by J. L. Beck
“What happened?” I had seen the dropped soaked socks filled with hard pieces of soap, paper, and whatever else they could get in there to hit her with.
“They waited until I went to the shower and then they barred the doors after bribing the guard.”
I was furious this happened. I knew beat downs like this happened countless times but I’d promised Nene I would take care of her, and I’d failed.
“I’ve put the facility on lockdown”
“You know there aren’t any cameras in the shower.” She sounded so forlorn. I did know that, but I hadn’t counted on them doing something in there with guards present. A guard who had apparently been bribed. God, how wrong I had been. I’d underestimated them, and I was the fool.
“I’m having a guard I trust stationed outside your door here. I want to make sure you’re okay. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Evangelina didn’t touch me. Only her crazy ass thug bitches. But she said something, I’d never heard her say before.”
“What was it?”
“It was about the guards changing shifts and knowing when the south entrance wasn’t being monitored as closely. Maybe that’s how they’re doing it.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want you near any of this. We’re looking over your case. I found a lawyer, a woman, to take it pro bono. She likes exposing the system’s failings so she’s working hard on the appeal, but until then, you’re going to stay here in the hospital until you heal.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know you do, Nene. Your injuries will probably keep you here for a bit. The lawyer is working on transferring you.” She kept crying inconsolable until her breathing eventually evened out into sleep. A nurse came in and switched out her IV line so that it was filtering a painkiller into her body making her drowsy. The medications kicked in finally giving her respite from the pain. I stayed watching her protectively as she slept aided by the medication, it was all I could do for her and it wasn’t nearly enough.
I met with James who had been by Maris’ side during her recovery from the stabbing in the yard. She gave a statement exonerating Nene from stabbing her as well as how the guard Garcia was a relative of Hector’s working from the inside according to the Tribe members she got information from to corroborate evidence. The stuff Nene had overheard was enough to steer the investigation in the right direction and help get her transferred to a locked down unit in the hospital where she could recover instead of the prison infirmary.
She stayed in the hospital a full week. Her lawyer, a godsend, expedited the process with a few loopholes the first lawyer missed. Nene’s lawyer hired her own investigator and found eyewitness statements corroborating Nene’s original testimony Zeke Wells had easily overlooked. How that idiot was practicing law was only a matter of time before he ended up disbarred once I was done with him. Soon enough I would be able to keep my promise to Nene and get her out of here.
Epilogue
Nene
I turned my face up to the hot Texas sun glad to be outside for a change. The silver bangle bracelets were new. A gift from Cohen who was lucky I had a good sense of humor. They were less of a reminder of my time in prison, and more of a comfort that I belonged to him only. They were shiny, one engraved with the words, “My love for you is everlasting,” followed by the date I was released, exonerated of the charges. The second was engraved with, “Thank you for entrusting me with the key to your heart.” It was something we both worked for but I was so lucky to have him in my life, loving me and supporting me.
The lawyer, a spunky young graduate with a passion for criminal defense wanted to file a civil suit for damages and I was still mulling it over. She said there was a statute of limitations, but I wasn’t concerned about the money. I wanted to forget what had happened to me. I had the scars to tell the tale. No money on Earth that would erase the dips and grooves in my skin from those experiences. They were my tiger stripes. Cohen supported that decision either way, and we had time yet to decide.
I rubbed the slight swell to my belly. Soon I would be earning a whole new set of tiger stripes bringing our child into the world. I couldn’t be happier. Cohen had been promoted, now moving into a supervisory role within the NARC unit, one where no one could question how our relationship started or evolved. There was so much to put behind us and be grateful for.
Maris recovered slowly. She was able to tell Cohen that Evangelina had actually stabbed her in the fray before framing me for it. She testified on my behalf, and I was so thankful to her. She decided that job was her last as an undercover officer, and I hoped she enjoyed her earned time off, chasing after a certain NG unit director. James was going to have his hands full with her.
THE END
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About the Author
M.C. Cerny fell in love with books after experiencing her first real ugly cry reading, Where The Red Fern Grows. Her debut romantic suspense novel, Flashpoint, was written in a series of post-it-note ramblings that would likely make her idol Tom Clancy and her mother blush. She is a post graduate of NYU and calls rural NJ home with her menagerie of human and feline fur-babies. When M.C. is not writing, you’ll find her lurking in Starbucks, running stupid marathons, singing Disney show tunes, and searching out the perfect shade of pink nail polish.
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Tales of a Naughty Submissive
Josephine Jade
Tales of A Naughty Submissive © 2017 Josephine Jade
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Tales of a Naughty Submissive
Imagination and reality mix as a good-girl submissive writes her dirtiest fantasies for the man she desperately wants to be her Dom.
Emma Eden has been in love – or at least in lust – with Jeffrey Price for over a year. She knows he’s into the BDSM lifestyle like she is, but has never been able to get up enough guts to tell him how she really feels.
What she really wants.
So she lets her written words speak for her. For months she’s been secretly sending Jeffrey her naughtiest fantasies in the form of monthly, hand-written letters… Risqué stories she knows she’d never have the nerve to share with him face-to-face.
Until Jeffry decides face-to-face is going to happen whether Emma wants it to or not.
1
Emma Eden wore sensible shoes.
Who was she kidding? She wore sensible everything. Her whole life could be summed up in that one word.
Sensible.
Not that it was a bad thing. She was an accountant for heaven’s sake. Accountants were admired for being sensible.
Emma was highly admired. Admired for catching an error three months ago that would’ve cost her company hundreds of thousands of dollars. Admired for always having her long brown hair neatly tied in a bun, her make-up always tastefully applied, her work clothes always professional and neat.
That was Emma. Sensible. Admirable. Professional.
Her fingers traced across the cream envelop in her hands, the letter inside thick and heavy, handwritten on li
nen-based stationery.
The words in the letter were the only thing in her life not sensible. Not admirable. Definitely not professional.
They were naughty. Very, very naughty.
She wrote a letter each month. Left it for the man she’d been in love with for over a year. Or at least heavily in lust with. Jeffrey Price.
They worked together at Grunermann & Co, the multi-media conglomerate. Jeffrey was high up the food-chain, Executive Vice President of Marketing. He wasn’t her boss, but they still were still in meetings together every week. Especially since she’d caught the error and therefore the eye of the company’s president, who’d then invited Emma to the executive meetings.
Emma had been writing the letters to Jeffrey for seven months, never expecting to have to come face-to-face with him at meetings. Not that he ever noticed her, except to glance her way with barely veiled indifference.
He was powerful to her sensible. Bad boy to her professional.
He was never going to be the Dominant to her Submissive.
She’d accepted that long before she had to sit across from him in the board room each week, wondering if the whole group could sense her desire for him. Feel her wetness at the thought of him doing the things she’d seen him do — always careful to keep a distance — at one of the local BDSM clubs.
Restrain women. Spank them. Fuck them as they called him master and begged him to let them come.
God, how she wanted that from him.
Emma wondered if everyone in the room around her knew that her nipples hardened every time she heard Jeffrey’s deep, confidence voice. That if he told her to strip and crawl under the conference room table and suck him off right there during the meeting that she would probably do it.
But who was she kidding? Jeffrey Price hardly even noticed she was there. They’d even made eye contact at the BDSM club a few times and he still didn’t even know Emma existed. Or hadn’t put together that she was the same person sitting across the table from him each week.
Or maybe had and didn’t give a shit. Thought she was plain and boring and conservative.
Sensible.
And Emma was those things. Except for in the letters she wrote.
The Tales of the Naughty Submissive.
The stories were everything Emma wanted to be with Jeffrey, but knew she never would. Dark fantasies she wished she could live out with him. But she didn’t even have the courage to talk to him about the weather and stock market, much less the ways she’d like him to fuck and dominate her.
There he was. Entering the coffee shop across the street like he did every Sunday mid-morning around this time. And on the first Sunday of every month for the past seven months, one of her letters had been waiting. Emma paid one of the coffeehouse employees to deliver it to him.
Emma watched now from where she always did, inside a small restaurant across the street that was so empty it hardly looked like it was open. She sat back in the far corner where the owners had set up a quirky section with no tables, just sofas and large armchairs. Through the tinted windows Emma could see Jeffrey from across the street and basked in the safety of knowing he couldn’t see her.
Her breath hitched and body tightened just at the sight of him. Watching him read her letters was always a thrill.
The first month he hadn’t stayed to read it — hadn’t known what it was at all. But every month since she’d watched him sit at a table outside and read her tale, then immediately reread it. Saw him look around the coffeehouse for whoever might be the author.
But she was never there. Or so he thought.
At least Emma knew he was as enthralled with reading the letters as she was with writing them. So what if they were never going to be together? At least she knew she aroused his mind.
She watched as he read now.
For Jeffrey. Tales of the Naughty Submissive: Part Six.
The Bad Girl
I had been a naughty girl.
My Master was mad at me because when he came home from the gym he found me on the bed naked, on my knees, with my fingers fucking my own pussy. I should've heard him come in, but I didn’t over the sound – that beautiful, obscene sound - of a wet pussy being fucked so well with three fingers. Not to mention my own frantic moans.
I couldn't help it, I needed to be fucked and fucked often. Master knew that and generally kept me exhausted. This morning he thought he'd had time to get to the gym and back before I woke up, but he'd been wrong.
What was a young woman to do when she woke up already so hot and needy? If my Master had been there, I would've sucked on his cock until he woke up, then begged him to fuck me. And he would have. He would've teased me, and made me cry and beg before he ultimately gave me what I wanted, but eventually he would've turned me over on all fours and fucked me hard from behind. Just like I wanted.
I wanted Master's big, hard cock inside my weeping pussy.
But he wasn't there.
I waited as long as I could. I promise I did.
Okay, I didn't really. As soon as I saw he wasn't there, realized the car wasn't in the garage, I knew I would soon be getting myself off. I knew if he caught me I would be punished. Last time he caught me I could barely sit for a week. Every morning, twenty smacks with his belt. And I wasn't allowed to come for three days.
Now he’d caught me again. How much worse was my punishment going to be?
“Take those fingers out of your pussy right this second.”
At his command I gasped. I’d been caught fully in the act. I obeyed him instantly, of course.
“Lick them completely clean,” he said quietly. I knew just because he was quiet did not mean he wasn't furious. Master was a businessman, an important businessman, so he knew how to hold his temper.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have one.
I licked my fingers, tasting myself, trying to make it as sexy as possible. I saw his eyes darken with desire as he watched me thrust my fingers into my lips, reminding him of the way he could thrust his dick there if he desired.
He didn't take the bait.
“We have guests coming to our pool party cookout in just a couple of hours, Bad Girl. We still have a lot of things to do to get ready. Fortunately, you'll have more time for those duties, since you won't need time to get dressed. You'll be serving our guests naked.”
For the next two hours I prayed he would relent. Surely he wouldn’t make me go about my hostess duties completely naked. The half dozen friends coming over were part of the lifestyle, so wouldn’t be offended. But still, this wasn’t a club event. To be the only one naked while everyone else was clothed, even if just in swimsuits, especially because they knew I was being punished? It would be humiliating.
He didn’t relent.
As a matter of fact, fifteen minutes before the guests were meant to arrive he sat me on the couch and made me spread my legs. He played with my pussy, working two fingers in and out of me while he teased my clit with his thumb, until I was moaning.
“Pinch your nipples with your other hand, Bad Girl. Make them hard and pointy.”
They were already hard and pointy, but I played roughly with them anyway.
He didn’t let me come. He just got me worked up enough that when the doorbell rang, I couldn’t quite remember what was going on, laid out on the couch like I was, thighs trembling, ready to beg him.
Master pulled his fingers out of my pussy and I groaned. He put his fingers in my mouth for me to suck clean, then pulled me up off the couch.
“Go answer the door. Don’t keep our guests waiting.”
The other Doms chuckled when they saw me naked and obviously very aroused. Their submissives gave me a more sympathetic look. Except for Kimberly. She’d never liked me, had hoped to have my Master for herself. But he’d chosen me. She gave me a smirk.
I got anyone the drinks they wanted and set out the food. Everyone stared at me at first but after a half hour I almost forgot I was naked. I even went swimming with the other
girls while Master grilled the burgers.
Maybe this punishment wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought.
I should’ve known better.
After lunch we were all enjoying the warm sun and cold drinks, hanging out in the pool or on the loungers. Everything was so casual, Master caught me off guard by his words.
“Go fetch the paddle.” He made sure to say it loudly enough for everyone to hear it. It instantly became quiet around the pool.
I stiffened. “Which one, Master?”
“The one engraved for this very occasion.”
Not that one. Not here. “Master—”
“For every minute you’re not back, we’ll add another smack with the paddle.”
I heard everyone chuckle as I ran, my breasts bouncing painfully. They were bouncing harder when I arrived back two minutes later, and presented it to him.
“Sorry, sir, someone moved it from its normal drawer.”
Master smiled. Damn him, he’d moved it. Knowing I would waste precious time looking for it. “That’s alright. You only added two extra smacks onto the seven you’re already going to receive.”
Nine wasn’t too bad. I’d gotten many more than that in our local club in front of most of these same people. The engraving on the paddle, though…
Master stood next to me holding the paddle. “Bad Girl decided she would get herself off while I went to the gym this morning, not only without permission, but expressly against the house rules.”
The other Doms shook their head like this was a grievous trespass. The subs kept their faces blank, to not to get caught providing sympathy and get punished themselves.