His Secret Baby

by Ashlee Price

  “You dare to question me? Of course. It’s a tantra chair. Now do as you were told.”

  I sat, and as I watched, she began a slow tease of removing her clothes. When she was done, she looked like a beautiful young Lady Godiva, naked with her waist-length blonde hair lying over her the perfect orbs of her breasts. She turned her back to me and returned with a thick roll of black tape, which she used to bind my hands together behind my back. When that was done, she taped my mouth so I couldn’t open it. “If you need the safe word, just grunt,” she told me.

  She pushed me back on the tantra chair, one leg on either side so my thighs were splayed open and my arms beneath me, making it difficult for me to sit up. That, however, was her intention. I was amused, wondering whether she knew what she was doing. Maybe she was just making things up as she went along?

  “Stay here,” Lacy ordered and quickly skipped down the stairs. I heard her downstairs and then she was back, having flipped off the overhead lights. The room was absolutely devoid of light; I think you could have developed film in there. I could hear her soft breath as she approached the bottom of the chair where I lay exposed. I waited with excitement to see what she had planned.

  Suddenly there was an icy cold sensation on my right nipple. “Don’t let it drop,” she ordered, and I knew it was an ice cube, melting from the heat of my skin. There was a click, and then the sounds of Wagner’s Parsifal filled the room so loudly that I could no longer hear her movements, impeding my ability to anticipate what she might do next. As the gradual build-up of the heavily emotional strains permeated the rafters, the cold water began to drip down my pecs and onto my belly. I knew eventually it would reach my groin, and then I’d be done for and miss out on what I hoped would happen.

  Lacy placed another cube on my other nipple, and chills made me shudder. It was all darkness, and I had to focus on my skin’s sensitivity to anticipate which muscle to flex to hold the cube in place. Inspired, I tucked my chin, sucked one cube into my mouth and spat it on the floor. It was immediately replaced with another as her warm hand flicked across my skin, locating the naked nipple. I let the next cube stay as I racked my brain for a solution.

  While I was thinking and shivering, Lacy began laying a trail of ice cubes on a path beginning at my knees and moving upward toward my groin.

  She knew exactly what she was doing. She’d exposed my greatest vulnerability and challenged me to protect it, all without lifting a finger. The reward was her naked body so close to mine, and yet unavailable. I was forced to maintain absolute control. The best, or worst, was yet to come.

  I felt Lacy kneel between my spread legs on the end of the tantra chair. The music soared as a spotlight appeared from the flashlight she held between her teeth—and trained on my cock. I wanted to watch with fascination, but I knew if the icy water beat her to it, I’d be deflated and out of action. Suddenly, there was a flash from the light as she produced a pair of sharp scissors. Inserting her finger into the leg of my boxer, she pushed the scissors toward me and began to snip, snip, snip closer and closer toward my attentive cock. Her closeness was making me hard and erect, and my anxiety about the impending danger was deflating it almost immediately. The effect was unbelievable. It was a constant cycle of stimulation and revulsion, and it drove blood to the area, swelling my cock until it throbbed, wanting release. All the time, the cold, wet trail was nearing.

  Lacy was relentless, spreading her legs and shining the spotlight on my waving cock and then training it on her own pulsing pussy. I wanted to look, but each glance was a risk. I couldn’t move—not because I lacked the strength, but because the movement would deflate me.

  She completed the rending of my shorts and then began creeping her face toward my groin, her tongue extended toward its hungry tip. She flicked it like a snake, which made me run hotter yet. She kept the light on my cock as it strained to reach her mouth.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it another second. In one lunge, I sat up, flicked the ice to the floor and snapped the tape around my wrists open. I pulled it off my mouth and reached for her startled body. In a flip, Lacy was beneath me, her legs pushed to either side of the chair, and I knelt and kissed her pussy lips before parting them with my frustrated cock.

  I heard her expel a sigh of relief as I dove into her, the chair molding her body into exactly the right angle. I pushed hard, withdrew slowly, and when I heard her breathing grow faster, I put my hand below her ass and inserted a finger into the back of her. With the other hand, I lifted her upward. My cock in her pussy aimed for my finger in her ass, and I knew she felt impaled. I’d taken back the control, and she was loving it. She was gasping beneath me, a willing and complicit partner in heightening each of our reactions.

  She’d dropped the flashlight, and the utter darkness heightened the inner awareness. I pushed into her every crevice, angling so I would leave no millimeter of her juicy female flesh untouched.

  “I love you, Riker!” she screamed, and I echoed her words with a machine gun repetition of fucking that brought us to a simultaneous climax. I’d never experienced anything like that before. It reverberated through my body, and I convulsed as though electrocuted. When it finally eased, I lifted her into my arms and lay down on the tantra chair, holding her hard against my body. Her skin was damp from the exertion.

  “Where did you learn that trick?” I whispered.

  “I had a good teacher. He told me once, ‘It’s all about the anticipation.’”

  I chuckled, and when the chill cooled our bodies, I carried her downstairs in my arms and put us both into my bed.

  Epilogue

  Lacy

  I awakened in Riker’s bed that morning as a changed woman. I’d lost my fear of intimidation and learned that I had the power to stand up to anyone I chose, all by myself. Riker would be in my life, as well as Justin, and they would be treasured towers of men, but I could stand strong between them.

  Riker and I were married on the beach at sunset. It was January, and the waves were frozen ornately above the water’s surface. Thousands of tiny lights reflected off the ice, making the scene surreal. We had heated tents and a catered dinner of colorful foods. I called it my designer dinner: platters of brightly-colored, exotic food against the background of arctic ice.

  Justin was only on hand for a few moments for people to admire before Abby whisked him back inside and put him to bed. Due to the weather, the reception was shorter than normal, but it made up for it in originality. Melanie was not invited. Nor was Mrs. Pettibone.

  I did, however, have a number of clients who came, and my creativity was inspiring to them. Before they left, they begged me to call them as soon as I settled into married life. They were anxious to have me do projects for them—and I was anxious to begin my new career as a wedding designer. Odd how those things happen in life.

  Jonas came for the ceremony, but he took just one look at the reception and muttered, “Cool,” before he left with a wave to meet his girl. I think he meant that literally.

  When Riker and I got back into the house, Abby met me in the living room. “I have a gift for you, but it’s not something I can wrap,” she said. I looked up at her, curious.

  “You see… ever since I met Mrs. Pettibone, I’ve been trying to figure out why I was reading her the way I was. There was something sneaky and unwholesome about her. You know I’ve told you—I have a way of reading people.”

  I looked at Riker and back to Abby. “Yes, I remember,” I smiled and nodded for her to go on.

  “So, I did some research and tracked down a former high school classmate of hers. Then I went to have a talk with Mrs. Pettibone, and I’m happy to say she won’t be saying anything else negative about you. You see, it happens that Mrs. Pettibone was Mary Grace Kowalski before she married the much older, very homely but very rich Mr. Douglas Pettibone. She wasn’t terribly picky at the time, since she was three months pregnant by a boy three years her junior who came from a very poor family. She was just over eighteen wh
en it happened, and his family threatened to have her arrested for statutory rape if she pressed the issue. She decided to marry the unfortunate Mr. Pettibone instead.”

  Riker was snickering, and I was laughing so hard I could barely sit straight. “That may be one of the best gifts I could have ever gotten, Abby. Thank you!” I hugged her and then went to change my clothes. Riker and I had a plane to catch.

  Abby was going to stay at the cottage with Justin while Riker and I flew to Ireland for a week. On our return, Justin and I would be moving into his house. We’d keep the cottage for a summer retreat. Abby had met a man in town who wanted her to move in with him, so she wouldn’t be needing it anymore. It seemed that everyone had finally found what they were looking for. Everyone—except Melanie and Mrs. Pettibone.

  ~The End~

  The Virgin’s Dom

  By: Ashlee Price

  Chapter 1 – Mariah

  “I don’t want to hear that again, Mariah. We’ve been together long enough that you should know by now that I’m not going to leave you.”

  I didn’t know that, but I wasn’t going to say it out loud. What had been a good night was now something more because Greg hadn’t gotten what he wanted. He was always like this when push came to shove and I didn’t give in to his demands.

  “You get what you want and I’m left out in the cold.”

  “That’s not true, Greg, and you know it. I’ll give you everything…”

  “You’ll give me everything but what I truly want.”

  I sighed to myself and got up from the edge of the bed. Too many of our nights were ending in this way. It was becoming hopeless. I didn’t want to live this way anymore, but my choices were few at the moment. Why couldn’t it go back to the way things were? Why did everything have to change?

  “I’m sorry, Greg, I’m just not ready yet.”

  “You’re nineteen.”

  I shook my head. I knew how old I was, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard this all before. It was the same argument over and over again.

  “I know, Greg. Just give me some more time. That’s all I’m asking for. Not forever, just a little more time is all. Why does it always have to be right now?”

  I could tell that I was just making him madder, so I tried to get him off the subject he was on and back to something that I could handle.

  “If you think I’ve been bad, Greg, you can always spank me.”

  His eyes darkened, and I could tell that he wanted to. It was a way for him to get it out, and we would both find pleasure in it. It wasn’t what he wanted, but there was always more than one way to satisfy an itch. It didn’t always have to be his way or nothing at all. I was just asking for a little compromise.

  “No, you’re not roping me into that again. Not until I get what I want.”

  I knew he wasn’t going to budge. This wasn’t the first time Greg had been this way. Last time he’d finally given in, but this time he just seemed angrier than ever. His green eyes flashed at me, and I was left unsure what I was supposed to do and how I was supposed to act.

  When Greg got mad, he started to slam everything, and although I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me, I still flinched a little anyways. I didn’t like all of the loud noises that made it hard to think.

  “I’m going out, Mariah.”

  “When are you going to be back?”

  I wanted a break, but I worried that I wouldn’t see him again. It was always the same abandoned feeling that came back from the past.

  “I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

  He knew that I feared him leaving me, and I had a good idea that was why he said it. Every time he would get mad, it was the first thing out of his mouth. My savior had turned into something else, and life wasn’t the way it used to be. The relationship was more complicated than it was worth sometimes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Mariah. If you’re not going to give me what I want, then I’m just going to have to go get it somewhere else. Isn’t that the way it is? You aren’t willing, and I’m sick of waiting.”

  It was like the last chance for me to finally give in. It wasn’t that big of a deal. That’s what I told myself, but I wasn’t ready, and I knew that no amount of bullying me was going to make me ready.

  After I didn’t say anything for a while, he made one last huffing sound and then walked out the door. It was the last time I was going to see him, I knew that, but I wasn’t sure how upset I was going to be about it. Greg had been there for me long ago – that was why I was with him – but I’d put up with a lot since then. He’d changed, and I was no longer in love with the man that he’d become. I couldn’t be in love with him like this.

  I cried for a little while, but it didn’t last long. Greg was going to be back, even if he said he wasn’t. And I wanted to be gone when he got there. It wasn’t going to change, even though he would try and I would try. Me not wanting to have sex was still going to be there, and it was only a matter of time before we were right back in the same situation we were now.

  It was time to move on. That was what I’d done when I’d gotten with him. He was the cop on duty who’d answered the call. Now it was time for me to go. He was no longer able to help me, but I was always going to have love for Greg. As much as I’d had, anyway. I didn’t know if I’d ever really loved him. I didn’t know if he’d ever really loved me, either. If he had, why wouldn’t he give me some time? If I loved him, wouldn’t I have been ready by now? Either way I looked at it, it came down to the idea that it wasn’t supposed to be.

  There wasn’t much to take with me, and I carried out only what I could fit into a duffel bag. It was what I’d brought when I came to live with him, and it seemed only fitting that this was what I would leave with. I still wasn’t sure of my destination, but I knew that I wanted to get out of here before he got back. Greg would be drunk and even harder to deal with than usual. I didn’t want to be around for that.

  ***

  “Thanks for letting me stay with you, Kimmie. I know that this is an imposition.”

  “No, girl it’s all good. I never get to see you anymore, so at least now we can hang out while you figure out your next move.”

  I thanked her again for letting me stay. I wasn’t sure what my next move was going to be, but I was already feeling better now that I was here. Kimmie was one of my old friends from high school, and she was also one of the few who still lived in Coloma. Everyone else had taken off to do bigger and better things. Me and her were still here, but that was something that I was about to change.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “It’s okay, Mariah. I know that you don’t want to go back to your folks’ house. No one would blame you for not wanting to go. You always have a place here with me.”

  “I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

  She waved me off. We’d been through a lot together, and she knew that I would be there for her if she ever needed it. But it was me that needed a friend at the moment, and I was happy that Kimmie was still around.

  Kimmie asked if I was hungry, and I told her that I wasn’t. I was still upset about the argument with Greg, and the last thing on my mind was food. I didn’t want to do anything but sleep and cry at this point. She was right, though. I had to figure something out. The problem wasn’t going to solve itself, after all.

  I told her my plans and she shook her head. “You’re not going to go to bed and be sad. I won’t allow it. The only choice that you really have, Mariah, is wine or liquor.”

  It was the best choice that I could think of. I didn’t want to think about anything else. Leaving Greg had been harder than I would have imagined.

  “I don’t think wine is going to do it.”

  She brightened up, and the dark hair on her head shifted with her expression. The pixie cut was throwing me off, since it was the first time I’d seen it, but I was already getting used to it. It suited her for some reason, matching the tattoos that
she’d started to collect. I liked to collect little glass eggs, but Kimmie collected tattoos that were slowly covering every empty spot of skin that she had left.

  When she came back with a couple of shot glasses and a fifth of vodka, I was happier than ever that Kimmie was still here. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Kimmie.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Really. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count, so let’s drink and think about it.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, us here for each other. At least you didn’t take off like Sasha and Kallie did.”

  Kimmie looked away for a minute, and I had a feeling it was because she didn’t want me to see that maybe that was about to change.

  “What, you’re leaving Coloma too?”

  She still couldn’t look at me, and now I really felt like drinking. If my best friend was leaving, I had to ask myself what was still here for me.

  “When?”

  “In a couple of weeks, maybe sooner.”

  “Why?”

  “I got a job offer, and since I can’t really find anything around here, I need to take it. I can’t live on the wages that I’m making at the diner, and if I move, I’ll be able to get into some digital editing. It’s what I want to do, and I can’t do it here.”

  Sighing to myself, I was feeling the anxiety of the unknown coming back. “Where?”

  “New Orleans.”

  “Isn’t that where Sasha is?”

  Kimmie nodded absently and made a face when she shot the drink in her hand. The vodka was warm, but the burn was already sidetracking me from everything.

  “What is she doing down there?”

  She made a giggling sound and told me that I didn’t want to know.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re the sensitive one and I don’t want to shock you.”

  “Come on, Kimmie, it can’t be that bad.” Just because I’d never done it didn’t mean that I didn’t know all about it. I did freakier things than most people would ever guess. I wasn’t exactly straight and narrow, I just had limits.