SecretDom

by Secret Dom [MF] (epub)

  “What are you talking about? There’s nobody in here…” “It’s just, well, your cheeks are f lushed and your chest is reddish, I just

  assumed … Forget I said anything. Should I tell Mr. Jakob you’ll be a minute?” Marianne turned on her heel and hurried back to her desk before Rissa could answer.

  She stood there stunned and embarrassed, choking on her response. Had it been that obvious what she’d been up to in her office? Her skin flushed even more, and she closed the door quickly. Leaning against the inside of the door, she breathed heavily, attempting to calm herself down. Pushing off the door, she grabbed her purse, fixed her makeup and spritzed perfume all over herself, trying to hide the scent of her arousal.

  By the time five o’clock rolled around, she was more on edge than she’d ever been. Rocking back and forth in her chair had done next to nothing to help ease the constantly throbbing need that’d been stoked every time she looked at the letter sitting in her purse or sensed the subtle cologne of her mystery man that permeated the letter. On her way out of the office, despite all the talk of dinner plans and drinks with the girls around her, the only thing on her mind was getting home quickly for a date with a set of D-cell batteries.

  Chapter Three

  Violent pounding on her door dragged her from Chinese food, wine, and orgasm induced slumber. She wrapped a bed sheet around her naked form and padded to the front door. One look through the peep hole had her rubbing her temple trying to ward off the impending headache standing on the other side. Dirty blonde hair combed to the side like some wannabe politician, and deep brown eyes accented by no more than harsh slashes of eyebrows topped off by a suit and tie peered back at her through the tiny glass window. This was going to be a long morning.

  “Deacon, what are you doing here? It’s five-thirty in the morning. I don’t have to be up for work for another hour. ” When he stomped through the door like he still owned the place, she closed the door behind him and rolled her eyes. “Sure, by all means, come on in.” Yes, her home felt lonely with him gone, but they were no longer together. That had been his choice, besides, after the night she preferred to refer to as Armageddon, the few times they’d run into each other hadn’t been terribly friendly encounters. His new bimbette was eighteen and mostly made of plastic, with an attitude to match. She was constantly present, and usually drunk, a reminder that Deacon had chosen the blonde doll and her Daddy’s money over Rissa.

  “I left a jump drive here. The one with all our pictures on it. I t’ s got other files I need. I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer, and I need it for work.” His tone was accusatory, like she was purposely not answering his calls, but she wasn’t screening her calls, she was just…b usy. Rissa’s skin heated as she remembered the letter and what she’d done after reading it. Following him into the bedroom, she stood at the door clutching her sheet to her as he rummaged through the boxes in the closet, cursing like a drunken sailor. When he didn’t find it, he moved to the nightstand, but before pulling open the drawer, he stopped. Picking up the letter she’d received from her unknown admirer, he turned an equally pained and angry glance her way.

  “What’s this, Rissa? You’re getting love letters now? Thought you’d swo rn off men after me.” His eyes traveled up and down her barely concealed body, and he smirked. “Looks like you gave whoever he is a good ride. Now I know why you didn’t answer your phone.” After tossing her letter onto the floor, he dug around the drawer until he found what he’d been looking for . As he sauntered past her on his way out the door, he slapped her ass through the thin sheet. “Don’t fuck it up with your ‘ tie me up and hurt me Daddy ’ bullshit.”

  Rubbing the sting of her ass where h e’d smacked it, she turned around and stomped after him. He’d been so different in the beginning. Now he was just a dick. “Hey, asshole! I was by myself last night, thank you. I didn’t give anybody a ride, and in case you’ve forgotten, you don’t get t o give me relationship advice or comment on my sex life anymore! You gave up that right when you walked out that door for trust-fund Barbie and her too-big-to-be-believable tits! Next time you want to stop by for something, do me a favor, don’t!”

  “Hey l ook sweet cheeks; I’m just trying to help you out. That whole ‘ hurt me to please me ’ thing is something freaks with leashes and too much ecstasy are into, not normal people. All that fifty shades bullshit …real men don’t want that. Submissive — come on. Men want a strong, independent woman, not some needy little wuss. Whatever, Riss, you want to be walked all over, that’s your business now, not mine, thank fuck.”

  The wicked thought that Deacon wouldn’t know a real man if he was being fucked in the ass by one snuck up on her, and she couldn’t help but shout it at him as she slammed the door behind him. Still seething after he walked out the door, she stood there fuming for several minutes before throwing the first thing that reminded her of him across the room, ignoring the small dent the picture frame left in the sheetrock. Who was he to judge her? And what did he know anyway? It took a strong woman to submit to a strong Dom; to give up everything, body, soul, control. It wasn’t weak to be submissive , and it didn’t make her a wuss or a freak! By the time she ’d stopped ranting to her empty loft and managed to wrangle her temper into something manageable, the alarm clock was screeching, and it was time to leave. First stop though was to drop off the last of anything and everything that belonged to him or reminded her of their time together at the Goodwill store. Better that than feeding them to her fireplace when she got home.

  Chapter Four

  Rissa sat in her office doodling through an incredibly boring conference call over the last quarter’s numbers, interjecting her own opinions for why the re was a sudden decline in profits from her own division, and nibbling on a stale bagel. When she hung up the phone, she looked down at her notes to gather them up for her assistant to transcribe into the appropriate Excel spreadsheets and memos to the rest of the accounting department, but the randomly scribbled ‘ E’s’ that mimicked the signature on the notes she’d received the two days before made her decide to just do it herself.

  How would she explain that ‘E’ wasn’t just a fancy sum symbol, but instead was the only moniker she had for the mystery Dom who sent her notes that by all rights could only be described as creepy-stalker evidence that she should have forwarded to the police on her way to stock up on door locks and assorted ammo. That instead of doing the logical and responsible thing, she drank more wine and pleasured herself two nights in a row to the fantasy stalker because — hell — any attention after eight and a half months of celibacy was good attention. Sure. Good luck explaining that one and NOT have them immediately attempt to force her into a nice self-loving jacket to be tended to by the nerdy men in white coats. She shook her head to rid herself of this barrage of self-berating thoughts and smiled at the receptionist as she brought in the day’s lunch orders.

  “Turkey and cheddar on wheat, hold the mustard, light mayo and extra alfalfa, right Ms. Trent ?” The waifish young woman couldn’t possibly be mo re than twenty years old, but she dressed and carried herself like a seventy-year-old grandmother. She was sweet to the clients though and always managed to get Rissa’s lunch order and coffee right, so she tried not to take out her own twisted mood on the young woman.

  “That’s right, Melanie. Thanks. You wouldn’t happen to have one of the cream cheese brownies in the order today, would you?” Rissa nearly squealed with delight when Melanie rummaged around a bit and came up with exactly that. Not that she needed the extra calories, but damn it, she’d been deprived of the warmth of a man, sex, and for a brief period of time that ended this morning, caffeine. No way in hell was she going to miss the opportunity to indulge in chocolate. She took the lunch, coveted brownie, and the stack of mail from Melanie and sat back down at her desk after closing the door. If she happened to make sex faces as she enjoyed her brownie, by God, nobody else in the office needed to see it.

  Forcing herself to abstain fro
m th e decadence of the small 3x3 square’s worth of a tastegasm, she started in on her sandwich as she thumbed through the mail. Her heart jumped and her sandwich suddenly became meaningless and rather difficult to swallow as she fingered the embossed edges of an envelope exactly like the ones s he’d received the previous day and night before . ‘ Ms. Rissa Trent ’ was stenciled on the front in black ink against the ecru envelope and the same black ribbon sealed the missive from her secret Dom. Immediately, the subtle scent of his cologne greeted her like an old friend and warmed her from the inside out better than any cup of coffee ever could. Her head screamed that she should put the letter down and dial 911 on her phone to report a stalker, but before she could obey her brain, her fingers were tugging on the end of the ribbon, revealing the new card inside.

  I hope you enjoyed yourself the last couple of nights. I desire nothing more than to be the one whom gives you pleasure, who makes you happy. You deserve more than a fantasy — fantasy can be reality. You’ll know when it is time to make your choice, for it is yours to make. -E

  Her face flushed, and she suddenly felt more than a little embarrassed. Could he have known what she did last night? How she’d fant asized about this secret admirer and come more powerfully than she had in years? Surely not. Then again, how had he known her name, her address, where she worked, where she stopped for coffee, or that deep inside she kept a hidden desire to submit to a Dom? Fuck, that trip to the police station was looking better and better. She tucked the note into her purse, grabbed her keys, purse, and her precious brownie then hastened out the door to her car. Her pulse raced, her breath became harder to catch, and her skin slicked with a cool sweat at the thought that someone was watching, stalking her. The paranoid part of her kept looking around to see if anyone was watching, but the curious part of her in coalition with her desperately needy girly parts, staged a coup. As she drove toward the police station, she kept glancing at the envelope and note in her purse until she drove right past the station house and made the first left that would take her back to her loft. Sitting in the parking garage, she dropped her head to the steering wheel and gave herself a good lecture.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Hello?! He could be a serial stalker, serial killer, and/or rapist; one of those guys you’ve seen on Dateline for crying out loud! Hell, for all you know, he’s some dirty old nudist who sits behind a computer screen jerking it to food porn all day or something. DANGER, PELIGRO, RUN BITCH RUN!” Rissa sat back in the seat, gathering her purse and keys into her lap before getting out of the little black BMW just as the little devil’s advocate that lived in her head piped up. “Then again, he could be the one you’re meant for…” Sometimes, she wished that little voice could be silenced with chocolate as easily as her resolve to work out five days a week could be. Unfortunately, that little voice was both an inconvenience and usually right. But this time, surely not. Right? She locked her car and opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping the seven flights of stairs would help her focus on something other than the battle between excitement, fear, and desire churning in her belly. By the time she made it to her floor , she regretted her choice in shoes for the day, the fact that she’d half-assed all those squats and lunges at the gym, and the fact th at she’d chosen a home on the 7 th

  Chapter Five

  Before she could make it all the way down the hallway to her door, she noticed a package perched precariously against the door frame, and immediately, she knew it was from him. The inky black satin wrapping paper, the single gold ribbon and the telltale envelope she’d begun to both fear and look forward to gave it away. She scooped up the package and sighed when it didn’t explode or start ticking from being jostled. Suddenly, she couldn’t get into her loft fast enough . She kicked the door closed behind her and sat down on the dark hardwood floor just inside. Her purse and keys fell into a heap along with her jacket. As her heart tried to jump out of her chest, she stared down at the package.

  Rissa moved the envelope that came with it to the side and pulled the ribbon on the package, carefully unwrapping a white box. Whispering a prayer that whatever was inside wouldn’ t hurt her, she pried open the gift box. Her mouth fell open and she wanted to gush over the beautiful fabric inside, but shock had stolen her voice and nothing came out. Inside the box was an immaculately crafted boned corset in the most luxurious black satin with a single vine of gold stitched roses engraved all the way around the piece like a binding of rope. This wasn’t something you could order off the internet or pick up at some cheesy fetish shop. No, this had to be hand crafted and by a true artist. Beneath it, she found a garter belt to match and seamed stockings. She laid the items carefully back in the box then opened the envelope.

  Tonight. 7 pm. -E

  As far as cryptic messages go, it was up there, but how could she say no? She closed her eyes and tried to be smart about this. Everything about the situation screamed a warning — DO NOT GO. DANGER RISSA TRENT! DANGER! Even so, she found herself gathering up her things and stamping her perfectly pedicured, high-heeled feet to her bedroom with the gifts in hand, running down a mental check list of all the things she’d need to do to be read y at 7. Finally, some sense of reason chimed in, and she decided to at least make an attempt to be safe. IF her mystery man was as wealthy as his gifts and letters suggested, and IF he was a TRUE Dom, then she knew one person who could tell her for sure. The one who’d introduced her to the lifestyle almost a decade before — Myles. The city’s resident Dom extraordinaire who’d seen the submissive side of her she’d denied existed and who’d helped her explore that side of herself when she was twenty-five. Now, almost ten years later, and at least half a dozen years since she’d last seen or talked to Myles, she was surprised to find that she still remembered his number. Rissa sat down on the side of her bed with the gifts and notes beside her and waited impatiently and nervously for her old friend to answer.

  “Well well, if it isn’t Reese’s Pieces. Always knew you’d come back, sweets. I’ve missed you.” Myles was nothing if not straight to the point and charm personified, though she shuddered at the nickname.

  “I’ve come a long way from Reese’s Pieces, Myles. And I wouldn’t count on me being back just yet either. Listen, you said if I ever needed anything, anything at all, I could call you, right?” His grunt in the affirmative spurred her on. “What I need is information. I’ve received a few letters and one incredible gift, but from whom I’m not sure. Whoever it is used the word ‘ submission ’ and there are so few people who know that …”

  “ Letters and gifts? Wait, black and gold? And just the letter ‘ E? ’” He chuckled lightly on the other end of the line, and she wasn’t sure if she should be scared shitless or relieved.

  “Yes. Black and gold, and always signed ‘ E. ’ Who is it, Myles? Should I be concerned? Call the cops? I received the first note two days ago, another with my morning coffee, then one at work today, and the gift when I got home with a note that just says ‘T onight, 7 pm. ’ Am I safe, Myles? You know almost everyone in the lifestyle. I trust you here.” She worried her lip and crossed her fingers, hoping he’d give her the answer she craved.

  “Yes Reese’s . You’re safe. I can’t tell you who he is, but what I can tell you is that you’ve met him before once when you were with me. I can also tell you that if he’s set his sights on you, you’re the luckiest little sub in town, so perk up those tits, break out the wax and show him what you’re made of , honey. You’ll be safe and very well taken care of. I promise Reese’s . I brought you into our world. I’d never let anything happen to you in it. ”

  She sighed in relief even as the excitement of the unknown made her skin tingle. She hung up with his “Don’t be a stranger and welcome home” comments ringing in her ears. She’d given up the lifestyle , and with it, half of who she was to be with Deacon because he didn’t understand her needs. She’d loved him enough to give up that part of herself to be with him, but things had never felt right; had never felt whole. She ha
dn’t been really and truly satisfied in over six years. But now, the delicious flames of desire licked up the inside of her skin; the memories of cool steel binding her wrists, rough rope rubbing against raw skin, and the euphoric feeling of completely surrendering to another only ramped up her anticipation and arousal even more.

  The chiming of the hall clock brought her back from her trance-like memories and with it came a sense of panic. Five pm. Two hours to do what she’d normally take all day to do. Grabbing a pen and paper, she started a list; shave, wax, shower, hair, make up, nails, dress. In two hours? No problem. Who was she kidding?! She plugged in the warmer and dumped in the wax. Trying to remember all the rules for subs Myles had taught her, she realized she was actually nervous not just about meeting her secret Dom but about pleasing him. And therein lay one more fantasy she’d not explored since she received the first letter just days before. Pleasing him.

  With Deacon, he’d been pleased by no more than climbing on top of her and flopping around for a while. There was no exchange of trust or power, no risk, and no reward. Her mind latched onto the thought of how powerful a Dom’s reward could be for a sub that pleased him well — often by doing nothing more than giving her trust and obedience — by giving herself over to him to care for. Each image — some fantasy of what could come or memory of what she’d experienced firsthand — crossed her mind, and she found herself lost as she showered to make herself clean for the man who’d be waiting for her tonight.

  So tempted and turned on by the whole thing, her skin seemed raw. The warm water felt more like a lover ’ s caress driving her higher and higher until her hand traveled down her body to her slit and started to part her folds. If she went to him this way, this aroused, she wouldn’t last five minutes in the hand s of a skilled Dom. Then again, if she brought herself to orgasm so soon before meeting with him, a true Dom would know and rule number one — your pleasure belongs to your Dom. Dammit. She reached over and turned the water as cold as it would go to cool her desperate body down. The jolt of icy water snapped her to attention, and she squealed but forced herself to say under the frigid spray. At least it was a distraction for her libido.