Mr. Collins.
“I want more, pet.”
Natasha’s soft, satisfied moans increased in pitch. He dipped one finger inside, pulling it back out to taste her, before starting all over again. Mr. Collins’ primitive growls of appreciation seduced Natasha. She offered herself to him with little hip wiggles, making her think of a twitchy rabbit.
Is this what he’s always seen in me? Someone cute, furtive, and always prepared to be someone’s pet or dinner? Someone who just actually might like it?
Mr. Collins feasted until she clamped her legs around him again. Turning his head, he kissed one thigh before giving the other similar attention. As if unable to keep to kindness for very long, Mr. Collins’ teeth soon made impermanent marks on the smooth flesh, nipping hard enough to keep Natasha’s focus but not too hard to make her run.
“I liked that very much, pet.”
He gained his feet. He picked Natasha up off the desk and carried her to the middle of the room. Laying her down on the carpet, he stepped back and studied the fetching picture she made sprawled on the floor.
“Open your legs wider, pet. Let me see how much I pleased you.”
Natasha locked in on his face as she obeyed. He looked ravenous, mouth parted and eyes lit with insatiable glee. Something inside of her stirred awake. The need to control broke free from beneath the equally compelling need to submit.
“Fuck me, Sir. Now.”
Mr. Collins tilted his head, black gaze crawling over first, before crouching down. Settling between her legs, he slid inside, making himself a part of her physically as much as he did mentally.
“You’re getting the gist of it, Natasha. I knew you would because you’re so clever.”
Mr. Collins then proceeded to fuck her beautifully.
Bodies slick with one another, one powerless to pull away and the other powerful in her sway, they mated furiously. Natasha locked her legs about his trim waist. She wished her hands free so they could claw their way past his unbuttoned shirt. Mr. Collins decorated her neck with love bites, careful to keep his marks ephemeral.
They made each position count. Each had a turn to scrape their back against the sturdy, high-weave carpet. Natasha enjoyed looking down on him while he pushed up into her. Both relished being on their knees more. Mr. Collins snaked his hand around her neck, pushing Natasha’s chin up so he could kiss her raw.
He filled her thoughts in disordered snapshots. His smile. His scowl. The tiny creases marking the space between his well-shaped brows. Natasha thrust her tongue as deep into his mouth as she could; hoping to leave enough of herself behind to keep him permanently occupied.
I’ll be obsessed with him forever now. It’s only fair if he has to suffer too.
She sensed he was close. She pushed harder back against him, despite wanting to keep their brutal chase going forever. When Mr. Collins’ fingers tightened, she looked over her shoulder. Natasha wanted to watch him break apart, to become dirty and mortal like her. He let out one harsh breath before releasing himself all over her back.
“Natasha!”
She flexed her fingers. Warm liquid imprinted the creases.
Mr. Collins dropped his head on her shoulder. His lazy kisses, broken by short puffs of air, charmed her. Natasha became aware of sore knees, stiff shoulders, and a throbbing bruise or two.
She laughed. Mr. Collins quickly joined her.
This has been a day! Not only did I not make a mistake, I gained a new boyfriend. Speaking of mistakes. . .
“Sir?”
“Yes, pet?” He dropped another kiss on her neck before reluctantly parting from Natasha.
“Why didn’t you just ask me out?”
His fingers paused briefly in the midst of untying her wrists. “Is that not what I just did tonight?”
“No.” She folded her feet beneath her while stretching out her stiff arms. Natasha accepted the handkerchief he fished out from his discarded jacket. She reached behind her to clean up as well as she could without a bath. “You didn’t need to use the memo as an excuse to. . .”
Natasha’s voice trailed off as she watched his eyes harden.
“I most certainly did not use the memo as an excuse for anything nefarious.”
“Really?” She crumpled the handkerchief. “Then what did you use it for?”
“As an example of what is not acceptable from this office. I hope you will be more careful in the future.” Mr. Collins had already pulled and buttoned up his pants. He was currently in the process of retrying his tie.
“You’re not suggesting that was a real error.”
“It most certainly was.”
She shot up. “It most certainly was not.”
“I disagree.” Mr. Collins joined her, arms crossed as stubbornly as Natasha’s.
“Mr. Collins.”
“Miss Reynolds.”
“I can inform you of your error in thinking but you would simply return the gift.”
He nodded his head in agreement.
“I have an alternative.”
“Please go on.”
Natasha flirted with a smile. “You are a clever man, Sir. Do I really need to go into detail?”
“But you can be so eloquent, pet.” Mr. Collins pulled her over to him. His palm rested on her still-naked backside. “All right then. I’ll count this as one of my nights. We’ll go to your place first so you can take something to wear tomorrow. Then we’ll get something to eat. Then I’ll take you to my place. Does that sound agreeable?”
Natasha blushed in pleasure. “Yes, Sir. I look forward to it.”
“So do I.” He squeezed her ass harder and harder until she went on tip-toe. “I so look forward to playing with my bunny as long as I want.”
Natasha pressed closer in a wasted attempt to escape the threat of his hand. “Gently please?”
Mr. Collins’ dangerous smirk promised retribution. “Not a chance, pet.”
Natasha made a vow to not back down on the semi-colon—no matter how much he made her twitch and squirm.
After all, she could always sit on a pillow tomorrow.
About Charlotte
Charlotte DeCorte is the pen name used by Claudia D. Christian to explore dark erotica without a paranormal bent. Although set in contemporary situations these stories are meant to examine the theme of “Punishment is love” through the use of unstable and/or unusual characters. Nonconsensual situations, violent expressions of passion, and psychological implications will abound because Charlotte writes from the viewpoint that not all relationships are or want to be grounded in the traditional rules of courtship.
Please feel free to share your thoughts and feedback at anytime: [email protected]
Writing as Charlotte DeCorte
Novellas
Cry for Me
Writing as Claudia D. Christian
Novellas
Love Unfortunate
Suicide Doll
Novels
Devil’s Descent I: purgatory
Devil’s Descent II: impure
Vicious Bliss: fallen
Short Story Collection
Fracture – A Miserable Love Collection
Anthology
Hearteater – A Creative Collaboration
Please continue for a sneak peek of “Cry for Me”
“Cry for Me”
Sevastian always made it a rule to never fuck his woman while she cried.
The simple answer was because he enjoyed creating her precious tears.
The complex answer as to why he enjoyed it had yet to be fully solved.
Sevastian studied each perfect tear as it rolled down Ava’s reddened face. Hypnotized and obsessed, he crouched before her as she sobbed from their latest round of play.
This time she was the poor, ravished maid and he the selfish, despotic aristocrat.
Others had seen them as innocent schoolgirl and hard taskmaster, adoring nurse and arrogant doctor, lady of the manor and faithful butler, and a hun
dred different, exciting personalities.
Sevastian craved her total surrender. He needed to watch Ava lose control. Only when she screamed, when her lovely face scrunched up into a nearly unrecognizable mask of misery, did he feel something almost as blissful as Ava’s exquisite suffering.
Freedom.
Sevastian, the son of Russian immigrants, had never known this delicate perversion existed inside his cold, orderly mind. Excellence, hard work, and efficiency had been the guiding forces in his structured life since time memorial. Sexuality had naturally fallen right in line. Sevastian fucked the way he worked—intent yet removed, satisfied only by accomplishment.
Then he met Ava. Lovely, glorious, ridiculously emotionally-complicated Ava.
Ava who cried at his command.
Ava who cried as he beat her tender backside with a riding crop.
Ava who cried at his feet just to feel again.
Unable to resist another moment, Sevastian leaned forward to kiss one blessed tear. It tasted of all things forbidden and wondrous.
Ava’s maid character mistook his gentle gesture for leniency. “Oh, my lord! Please forgive me for disrupting your slumber! I truly thought your Lordship hadn’t yet arrived this morn.”
“Save your rubbish apologies for someone who cares to hear them. I’m hardly done punishing you, girl.”
Ava’s face rumpled again in preparation for another tearful torrent.
“Tears won’t save you now, you silly slut. How many times have I told you to never awaken me with the clumsy efforts you call cleaning?”
Sevastian, an aloof man who found it difficult to emote in public, slid into one character after another with gifted ease. Tonight’s romp as a sadistic aristocrat needed little prep work. Neither of them followed a script—which at times might have served them for their dialogue could be laughably stuffy—but aside from a costume change, spontaneity dictated everything.
Well, perhaps not everything.
Although currently trussed up over a padded bench, naked bottom crisscrossed with welts, and eyes heavy with morbid anticipation, Ava demanded only one thing from him.
To make her cry as hard as he possibly could.
“Please forgive me, my lord! I promise I won’t do it again.”
Sevastian stood. He pushed Ava’s chin up with the tip of his crop. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying to me. Whatever shall I do about it?” His diabolical smirk promised he would try very, very hard to come up with a proper solution.
*** “Cry for Me” Available Now ***
Table of Contents
YES, MR. COLLINS
A Dark Erotic Novella
Cry for Me
Copyright 2011 by Charlotte DeCorte
“Yes, Mr. Collins”
About Charlotte
Writing as Charlotte DeCorte
Novellas
Writing as Claudia D. Christian
Novellas
Novels
Short Story Collection
Anthology
Please continue for a sneak peek of “Cry for Me”
“Cry for Me”
Yes, Mr. Collins Page 4