by J. L. Beck
The vibration against my clit became a little stronger and my fingers became rougher against my nipples, pinching them. My eyes closed and my breaths started to come in little gasps.
“Eyes on me.”
My eyes immediately opened and flew back to the phone. Master gave me a wicked little smile and then the dildo inside me began to shift, rubbing against my g-spot.
“Ohhh!” I couldn't help the moan that escaped my lips at the sensation against my clit and inside my pussy. My hips began rocking back and forth. One hand fell from my breast to rest against the stall wall to help support me.
“Oh, dear,” Master said. “We're only at one quarter of the intensity available to us.”
One quarter? I wouldn't survive.
“You will survive.” It was like Master could read my mind. “And you will be quiet. If security gets called to the bathroom, you'll leave this restaurant naked, and you won't come for the rest of the month.”
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Let's try half intensity. Both hands back on those nipples.”
I squeaked then shuddered as the intensity strengthened, then bit my lip trying to keep quiet. I worked my nipples and could feel my hips humping nothing but air. I knew I must look so wanton. I could feel myself start to pant and knew I was getting close.
“Master. Master.” I panted his name with each breath.
And then the vibrations turned off completely.
“No!” I sobbed. I had been so close. I wanted to come so bad.
“Turn around and grab the hook where your dress is hanging with both hands. Arch your back so I can see that ass completely. I want to see those hips grind when I turn this back on high.”
“Yes, Master.”
I turned and faced the stall door, positioning myself as he'd commanded, my hands up in the air, holding the hook. I waited for what seemed like forever, knowing Master was allowing my body to come down from its near orgasm.
The flood sensations when they came took me by surprise in their intensity. All at once I lost total control of my body. Only my hands holding the hook kept me upright. I kept myself from screaming, but couldn't stop the mewling cries that fell from my lips over and over. My clit and pussy were being worked hard.
And yes, my hips did grind. Master showed me the video later and I couldn't believe it. I was literally fucking air as if someone was between my legs. I rose up on my toes, my knees bent, my ass shaking.
The first orgasm racked my body not five seconds after he'd turned on the vibrations. “Oh, oh, oh, oh.” My breaths came out as sobs. I squeezed my legs together in an effort to get some relief from the uproar in my pussy. But the second orgasm hit me without warning. I panted hard, bouncing up and down on my toes, trying not to scream. A third ripped through me right on the heels of the second and I could feel my entire body begin to shake.
Sweat trickled down my temples, my body still shuddering, as Master turned down the power.
“Keep your hands up on the hook, but turn around.”
I did, my back sagging against the stall door. Master smiled.
“You look like you've been well and truly fucked. Which I guess you have, haven't you?”
I managed a nod.
“Get dressed immediately. Don't fix your hair or your face or even wipe the sweat away. Just leave the toy in, put on your dress and return to our table.”
There were two women fixing their makeup at the mirror as I exited the stall. They stared at me, but said nothing as I walked by silently, not quite steady on my feet.
Master looked at me with obvious satisfaction as I sat back down. The waiter must have been waiting for me to return because he brought our main course out immediately. To give him credit, he only stared at me for a moment. Given what he'd heard before, he had to have wondered what I had done in the bathroom.
So, looking like I had run a marathon, I ate dinner. Master behaved himself until dessert was served, then the buzzing began again.
“Absolute silence,” he said. Everything about his look told me he meant it. By the time the orgasm had finished, I was doing everything I could to stare down at my creme brûlée without making any noise. My thighs clenched over and over, and a tear leaked out of my eye at the pleasure, but I was able to keep silence.
Which was more than I could do on the car ride on the way home. Master made me lie in the back seat naked as he turned the vibrator all the way on high and demanded I scream every time I orgasmed.
By the time we made it home, and he finally turned it off, my voice was hoarse. I lay exhausted on the backseat, unable even to move. He smiled tenderly as he picked me up and carried me to bed. I tried to say something, but I couldn't even speak.
“I'm glad you liked your new toy,” he whispered against my hair. “Somehow I thought you would. Everyone needs a favorite toy.”
This one was definitely mine.
3
The Next Month.
Jeffrey wasn’t coming. After over an hour of waiting and watching from the restaurant across the street, Emma finally accepted it as the truth: he wasn’t going to show up to read her letter today.
Maybe he’d had to go out of town. Or maybe he’d just grown tired of all this. Whatever had happened, it didn’t do her any good to sit here pining.
She was just about to stand when she noticed the coffeehouse employee who delivered the letters to Jeffrey each month making her way across the street, envelope in hand.
Emma didn’t know how the woman knew Emma was here, but at least she would get the letter back. Anonymous or not, she didn’t want her words floating around in the general public.
They were meant for Jeffrey alone.
The younger woman walked in the restaurant door, straight over to where Emma sat in the quirky corner with the couches and larger chairs.
“For you.” She handed Emma the envelope and gave her a smile.
“Sorry the usual guy didn’t show up, I—” Emma reached into her purse to give the woman another tip like she always did for delivering the envelopes, but when she looked back up the woman was already out the door and heading back across the street.
It was then Emma noticed the envelope wasn’t right.
It was similar to the one she always left for Jeffrey, but a little darker. Emma turned it over and felt all the blood drain from her face.
Open right now.
The words were scrawled on the front in bold handwriting.
Jeffrey’s handwriting.
Emma eased the envelope open with shaking fingers, eyes glued to his words.
Tales of Wonder
I’m not good at stories. I’ll never be a novelist. But hell if I’m not king of the one-liners. I’m a Vice-President of Marketing, after all. And one-liners are what sell a product.
Sell a fantasy.
Evidently, I’m also the king of wonder.
For seven months, I’ve wondered who the mystery woman was who had so bewitched my mind with her words. Her tales. Her stories that had me so hard for so many nights.
I’ve wondered who this woman was I’ve dreamed about, feeling like she was at once so close, yet also impossibly far.
I’ve read her words in wonder, awed by this power she had over me, without me ever even seeing her face.
I’ve wondered if this was a game for her. Did she really desire the captivating scenarios she wrote in those tales? Was she truly a submissive?
And mostly, I wondered if, without me even being around her, she would lay this letter flat in front of her and place her hands on the tops of her thighs, if I told her to do so.
Do it, Naughty Submissive.
Emma swallowed hard at the last words. She couldn’t help it, she immediately let the letter drop open in her lap and followed the command to place her hands on her thighs. Her breath was already becoming more labored.
And then… then, honestly, I wonder how long it will take my mystery lady to realize how quiet it is around her.
Emma gave
a little gasp and looked up from the letter, glancing around. It was completely silent in the restaurant. Not only silent, empty. Everyone one was gone. What was happening?
“Keep reading, Emma. Out loud. I want you to read every word I wrote you. And you will do every action described on the page.”
Desire flooded through her entire body as the voice —Jeffrey’s deep, sexy voice— spoke behind her. She took another breath to steady herself, then began reading out loud.
I wonder what she will feel when she realizes that it is just she and I in what she thought was her safe hiding spot. And that my naughty little would-be submissive is so fucked.
Her voice caught on the last word and she could feel herself shift restlessly, growing wet. Her breathing hitched as she continued to read aloud, wanting so badly to turn and look at him, but compelled to obey the words.
Let me try a hand at my own story: The Naughty Would-Be Submissive.
My naughty mystery writer continued reading out loud as she spread her legs until the outside of her chair stopped her. She was a little embarrassed, a little nervous. After all she didn’t know she was going to get caught today.
Caught in every possible way.
She didn’t know that soon her knees would be over my shoulders right here in this restaurant and I would be licking that sweet mystery pussy that had been driving me crazy for so long.
Devouring it.
Emma gasped, words blurring in front of her eyes as she felt his hand slip into her hair at the nape of her neck, fingers tightening. Not enough to jerk her head up, but enough to let her know he was there. He was in charge.
“Keep reading. And spread your legs like you were told to do in the story,” he said, lips moving down to breathe lightly against the side of her throat.
Her legs fell open, sprawled open like he’d written, to the edge of the chair. But his lips were doing things to her concentration. She didn’t want to read, just wanted to feel. When she couldn’t force the words to focus, he nipped at the patch of skin between her throat and shoulder. “Concentrate, little Sub. Read.”
She didn’t know that I had figured out who she was over a month ago, but knew I needed to catch her in the act. That I realized if I confronted her at work or the club that she would probably deny that she was my sexy mystery writer.
I couldn’t allow that.
He’d known who she was for a month. Oh God.
As she read, Jeffrey came and crouched in front of her chair. She forced herself to keep going as he ran his hands up the tops of her sprawled legs, bringing her loose skirt up with them until the material was bunched at her hips. She jerked as his thumb ran along her slit on top of her panties. Then did it again. Just enough to drive her crazy.
And then his mouth was there, teeth gently biting at her clit through the fabric. “Keep reading, Em.”
She was supposed to be mine. She would’ve been mine anyway, eventually. But to find out my mystery writer and the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about were one and the same?
I was the luckiest bastard on the planet.
Once I knew it was her, it was just a matter of playing detective to find out where she hid each month. Where she watched me as I got so fucking turned on by the dirty words in her letters.
I knew she had to watch. Had to see how her words affected me. It’s what I would’ve done if the roles were reversed.
And she did, in the tiny restaurant across the street that looked like it was closed.
Once I knew she was there, all I had to do was offer the owner an obscene amount of money for a private party where no other customers or employees would be in the building.
I wanted my sexy mystery writer all to myself this first time. Oh, we very definitely will have sex in public, but this first time was just for the two of us.
Emma felt him push her legs together so he could slide her panties down, taking one leg out, but leaving the cloth hooked around her other ankle.
“Soaked,” he murmured, as he spread her legs again and kissed his way back up her thighs, this time sliding her hips down and hooking her knees over the arms of the chair. Emma’s eyes flew from the panties dangling so scandalously from one of her ankles to Jeffrey’s gorgeous face as it worked its way up her thigh.
“Read.” His voice came out in the sexiest growl she’d ever heard.
Had she dreamed of me reading her letters? Touched herself at the thought of me getting so hot and bothered by them?
Because I had. Like a damned teenager, so hard for her all the time at the thought of those Naughty Submissive Tales. Thought of acting them out with my mystery writer.
But when I found out who she was, another set of fantasies joined those.
Fantasies of leaning her over the executive board room table and fucking her from behind.
Fantasies of meeting her in her office and taking her up against the wall, having to be quiet so no one could hear.
And fantasies taking her every possible way we both could think of at our BDSM club.
And the best part about it? Once I knew who she was, I knew every single one of those fantasies were going to become a reality.
Emma could feel his breath between her legs, spread wide open for him. The papers fell mindlessly from her hand as he sucked hard on her clit. He worked his fingers inside her, thrusting in and out, streaks of heat spiraling through her with each stroke of his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerves.
Mewls turned into moans and sobs as he took her higher and higher but never let her go over the edge. Head thrashing back and forth, she tried to bring her legs down from where they were so wantonly sprawled on the arms of the chair, but his wide shoulders wouldn’t allow it.
“Please, Jeffrey. Please let me come,” she sobbed, need for release overpowering everything else.
His face lifted so he could look her in the eyes.
“Please, Master. That’s what you want, isn’t it? What we both want? Dom and sub?”
Yes. Yes. She never thought he’d be offering it. Just the words brought her closer.
“Yes, Master. Yes, that’s what I want.”
The gorgeous smile he gave her melted her heart at the same time it sent heat spiraling through her.
“Then come. Scream my name as you do. And be very happy I made sure this place was empty before joining you here today.”
Holding her thighs wider, exposing her further, his mouth returned to her center. This time his tongue thrust deep inside her, fucking her, as his thumb added direct pressure to her clit. Emma’s hands gripped his hair and she screamed his name, thighs shaking wildly, as he hurled her over the edge. The violent orgasm ripped through her.
She was almost able to breathe, almost able to open her eyes without seeing stars when he did it again, pinning her down, a flexed muscular arm over her stomach to hold her in place for another onslaught.
This time he drew the orgasm out with his mouth and tongue and fingers until Emma was a mass of quivering flesh, his name murmured over and over through her lips.
Jeffrey eased her legs down from his shoulders then slipped his arms under her, easily lifting her and then sitting in the chair with her in his lap, holding her close.
“What about you?” she finally had presence of mind to ask.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’re going to get to me. And we’re going to get to all of those naughty fantasies you’ve been writing.”
She smiled, no words needed.
He kissed her, his large hands coming up to cup her face. He traced her lips with his tongue before sinking it inside her mouth, exploring. Like they had all the time in the world.
When they finally broke apart, Jeffrey smiled. “I hope you’re still willing to be a naughty submissive.”
Emma grinned. “Oh, I am. I have lots more trouble to get into. More tales to write.”
He pulled her closer. “Good. I’ll plan on us reenacting them all. The Tales of My Naughty Submissive.”
The End
Don’t miss Josephine Jade’s TRIPLE THREAT series.
Dark, mafia romance. Available now.
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About the Author
Josephine "Josie" Jade lives in Atlanta with her hubby when not traveling, running marathons or drinking mojitos. She's traveled to five out of the seven continents and hopes to add the sixth (Africa) this year. (Antarctica will have to wait a while, but she'll get there!)
She likes to write books with a darker–and hot!–edge to them, but always with a happily ever after.
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(www.josephinejade.com)
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Copyright notice: 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.