Dominating Jess: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella

by Rachel Nixx

  Dominating Jess:

  A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella

  by

  Rachel Nixx

  She's bound. He's determined.

  Copyright 2012 Rachel Nixx

  Discover other titles by Rachel Nixx

  at RachelNixx.blogspot.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One - Naked in Public

  Chapter Two - Whipped in Public

  Chapter Three - Fucked in Public

  About the Author

  Dedication

  For Jami Malroux, who makes me brave.

  Chapter One - Naked in Public

  I never expected to be standing almost naked in the middle of a square in Riga, my hands tied behind my back, hobbles on my feet, a ball gag shoved into my mouth so far I could almost feel the rubber pressing against my tonsils. If you’d asked me two weeks ago what I’d be doing on the second Tuesday of October, I’d have told you I’d probably be in my gym, teaching a Muay Thai class to fourth-graders. But instead, I was down to just my black bra and lace thong, teetering on my high red heels, displayed as if I were some kind of art installation. What I was most embarrassed by was how wet I was. I glanced down, just once, to see if it was obvious. I hated to move my head at all—any motion seemed to make the people drinking coffee at the little tables dotting the square notice me all over again. And yes, it was obvious. I’d dripped through the lace at my crotch, and the concrete at my feet was slick. I’d never been more embarrassed in my life. I glanced back up and caught Jake’s eye. He’d been drinking his espresso and speaking to the shop owner in a language I couldn’t understand, but now he stood.

  Thank goodness. Maybe this was all we’d do today. He would take me back to the hotel and let me put my clothes back on, and we’d go down to the bar and laugh about this over some strange Eastern European alcohol that I couldn’t pronounce. Jake and I went way back, after all. We were friends. Sure, it was weird as hell to be here like this, with him, but it would make a hell of a dinner party story someday, right?

  Instead of leading me away gently, though, Jake touched the top of my breast above my bra, right where I was most sensitive. If I could have moved my mouth around the gag, I would have gasped, but as it was, I just sucked spittle around the rubber, my eyes widening, tearing at the surprise. He leaned in and said low in my ear, “How dare you drip like that? What were you thinking, whore? I should make you get down on your knees and lick it up, only you’d like that too much.” He smacked the top of my breast lightly, then harder, a solid slap that echoed sharply in the square. I knew my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, and my stomach was in knots. Quaking, I knew my juices were running even more. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop the reaction, that heated rush.

  That was the awful, wonderful part.

  I was terrified.

  It had started that morning, after Jake had knocked on my hotel room door, asking solicitously after my night’s sleep. He’d shaken his head when he saw me in jeans, and he’d asked me in a kind voice to change. He held up a bag from Neiman Marcus. “Bought these before we left. I hope they fit. Do you have a black bra and panties?” I did; I’d packed my scantiest black lace, with the vague notion that Jake might like something rather see-through. Of course, last night, when I was still carefully not thinking about how the hell I’d ended up in Latvia, I hadn’t given much thought to the fact that everyone would be seeing it. “Go change.” I’d obliged, darting into the bathroom to change in private. The black skirt was lightweight and short, but it fit me perfectly. The red low-cut top was something I would have bought myself. When I’d come out, he’d winked at me, and pointed at the red stilettos he’d presented to me at dinner the night before. “Those, too, if you don’t mind.”

  When we’d gotten to the square an hour ago, Jake had started slowly. He bought me a coffee with milk and then had stood behind me, massaging the muscles in my neck. “You nervous, Jess? Come on, tough girl. In the seven years I’ve known you, you’ve never been scared of anything. No need to be worried.” His hands were wide, warm, and startlingly strong. I’d wanted Jake to touch me for years, so I relaxed backward, letting him work out the knots that had formed on the long plane ride. “Okay, give me one of your hands,” he said, tugging my arm gently as he brought it behind the back of the wrought-iron chair. The sun beat warmly on the top of my head, and I felt a judder of excitement. “That’s right, just like that. Take a sip of your coffee like a good girl. Great. Now your other hand.”

  He tied my wrists loosely at first. The binding was red silk, and it felt soft against my skin, but when I pulled against it to test its strength, the knots held firm. I had to work to catch my breath. A German tourist couple sat down, spreading their backpacks and maps on the table next to us. The woman, a blonde with an unhappy expression, caught sight of me, my arms behind me, red silk spilling to the ground. She gaped.

  “So far so good?”

  Feeling proud of myself, I straightened, pushing out my chest as I nodded. I’d felt incredibly sexy at that moment, the only woman in the square with bindings on her wrists for anyone (anyone!) to see.

  I’d thought maybe that would be it for the day.

  But Jake had had other plans.

  After holding the coffee cup carefully to my lips several more times, he ran his thumb over my lip, dragging lightly against the bottom one. The touch had made me shake more than if he’d kissed me.

  Of course, he didn’t do that. Back home, we were just pals. I’d imagined him kissing me before, sure, on some of the late nights we’d spent in Greenwich Village bars, bullshitting with our circle of pals. But we’d never had a sexual moment between us. Sadly.

  After I finished the coffee, he had me stand next to the table. He crouched at my feet, taking something from the backpack he’d brought. It looked like a set of black leather handcuffs, except the cuffs were separated by a short length of thick chain.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Even with my hands behind my back, I could kick his ass—anyone’s ass—if my feet were free. Kicking was a critical element of Muay Thai, after all. Sometimes I fastened my students’ arms behind them and had them practice that way. One te chiang to the ribs followed by a khao thon, and an untrained person would drop. No arms needed.

  “Nothing you won’t thank me for.”

  No way. I was here to push the limits I knew I had, but this was going too far, too fast. “I don’t think so.”

  Still kneeling in front of me, Jake put one hand on the back of my calf. “Are you done?”

  “Done?”

  “If this is all you can handle, we’ll call it off right now. It’s fine. I know a place that serves karbonade, the best pork chops with potatoes in the world.”

  I closed my eyes, needing to think.

  “Maybe this is as much as you can take.”

  Damn him. “Do it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be in charge, Jess. Not you,” he reminded me. We’d talked about it on the plane. I’d agreed to it. I’d even signed paperwork with what I would and wouldn’t do.

  It still rankled. “I know.”

  There was a click and a snap, and I felt cold leather first on one ankle, then the other.

  I felt fear rise somewhere above my abdomen.

  “So who’s in charge here?” Jake’s voice was kind but firm as he pushed on my shoulders to place me in my seat again.

  I had the urge to say loudly, I am! I was always in charge. In every situation, I was in control. Ever since I was a kid, since my mother forced me into the position of caring for her, since I had to learn at ten how to
pay the bills in order to make sure the electricity stayed on, I’d been in charge. A drunk for a mother is sometimes more fun that people might imagine—we had ice cream parties at midnight and she never made me wear a coat if I really didn’t want to. Once, when I asked for a puppy, she brought home a litter of seven (all of which had be given to the shelter when the landlord found out).

  But when it came to making sure I was okay, when it came to taking care of me in that sort of important food-shelter-clothing way, no, she’d never done that.

  So to relinquish any control was hard. I’d had enough therapy to know I wasn’t good at it. I didn’t even like someone pointing out a parking spot to me. I could find my own damn spaces, thank you very much. Just the fact that my arms were pinned behind me was rough. And to add shackles to my ankles? In public? I was halfway to hyperventilation.

  “Who’s in control, Jess?”

  I shook my head, hard. I wouldn’t say it.

  He touched the side of my cheek softly. Sweetly. God, this was Jake. The feelings I’d had for him when we first met came flooding back to me. I’d been so devastatingly attracted to him, to his long, rangy limbs and the mop of dark wavy hair that flopped in front of those startlingly smoky gray eyes. He’d felt it too, I knew that. But he’d always been in a relationship, or on the rare occasion he was single, I would be seeing someone seriously. Timing-wise, it had just never worked out.

  Besides, he owned Fantasy Fulfilled. His company made money exploiting the sexual fantasies of women who couldn’t pull off choreographing their own. I’d given him so much shit over the years I still couldn’t believe I was here. Of course, if directly faced with how I felt about the sex industry, I would say I believed in it. I thought women should be paid well to do what they wanted to do, and if what they desired was to strip or to have sex on camera, then they should have that right to do it safely. The same went for men.

  It was just weird, that was all. Jake and I rode bikes together in Central Park on Sunday mornings. His dog Ranger loved me because I always saved him the last bit of my cream-cheese bagels. It was disconcerting to think of Jake with his clothes off. And hot. Okay, the thought was blazing hot.

  That hotness, that’s what had gotten me into all this. With a wicked look after maybe one too many beers one night, in the middle of a game of poker, it had been down to just the two of us left playing the hand. I raised, throwing in a twenty. I had a full house. No way was he beating me.

  He saw it with a twenty of his own, and then said, “I raise you a Fantasy Fulfilled trip.”

  I laughed. “What?”

  “You win, I pay for one of your friends, any of them, to take a trip with my company. I win, you come with me on a tour.”

  I blinked. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want your friend to be pleased in every specific way she’s ever imagined?”

  Across from me, Wendy squirmed in her seat. “Oh, Jess, do it for me.”

  “I don’t have...” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Fantasies?” He leaned back and fixed me with that smoky stare. “I know you do, tough girl.”

  I did. God, could he see them on me? “Besides, I know what you specialize in.” Bondage. Domination. Disgrace. Humiliation. “I couldn’t let myself do that.”

  “Jess in control,” he said.

  “Always,” I said. I was proud of the way I was. I’d never admit to the tiny part of me that longed to change it, just a little.

  “So you fold?”

  Something in me—pride, excitement—made me shake my head. “I’m in.”

  I lost, of course.

  Now, sitting in the square, Jake staring at me with an expression I’d never seen on his face before, I became so nervous I felt my fingertips tremble against each other. I tightened my fingers around the silk binding behind me and held on.

  “I’m only going to ask you one more time, and then I’m going to have to tell you the answer if you don’t get it right. Who’s in control here?”

  “You might be in control of this situation, but when it comes to—“

  “You’ve said enough, slut,” he interrupted. The word was harsh, like he’d doused me with ice water. I wondered if he’d say it again. And if I wanted him to.

  “Now I’ll give you the right answer.” He leaned over and reached in his backpack and pulled out a blue rubber ball that had leather straps.

  “What’s that?” I asked, suddenly more nervous than I could remember ever being and that was saying a lot, given how this day was going.

  “No. More. Talking.” He moved the ball close to my face. “Open.”

  I shook my head. “No way,” I said between gritted teeth.

  “Jog my memory. Did you agree with the ball gag on the contract?”

  Shit. I had. But I’d been at altitude with his strong thigh pressed against mine. I would have agreed to just about anything. I’d have joined the mile-high club right there in seats 24D and 24E if he’d wanted me to.

  He saw me remember. “Right, you did. Now open your mouth.”

  What if I did? What if I just acquiesced to whatever he wanted me to do? Wasn’t that my whole thing? Learning to give more? To trust? Goddamnit. That was my problem. I didn’t trust.

  The eyes of the German tourists were on us—the woman actually leaned forward on her elbows and readied her camera. Oh, shit.

  I opened my mouth obediently.

  “That’s my girl. Now, yes, take this in your mouth. Good, exactly like that.”

  It was large, and instinctively I bit into the hard rubber to prevent it from going in as far as he wanted it to.

  “That’s the oldest trick in the book, Jess. I’ll give you two seconds to open your mouth wider, and then I’ll make you.”

  I bit harder into the rubber. Its taste, sharp and eraser-like, wasn’t unpleasing.

  Without warning, Jake slapped my cheek.

  I gasped, my mouth opening automatically. He pushed the ball gag in firmly and fastened the leather around my head. “Just like that. Now you won’t be able to talk, even if you wanted to. Remember what we said about your safe word.”

  Ranger. He’d been surprised when I chose the name of his dog to be my safe word.

  “And like I said on the plane, if you can’t talk and need to stop or slow down, shake your head back and forth five times. You got that?”

  I nodded.

  And he slapped my other cheek. Surely he could feel the ball under my skin. Tears of surprise rose to my eyes, and I blinked as hard as I could.

  It hadn’t been a heavy slap, but it was brisk. Efficient. And it was shockingly loud in the square. Tables of people who previously hadn’t noticed Jake tying my hands and shackling my ankles now turned to see where the noise had come from.

  “There,” he said, sitting back down in his chair. He took a long, appreciate sip of his espresso. “Now you look more like the whore you are.”

  I made a surprised noise that came out more like a squeak around the ball. I rolled my eyes as expressively as I could, gesturing with my shoulders at the table next to us where a group of older men wearing suits were watching us.

  “Oh, them? Yeah, they’ll watch.” Jake stirred a tiny bit more sugar into his small cup. “They know what’s going to happen.”

  I frowned.

  “I’ve been here before. They know that I put on a good show. In fact,” he looked around and then turned back to me, “it looks like a lot of my regulars are here.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Now that my eyes were my only real form of expression, I felt naked when he met my gaze. If he only knew how wet I was, if he only knew how nervous I was... My sides shook as I breathed shallowly.

  “No one will help you, you know. I could bend you over the table right now and ram my cock in you, and you know what they’d do?”

  I shook my head once.

  “They’d get out their phones and record you on video. You’d be played back when they get ho
me. Oh, actually, I really like thinking about that.” Jake leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at his ankles. “You see that guy over there? The big guy with the cheeks?”

  I did. The man had been staring at me ever since Jake put the shackles on, his ruddy jowls getting redder by the moment.

  “He’ll take a video of you in whatever position I put you in and then take it home and play it over and over as he jerks off, getting come on his the screen of his phone, thinking about what it would be like to be me right now.” Jake smiled at me. “And it’s pretty great being me, honestly. I get to watch your pretty mouth pull around that gag.”

  I swallowed reflexively as his eyes rested on my stretched lips.

  “Fascinating, to watch you get used to this. It’s not easy, is it?”

  I shook my head again.

  “And I’m not talking about just getting to used to the rubber in your mouth. You’re getting used to being watched, aren’t you?”

  I wasn’t. I wasn’t getting used to it even a little bit.

  We sat there, me with my ball gag (when I looked down, I could see the outer blue of the ball just below my nose), my arms tied behind me, my feet shackled. Jake sipped his coffee and kept the half-smile on his face. He raised one finger, and the waiter who’d been chatting with a passerby flicked away his cigarette.

  “Jake, she’s lovely,” he said in heavily accented English.

  “Isn’t she?” Jake looked proud, and I sat straighter as I felt two spots of color light my cheeks.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Just a sharp knife. Oh, and I’ll take another coffee.”

  My stomach did a flip, and I blinked hard. As we waited for him to come back with the knife, I concentrated on keeping my breathing even and steady. Maybe if I kept my muscles still, and managed to stop the quivering of my muscles, I could handle this better.

  A knife. Jake wouldn’t... No, he knew I wasn’t into that, not into anything permanent, nothing that could leave a scar. And I could trust him. It was Jake.