)

Your question: I think my stories sound good, but I don’t know if that is just because they came from my head!

That’s a tough one which you’ll never really figure out to your own satisfaction. (At least I haven’t) That’s also where a good editor will come in.

Your question: I never put myself too far out there because it is safer not to try. Does that make sense? Writing is the only thing that has made me want not to pull back. That is part of the reason why I don’t want to stop.

Then don’t stop. But don’t over think it either. Do it for fun. Do it for therapy. Do it because the story HAS TO come out. You can hire an editor to over think the details for you. (In fact, you should)

I hope this helps,

Even in pain, it brought a smile to Mia’s face. Someone understood. Someone felt the same way. She wasn’t alone. She started to wonder who this guy was, picturing his face, and his background. She didn’t want to ask, but he had asked her background details so maybe it was okay to lob a question or two.

She was thinking these things and smiling as she walked out to the mailbox. It was a perfect late-summer day. This summer had been nice, not too hot, not too cool.

She opened the box and saw a letter from another publisher. Her mood deflated. Another rejection letter probably. The thought bummed her out so much she didn’t even open it. She sat back down at her computer again, looking at the email. Her smile came back. She tore the envelope open.

“It is our pleasure to inform you...”

Her novel was accepted for publication! She stared at the letter in disbelief. She thought at first it must be a mistake. The letter was for someone else. She looked at the opening, and it had her name on it. She was going to be published!

She knew instinctively her husband would not be pleased. Should she even tell him? Could she not tell him? Then she remembered her online pen pal. She started to fire off a quick email to him. She knew he would be pleased about it.

You’re not going to believe this, but...

Her cell phone rang. She looked at it and it was the school. She flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Mia? This is John Gilheart, your principal at Waterloo Elementary? I’d like you to come by my house later...”

“The power of the harasser, the abuser, the rapist depends above all on the silence of women.”

Ursula K. Le Guin

Chapter 11

Mia had to hurry to Gilheart’s house if she was going to get home by the time her husband got home.

She still had things to do around the house, and if she didn’t do them, he’d be angry. She was nervous and apprehensive. Of course, she knew Gilheart was going to use her sexually. It was probably even going to hurt. She steeled herself. If anything, this life had taught her to accept pain in silence.

He gave her the address and directions. She got lost on the way over because she wasn’t familiar with this side of town. The neighborhood was shabbier than her own. There were some teenagers hanging out on a corner in front of a store, drinking beer.

She found the number and pulled up in his driveway. His house was shabby like the neighborhood. She stepped around some dog poop on the walkway leading up to his door. She looked around the stoop. It had peeling baby-shit yellow paint and a faint, unpleasant odor. She rang the bell.

He opened the door almost immediately, like he had been standing behind it, waiting.

“Mia, it’s a pleasure to see you, please come in.”

The house was decayed and shabby as well. It smelled like old cabbage. There were dirty clothes lying on the chairs and half eaten supermarket deli food containers on the coffee table. He was obviously unmarried. He closed the door behind her.

“Let me put you at ease, because I know this is an uncomfortable situation for you,” he said, still smiling. “I’m going to fuck you, and use you sexually, and it’s probably going to hurt. Because Mia, you remind me of my ex-wife and there is nothing I would rather do than beat the shit out of her. So let’s get comfortable shall we? Take off your clothes and do it now!”

Mia left herself and disappeared up into her mind to a place no one could hurt her. She mechanically took off her clothes.

“My, my, you look like you have certainly been a bad girl. Look at all those marks. Did your husband do that to you last night? Because they look fresh.”

Her boss trailed his fingers over her flesh.

“You know, you keep yourself in very good shape, Mia. You’re to be commended. A lot of women your age have already let themselves go. Do you jog?”

Mia was in her own private space and didn’t realize she had been asked a question. The slap came out of nowhere, open handed, right across her face.

“You probably didn’t hear me the first time and mistook my winning personality for someone who gives a shit about you. I said DO YOU JOG?”

“Yes.”

“Well, exercise and healthy eating are the cornerstone of a wholesome society. Bend over and pull your cheeks apart.”

Mia bent over and did as requested.

“Good now, put your face between your legs, so I can see it.”

She complied.

Gilheart picked up a digital camera, rapidly zoomed on her, making sure she was completely recognizable. He quickly snapped a picture of her.

“In case, you ever think about discussing our little friendship with anyone at school, that photo will find its way to the school website, and will be posted before the rumor even stops.

“This entire town will know what a wanton slut you are. Those hackers are so devious. All the world will get to see it before we discover it and take it down. I’ll probably have to issue a heartfelt apology to all the parents, but in a technological age, it’s hard to stop these things from happening.”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“That’s so reassuring to hear. Stay right there and hold that pose.”

Giheart left the room and returned with a whip.

“Spread those cheeks nice and wide now. That’s a good girl.”

Gilheart stood back, took aim, then wasted no time laying the whip into Mia’s ass crack. The whip cracked. The tip entered her butt cheeks at almost the speed of subsonic sound. Mia cried out involuntarily.

“Felt good, didn’t it? How do you like this whip?” Gilheart said, showing it to her between her legs. “I made it myself. Shop class is so handy. The city was even good enough to buy the leather. I got the plans off the Internet. If you’re good, I’ll put the metal tips on it and you can watch as I peel the skin right off your ass.”

He flipped the whip around so that now he had the handle and started rubbing her pussy with it. He stuck it into her opening, pushing the handle in.

“Does that feel good, Mia? Because I certainly don’t want it too.”

He took the handle out and brought it up to his nose, then licked it.

“I don’t think you washed thoroughly after urinating, Mia. Bad girl. But as we all know, bitches are like that. And because you’re a bitch, I’m going to treat you like one. Stay there, don’t move.”

Gilheart went and sat in an armchair and pulled his cock out. It was long and thick. He was uncircumcised. It looked like an anteater.

“Mia, get down on all fours, like a dog. That’s a good girl. Okay, come on over here girl. That’s it. Come on over here and let me pat your head like a good dog.”

Mia came over and he handed her a leather dog collar.

“Put it on. That’s a good bitch. Would you like a bone, Mia? Here I have one you can gnaw on. Come and get it.”

Mia had no choice but to give him a blow job. His uncircumcised cock stank, it tasted dirty, and made her want to retch. He held her by the hair, forcing her mouth downward on his cock. Each thrust, moving his cock further down her throat until triggering a gag reflex.

“You puke in my lap little dog and I guaran-fuckin-tee you’ll lap it up.”

He wasted no time and shot off a load of cum down her throat. It tasted rancid.

“Thank you, that was very good, and because you’re such a sweet little dog, I’m going to reward you.”

He snapped a leash onto the collar and started dragging her towards the kitchen.

“A nice big bowl of dog food, just for you...”