My name is Butch. Okay, not my real name, but Butch is more my dom persona that I let out to play every so often. Yeah, it is a bit of an over compensation, you might say. When your parents name you Eugene, however, over compensation is necessary.
I am a short order cook by day…and yes, being only five foot two the irony is not lost on me. By night, however, I am Butch.
Butch originally was just my part of my Twitter handle. Self chosen, even. I wanted something more manly than Eugene5757. @DomButcher, however, took on a life of its own when I started talking to my muse.
Her name is Clara. She’s about six foot tall and works as a criminal prosecutor. She is good and will likely be a judge one day. I shit you not! Put her in heels and we are quite the sight. There she is in her black pvc skirt that barely covers the ass I get to spank with her stiletto fmbs to her thighs and black pvc sport bra…and I don’t know if it is called a “sport bra” or not. Then there is me, more than a foot shorter in my three piece black pinstripe suit with my walking stick and fedora. She also has this metallic corset she likes to wear with the matching thigh-high fmbs as well…only problem with that outfit is how much it scratches me when we fuck.
You walk anywhere like that in this city and you will get odd looks. Without fail.
You get even odder looks after we finish a spanking session at the play parties we attend and our after care even involves me eating her out. I guess most are surprised to see a scrawny dude with an Amazon.
At least her husband does not mind. Nice guy, Dennis is, but vanilla as hell. Luckily he knows it and let’s Clara play. With her station, an affair would be a nasty bit of press and a divorce wouldn’t be much better. He is this shy writer type dude that she seems to keep for the…um…well, she keeps him. I guess he makes her laugh or something, but I do not think I have ever heard her complain at all about him beyond the statement of “vanilla”.
Luckily, at our play parties only two know who she is other than me and she usually wears a leather hood. I have been tempted, a few times, to let her take it off but we cannot have her recognized.
Not certain just how much longer we can take the flogger to her, though. She’s mid-30s and wants a kid. No doubt, one of these days her maternal clock will strike twelve and my muse will become a pumpkin.
We have had fun, I will say. I so enjoy finding those hidden alleys with something I can use as a stool to stand on when I am behind her. I will miss the red blossoming over her naked ass when I take my flogger to it. Her voice, deep and sultry, with her favorite sentence, “A kiss for you.”…a sentence she will always whisper after I give her permission to suck on my erection. She will then pucker up those lipsticks painted in deep red and leave a kiss mark right on the tip of my pecker…and she will leave more red in a circle around the shaft as well. I love that.
Just a matter of time, really. Good thing I still have Wendy, Natalie and Emma I guess.