In his vision he could see the smoke rising from the warm barrel of the handgun. Causing him to take in a deep breath trying to inhale the smell of fr...shly fired gunpowder. Then came the sound of impact as two of the bullets hit the man waiting in ambush square in the chest. The third bullet was identified by the skull splitting crack followed by blood being splattered on the brick wall behind the now falling target. The bartender’s mind continued to focus on the intricate dance that was taking. With a yawn, I turn to look at my peacefully sleeping, attractive, sadistic partner. I have never loved anyone the way I love him and a pang of regret over the way I've recently treated him hits me. I also don't understand why I've been so resistant to hand over full control to him when I trust and love him so much, but after my court hearing on Friday, I think I'm going to take that next step and pledge voluntary servitude. Distracting myself from the constant stress in my life is an appealing. I pull Anita’s fingers from my mouth and busy myself with lapping at all the fluid coating her palm and the back of her hand. “You’re a squirter.” Now, I’m not sure that I like the word but it does seem to be an accurate description of my condition, so I nod my head slightly as my tongue chases a bead of liquid that is trickling its way down through the sun bleached, downy hair of Anita’s arm towards her elbow. “Look Grant, she’s a squirter. We’ve never had a squirter before. Look at that. Not officially. You could just see me as ... as a friend. It would just be an agreement between friends. You know?" She heaved a shuddering sigh. "That's what I THOUGHT, anyway."He smiled and shook his head in wonder. "Let me get this straight. You want me to see you, as a friend, for hours of hidden, private hypnotherapy. You want me to MAKE you fall in love with a person of MY choosing. And then, in return, you want to give yourself to me sexually ... as a friend, of course, for ... what?.
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