Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance)

by Cross, Skylar

  "You know," he said, "I saw something special in you but I thought it would take a lot longer to get where we are. But I think you're ready for Level 4."

  The levels have numbers?

  Fine. Whatever. All I cared about was how beautiful this man is. And not beautiful in a good-looking All-American football player way. That was Jake.

  The kind of beautiful that is Tristan Slade is in his magnetic eyes, the same colors as the ocean surrounding the Florida Keys. I swear I can even see a coral reef in there.

  Then there are the sharp features. Jake is actually more muscular than Tristan. But Tristan looks like he was cast from a material not of this earth, a distinctive chin carved from stone, high cheekbones with deep ridges that lead down to a cruel mouth, and messy brown hair that cries out for my fingers to run through it.

  "What do you think?" said Tristan.

  Shit, I drifted off and didn't hear what he said before that.

  "Well, could you give me another example?" I said.

  "Another example of what? All I said was let's meet again at 2 pm next Saturday for our next session. Are you all right, Meghan?"

  Next Saturday? Really? He wants me to wait an entire fucking week before I get to dive into those eyes again? Or feel that hot hard cock pressing against my teeth?

  And why didn't he fuck me? He could have. I so wanted him to. He could have at least come in my mouth. Are we ever going to have actual sex? Or is that just not part of submission training? If it isn't, then maybe submission training isn't for me.

  What about that mad erection he had? Is he going to jerk off once I leave? Can he just shut that off? No blue balls?

  Fuck, I'm getting horny again.

  "Meghan, do you have a question for me?" he said.

  "Um..." I said. "Yes. Why didn't you... you know..."

  "Why didn't I what?"

  Bastard. He's going to make me say it.

  "Why didn't you fuck me?" I said.

  "Meghan, you know the answer to that question. We don't have a relationship here. This is your sexual fulfillment training. You know that."

  "So we're never going to?"

  "Meghan, you're a great girl. But I don't get involved with my students."

  Whacking my naked ass until I come isn't getting involved? Really?

  "Do you still have other students?" I said.

  "Yes."

  I felt a pang of sadness.

  "Are they doing as well as me?" I said.

  "Meghan," he said, "this is not a contest. This is to help you become a more sexually fulfilled woman."

  He got up. I guess training is over. Fuck.

  I picked up my purse and walked out of the lounge. I felt his presence behind me. Is he looking at my ass that he could have just taken at any time? I hope so.

  At the door, I turned and faced him.

  "Oh, by the way," I said, "what is that thing called you were whacking me with? I forget."

  "It's called a flogger," he said.

  "Right."

  He looked at his watch. While his eyes were diverted, I made my move. Catching him off guard, I sprang forward and kissed him full force on the lips.

  He resisted but then grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them together. Our tongues found each other.

  I melted and I swear that for just a split second he did too. His hands moved down my back as mine moved up to his neck, pressing him into me.

  His knees bent a little and he swayed.

  I was about to jump up and wrap my legs around his but he got hold of my wrists and squeezed them together.

  Not in a nice way either.

  "Owww!" I said as he twisted them.

  I looked up and saw his face. He was angry. It was a fierce anger that I could see he struggled to control. He shook and stared at me like he was going to do something he would regret.

  Then, as quickly as it hit him I saw it drift away and he was back to being Tristan.

  "Go home," he said. "If you try anything like that again, submission training is over. Do you understand? Say 'yes, mentor.'"

  "Yes, mentor."

  He let go of my wrists. They hurt again as I twisted them back to normal. I picked up my purse and turned to the door.

  He just kept a cruel stare going at me as I walked outside. He closed the door.

  Back in my car, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Shit, Meghan, get fucking control of yourself! You agreed to this. You know he has two other students.

  Is he fucking them? Well, not if they're his students... at least according to him. That gave me a little sense of relief.

  I glanced over at the house. I saw him standing in the window. Just staring at my car. What the fuck? Well, two can play that game, pal. I stared back.

  As I sat there, it began to rain. We were heading back into another winter warmup. The droplets showered down onto my windshield, obscuring his figure lit by the light from inside his house. Then I saw his water-blurred shape turn and drift backward and then out of sight.

  I had showered but I felt like I was a mess again. I had waterworks flowing from both ends of me. Not only were my emotions out of control... as in I, Meghan Delaney, do not know who the goddamned fuck I am anymore... but also my pussy was dripping again.

  Fuck it. I reached down and stroked my lips, flicking my clit. I thought about being in that stockade, with nothing but the flogger hitting my buttocks. Less than an hour ago. Each whack a universe of warped paradise.

  I pretended I was getting whacked again. I could feel the sting of each one. My hips bucked. My orgasm rose.

  With my left hand, I tapped the Bluetooth earpiece.

  As it rang I continued to ride the edge, drawing tiny circles on the head of my clit.

  I heard a click.

  "Yes, Meghan," he said.

  "Mentor, may I come please?" I said.

  There was a long pause.

  "Yes you may," he said.

  "Thank you, mentor," I said.

  "Goodbye," he said.

  "Goodbye, mentor."

  And I came, almost hitting my head on the ceiling of my car as my ass rose up and down off my seat.

  Once I was done, I started my car and drove to my Dad's house.

  Chapter 5

  Meredith Zycroft wore lipstick that was too red. I recognized the look she was going for... pale skin, red lips, short black hair, black blouse and pants. But her face was not cooperating. Too much pancake over the wrinkles. Her upper lip had the tell-tale lines of a chain smoker. I looked at her fingernails. Yep, nicotine stains.

  We were in her office on Mass Ave, no windows, door shut, noise machine on right outside the door. We had already filled out the proper paperwork for insurance and liability.

  "So what brings you to seek therapy, Meghan?" she said. Her pose was inquisitive yet welcoming. Her voice was soft. Her eyes seemed to be listening as intently as her ears.

  "I'm making some odd decisions lately," I said, "and I'd like to figure out why. Your ad said you specialize in working with alternative sexual issues."

  "If by alternative you mean lesbian-gay-bisexual-transgender issues, then yes."

  "You also listed BDSM."

  "Yes. Bondage-discipline-domination-submission-sadism-masochism. These are also within my realm of experience."

  Have you ever been locked in a stockade and flogged? I wondered.

  "Oh, I see," I said. "Well, I seem to have found myself in that kind of relationship."

  "What kind?" she said.

  "The second. A dominant-submissive type relationship."

  She just looked at me, all inviting and warm. Her eyes said go on.

  I began talking about my submissive training with Tristan, leaving out his name and how we got together. I described the public show (but changed some details), the great butt plug robbery, and my recent flogging incident. I told her about Jake and my reaction to his proposal.

  We somehow ended up talking about my parents. Therapists always get to the parents, don't
they?

  I told her about my Dad with his beer and sports, then my Mom with her preaching and morality.

  Then she just looked at me with piercing eyes.

  "So to repeat my question, Meghan, what brings you to seek therapy?"

  "It's just that..." I said, "well, I don't... um... I want to know what the rules are."

  "The rules?"

  "Yes. I want to know if I'm going the right thing. What the rules are for being happy in this type of relationship. And if it's normal to even be in one."

  "Normal," she said. "That's a very interesting word. What does that mean?"

  "I... uh... don't have a dictionary with me but I guess accepted, traditional, understood."

  "Do you want to be accepted, traditional, and understood, Meghan?"

  "I... think so. I'm just confused because I was so one person and now... overnight... I've become so another person. I feel like I'm losing my identity."

  "In what way?"

  "Like if I continue with this odd relationship, am I ever going to be able to be a normal loving wife and mother?"

  "Like your mother?"

  "Well, I wouldn't exactly call her a normal loving wife and mother either."

  "Why not?"

  I felt tears welling up.

  "Because she loved God more than she loved my dad. All my dad ever wanted was her and she left him. I think, anyway. I'm not sure. My dad doesn't talk much."

  I was full-blown crying now. Meredith Zycroft pushed over a box of tissues. I took one. I wonder if therapists get bulk discounts on tissues.

  "We have a lot to discuss, Meghan," said Meredith.

  Her tone indicated our time was up. She turned to her MacBook and tapped some keys.

  "How is next Wednesday at the same time?" she said.

  "Fine," I said, wiping my nose.

  She wrote the time and date of my next appointment on the back of one of her cards and handed it to me. I thanked her and walked through the waiting room to the exit. There were three other people there. None of them made eye contact with me.

  Chapter 6

  I walked to class on a sunny winter morning in the thirties. They were predicting a "Nor'easter" but not until this evening. As long as it didn't snow on Saturday I was okay with it. Today was Thursday. Two days to my next session with Tristan.

  I walked past the vestibule where I first saw the ad. There was a new one in its place between the "Sublet Available Feb 1" ad and the "Guitar Lessons by Rick" one. Looked like Times New Roman on plain white paper again.

  Shit, does he really need more students?

  I walked up to it, but soon realized it was somebody selling thesis writing help. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Relief? What relief? I'm falling in love with a man who is incapable of normal relationships, who puts up Submission training ads so he can lure college girls to his estate and take advantage of them.

  Take advantage? That was my mother speaking. In her world, men were always "taking advantage" of women, like sex was something only men wanted. Like it was something women had to put up with rather than enjoy.

  Did my mother ever have an orgasm? She must have. She must have hid her sexuality from me, right? I could never tell because there was too much Bible-quoting going on. Ecclesiastes 10:12 says this. 2nd Kings 3:24 says that.

  "Meghan!" said a voice, calling from across the street.

  I looked over to see Dan, holding hands with... oh my God!... it's her!... I mean, him... I mean her. Nikki.

  They crossed Elm Street and walked to me. I hugged Dan and he kissed me on the cheek.

  "Nikki, this is Meghan," Dan said. "Meghan, Nikki."

  I shook the very feminine hand of the wildly feminine girl that smiled back at me. She wore black boots, a black form-fitting skirt, a shiny gray loose turtleneck sweater, and a black leather jacket.

  Yowza!

  Did Dan make up the bit about the cock? There is no way this is not a natural-born girl. No, Dan would never make anything like that up.

  "Nice to finally meet you, Meghan," said Nikki. "I've heard so much about you."

  Even the voice is all girl. But wait... is that a... yes, there's a tiny Adam's apple. Damn, but she is gorgeous! I'm even a tad jealous.

  "Yes, me too," I said. "And could I have a private moment with Dan for a second?" I pretended to hide myself behind a book, but said in a loud voice, "Oh my God, Dan! She's a keeper!"

  Nikki and Dan laughed. Nikki looked down and to her left.

  "I was planning on having you two meet each other over lunch," said Dan, "but this is cool. I'm glad we ran into each other. You're heading to class over in Bradford, right?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Nik, do you mind if I join Meghan because I have to visit Dr. Wei over at Henning and Bradford is on the way?"

  "Fine," said Nikki. "I have to get to my internship anyway."

  "Where is your internship?" I said.

  "Over at the TV station on Soldiers Field Road."

  "I don't think I told you," said Dan. "Nikki wants to work in television news just like you. But as an anchor."

  "Reporter," said Nikki. "Not anchor."

  "I get that too," I said. "Only with me it's weather girl, not meteorologist."

  "Sisters!"

  She put her hand up and we high-fived.

  "So I'll see you tonight, right?" said Dan.

  "I'm not sure," said Nikki. "It all depends on when I get out. I'll text you."

  "Okay," said Dan and kissed her.

  She put out her hand and shook mine.

  "Nice to meet you," she said. "We'll have to sit down over a cup of something soon."

  "Definitely!" I said.

  She walked off. I watched her hips sway. She was by far the hottest woman on the street. I counted three head turns in three seconds as she stopped at the corner to wait for the light.

  "Holy shit, Dan!" I said.

  "I know!" he said as he turned and we walked toward campus.

  "Hey, I hope I didn't make you feel awkward the other day when we were talking."

  "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry too. That was all me. I was having a hard time accepting all of it."

  "Was having?"

  "Yeah, I think I'm over it. She's just too amazing for me to care about her plumbing."

  "That's why I love you, Dan."

  "Now, tell me about this Fifty Shades shit you're into. Have you gone yet?"

  "Yes, I'm on Level 4."

  I got a flash of Tristan's coral reef eyes. I almost tripped.

  "What's Level 4?" he said.

  "Fuck if I know," I said, "but that's kind of what I like about it. I don't know what's coming next."

  A pang of sadness hit me when I said that. I don't know why. It was accompanied by a creeping feeling that something was wrong... somewhere... but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

  "You're into some weird shit, aren't you?"

  We stopped in the 150-year old lobby of Bradford Hall and sat on one of the benches. Sunlight cast beams of light through the Gothic windows, flecks of dust highlighted as they swirled.

  I told Dan everything. It flowed better than the version I gave to Meredith Zycroft.

  "Holy shit!" said Dan. "And I thought I was being deviant. Looks like we're both going through some changes."

  "Yes," I said. "And that's not all. I think I'm falling in love with him."

  "Do you think he feels the same way?"

  I heard the question echo three times in my head.

  "I... don't know," I said. "We did kiss when I left the other day."

  Even if it was a forced kiss that was ultimately rejected.

  "Meghan," said Dan, "don't take offense but I have to say this. I don't want to see you hurt. And I really don't like the fact it's just you and him in some sort of private room where you're in a stockade. There was an episode of Criminal Minds once where..."

  "Dan," I said. "It's okay. I'm not saying every decision I made was the safest, but to quote my
Dad, 'Sometimes you just gotta live a little.'"

  "That sounds like your dad."

  "And I appreciate your saying that. I really do."

  "Yeah", he said. "How's your dad doing back home?"

  "I've been over three times this week. He doesn't seem to like my cooking."

  "Well... I understand that."

  "Fuck you, Dan. But yeah, I know. Jake was my personal chef. I don't have the knack like him... or you, for that matter."

  I looked at my watch.

  "Gotta go," I said. "Coffee tomorrow?"

  "Can't," he said. "Nikki and I are going away for the weekend and I have a paper to get done before eight A.M. on Friday."

  "Okay, well text me."

  We hugged and I went to Mesoscale Meteorology class.

  After class, I walked home. The first wisps of snow were in the air, a light coating forming on the ground.

  As I neared my apartment building, I nearly stopped dead in my tracks. Oh God, no. My throat filled with a huge lump.

  Sitting on the steps in front of my building was Jake.

  Chapter 7

  Jake was in his Brooks Brothers best, but he wore no tie and his hair was a mess. His skin looked sallow.

  "Hi," he said.

  "Hi," I said as I noticed he swayed a little. "Are you all right?"

  He looked down at the ground. His hair was full of snowflakes.

  "I resigned," he said as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out an almost empty half-pint bottle of Johnnie Walker Red, took a swig, and put it back.

  "Oh, Jake," I said. "No. C'mon, let's get upstairs and you can tell me what happened."

  He stood up and nearly fell down.

  "Whoops," he said.

  "Jake, you're drunk," I said.

  "I resemble that remark," he said and laughed. Then kept on laughing. Shit, I'd better get him upstairs quick.

  One step at a time we made it up to the second floor, Jake leaning on me. As I put the key in the lock, I felt myself being dragged backwards.

  "Jake!" I said, reaching out and grabbing the lapels of his suit and pulling him up before he fell backward down the stairs.

  "What?" he said. "I'm fine."

  "Sure you are," I said. "Let's just focus on getting inside, okay?"

  "Okay," he said in a cartoon character voice.