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I walked into my tiny little one bedroom shit-hole of an apartment as tired as I think that I have ever been. My eyelids felt as if they weighed ten pounds apiece, and I was scared that if I sat down to take off my boots, that I would just sleep there on the couch. I rolled my neck around and considered getting a quick bite before I turned in, but I see that Anthony, my live-in lover, left the kitchen a mess, so I didn’t want to bother. I just tossed my coat over a chair and… noticed two glasses on the coffee table. Hmmm. I listened intently in the dark, being as still as I could be. Murmuring sounds coming from the bedroom. Anthony gets his kid next weekend I thought, but, even then, it’s a Thursday. I crept down the hallway and placed the palm of my hand on the bedroom door and pushed just a touch. Good, no squeaking. I held a riding crop in my hand and my fist tightened around it. Taking a deep breath, I pushed violently on the door and barged in. My boyfriend Anthony, the self proclaimed ‘Italian Stallion’ was on top of some whore pumping her cunt with his needle dick! I can’t believe that they couldn’t have heard me! I drew the riding crop back and as hard as I could, I brought it down on his balls.
“THWACK!” The sound of slapped flesh filled the room.
“Urgh! Ohh!” His fat naked ass fell forward on the bed, fighting to maintain consciousness and get a breath at the same time. The Hispanic bitch that he was fucking absolutely freaked out and was yelling bloody murder. She ran towards me and I threw a beautiful left jab, right uppercut combo that cut her screaming short. I grabbed her hair and finally recognized her as the neighbor from across the hall.
“Let’s see what your husband does to you when he figgers out whatcha was doin’!” I dragged her the half dozen steps towards the front door and threw her naked ass out into the hall.
Let him deal with her, I thought. I had seen her many-a times with a nice shiner when the previous evening I had heard them yelling through the paper-thin walls of these condemnable apartments.
I turned to see Anthony, cupping his rapidly swelling balls and leaning against the wall in the hall. I stood and waited for his inevitable bull rush. What was it about New York bred Italians that makes them think that they can ‘lay hands’ on their women?
He raised his hands and ran at me. Fat, pathetic little man. I easily dodged his rush and stuck him good with a straight right to the temple. I didn’t put my all into it; I wanted him to suffer a bit.
His face was beet red and he shook his head, as if to clear out the cobwebs. Again, he ducked his head and rushed, this time swinging his fists like a helicopter rotor, and again, I easily dodged it. I was through playing with has ass, and I launched a knuckle missile that caught him right on the button, and his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell, losing control of his bladder, pissing all over his naked self. I watched him for a moment, just to make sure that he was out before I strode to the bedroom to grab some clothes prior to me splitting.
I was halfway through shoving clothes into a little knapsack when I caught my image in the mirror. I could see why that girl freaked out. I was dressed all in leather, thigh high shiny leather boots with a six inch heel, leather thong and bustier, elbow length leather gloves, blood red lipstick, black wig and even blacker make-up. She probably thought that I was some vampire or demon coming for her adulterous ass. I wasn’t though; I was just coming home from a double shift as a Dominatrix. I’m damn good, too.
I grew up in a very fucked up family. My Japanese mother passed when I was seven and my brother, Benjamin was eighteen, and he left not long after. I don’t remember a lot about him, just that he would call me every week to ten days to check on me and see how I was doing. He hated my dad, and I grew to feel the same way. I learned how to fight from my dad, who used to teach at a self-defense school and in the military before he hurt his back working on the docks. He taught me everything that I knew by using it on me first. It made me tough. I was eleven when he first made me perform oral on him, and not much later than that he was fucking me. He never would enter my vagina; he would put it in my ass, or make me suck it. He would always say that I was ‘Daddy’s Little Virgin’. I would lay awake at night and dream of horrible ways to kill him.
The last time that I saw my brother was when I was thirteen. He was on leave from the military and he knew that something was wrong and tried to take me from Dad. My last memory of him was our tears running together down our cheeks as he fiercely hugged me goodbye.
“Hold onto our special place, in here,” He touched my chest, “go there when bad stuff happens and I will be there, O.K?”
I fought back a sob as Dad corkscrewed the rifle into Ben’s ribs and told him to get out. They argued and cursed each other all the way down the drive. İstanbul Escort I couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore; I could just hear the inflection in their voices. Ben pointed at me sitting on the stoop and said something to my dad and turned and left. That was fifteen years ago. I don’t know what he said to him, but he never touched me again, in fact, he avoided me like the plague. Dad died two weeks prior to my graduation, and a lot of the town offered to take me in etcetera, but I was already eighteen and I really felt as if a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders.
I crossed the stage to get my diploma and kept right on going, jumping into dad’s 1992 Ford Super Crew diesel and going to the big city, I didn’t even shut the utilities off at the house, I never went back there. Luckily, father didn’t believe in banks and after he died, I found his stash of cash; even then, I was not ready for the city life.
I was very athletic growing up, playing in organized sports year round, mainly to keep me away from that god-awful house, but, in spite of myself, I was pretty good. Couple that with being a shut in and not having anything to do but read, I became quite the expert in fitness and exercise, which helped me get the job as a personal trainer in a gym in Brooklyn.
I was in demand, a blonde, 5’8″ fairly good-looking woman. I had an aspiring body builder’s musculature, tight ass and legs, defined abs, chiseled back and ripped arms.
Then, after about two years, Arthur Manfrido walked in.
This guy was something else. A moneybags 75 year old man who always got his way. Rumor was that he owned over half of the sex clubs in the city and was a tireless recruiter. He had heard about me through one of his paisanos. I flat refused him the first one hundred and fifty times that he offered me the moon, but, as my money ran low, so did my reserve.
“Wit yer bawdy, baby!” He cracked in his gravelly voice, “We’ll own the world!”
He took me in and gave me a lot, a set of 36 DD’s was the first thing, short sexual sessions every other week, and training in the BDSM world.
I took on the moniker of Mistress Pain and for over four years I was the Queen of the kinky world. It never failed to amaze me how many men wanted to be dominated, nay, humiliated by a muscular woman. My exotic look didn’t hurt, either. I looked like my mother, a gorgeous Japanese native, but with the height and blonde features of my father. I have shit on men, pissed on them, made them fuck themselves with dildo’s, whipped them, tied them up, you name it, I’ve done it. I got my fervor from the hatred I had for my father, and I took it out on those weak men that came to see me.
Invariably, I screwed things up. I got involved in a series of dead end relationships with losers and started doing a couple of lines every now and again, then, more often. Arthur booted me himself, which is when I got hooked up with that fat ass Anthony. Now, I am homeless again. Broke, again.
I sat on a bench at a bus stop to try and get my bearings. The cold wind whipped up around my legs and I realized that I was still wearing my uniform under my long coat. Not much protection from the cold. A solitary tear streaked my cheek as I realized the futility of the situation.
I snarled at a couple of men who stopped and asked me how much. I realized that I needed to get hoofing or I would get busted just sitting there. I bent down to get my bag…gone. FUCK!!!
I just doubled over and sobbed like the lost little girl that I was. Homeless and alone in a hard, cold city. I was at the end of my rope. I stood, deciding where to go next, when for some reason, I turned and looked at the bench that I was sitting on. The most familiar face stared back at me. Benjamin?
On the bench that I was sitting on was an advertisement for an attorney named Benjamin Harada, specializing in bankruptcy, divorce, yadda, yadda. I could barely tell if that was he. It looked like him, just older, with some gray around the temples. Very handsome. It then dawned on me that Harada was my mother’s maiden name; he must have assumed her name when he left us. A wave of nausea rose in me, I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years and couldn’t find him when I looked for him, he had changed his name!
I half staggered to a phone booth and stepped in, trying to regain my breath as my trembling fingers picked up the phone.
“Directory assistance, what city and listing?”
“Uhhh. Benjamin L. Harada, Brooklyn.” I was scared.
“Hold for that number.”
I almost passed out as the computer voice read off the ten digits.
I let the phone ring six, seven, eight times. It was after two A.M., I couldn’t expect much. Disappointed, I went to place the receiver down when I heard a muffled voice.
“Hello!” I nearly screamed into the phone, excited as I could be for being this cold.
“Who is this?” An obviously tired voice asked, none too pleasantly.
“Benjamin Wistler?” I inquired, Bayan Escort heart pounding.
Silence. Silence from both ends of the phone.
“Mariko? Mariko, is that you?”
I burst into tears, great racking sobs that took my voice from me. Finally, my storm abated and he asked me where I was.
“Brooklyn Heights. East 37th and Glenwood.” I responded, choking back the tears.
“Oh my god, how long? I am in Sunset Heights! Don’t go anywhere, I am picking you up!” The phone went dead in my ear and I holed up in the phone booth for as long as I could, waiting out the cold. Finally, a nondescript late model Toyota Camry pulled to the curb. I watched as a man stepped out, scanning the area, looking for something, or someone. I left the phone booth and he turned my direction, locking eyes with me.
I launched myself at him and he deftly caught me in a bear hug, not too easy when you realize that I am over six foot with my heels on and about 145 pounds.
“Hey, hey, reunion time is later, let’s go get warm, I have some coffee brewing at my flat, and you can explain these to me.” Ben said, touching my boots.
I nodded and blushed, following him to his car.
Several miles later, he pulled up to a nice apartment building and he led me inside.
“Miko,” He used a nickname that only he and mom would call me. “Let me get your coat, I’ll hang it up.”
“Uh, I really don’t have much on under this, brother.”
“Fine, upstairs to the left is the bathroom, go take a hot shower and grab some sleep clothes from the dresser. You look hungry, I’ll cook something up.”
I bussed him on the cheek, still trying to convince myself that I was with him again, and ran up the stairs.
While I waited for the shower to get hot, I stripped down and admired my nude form in his wall size mirror in his master suite. My muscular form would put off some men, but I was still girlish. I had both of my long, sensitive nipples pierced, my belly button, my clit, and both labia. Yeah, I thought that I was hot.
After languishing in the paradise of that steaming hot shower for a little too long, I got out, toweled off and began to look for something to wear, as I had nothing. I rifled through Ben’s underwear drawer and nearly grabbed some boxers, but a colorful pair of bikini underwear caught my eye. I slipped them on and they fit like a pair of boy shorts, and they felt good against my shaved pussy. I slipped on an old Yankees jersey and looked at myself in the mirror, wet hair hanging around my shoulders, my tits made the fabric strain; my nipples were clearly outlined, even through the thick polyester. I undid the top two buttons, allowing my cleavage to spill out. Perfect.
I padded barefoot down the stairs when the smell of home cooking hit me and I realized how ravenous that I was.
“Wow, little sister isn’t so little anymore!” Ben joked.
I struck a little pose as he pointed to the dining room table. He had made Okinawa soba, lettuce wraps and steamed rice, all traditional Japanese foods, none of which I had eaten since mom died. Ben just watched me as I inhaled plate after plate of the delicious cuisine. Finally, I sat back and pushed the plate away from me.
“You can eat!” He smiled.
“Where is your wife, Ben?” I probed.
“Divorced.” He answered. “Three years ago. She didn’t like the fact that I was growing my own practice and had little time for her or time to start a family, so, off she went. I went to college after the military and then law school. As you can tell, I really immersed myself in learning mom’s culture, I am now fluent in Japanese and Chinese and my clientele is mostly Asian. I am no big shot attorney, but I get by.”
“You look like you do well.” I told him, looking around the large, split level flat that he owned. “You look good, too!”
He blushed deeply.
“Thanks. Your turn.”
“Well, dad stopped fucking me after you came to the house that time when I was thirteen, he pretty much never said two words to me at a time, which I was pretty much thankful for.”
Ben had a combination pitied/amazed look on his face. I continued.
“I bolted for New York city after I graduated and got tied up in the sex industry.” I was doing my best to shock him, and it was working. “I am not a prostitute, I worked as a Dominatrix, and I had a client list that would rival Heidi Fleiss. I had gotten involved in some rather fucked up relationships and started in on drugs pretty heavily. Next thing that you know, I am out in the street, and I see your face on a bus stop bench. My guardian angel.”
I smiled up at him nonchalantly as he was silent. He came towards me and took me into a hug.
“I am here for you now, we will never be separated again, honey. Remember our special place?”
I was bawling now, nodding my head and I reached out and touched his chest and then mine. We held each other for several minutes, both of us crying for the lost years.
We sat on the Eskort couch and drank hot tea until the sun was high into the sky. Ben called his office and told them that he wouldn’t be in until Monday.
“Come on, you need to get some sleep, I’ll set you up in my spare.”
“No, the couch is fine, heck it’s a lot nicer than the bed that I had, I insist!”
He finally gave in and he retired up to his room. I nodded off briefly and was awoken by some random nightmare, not totally sure of where I was. Scared, I ran up the stairs to Ben’s open bedroom.
He had kicked the covers off of himself while he was sleeping and I got a good view of him. He was about the same height as me, five-eight or so, but he’s pretty wiry, thin with clearly defined musculature. I used to call him my ‘Bruce Lee’, because his body resembled his so much, and now, twenty years later, it hadn’t changed. He was sleeping on his back, clad only in some boxer briefs that clung to his body tightly. I raised my eyebrows at the large bulge in his shorts. Very nice, I thought.
I crawled into bed next to him and he stirred only briefly before settling back into a deep sleep. I propped myself up on my elbow and reached over, touching his chest with my fingertip, tracing his pectoral muscles lovingly. I grinned as his nipples stiffened; I love men’s nipples. My finger made its way down his abs to the little dusting of hair above the waistband of his underwear, and my heart was pounding in my chest so loudly I thought that he would awaken.
I looked at the monster that was lying just beneath the cloth that was his underwear. I was amazed, the shaft was lying to the left, and the big flange of his cockhead was very apparent. I traced my fingertip down his long shaft and over the tip of his penis, and then I felt back up his length between my thumb and forefinger. I was shaky with the thought of the taboo that I was inducing.
I sighed deeply and lay down with my head on his chest and fell into a heavy slumber.
I have been staying with my brother for nearly two months now. He was pretty strict with me, but he has helped me get over my drug problem, and now that I was clean, I went back to being a personal trainer. Benjamin is the only man that I have ever met that didn’t want to just get into my pants, he is my brother, but I was in love with him. I kept telling myself that it was just an infatuation, which it wasn’t real, but it has stuck with me like fine china white.
Not that I haven’t done everything in my power to get his attention aside from just jumping on him, I walked around the house in as little as possible, never with a bra, to no avail.
“Go get some clothes on, Miko.” He would say.
Finally, one Saturday afternoon, about two weeks before Christmas, I dragged him shopping with me. I was browsing through some blouses, selecting a couple to try on while listening to him complain about women shopping.
“Ben, you have never told me what the people at your office think of me.”
“Well,” He paused, “they like you, they think that you are a sweet girl.”
“No,” I stopped him, “what do they think I am?”
“What do you mean?” His face reddened, so I knew that he knew just what I meant.
“In all of the times that you have had get togethers, me being your sister has never come up, did you tell them that I am your lover?” I just asked him point blank.
Ben fidgeted around, playing with the zipper on his coat. He cleared his throat.
“I have, uh, never dissuaded them from thinking that you and I were, uh, together, no.” He finally looked me in the eyes and I could see his honesty in them.
I reached out and took his hand.
“My employees look up to me,” Ben started, “and, let’s face it, you are a very sexy woman. Once they met you and just placed us together…well…”
“So you think that I am sexy?”
“Shit yes, Mariko, very sexy. But you are my sister, what I think when you walk around the house in nearly nothing, I, I should be jailed!”
“I never thought that you noticed me!” I gushed, happy that his feelings were one with mine.
“That is a big step, Miko, and I don’t know if we should take it.”
As if to emphatically put an exclamation on his point, I stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
I wanted to get his opinion between the two tops that I had selected so I had him wait outside the dressing room door. I pulled on the form-fitting shirt and looked in the mirror. Nice, I thought. I cracked open the door and asked Ben what he thought.
“Very nice.” He said, smiling and raising his eyebrows. For the first time, I noticed that his eyes crawled over my body, and I tingled to the core.
“Do you want to see the other one?”
I snuck a peek into the narrow hall of the dressing area, then stood back and took off the top, baring my breasts to him. His eyes got as wide as dinner plates.
“Holee jeez!” Ben whispered.
I reached out and grabbed at the waistband of his slacks and pulled him into the dressing room, shutting the door behind me.
“Piercings?” He said, astonished.
“That’s not the only place!” I said, pulling his head down to my tits.
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