Fear and Terror Revisited

I poured two fingers of bourbon in my glass, then splashed a couple of ice cubes into it. When I went into the bedroom, I was pleased to see Estrella waiting for me, on her knees, with her arms folded behind her back, just like I taught her. She stared straight ahead and gave no indication she was even aware I entered the room. I walked to the nightstand and set my drink down. I stood extremely close, my belt buckle inches from her face. I was deliberately slow as I unbuttoned and took off my shirt. She continued to stare straight ahead. I knew she was curious. Our routine, had thus far, never included me disrobing.

“Now, Stella.  May I call you Stella?”

This was our fifth time together and we started each time with me asking if I could call her Stella. Our intimate time together was the only time I ever called her Stella. Her agreeing that it was okay was our signal to begin. I learned long ago that proper training requires stringent routine. 

She nodded it was fine for me to call her Stella. She graduated from the ball-gag after only a few sessions. She now knew when it was, and was not,permissible for her to open her mouth to speak.

I went to the closet, folded my shirt neatly, then placed it in the bin to be washed. I removed my shoes and placed them in their proper place on the floor. Socks also went into the bin.
“I suppose you are wondering why I am disrobing?” She again nodded. I continued, “You have excelled at everything I have taught you so far. I feel that it is only fair for me to reward you. Would you like to be rewarded tonight?

She nodded once more. I was standing very close to her again, my belt buckle only inches from her nose. I brushed my fingertips on the side of her face. She closed her eyes and shivered.

I slapped her, light and playful on the cheek. “I want to hear you answer me. Do you think you deserve a reward, Stella?”
She replied in that husky whisper that drives me crazy, “Yes, Sir. I’ve worked hard and been a good girl. I would like a taste of my reward.”

“But I haven’t even told you what it is yet, Stella,” I replied as I looked down at her with my hands on my hips.

She stared at my pants, inches from her face. She then looked up. After she gave the corner of her lower lip a chew, she murmured, “I don’t need to know, Sir. I’m sure whatever your reward is, you will give me plenty.”
Suffice to say she got her reward that night, as did I. Many times, in fact. Our multiple training sessions, spread over several weeks, with no sexual contact, had left us both craving and frenzied. She experienced, in full, what it meant to be the sole inamorata of a lusty and insatiable god. We were raw, persistent, and animal. It was well into the early morning before we slowed, before we played soft and romantic. Then, when we measured our own movements with each other’s needs. When we tempered our frenetic pace. She spent the night. Rarely, if ever, would I allow a submissive to spend the night, but this seemed different. Besides, it was Saturday, so I didn’t have to worry about any of the other employees seeing her leave my quarters.
“Sir?” she said as she traced her finger on my chest.

“Hmm, yes, Stella?” I replied. I was groggy and felt a profound relaxation that I couldn’t recall having ever experienced. I tried to remember, but couldn’t recollect, having let a submissive sleep with me and share my bed afterwards. My brain felt foggy, and suddenly I was having trouble remembering previous lovers.
“Sir, may I ask you a question?”

I lay on my back with my eyes closed. Estrella was next to me on her side. One of her legs draped across me like an ivory cover.

“Yes, Stella. What is your question?”

“Sir, was I acceptable?”

I raised my head and looked at her.

“Stella, of course. If I was displeased I care for you enough to correctly discipline you. You do know that?”

Stella nodded and replied, “Yes, Sir. I want that. I want to be corrected and disciplined if I don’t please you.”

“Stella, to answer your question, I am pleased. You pleased me.” She snuggled her face down into my neck and I thought I heard her purr. Her skin felt so warm, so accommodating. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. As I drifted into sleep, she began to sing, to croon, a soft lullaby. Drowsiness clouded my thoughts so I wasn’t able to focus, make out the words, or even the language. It didn’t matter, the melody was lovely. My last thoughts were unclear as sleep took me. It may have been Morpheus, but I thought I heard her sing.
“...as foretold, the Master’s now the Slave…”

We woke hours later, our bodies still intertwined. Like a knotted rope that refuses to come undone, we were unable and unwilling to separate as we stroked and kissed one another into more passion. Afterward, I spent a long time running my hands up and down her body. I especially couldn’t stop tracing and kissing that tattoo. It was mesmerizing to me, and to this day, I have never seen anything so intoxicating.

In the afternoon, I forced myself out of bed to meet Phobos and Deimos. I promised them I would meet again to talk about hiring them for some work. A quick shower and shave had me presentable just in time for them to *pop* into my office.
“Hey, Brother,” said Phobos after he and Deimos flopped down into my chairs.

‘So,” I said as I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, “I think I can use you two on a contract basis.”

They looked at each other, then back to me.

“What does that mean?” asked Deimos.

“It means that you won’t work for me full-time. I will call you as I need you. I will call you as work comes available that I don’t have time to handle myself.”

“Okay, when do we start?” asked Phobos.

“Right away,” I answered. “I need you to go to Salonica and talk to a man named Dimitriou Papatonis. He is a local politician who owes me money.”

Phobos and Deimos both seemed to light up at the idea of a job.

Deimos asked excitedly, “So you want us to kill him?”

“No, I don’t want you to kill him. How’s he gonna pay me if you kill him?”

Deimos frowned for a moment then answered, “I didn’t think of that.”

Phobos just stared at his twin before he turned back to me and said, “You want us to rattle him? Let him know you’re waiting for your money?”

I broke my disapproving glare at Deimos and answered, “Yes, Phobos. Scare him, don’t hurt him. Not yet anyway. And don’t make a scene. Just make it clear that he isn’t above paying me back. Grandpa Zeus is really getting pissy about us paying our tithes, so I need to get caught up. You two will be paid as well.”

“Got it,” nodded Phobos. “Don’t worry about a thing. We’ve been doing this stuff for a long time.”

“Oh, and Uncle Hades said Grandpa Zeus may have some work for you two. Check with him if you’re not staying busy enough for your own liking.”
The twins looked at each, then back at me.
“Thanks, Brother,” said Phobos.

I nodded back as the two of them stood up.

“Let me know on Monday what happens,” I said as they got ready to teleport.

Phobos replied, “We will. Thanks, Brother, it – it really is good to be working with you again.”

I nodded yet again. A moment later, they disappeared and several *pops* were all that was left.

It’s good to work with you both as well, I thought. Just like the last time we worked together…at Lamark.

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Dinlas (Wayne Davids)

Dinlas (Wayne Davids)

OG | Continuous Improvement Director
Dinlas is penned by the mortal Wayne Davids. Wayne just published a collection of poems, Poetry Doodles. It is available exclusively on Kindle. He is also writing his debut fantasy novel The Quest for the Codex. If he’s not wasting time on social media. then he can be found outdoors enjoying quiet time. Wayne accepts all forms of donations, but especially likes coffee, jalapeno margaritas, and Old Bay potato chips. | Original God (OG) - Charter member of All in the Pantheon |
Dinlas (Wayne Davids)

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