The Chronicles of Stella Rice: January

by Adrienne Kama

  I didn’t move or utter a sound.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “No,” I managed.

  He took a step back and let his hands fall to his sides. “Turn around. Look at me.”

  I thought I’d die of embarrassment on the spot, but I didn’t. My heart kept up its incessant clatter in my chest and I remained in Jake’s closet where I’d been caught red-handed.

  “Turn around,” he said again. This time, his voice brooked no discussion.

  Slowly, head down, I turned. “Sorry,” I said to his boots.

  “Look at me.”

  I focused on getting air into my lungs and then out again.

  “Look at me.” He accented the demand with a whap of the paddle against his thigh.

  I not only looked at him, I stood to attention and managed to keep myself from saluting.

  “Better,” he said. “Why were you in my closet?”

  I was so nervous I couldn’t think straight. Before I even considered making up a lie, the truth tumbled out of my mouth in a rush of words.

  His only response was to raise an eyebrow and ask, “You were looking for a razor blade?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned, and walked down the aisle toward a waist high chest of drawers. From a narrow top drawer he pulled a sleek black razor blade and a can of shaving cream.

  He crooked his finger at me. “Come here.”

  Still feeling embarrassed beyond belief, I sidled over to where he stood.

  “Razor blade, shaving cream. Help yourself.”

  I stared at him for a beat, at his outstretched hands, then back at his face. Was he really going to let this go so easily?

  I tried a smile but his eyes remained level and sober.

  I took the proffered items and started toward the bathroom.

  “Did I say you could leave?” he called, stopping me in my tracks.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. “No,” I said aloud.

  I turned and saw, much to my dismay, he’d picked up the paddle he’d set on the top of the chest of drawers. “Come here.”

  I considered making a run for it but decided that would be undignified. Reluctantly, I stepped in his direction.

  Whapping the paddle against his thigh again, he said in a steady voice, “In this house, Stella, there are rules. You’ve been here ten minutes and already you broke one. Though, I can’t say I’m displeased.”

  “You don’t think I’ll let you beat me with that thing,” I blurted

  “My walls are soundproof,” he said, ominously”

  “I could leave.”

  He shrugged. “You could try, but you won’t. You want to be here.”

  Lust, overpowering and all-encompassing, raged inside of me at his words. I realized quite suddenly he could indeed do whatever he liked to me. Knowing this should have heightened my fear, but it didn’t. Instead, desire warred with common sense, and I had to force myself not to throw my body to the floor at his feet and beg him to take me right there and then.

  “But I’m not a sadist,” he said. The hungry way he looked at me seemed to argue against that statement. “I’ll give you a choice of punishments. One, you can bend that luscious body of yours over my knee and take the twenty paddles you have coming.”

  “Or two,” I said, helpfully.

  “Agree to stay with me, here, all night.”

  I laughed before I could stop myself. “That’s easy.”

  “As my personal sex toy.”

  That brought me up short. “Sex toy?”

  “Sex slave,” he clarified. “You do whatever I tell you. All night. Those are your options.” Saying this, he edged past me and out of the closet. “You have five minutes to think about it. I’ll wait for your answer in the bedroom. Go on and shave your legs while you think.”

  In the bathroom I did just that. Sitting on the counter with a sink full of water and shaving cream smoothed out over my legs my mind raced over what I should do.

  I hadn’t wasted any time on contemplating trying to leave. Jake was right, I wanted to be there. He had also seemed to know his offer of being a sex slave or receiving a paddling would excite a desire I’d only ever contemplated in secret. As I ran his razor blade over my legs I realized there really wasn’t any decision to make. I’d known what I would do as soon as he set the options before me.

  I walked out of the bathroom five minutes later to find him reclining on his bed, staring into the fireplace. He’d taken his coat off and his chest seemed impossibly muscular in the flickering flame light.

  “Decided?” he asked, not looking at me.

  I nodded. “I’ll do the sex toy thing.”

  “I figured you would.”

  “But what all does it entail?”

  “It entails whatever I want it to. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself. Now for the fun,” he said, and got to his feet.

  One moment he was resting easily against the pillows, the next he was inches from me, chest rising and falling in time with his rapid breaths. I was relieved to see he’d discarded the paddle, but a little scared when I saw the look of anticipation on his face. More disturbing, I realized he wasn’t exhaling so much as he was panting. He was breathing so fast, I worried he would hyperventilate.

  “Take your clothes off,” he ordered.

  “But shouldn’t we talk or something first?”

  “I want to see you naked. Right now.”

  “Okay.” I bit my lip. “Maybe we should—”

  “Take your dress off, Stella. Now.”

  Since the dress was small it wasn’t difficult to remove. It was lying in a puddle at my feet in less than a minute. The panties followed.

  I felt so exposed, so laid bare standing in front of him naked. I thought I should cover myself with my hands, fold my arms over my breasts, something…but I didn’t. I stood stark still, hands at my sides and waited.

  He drank me in with his eyes, took in every inch of my body, my breasts, my legs, my face, and the juncture of flesh between my thighs screamed for his attention.

  “Hairless,” he said with approval. “See you remembered to shave something.”

  My face heated and I looked away.

  Abruptly, he turned and went to the bed. He began arranging the pillows. At first I didn’t know what he was doing, but then I realized he’d positioned the pillows into what looked like a hill on the edge of the bed.

  “Come here, Stella, and bend over the pillows,” he said in a low voice. “I want your breasts against the mattress and your ass in the air.”

  I went to him, barely able to breathe. I was so turned on.

  He held me by the waist and positioned me over the pillows. I’d felt exposed before, but I felt downright open to the elements now. His comforter was soft against my cheek, yet I couldn’t say I was as comfortable with the placement of the rest of my body. Tail end risen in the air, I felt I should shove the pillows aside so I could lie flat on my stomach.

  Then he touched my thighs and I felt the press of his erection at my opening.

  Airy tingles flowed through my body.

  “I’ve wanted you like this since the first day you came into my class,” he said. “Gorgeous and at my mercy.” He edged closer, ran his finger down my spine. A series of chills had me shivering. “That feel good, Stella?”

  “Please Jake,” I begged, “I can’t wait.”

  “That’s it, beg me for it.” He shifted his hips and let his erection glide over my quim. The pleasure of this simple movement had me pressing my face into the mattress to staunch my cry of delight.

  I thought for sure he’d ease into me then, but he didn’t. Instead, he rocked his hips back, letting his cock glide over my sensitive nub a second time.

  I bit into his comforter and moaned, so aroused I could already feel an orgasm building deep inside. It pulsated and teased, lingered just beyond my reach.

  His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as he rocked forward again, repeating the tortur
ous movement that had so nearly undone me a second ago.

  “Please, Jake. I can’t take anymore teasing.”

  Slowly, he rocked back again, drawing the orgasm closer. “Tell me how much you want my dick inside of you.”

  “I do.”

  He pressed forward, this time accenting the torture by squeezing my nipples between his fingers. No pressing of my face into the mattress or biting the comforter could staunch the cry that erupted out of me. I writhed beneath him, struggled to rub my clit against his cock, desperate but unable to cum.

  “Say it,” he insisted.

  “I want your dick inside of me,” I cried out against my arm.

  “Now say it so I can hear you.”

  He eased back, rubbing his thumbs over my erect nipples and sending waves or erotically charged heat through my body.

  “I want your dick inside of me,” I screamed in frustration.

  He plunged into me with one, strong thrust. Even before he started to move within me, the orgasm that had been hovering just out of my reach erupted. I screamed his name as I rode the climactic ecstasy.

  He pulled back and thrust inside, fast and hard. His need to be satiated was so strong, he moved with an animalistic hunger that had desire rousing my body even before the last shudders of my orgasm dissipated.

  Hands clasping my hips, fingers biting into my flesh, he drew back and sank into me again. Drew back then drove in, sure and deep. He grunted like a beast, groaning as he drew his thick length out of me. “Oh, Stella. Oh, Stella,” he said, then began murmuring my name.

  I couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. I received the most delicious coring of my life.

  My fists clenched in reflex with every thrust, the comforter was soon crumpled and wrinkled within my grasp.

  Without warning, he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me. One moment I was kneeling on the bed in front of him, the next he’d shoved the pillows off the bed and pressed me flat on the mattress. He came down atop me, still riding me hard.

  I gloried in the feel of his body atop mine, and his sweat drenched chest pinning me to the mattress beneath him. Never had I felt so alive and completely at one with a man before.

  He drove into me harder and I pushed against him, matching him thrust for thrust. Liquid fire oozed in my loins and snaked through my body.

  He moved faster, moaned louder.

  “You feel so good Jake,” I managed to say. “So good. Don’t stop.” I let out a yelp of surprise when I felt his lips against the back of my throat, felt his tongue glide over my damp skin.

  “You belong to me, Stella,” he said into my ear, then licked at my earlobe. “Say it.”

  He ground his hips and drove deeper inside of me. “I belong to you, Jake,” I agreed breathlessly.

  His lips closed over my throat and he sucked hard as he quickened his pace. With every withdrawal he panted into my ear. Every possession brought me closer to the edge, approaching the precipice.

  I gloried in this pleasure, in the feel of his body’s demand for mine.

  “Fuck me this is good,” he whispered and drove in hard and deep.

  Bright light danced behind my closed eyes as a second orgasm ripped through me. I bucked beneath him, writhed. I realized he was cumming too when he entwined his hands with mine and squeezed.

  For a moment we were frozen, pleasure too intense, too strong to overcome. We hovered on the edge of sanity, hovered, then returned to earth with matching sighs of bliss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  1/16/05 12:37 a.m.

  “What do you want?”

  I sat at the breakfast bar while he was opening cabinet doors searching for possible food items.

  “What do you have?” I asked, surprised that I wasn’t merely hungry but famished. It was just after midnight and I wanted to eat a four-course meal.

  He stood from the cabinet he’d been perusing and gave me a smirk. “Let me show you.” As he moved across the kitchen to the refrigerator I watched the muscles in his thighs flex and release. It was enough of a sight to make me feel light-headed with desire all over again.

  After we roused ourselves from his bed, he’d donned a pair of loose, black jogging shorts that rode low on his hips. The simple shorts on any other man would not have been anything spectacular, but on Jake the sight was enough for my hormones go on full alert.

  His chest was slick with sweat from our recent lovemaking, as was his hair. It hung in shimmering waves down his back and over his shoulders. His lips looked as though he’d rouged them deep mauve, simply the effect of kissing. Most alluring was the sight of his hipbones peaking from the low-riding shorts he wore. The man was a walking, talking advertisement for sex.

  “How about pasta?” He pulled the refrigerator door open to display the inside stuffed with food.

  I saw celery stalks, carrots, fresh broccoli, and lettuce, but I also saw casserole dishes—presumably full of food—a whole chicken, two gallons of two percent milk, some thick red substance I supposed was a juice of some sort, and lots of other stuff.

  “I didn’t think a fitness guru like you would eat this much,” I said, rising from the bar stool and meeting him at the door.

  “I’m six-five and I weigh about two fifty. If I didn’t eat this much I wouldn’t make it through the day.”

  “Well, you’re a foot taller than me and you outweigh me by a good hundred and thirty pounds. I’ll be fine with a salad.”

  I reached inside the cool interior for the bag of lettuce I spied from across the room, only to have my hand slapped. I pulled back and glared at him.

  “You’re gonna need a lot more than a salad to keep you going tonight. Sleep is the last thing I’m letting you do. You can sleep tomorrow after I take you home.”

  “So you’re taking me home. So I’m not your prisoner indefinitely?”

  He edged me aside with his hip and pulled one of the casserole dishes out. “We’ll see how well you follow orders.” He grinned at me, carrying the plate to the center island.

  I trailed behind him, curious as to what he’d feed me on what was to be a marathon night of sex.

  “Ravioli stuffed with smoked salmon, artichoke hearts, and crab meat,” he announced.

  “I’m not eating that. You know how many calories are in something like that? And never mind the cholesterol.”

  “What cholesterol?”

  “The cholesterol in whatever sauce you made to go with it. No doubt some cheese sauce.”

  As I spoke, he examined the casserole dish, eyed the dishes he’d removed from the pantry, then settled on heating the entire pot. He took the casserole to the oven, set it inside, and turned it on to three hundred and fifty degrees.

  “That should be about fifteen minutes,” he said. “And no, I didn’t make a cheese sauce. For your information the sauce is low cholesterol, lots of calories, which is exactly what I want right now.”

  “I want a salad.”

  Twenty minutes later we were settled on plump sofas in his living room sharing an oversized bowl of raviolis. He’d started another fire, more to set a mood, I imagine, than for heat since the room was nice and toasty already.

  “Take my robe off,” he said quietly. “I want you naked all night long.”

  “Aren’t you worried we’ll get sauce on your couches? They’re beige, not exactly a color that’ll blend well with—”

  “Take the robe off or I’ll take it off.”

  I took it off.

  I set the robe over the sofa before sitting again, unwilling to mar the cushions with sauce—or anything else.

  As I got comfortable I reflected on all I’d done this week. I was more than a little shocked by my own behavior. I was actually spending the night in Jake’s house. Never, ever could Katarina know about this. Never! She’d kill me.

  “So what happens Monday at class?” I asked, wondering how I could ever behave casually with him again.

  His fork hand paused and he lifted his head to look at me, an eyebrow
raised. “I thought I’d leave a note on the bulletin board about us, letting everyone know. Not only are you habitually late to class but you’re also being fucked by the owner of the gym.”

  I gave him an eye roll. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  I took up my fork and studied the pasta. Not only did it look good but its tangy fragrance had been torturing me since Jake brought the bowl out of the kitchen. Even though I hadn’t wanted to eat it and had actually only agreed after much discussion, arguing, and debate, the delicious smelling concoction made my stomach growl in demand to be fed. While I wasn’t crazy about eating such a dish so late at night, Jake was very persuasive. The sight of his erect penis and his promise of what he’d do to me after we ate didn’t hurt his cause either.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”

  He nodded. “It’s what women love about me.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nodded, and then held his fork to my mouth. “Open up and say ah.”

  I let him place ravioli between my lips. I could feel the hot sauce glide over my tongue as the taste of smoked salmon filled my mouth. Not only did this smell good, but it tasted wonderful. “Someone’s been telling you lies, honey,” I said of his earlier statement.

  “Really? You’re saying you don’t like domineering men?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t like anyone telling me what to do.”

  “Mmm,” he said, placing another ravioli in my mouth. “Then what were you doing at the club?” Before I could answer he interrupted me. “I know, you’re girlfriend was meeting someone there. Big deal. You didn’t have to go dressed in latex.”

  “Everyone was wearing latex there. And leather,” I added.

  “Yeah baby, but your dress couldn’t have been more sub if you tried. Though I suppose that was the point.”

  I reared back as if slapped. “Sub, as in submissive?”

  He grinned. “What else?”

  “Screw you! I’m no sub.”

  “You’re no Dom.”

  “I’m no sub. I was only in that stupid club in the first place for—”

  “Katarina,” he finished. “Come on. There’s just the two of us. You’re telling me you’ve never fantasized about having some man…” He stared towards the ceiling and frowned. I suppose he was searching for just the right words. “Dominate you,” he finished, and then shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many women do.”