by Wane, BJ
It was almost as if she could read his mind, the way she broke from him and fled. He watched her make a hasty retreat out the door and had to physically refrain from going after her. As soon as the scene ended, he gave in to temptation and made his way to the bar.
“Hey, boss,” Eric greeted him. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, thanks, Eric. I saw you spending quite a bit of time talking to a cute redhead. Do you know her?”
“I wish. No, she was new and full of curiosity. I filled her in and she seemed to enjoy the auction. I guess that last scene was a little too heavy for her.”
“Okay. I was just making sure she was all right. She high tailed it out pretty quick. I’ll check the cameras and the gate to make sure she got off.”
“I hinted I’d be interested in learning her fantasy, but she shot me down. Apparently her fantasy isn’t fucking a younger guy.”
“She couldn’t have been much older than you.” Eric had just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday and Brock had arranged for a couple of women in their thirties to entertain him.
“Maybe a few years. She was cute, bright blue eyes and freckles. I hope she comes back.”
Brock did too, but he doubted she would. He couldn’t explain the sense of loss that thought left him with.
Chapter Two
Lillian took her usual seat at the bar and smiled as Eric came over to her and set down a glass of her favorite wine. “Thanks, Eric,” she said, returning his smile. She had been coming into Fantasy’s every Saturday night now for two months and her and Eric had become good friends. Much to his chagrin, she viewed him as a younger brother. That didn’t stop him from flirting with her every chance he got.
“I’ve been waiting for you. The boss asked me to let him know if you showed up tonight.”
Lillian’s heart picked up a rapid rhythm and her mouth went dry. Her obsession with the club’s owner had increased over the last eight weeks until she seriously considered not coming in any more. Nothing good could come of her attraction to this aloof man, even though she spent every night dreaming of being owned by him, allowing him total dominance over her body and soul. Before she started frequenting the club, her fictitious owner had no name or face, but ever since her first glimpse of Brock, it had been him she had submitted to, him, and him only she longed to please. Even surrounded by friends and acquaintances, he had air of loneliness about him that she longed to ease.
“What did he want? Do you know?” As far as she knew, Brock took no notice of her when she was here. She sat at the same place each week, sipped a glass of wine or two, and then went upstairs to the observation rooms where she sat unobtrusively in the back and watched the different sexual escapes going on behind the glass, wishing more and more each week that she had the nerve to participate. But, every time she thought of filling out an application, she backed out. She wanted to experience everything she saw at the club, but there was only one man she wanted her submission to please.
“I have no clue,” Eric replied, wondering himself what the boss’s interest was in her. In the past four or five years, Brock hadn’t taken a serious interest in any woman and had quit participating in the fantasies he provided for others. He took women to his bed, usually using one of the private rooms at the club, and that was the extent of his involvement with them. Every week, after Lillian departed, he had approached Eric and grilled him on what they had talked about and if he knew what her interests were. Unfortunately, other than learning she owned her own real estate company and that she had been raised by her aunt who had eight children of her own, he knew nothing about her except she blushed sweetly and had a mouth any guy would kill to have wrapped around his dick, including him. A full bottom lip and bowed top lip that came together in cock-hardening temptation.
Lillian didn’t notice Brock had walked up behind her, but Eric did. He kept her eyes on him as he grinned mischievously. “Maybe he wants to hear about your fantasy.”
Lillian would love to have him not only hear it, but fulfill it, but just the thought of opening herself up to possible ridicule or worse, being advised to seek professional counseling, was enough to keep her thoughts to herself. “Some fantasies aren’t meant to be fulfilled.” The poignant longing in her voice wasn’t lost on either man.
“How do you know if you don’t try?” Brock said from behind her, anticipating his first glimpse of her up close and personal as she swiveled around. Startled, ocean blue eyes flew to his, a soft gasp escaping from a fuck me mouth. Eric had bee right, he mused as he stared at those soft, full lips. That was a mouth made for sucking a man’s cock. Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. “I’m Brock Matthews, the owner of Fantasy.”
“I know,” Lillian admitted shyly, taking his hand. He had a gentle, but firm grip and she quickly found herself imagining that same firm pressure being applied to her bare ass. Damn her red hair, she cursed silently as she felt herself blushing. His black eyes warmed as they roved her now red face, as if he knew what she was thinking. “I’m Lillian…Lillian Gaines.”
“I know, thanks to Eric. I hear he’s kept you well informed about my club and what we can offer you, Lillian. I can assure you, there’s nothing you can tell me that I haven’t heard before, no fantasy I haven’t arranged in some form or another.”
Lillian barely heard his words, she was so mesmerized by his slow, deep voice and the way those dark, cold eyes warmed when he looked at her. He was even more handsome up close and so far out of her league it was pitiful because she had decided that first night eight weeks ago that he was the only man she wanted owning her, and according to Eric, he was the least likely candidate to fulfill her fantasy. Her single minded obsession with him made no sense, but then, neither did her abnormal desire to become his cherished possession.
Lillian glanced around at the people seated close enough to over hear them. “I wouldn’t even be comfortable telling you about it.”
Brock had spent years reading people, especially women, and after years of talking openly with strangers about arranging for their deepest desires to be met, he knew when a woman really wanted to try something and when she was just out for some kinky fun. Lillian’s desire for whatever it was that drew her here was real, yet something she obviously thought she could never experience. For the first time in a long while, he wanted to not only give her whatever she ached for, he wanted to be sure the experience turned out to be everything she had ever hoped for.
“Come with me,” he instructed, turning his back on her, expecting her to follow.
He had kept an eye on her each time she had arrived at the club, knew which scenes she had observed, and by her repeat attendance, which ones were of particular interest to her. He would have enjoyed introducing her to the pleasures and pain of his dominate rule, but he had tired of the fantasies always ending when reality took over. Still, he was confident he could find a Dom that would suit her needs. He refused to acknowledge the irrational envy at the thought of her tutoring under another’s hand gave him. He prided himself on his iron control and he had no trouble shoving aside the need he was experiencing for her complete surrender.
It never occurred to Lillian to refuse. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she slid off the bar stool and followed behind him, admiring the way his slacks molded his ass. She had never seen him dressed in anything but black, but it suited him. Between his dark clothes and his dark hair, eyes and that five o’clock shadow that seemed to always cover his face, he drew every woman’s attention. She couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement that he had even noticed her at all, let alone become so interested in what it was she was wanting. She had drawn comfort from the blatant way he had kept tabs on her, and in truth, it was those actions that had kept her coming back each week and drove her to distraction when she was away.
Brock led her down a narrow hallway and into a door marked private. Stepping in behind him, she grew nervous when he shut the door. “This is my office and we won’t be disturbe
d in here, so I can assure you of its privacy. Have a seat.”
Lillian sank into the plush armchair facing his desk as she watched him seat himself behind it. Finally, after weeks of tormenting herself, she was alone with him and she had to physically quench the desire to drop to her knees in front of him.
“Lillian,” Brock chided softly. “Relax and tell me about yourself.”
Surprisingly, once she started, Lillian found it easy to talk to Brock. He listened attentively as she told him how her mother had dropped her off one day at her sister’s home and never returned to pick her up. Her aunt, having eight children of her own to raise, took her in anyway and she became one of a brood.
“My aunt and uncle were good to me, but I never really belonged. I tried to make them proud of me, to do things to please them, but they were totally indifferent to my efforts and by the time I was a teenager I quit trying.”
“Let me guess, you want to submit to a man so you can please him since you were unable to please anyone in your extended family.”
Lillian had to smile at his arrogant assumption that he had her pegged, that her fantasy was something so simple as submitting sexually to a man for a short time. “Close, but so far from what I really want as not to be significant.”
“Tell me.”
His softly spoken demand sent shivers down her and she was unable to resist his pull. “I want to be owned by a man.” Her face flamed bright red, but she refused to look away from his direct, black stare.
Brock felt the first real stirrings of more than interest at her softly uttered confession. Surely she didn’t mean what he thought those words meant. She would probably run screaming if he gave her his definition of what it meant to be completely owned by a man, by him. “You want to be a sex slave? That can be easily arranged,” he replied, determined to get her to spell it out for him. He was irritated she had succeeded in raising even a glimmer of hope of meeting a woman who actually wanted to give him what he had always craved to have.
“No!”
His brows shot up at her adamant denial, then lowered in confusion. “Listen, Lil. In my line of work I have to be very careful. You need to be specific about what you want and, if you decide to fill out an application, you’ll have to be very explicit, leave no stones unturned, no questions left to answer.”
Jumping from her seat, her first thought was to run, but before she gave in to that temptation she turned back around, drawing on her inner strength and refusing to give up on what might be her only chance to see if she really did need counseling or if there was any way her desires had merit.
Brock hadn’t made a move to stop her, just sat there calmly watching her, waiting for her decision. He had that look again, one she had noticed whenever he had been near enough to her for her to see him clear. He looked alone, set apart, needing something, someone that he hadn’t been able to find, much the same as her. She wanted to see him happy, she wanted to erase that look. She simply wanted to please him.
“I don’t want to scrub a man’s floors from dawn to dusk, eat a meal of bread and water and then be locked away for the night after I fuck him,” she answered bluntly. “I don’t want to be his slave, or just a sexual submissive, although that would go with the whole concept of being owned by him. I want to be his possession, his to care for or use as he pleases, I want, need him to know that my sole purpose is to please him.”
Brock waited a few moments, just watching her before speaking slowly, hoping this would tell her exactly what he thought her fantasy equaled to. “If I went into a pet shop and bought a puppy, that puppy would belong to me, be mine to care for. It would be my responsibility to feed it, bathe it and train it to please me, until that puppy’s sole purpose was to please his master, and in pleasing me, he found pleasure. Do you want to be owned like that?”
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“You will be made to sit at your master’s feet, not allowed clothing except when in public, even if your master has servants or company. He will feed you, bathe you at his discretion, he will whip you daily, more than once probably, fuck every orifice and share you with others and you’ll have no say in any of it. His pleasure will always come first, you may be denied orgasms completely or only allowed them as rewards. You will no longer own your body or control any aspect of your life other than your work. Is that really what you want?”
Visions of everything he had just said ran through her mind with him as her master. What she wouldn’t give to have the privilege of sitting at his feet, allowing him use of her body however he wanted, of feeling the sting of his belt against her buttocks, knowing her pain gave him pleasure, that her entire existence was focused on pleasing him. A lone tear slipped unchecked down her cheek as she imagined being the one responsible for erasing the lonely, cold look in his eyes and replacing it with warmth and pleasure.
“Yes,” she whispered longingly. “That’s what I really want. Does that make me horribly weak and pathetic?”
“That makes you selflessly beautiful and desirable and I know of several men personally who would give their right arm to own you.” He didn’t tell her he was one of them because, as much as he wanted to, as long as he had waited to find a woman that would even admit to wanting to try such a lifestyle, he knew that a relationship such as he envisioned could not survive past the short ‘live out a fantasy’ stage, and he was not about to put himself through the disappointment again of having a taste of what he wanted only to be denied it’s flavor again. “But this isn’t a fantasy that can be granted solely at the club or in a night. To experience the full effect of being owned, you would have to agree to a week, at least, and live with whoever bought you. This narrows the playing field immensely, as there are only a few men I would even consider turning you over to under those conditions.”
Lillian’s hope diminished when he mentioned having her fantasy filled by another man. She didn’t want anyone else, she wanted him, could no longer imagine giving herself so completely to anyone but him. She suddenly felt the need to run again, flee his presence and her folly in exposing herself to him knowing he would never be interested in her. His puppy description had been such a perfect comparison, she had thought he would be desirous of such a relationship.
“Are you still interested in filling out an application?” Brock asked, praying she’d say no because he really didn’t know if he had the fortitude to turn her over to someone else, even someone he trusted.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” she answered, rising, anxious now to leave.
“There’s another auction next Saturday. You’ve seen two so you know how they work. If you get me your application with explicit details by mid-week, I’ll see if I can get you listed.” Brock walked to the door and opened it for her, thinking he would never see her again. The loss he felt when she nodded and smiled, thanked him and said good night was inexplicable considering their short acquaintance.
Lillian sat in her plush office the following Wednesday morning, staring at the application page on the Fantasy’s web site. For three days she had debated about whether to take Brock up on his offer to set her up with someone to fulfill her fantasy. She had spent Sunday adamantly refusing to even consider anyone else, Sunday night dreaming of Brock and being owned by him, Monday frustrated that she couldn’t shake this ridiculous infatuation with a man she barely knew and Tuesday succumbing to temptation.
She had filled out all the pertinent information, name, age, address and phone number and was hesitating over the description of her fantasy. It stated in bold letters that any application that did not give explicit details as to the things the applicant would and would not find acceptable, then the application would be denied. Lillian glanced at the clock and saw she had fifteen minutes to get to a showing of a very lucrative property. Before she could chicken out she typed one simple sentence under description and sent it to Brock.
Brock got into his office after lunch, hesitating before pulling up his e-mail. He hadn’t heard from Li
llian and he doubted he would. Still, he found himself hoping each day that she had submitted an application and then was relieved that she hadn’t because he honestly didn’t know what to do if she did. It seemed silly to deny himself the pleasure of owning her just because he knew it was only fantasy on her part and that it would end. He had been disappointed in the past when a sub hadn’t measured up to his expectations and he had gotten over it quickly enough. Of course, he hadn’t been drawn to any woman the way he was to Lil.
He knew he wouldn’t get any work done until he checked one more time, so he pulled up his e-mail and felt his cock thicken at just the sight of her name. Cursing, he opened
her application and took his time reading her personal information first. He was surprised to see she was thirty-three, she looked much younger. Her age made her more appealing, she had longer to really fantasize about this, to contemplate what a big step this was. Her measurements were what he would have guessed, enticing him even more.
Scrolling down, his felt his breath leave his body as his cock rose completely when he read her one sentence description. In bold, capital letters, she wrote:
I WANT TO BE OWNED BY BROCK MATTHEWS.
Lillian didn’t get back to her office until mid afternoon and her assistant had several messages marked urgent that she had to see to before she had a chance to check her e-mail. Finally, after the office had cleared out for the day, she took the time to see if Brock had responded to her application. His message was brief and cryptic, instructing her to read the revised application carefully, and, if she agreed to its conditions, sign it and return it to him personally tomorrow night at his office.
With shaking hands, Lillian printed out the lengthy, revised copy and settled back to read every word. He was very explicit and each word, though meant to scare her off, only strengthened her desire to go through with this. She would be auctioned off Saturday night, and though others will bid, he ensured he would be her new owner. The terms of the contract were for one month during which she would reside at his residence. She was expected to strip upon entering his home, remain naked unless otherwise instructed and would be allowed to dress herself appropriately only for work. She could expect to be seen by his staff, his employees and members of the club as she would be accompanying him each night and would not be allowed to dress then either.