The Journalist © Copyright LdyJessika, 1998, updated 2000
By:  Ldyjessika@aol.com
[All rights Reserved –  Copy – duplication prohibited without prior authorization]
Dedicated to the journalist I think located in Los Angeles who wrote me that my stories were well written but too nice to do the "trick" for him. 


There’s nothing worse than when someone you know had a really nasty date.  Especially if that someone is one of the sweetest women you know.  Well, that’s how this all started.

It had originally started with a phone call from a friend's roommate.  After ten minutes on the phone I finally lost all patience and just yelled, “Bitch!  Tell me who said you couldn't get them to come and stop being silly!   I want their home address and I don’t give a shit that it’s 1:00 a.m.  I’m just getting started and he seems like a good place to START – And finish as well!”

As I left my apartment with his address scribbled on a piece of paper, I called him from my cellular phone.

 A pleasant masculine voice answered his phone and I said, “Hi, I’m Jalena.  Yes, your correct, like in Mistress Jalena, like in that real bitch Jalena!  Oh you’ve heard of me from Chrissy?  Well good, put up some coffee because I’m now turning on to your block.  No, I’m not kidding you.  I’ll see you in a few minutes.  Oh, and don’t be dressed.  I’m not in the mood to go through that routine of having to seduce you.  You said you wanted it hot?  Well my journalist, be prepared to burn!”

 I drove down the block noticing nice looking houses and thought, now let’s see – there it is, that’s the address!  There wasn’t any parking on the street, so I had no choice but to pull my Corvette next to his car.  It figured he only had a one-car driveway, so I had no choice but to park on his front lawn.  I know I shouldn’t have put tire marks on his well groomed lawn and grumbled, well, he should've had a two-car driveway!  Walking to his door it was so quiet it sounded as if my spike heels had metal taps on them.  I reached his door and loudly knocked.  

 He opened the door and I stared up into the eyes of one of the nicest looking men I'd ever seen.  And to my surprise, as requested, he was stark ass naked.  He gestured for me to enter and said to me, “Is it safe to assume you’re, uh, Jalena, parked on m y front lawn.  Or are you just another sales lady needing my phone?”

 Walking past him into his house I smiled and answered, “Your phone?  Is that what you call that hanging thing?  How cute!” 

 I could hear his laughter following me as I walked from room to room, just looking around, until I finally found his bedroom.

 Entering his bedroom I said, “How nice, a king-size, four poster bed, but then you're a rather well-built man.”  I took a moment to look over his body from his well-built shoulders to his meaty sacs hanging between muscular thighs.

 I watched him move to his bed and stare at me for a number of minutes before he said, “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve upset your friend but I’m fussy.  Not many women please me enough to get my cock to come.  So, why don’t we both save time and I’ll get dressed and we can have that cup of coffee!”

 Reaching back to unzip my tight black dress I replied, “Why don’t we both save time and you get your naked ass on the bed.  On your back, and we can have coffee after you shoot that load of yours that you’ve been saving for me.”

 I smirked at his grin.  He got in the bed and leaned back challenging, “Well, uh, what was it now I call you?  Jalena?  Or do I call you that bitch Jalena?  Take your best shot but I don’t come for just any bitch.  Do you even know my name?”

 A sly smile played around the corners of my lips.  My voice got honey soft as I slid my dress down over my slim hips.  I stood with my hands on my waist whispering, “You're my journalist.  These full breasts and sweet pussy aren’t on just any bitch - and your name is journalist or whatever else I damn well want to call you!”

 His laugh was rather pleasant to hear.  He moved to the middle of the bed, and I moved slowly toward him, “Now, my journalist, you do everything I tell you, is that understood?” 

 He stretched his legs out spreading them apart.  He answered with a slight chuckle, “Well, I must say you’re rather confident and have a different style.  Sure lady, I’m game, what do you want me to do?”

 Grinning, I reached into my velvet shoulder bag and took out five, four-foot long, blue satin scarves.  I tied one end to each of the posts and noticed his wondering look.

 “Now my Journalist, I’m not going to tie you very tightly, this first time.  Don’t look so panicked but I'm going to strap these wonderful scarves around your wrists and ankles.  I just love pretty, blue, scarves, don’t you?”

 He grinned at me stretching his arms and legs wider.  His grin made it obvious it was a gesture of offering to have the scarves wrapped around each of his masculine limbs. 

 I answered his grin with a clipped tone, “Here, put the pillows under your ass before you stretch out so wonderfully!”  I then wrapped the scarves around his ankles and wrists enough times to keep him nice and secure.

 “So lady?  Do I close my eyes or watch?’

 I climbed up on the bed next to him.  Kneeling with my ass turned in his direction, high in the air, I began to lick and bite his legs - ignoring his remark.  His next remark couldn't be ignored when he said, “Nice pussy, better not move back.  Lady is what I call you, right?” 

 I looked over my shoulder and gently laid the last, half-inch wide, satin scarf over his stomach.  Grinning at him I said, “You’ll learn my journalist before the night is over what you'll call me.”  I kept my pussy toward his face but not close enough for him to touch it.  I was busy licking his legs and enjoying the masculine taste of him.  I knew he thought I was doing this for his enjoyment, when I was doing this all for my own pleasure.  He had so much to learn about whose pleasure is first.

 I continued to lick around his inner thighs while feeling his cock hard and erect against my skin.  I sat up straddling him and sat lightly on his stomach when he said, "Hey, aren't you going to suck me?"

 I looked back at him and said, “My, my, we are a slow learner!”  I then smacked his standing hard on and it immediately went down.

 He bellowed, "What the fuck did you do that for?  You bitch!" 

 Turning to him I grinned, "Don’t worry my journalist it will be hard again, as soon as I want it to stand, and it will beg for attention."  I reached down and started to caress his balls…massaging them….cupping them…feeling his sacs hanging for my pleasure and begging for my touch. 

 His cock began to stand again as he said, "Well, now what?  When do you suck me?"

 This time I squeezed the swollen head of his cock and as the pain shot through him and his cock went down his anger went up.  He tried to buck me off his body.

 He screached, "Okay you bitch, the shit's over, untie me and get the fuck out of here!"  

 I looked back and directly into his eyes.  I explained in a clipped, authoritative tone, "Shut up!  I'll untie you when I damn well please - do you finally understand?   You say nothing until I ask you a question.  Then and only then you answer using Mistress!"   

 He may have been upset by the mild swat I gave his throbbing cock pole but his scent drifting to me told me he was fucking aroused.  I was fondling his limp shaft and could feel it wanting to harden in my hand.

 I whispered, "Do you want to have an iron-hard erection sucked on, my journalist?" 

 He glared at me so I squeezed his limp cock watching him feel the discomfort shoot through it and I repeated, "Do you want your cock sucked….your nice meaty sacs nibbled on?"  

 He sneered the answer but it was a start, "Yes, Jalena!" 

 I smiled and started to gently caress his cock and run my nails lightly on the inside of his thighs as I purred, "Good journalist, there now, that wasn't difficult and what a beautiful cock you have.  Your thick cock pleases me very much!"  His soft flesh started to harden at the praise.

 "I suppose the minute I get a hard-on you’re going to smack it?"   

 I continued to rub him till his erection was standing thick and veined and I purred, "No journalist, only when you don't do as I tell you.  Do you now understand?"  

 His answer was not sneered but very cautious as he clearly stated, "Yes, Jalena."  

 I smiled and leaned lower to smell his masculine scent..  His fuck pole was thick, veined with a swollen cock head that almost looked angry it was so purple…I moved my pussy closer to his face.

 He immediately tried to move and lick me and I let him have a fast taste of my dripping pussy, before pulling away purring, "Thank you journalist but you have to wait until I tell you I want you to lick me, do you understand?" 

 His answer was becoming easier to say even if he didn’t quite believe he was actually uttering it, "Yes, Jalena.” 

 I praised him, "I'm going to enjoy you, journalist, you're quite a fast learner and since I like how you say Jalena you may have permission to lick my pussy."  I lowered my glistening wet pussy lips close to his face.  At the same time my tongue began to gently lick up the sides of his straining cock.  He did have such a nice set of meaty sacs and I moved my tongue lower, licking under them and wetting them in my mouth.

 He moaned, “Yes baby.” 

 I immediately pulled away and sat up when he said, “No, don’t smack it, please, uh Jalena!”

 I looked back at him and smiled and went back to work sucking his sacs into my mouth and pulling on them.  His taste was manly as I sucked then licked under his balls at the soft spot between them.  I decided it was time to change position and moved to a kneeling position between his open thighs.  I sat with my thighs slightly open so I could touch my own clit and reached for the scarf still on his stomach.  Running it over his throbbing cock and balls I asked, “Does the sensation feel nice on these hanging balls of yours?”  He looked uncertain so I said, “My journalist, I only smacked your cock when you displeased me and showed lack of respect.  Now do you like this?” 

 His answer was immediate, “Yes, Jalena, I'm surprised but I actually do.”  

 I continued to rub the satin over his balls and around the swollen head of his cock.  I leaned over and licked the pre-come from the tip of the swollen head.

 He said, “What do I say if I like something?” 

 I looked up with his pre-come on my lips and as I licked it off said, “For now you can say, thank you Jalena or please more Jalena.  But, know I’ll be the one to decide if you’ll have more.  Now, lean back and close your eyes.  For now just feel and answer when spoken to!” 

 I fondled his balls again and began pulling on them making them swell…preparing them for the scarf.   His breathing was nice and heavy as I whispered, “My journalist has such beautiful full balls.  Do these meaty sacs belong to me?”  

 His throaty “Yes, Jalena.” was almost a groan in his throat as I squeezed them harder and pulled on them. 

 I was holding his cock in one hand and gently pulling his balls in the other direction enjoying them turning hard and tight. 

 I prepared my journalist further, “You’re such a good journalist.  So damn nice looking.  The kind of man I need to own.  Can I have you and this aching bulge between your thighs?”  

 His head was now leaning back as pleasure coursed through is body and he whispered, “Yes, Jalena.” 

 I continued, “Now journalist when I say something like I own you you’re to answer, yes Jalena and then repeat what I said.  I leaned down and ran my tongue over the engorged purple head of his cock then asked, “This nice, fleshy, swollen cock head, does Jalena own this?”    I went back and kissed it.

 He groaned, “Yes, Jalena, you own my cock head.  Yes, you own it!” 

 I enjoyed the sound of his groan deep in his throat and I rewarded my new journalist.  After all he was turning out to be such a good learner.  I sucked his cock deeper in my mouth as I took the scarf and gently wrapped it around his balls.   Looking at him with his eyes closed I whispered, “And these beautiful sacs with the scarf lightly around them - are these mine to lightly tie?  It won’t hurt.”  

 His moaning told me he was beyond his own caring and now only cared what I was doing as he whispered, “Oh damn, yes they’re yours Jalena!”  

 I pulled them gently down and lightly tied the blue scarf around the base of his balls and praised him.  “That’s right journalist just feel how nice your balls swell and bulge.  They look nice and your cock is so hot and thick.  The veins are engorged for me.  They’re mine right?”  

 He was now dripping come down his cock and trying to move to relieve the pressure building in his balls.  I moved up over his face with my pussy close to his lips.  He opened his eyes and groaned, “Yes, yours Jalena.  Yours!” 

 “Lick me then journalist.  When I come then you can.”

 His muffled “Yes Jalena” was against my pussy.  His tongue began to desperately lick my slit..   I looked back and his cock was dripping and throbbing in the air.   I ground my pussy down harder.

 “Suck it journalist, lick my clit and do it right.  If you suck me right then your dripping cock and nice tight sacs can come.  You do need to come, don’t you?”  

 His muffled groans against my pussy made me smile.  “Good, journalist…lick and suck my pussy.  Yes journalist like that.  My journalist - all mine.  Sucking and licking me like a good journalist with a nice hard cock.  This nice hard and thick cock wanting to shoot his load!” 

 The muffled moans coming from him as he wildly sucked began to make my thighs quiver.  I love that point of ownership when I want to come and I know the man I am playing with is all mine.  Arching my back, I reached and squeezed his balls - tightly.

 “Now my journalist, shoot your hot load.  I’m going to come -  Now!” 

 I felt my pussy throb while I enjoyed the feeling of his mouth sucking at me.   I could feel his cock shooting hot come on my body as streams of his come shot into the air.  He was staring at me with such a wonderfully shocked look on his face.  I moved my dripping pussy away from him and leaned down licking his lips. 

 Smiling at him I whispered, “Don’t say anything my journalist!”  

 I slid down his body leaving a wet trail of pussy juice, as his eyes followed me.   I undid the scarf from his balls, massaging the now soft flesh and patted his soft cock.

 “How nice, my journalist just shot his cock’s load into the air without even a pussy on it.  The cock that he states doesn’t get off that easily.”  

 He was staring at me while I undid his wrists and legs.  He sat up not quite knowing what to do or say.  I sat on the bed next to him and ran my hands through his hair and pulled his face towards me so my eyes met his, “My journalist, do you want me to come over tomorrow night?  Does your cock need more?”

 I could tell he wasn’t sure if he should smile or not as he said, “Yes, Jalena, I need you to come over tomorrow night.”

 I kissed him hard on the mouth and his hands touched my breasts.  This time I allowed it without reprimanding him.   He’d learn who owned his cock and balls.  He’d learn who owned his pleasure or pain.  He’d learn to love pain as pleasure and pleasure as pain.

 I got up and dressed.  I walked out but stopped and turning to look at him I said, “One more time, my journalist and say it with meaning because I want you for mine.  Do I own  that thick cock?”

 He looked at me a moment and then gave me that annoying smirk of his, “Yes Baby, you sure do!”

 I answered, “Baby again?  You’ve much to learn - those meaty sacs, are they mine?”  His cock began to twitch as he stared directly into my eyes and said, “Yes, Jalena, yours!”

 And tomorrow night at 11:00 p.m. will you be waiting naked for me?  Wanting to please me so I’ll let your cock come?”

 His eyes registered need as he groaned, “Shit!  Yes, Jalena, I need this!”

 I walked back over and grabbed him by the hair turning his face up to mine, “Then make sure your fucking ass is naked for me tomorrow night and cut out calling me Baby! And, call me Jalena!” 

 I walked out the door and as soon as I walked in my apartment I called my journalist.  His sleepy voice said, “uh, hello?”   I said in a soothing voice, “Sleep my journalist, you deserve it, you did very well and pleased me so much that I’ll bring you a gift tomorrow night…night my journalist.”

  His sleepy voice whispered, “Thank’s….Jalena…I wish it was tomorrow night.”   

I went for my long lost cup of coffee planning tomorrow night with my new journalist.