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</div><b>Vision</b>. Sherlock Holmes once noted to his hapless assistant, Dr. Watson, that he saw but did not "observe." Sterling believed in an evolved corollary: one can observe but not<i>apprehend</i>.<br/><br/>Far from mere synonyms, the difference between the two terms was vast -- to 'apprehend' touched upon the experiential realms of phenomenology; the "real" amounted to that which generated emotion and gave life. There were only two "real" things in that hotel room that mattered to the dominant: Brigitte and her living, thriving orgasmic identity. They were not the same, though one might have mistaken them as one being -- the writhing French whore permeated by the torrent of her intangible yet all-consuming pleasure. Her voice and tone, the cries in her native tongue the betrayed the absolute explosion of primal bliss. What Sterling apprehended led him to take only partial satisfaction in the way Brigitte's cunt clenched around his throbbing, sluicing cock.<br/><br/>Other dominants might have sufficed for a single moment of feminine ecstasy, an excuse to self-indulge and disregard the new submissive's continued arousal in favor of conquering sex. Symbols held meaning only so far as that meaning proving useful to Sterling. He already possessed Brigitte, her use as his fuck-toy was assured. But, he wanted more -- much more.<br/><br/>When Brigitte came, Sterling savored the feel of her body tensing and squirming above his own. Gripping the tip of the woman's hand-sized tit and wriggling his fingers upon her clit, Sterling worked to summon as many orgasms from the French woman as humanly possible. He loved her breath, the scent of her hair and pussy that filled their part of the room: the magnificence of her erotic perfume. Sterling could have filled up his new, loaned property ... but he chose to wait and enjoy the fruit of his conditional labor.<br/><br/>When the woman had been reduced to her depleted state, Sterling inched himself in and out of Brigitte's sex for several minutes ... then removing it entirely. Still erect, his cock made a soft "pop" sound upon exiting and stood at attention against his lover's open slit. Both of Sterling's hands slid down the top of Brigitte's front, feeling the inside of her stocking legs before delving into her ripe and used pussy. He doused his fingers thoroughly, with wanton purpose; when his fingers left her sex -- dripping with her cunt honey -- Sterling brought them to both of their mouths. "Clean my fingers of your arousal," Sterling whispered, doing the same as he acquainted himself with the taste of the new epicenter in his life. "So fucking delicious ..." he whispered vehemently.<br/><br/>Their lips melded several times, the taste of her pussy the entree that tempted their taste-buds. The<i>goûter </i>of his new lover seeping into him as he stared into her amazing eyes set the man afire. Planting a hand beside him, Sterling pushed himself up, the articulation of his abdominal musculature felt by Brigitte's lower back. Sitting up, Brigitte was made to bent up with him, and he knew she might wonder what would come next: bed, floor, the couch, some enticing punishment. Luckily for the goddess of a woman, Sterling was an ambitious, multi-tasker. He stood up, sliding the lithe brunette up onto her heeled feet. The wobble of her gait would be secured the the firm grasp Sterling still commanded with the chain from her collar still in his guiding hand. He french kissed his lover, beyond enrapt.<br/><br/>"God, you're perfect," he breathed. Their noses touched and a wry smile formed on his face. "Your new name ... My<i>Parfaite: </i>my perfection<i>.</i>"<br/><br/>No moniker could have been more apt or well-deserved, and Sterling walked toward the tall mirror hanging on the wall by the bureau of toys. The agenda for that weekend had been a topic of both fantasy and rigorous thought, with Sterling finally settling on what seemed like the most sensible option. That night would consist of Sterling having his way with his new submissive until he expelled himself, with the following day being spend getting to know Brigitte better before that evening's entertainment: dinner out on the town and returning to the hotel room for an intense BDSM session. The thought of testing Brigitte's limits filled Sterling with a true and stunning anticipation, and he opted to give the French woman -- his<i>Parfaite -</i>- a preview of what was to come.<br/><br/>Reaching for a leather glove, he pulled one on his right hand. Sterling bent Brigitte forward slightly: her breasts handing and her bob-haircut inching to frame her face. Possessed in the moment, Sterling swept his flat hand out swiftly to exact repeated, punitive flashes on Brigitte's taut rear end. The contact didn't settle or was not permitted to be registered by the submissive slut before a barrage of medium strength blows quickly rendered Brigitte's ass cheeks bright pink. The leather glove made the contact feel harsher thanks to the friction between the leather and skin. All while Brigitte's hands remained cuffed behind her back, her chain still in the dominant's non-swatting hand.<br/><br/>Sterling's foot knocked the insides of Brigitte's heeled feet to force her to spread without saying a word. The man slipped himself back into his new home, and began utterly enjoying himself with warning or preamble. He grunted regularly, as if some dessert within the submissive's core sated a thrill he never knew existed yet could no longer live without. "Fuck ..." he muttered, clearly aroused. "How do you feel so fucking good,<i>Parfaite</i>?" he asked, rhetorically. Control of the leash end switched, and as the chain tugged Brigitte's body back into Sterling's pillaging thrusts, his gloved hand took a stock of her short-cut dark hair and craned her head to one side. The forced tilt of her head opened a space over her shoulder, and Brigitte could see Sterling's predatory gaze over her shoulder as he thoroughly owned her pussy from behind.