The speaker came to life. “Rachel, you shouldn’t have done that.” This time it was his actual voice coming from the computer, not a mechanical one.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked.
“The receptionist called me,” M said. “I promise I’m not stalking you.”
“I want to see you,” I again insisted. “I need to see you, M.”
He sighed. “Like I said, that’s not possible at this point. I’m sorry. If that’s a dealbreaker for you, then so be it.”
“Just show me your face, on the screen,” I said.
“No.”
“Goddamit, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. Give me a reason to trust you.”
“I cannot let you know who I am, Rachel. I’m sorry.”
“Show me something, anything,” I said.
There was no response. But he didn’t say no.
“You’ve seen me naked. Can I see your body? Without your face?” I was begging. I wanted to see a living, breathing person on the other side of that connection.
Again, no response. He was on the fence.
“Please, M?”
Seconds passed in silence, then the monitor flickered and I was looking at a man in a suit. The camera was positioned so that I could only see from his breast pocket to his knees. He appeared to be seated in a car. Apart from his obviously expensive clothing, there was nothing visible, nothing that could be used to identify him.
“This is me, Rachel. And my first name does begin with the letter ‘M.’”
I was almost in tears, the relief was so great.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No face, though, not for now,” M said. “We’ll see how things go.”
I looked at him on the screen. It was hard to tell, but he looked trim, well built. He certainly wasn’t overweight. Body-wise, he appeared to be an attractive man.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“In my car, on my way to the airport. I have to catch a flight.” The image blurred, then I was looking at the back of someone’s head. “That is my driver.” M was in the back seat of the car, pointing the camera toward the front. Bright sunlight coming through the windshield precluded me from seeing much else. Then the camera was again pointed at M’s body.
“Can I ask you something private, M?”
“Hang on… Put the partition up, please.” He was talking to the driver. I imagined a darkened partition rising behind the driver’s head. “Okay.”
“The scenario you painted the other night, of you masturbating to my picture on your desk… did you actually do that?”
“I did,” he said. “Although it was after hours and nobody was in the office except me. I did imagine people walking in and catching me, though.”
I smiled. “Did you come?” I asked.
“Yes. I adore your body, Rachel.”
“I don’t understand that,” I said. “I’m fat.”
“You’re voluptuous, my dear,” M said. “Wars have been started over bodies like yours.”
I felt tears well in my eyes. This man certainly had a way with words. And that voice.
“And men have left me over it as well,” I said. “So forgive me if I have trouble believing that it holds that much appeal to you.”
A moment later M said, “Take off your clothes, Rachel. All of it.”
I did as instructed, standing directly in front of the camera as I disrobed, fully aware that anyone looking in from the building across the street might see me, or at least parts of me. I finally slid my panties off, thankful that I had waxed this time, and sat in the chair again.
“How can you see or hear me if you’re holding your phone like that?” I asked.
“I turned on the speaker.”
“But you can’t see me,” I said.
M re-aimed the phone and I saw a laptop sitting on the seat across from him. When I saw myself on the screen, it was all I could do not to get up and grab my clothes. It hadn’t occurred to me that he could plainly see my face as well as my very naked body; I thought it would be more like the picture I had sent him. The phone thankfully returned to M’s body and I could no longer see naked Rachel on the laptop’s screen, although M could.
I glanced out the office window to see if anyone in the building across the street was looking, but I couldn’t see into the tinted windows. My body was probably obscured by the desk anyway. Looking back at the screen, I saw M lowering his zipper. My heart seemed to stop beating and I watched, riveted, as his hand disappeared into the opening, only to reappear a moment later holding his erect cock. It was gorgeous and so, so hard.
“Here is your proof, my dear,” he said. “See what happens when I look at your naked body?”
Did I really do this to him? Seriously? My chubby body?
M began to slowly stroke himself. I immediately felt the wetness between my legs. I considered rubbing my clit or even squeezing my nipples a little, but knew I shouldn’t because my new dom hadn’t told me to. I watched as a silvery bead of pre-cum leaked out of the tip of his cock. I squirmed in my chair as I imagined him looking intently at my nude figure.
He stopped for a moment, his hand leaving his hard-on. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I looked on in a state of near-rapture at the beautiful erection on my screen. His hand came back into view and he moved his cock back into his pants, zipping up afterward.
“Enough of that,” M said. “I don’t want to make a mess back here.”
I could still plainly see the outline of his hard-on through his slacks, straining at the dark material.
“If I were there, I could clean it up for you,” I said.
M laughed. “If you were here, there would be nothing to clean. You would have been instructed to consume the evidence.”
He kept the phone pointed at his torso, and I kept staring at the bulge created by his erection.
“Please let me see it again.” I was practically begging. “I want to watch you come.”
“No,” he replied, “I’m the dom here, Rachel.”
His authoritative tone made my stomach clench.
“I’ll be back in town in a week, and we can begin. You have until then to prepare yourself mentally.”
Prepare for what? I attempted to smile at him through my confusion. “I’ll try my best. I hope you’ll be happy with me.”
Moments later he said goodbye and the screen flickered off. My mouth watered at the mere thought of “consuming” his “evidence.” I looked out the window again. The desk covered me well enough from prying eyes, so I slid my hand down between my legs and my finger found my clit. As I stroked it, I recollected every detail of what I’d just witnessed on the monitor. I mentally submitted to what I was doing, to my new relationship with M, and imagined I was touching myself on a crowded MAX car, not caring about the people watching me. I had to stifle my scream when I came, my powerful orgasm racking my body. Afterward I remained naked in the chair, my juices slick on its leather surface.
No, M hadn’t told me I could give myself an orgasm. Then again, he hadn’t told me I couldn’t.
When I stood to get dressed, I looked again at the building across the street. The window was calling me, daring to stand naked in front of it for a few seconds. I took two steps towards it, then lost my nerve and quickly got dressed, laughing at myself. I was definitely not that fearless.
On the way back to my office, I knew instinctively that my life had changed. I could feel that I was a different person, I just couldn’t precisely define what had changed, what part of me had been pushed to the back so this nebulous, hazy new Rachel could emerge.
I knew one thing, though: For my whole life up to this point, I had been a closed bud, waiting for the sunshine to awaken me, to open me up.
I’m ready for this.
I think.
To be continued...
Join my e-mail list to get updates
on the Forced to Bloom series.
Forced to Bloom
&n
bsp; The Complete Series
Book 2
by Alexis Adaire
1
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Sitting on the desk in my office when I returned from lunch was a single dark red peony. Already in bloom, its long green stem curved elegantly upward from an exquisite Baccarat crystal vase. The huge bloom was aflame with reds, its delicate petals practically dripping crimson, scarlet, ruby and garnet. It was stunning, captivating even, as perfect a flower as ever existed. It was also the first flower anyone had ever sent to me at my office.
And I immediately wished my friend and co-worker Lindsey hadn’t also seen it.
“Well who’s that from?” Lindsey cooed. “Is there something you want to tell me, Rachel?”
She picked up the card before I could, and we both looked at it.
Soon…
M
“Soon what?” Lindsey asked. “And who’s M? Rachel, you holding out on me, girl?”
I had been holding out. I’d told no one about M.
How could I? What would I say? That I’d agreed to serve a man I’d never met?
Five days earlier I had agreed to be a submissive to a billionaire I knew only as “M” — but I hadn’t heard a word from him since. In the meantime, I had become the world’s most anxious sub. I knew M was out of town on business, but had still expected, or at least hoped, that he would contact me. Instead, I tried in vain to stop thinking of him and what was in store for me upon his return.
My mind flashed back to the moment I first saw M’s “Billionaire seeks submissive” ad in Craigslist, accompanied by a haunting photo of a woman in a crowded Portland light-rail car with one breast peeking out of her partially open blouse. I answered the ad out of curiosity spurred by the BDSM erotica I’d been reading, then found myself becoming more and more intrigued with the idea of actually serving as a submissive, of acquiescing to the desires of a powerful man. When I learned that not only was M actually wealthy, he also was quite fond of my curvy body, I agreed to his proposition without knowing his name or what he looked like. Stupid move? Maybe, I wasn’t sure yet.
Okay, that last part wasn’t entirely true; M had shown me his erect cock via video when I questioned his attraction to me. The effect my naked body had on him was undeniable. But that was the only part of him I was allowed to see. Meanwhile, he’d seen all of me. Twice. Once when he instructed me to send him a naked selfie taken in my office during work hours, and again when he asked me to strip naked for him over video in my apartment.
Perhaps the scene that replayed most in my mind was one I’d never witnessed at all. M had me masturbate for him over the phone, telling me to imagine him jerking off to my naked picture in his office. I couldn’t get that fantasy out of my mind, and many times each day I visualized his cock erupting as he came, coating the image of me on his phone as it sat atop his desk.
When I wasn’t imagining M masturbating to my picture, I was remembering the actual interactions I’d had with him, starting with that initial “interview” in his little rented office, conducted entirely via computer without me ever seeing him, though he could see me. My reluctance to show him a breast on command had nearly ruined it for me, but I was able to salvage the situation later by acing a second test, the request to bravely strip at work and send him that naked selfie.
Every step of the relationship thus far had been difficult for me, pushing my boundaries in ways nobody had ever pushed them before. That was the single most important thing, the fact that M’s demands excited me in a way nothing or nobody else ever had. More than his proving his wealth by paying off eleven thousand dollars in student loans without consulting me first, and more even than his repeated proclamations that he found my size-14 body “voluptuous.”
No, it was M’s button-pushing that excited me the most, and that was why I was practically holding my breath in anticipation of his return. I was eager for our new relationship to begin in earnest, eager to learn how to serve my new dom.
Early in the week I realized M had never said exactly when he would be returning to Portland. “In a week” wasn’t very precise. By Friday morning, I was wondering if he was already back in town and had to restrain myself from texting or calling him. The waiting was driving me crazy, so Lindsey and I went to grab some lunch at a food truck near the large healthcare firm where we worked, her as Public Relations Liaison and me as Social Media Coordinator. As Lindsey prattled on and on about her new boyfriend, it was all I could do to keep quiet about this strange new twist in my life.
Upon our return to the office, we were both surprised to see the enormous red flower sitting on my desk. After reading the card, Lindsey spun around and thrust it in my face.
“Come on, give it up. Who is M?”
I shut the door of my office. I realized I had been dying to share this with someone, but was afraid to. Now it all came spilling out and I told Lindsey everything. When I’d finished, she looked at me in utter disbelief.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’ve never actually met him? Or even seen a picture of him?”
“No, not yet.”
“But you’ve agreed to be a submissive to him?” Lindsey asked.
“Yes. I know it sounds crazy,” I said, “but I like the way I feel in this relationship.”
“Relationship? Seriously? You’ve never met him.”
I had no response because deep down I knew Lindsey was right. I wasn’t interested in listening to reason, though — I wanted only to hear from M again.
“I don’t care if he did pay off your student loans, Rachel — that doesn’t mean he won’t exploit you in some way that could hurt you. Physically, mentally, emotionally… or maybe just your reputation. I’d be cautious if I were you.”
When Lindsey left, I sat at my desk and stared at the peony. I touched its achingly beautiful petals, their brilliant cardinal silkiness gliding sensuously across my fingertips. Leaning in, I inhaled a lungful of the flower’s sweet, cloying scent.
A smile tried to cross my lips, then vanished as a single somber thought forced its presence on me:
What am I doing?
2
I stayed at home that night, despite it being a Friday. The peony sat on the coffee table in my living room. I lay on the couch with Mingus purring contentedly on my belly and scrolled back through the texts I’d received from M. One resonated more than the others.
Are you sure you’re up for this?
Was I sure? I’d told him I thought I was, but now I wasn’t so certain. The idea of being the submissive of a man I’d never met bothered me. Why couldn’t M reveal himself to me? What was he hiding? Would I ever know who he is? In the midst of all this uncertainty, the image of his erect cock seized my mind again, its beautifully hard shaft, its perfectly proportioned head. I wanted to touch it, to taste it, to feel it deep inside of me.
For several hours, my thoughts jumped back and forth, from being unsure of what I was doing and why I was doing it, to M’s sexy, commanding voice and his gorgeous hard-on. I was kept off-balance by this constant mental flip-flopping.
One new text from him was all it took for me to regain my equilibrium.
Pink Floyd’s “Money” made me jump, and Mingus jumped in turn. I clicked on the message.
Ready to have some fun?
I quickly responded before I could think it over. This would become my modus operandi with M: Act quickly before I had the chance to talk myself out of it.
Yes!
I waited breathlessly for the next text.
Good. Be at the office on Madison at noon. Wear jeans.
I was so thrilled to hear from M again that my doubts evaporated and I went to sleep a happy new sub.
Unfortunately, the moment I woke up the uncertainty began to return. I ate breakfast, then took a long, leisurely bath, trying to convince myself that M was genuine and cared about me. I was still unsure as I slipped into my jeans, then scoured my closet for a shirt to w
ear. Shortly after 11:30 I kissed Mingus goodbye and headed toward downtown. I’d considered texting Lindsey to let her know I’d heard from M, but decided against it. I didn’t want to be talked out of doing this, whatever “this” was.
The Portland Bank Building was nearly empty on a Saturday morning, with a lone security guard there to greet me as I entered. When I got to the suite on the twenty-seventh floor, though, I saw the same young receptionist behind the desk.
“You work Saturdays?” I asked with a smile as I walked in holding my Stumptown Coffee cup.
She returned my smile. “I do when M requests it. Double overtime.”
Since it was a few minutes before noon, and realizing I might be seeing her more often, I introduced myself. Her name was Whitney and she was just twenty years old, a student at the University of Portland, studying modern dance. She certainly had the body for it, and I found myself wondering if she’d ever met M, whether he’d been attracted to her, then immediately feeling foolish for thinking like a jealous girlfriend. Whitney opened the door to M’s office and I slipped inside.
The air in the office was warm from the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It occurred to me that M should invest in some blinds, then I realized he probably liked the exposure, so to speak. I smiled; I was beginning to think like him.
The office setup had not changed. A single desk faced the windows with a laptop computer on it and a leather executive chair sat nearby. Today, though, there was another object sitting on the desk, a clothing box from Nordstrom’s. My heart leapt slightly at the sight of it. The computer was not on, or at least the screen was dark. I glanced at my phone for the time. 11:58. Walking to the window, I looked down at the sidewalk below, watching the few people walking by on a Saturday.
Forced to Bloom, The Complete Series: (BBW Alpha Male Billionaire BDSM Romance) Page 4