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Raw Ch. 01

By: secretsxywriter



"I want to be chased."

Mr. Hughes stared at me, the brightness of his blue eyes fading as his smile morphed into a serious, straight line. "You like being stalked?"

"There's a difference between being stalked and being chased. A big difference." My own smile faltered a little as I remembered an incident just last week. I shivered.

"How so?"

I blinked and stared back at him. "Hmm?"

"How are they different?"

"How is what different?"

"Stalking and chasing. You said there was a big difference." His eyes were shiny again. He was still impassive, although I thought I saw a hint of a smile. It was distracting. I liked his smile a whole lot better. I wished he'd do it again.

What was wrong with me? How did we get off the topic of my book, anyway? I'd never been so rattled in an interview. I swallowed and forced my lips back into a smile. He finally smiled back, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

I shifted in my chair and crossed my legs, being careful that my pencil skirt didn't ride up too far and reveal the lace tops of my thigh-high nylons and the clips on my garter belt. Clearing my throat, I tried to focus, to find the right words.

"Stalking is impersonal. It's selfish. Uninvited. Criminal. Usually the victim has never met his or her stalker. Chasing is..."

Mr. Hughes sat forward. "Yes?"

I shrugged. "Like the song says, 'I want you to want me.' "

His eyes widened fractionally. "But doesn't a stalker want his victim?"

My smile was genuine now. "Yes, but I don't want my stalker to want me."

"I see."

"Where as, with chasing, if I am interested in a guy, I will make an effort to show him I am. And I want him to make the same effort. You know, flirt a little. Even play hard-to-get. That's the fun of the chase. But once you finally let him catch you, the game is not over. It needs to continue. Maybe not at the extreme that it did early in the relationship, but it still has to be there."

He was looking at me, but his mind appeared to be focused elsewhere. Finally, he said, "So it that why women can be so moody in a relationship? The thrill of the chase is ebbing...or completely gone?"

"Bravo, Mr. Hughes." I resisted the urge to clap.

"So how long does this initial chase usually last?"

I held out my hand and wobbled it back and forth. "Depends on the couple, really. The key is, the guy should not hover. Smothering will turn her off right away."

He adjusted his tie with one large hand, his fingers long and thick, his nails well-manicured. It was a very nice hand. And the tie wasn't that bad, either. It was gray silk with wide blue stripes and narrow red ones. It made his eyes stand out. Just like his white dress shirt and black suit framed his upper body as if it were painted on.

"So, she shouldn't act desperate, and he should not act obsessed."

"Exactly. It's difficult to balance the sides, but if done properly, it can be successful." I sipped water from the glass on the table beside me and then tilted it toward him with a laugh. "You should write your own book on your observations. Let the male gender in on the rules of the dating game."

His smile reached up to his eyes. "How does the phone exchange go?"

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. "He should ask her. Especially if they have a date first. Say they meet somewhere—a trade show or a bar. He can ask for her number then, or verbally agree to meet again for dinner later in the week and ask for it afterwards. If she is interested, she'll give it to him."

"And if she doesn't?"

I smiled sympathetically. "He should accept that it's over. The chase is done."

He contemplated that. "So would a woman ever make the first move? Ask a guy out? Give him her number...ask for his? Chase him?"

I shook my head. "We like good old-fashioned chivalry. She can let him know with body language or her words that she is receptive. Flat out flirt if she needs to, as long as she doesn't overdo it. But approaching him first? No."

"Why not?" His smile changed to a smirk. He was amused with me. I wasn't sure if I should feel complimented or offended.

"They say one of the biggest fears people have is public speaking, like on a stage. I disagree. I think it's the fear of rejection by someone they like."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand.

"Yes, men fear rejection, too. Women just take it harder. Men think it's a reflection of their masculinity—which is psychological. Whereas, women know it's all about physical appearance to a guy. We blame Hollywood and the media."

He raised one eyebrow. It was endearing. But my argument was right-on.

"How often do you see a skinny guy with an overweight woman?"

His shrug was barely noticeable, but it was there. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

"If a guy has the choice between two women, one skinny, one heavy, he'll always pick the skinny one. It happens. Whether we want to admit it or not."

"Rejection is rejection, no matter which way you spin it."

"True. But you asked the question, and I'm just being honest. We don't approach him first. Or give our number without it being requested. Or ask for his number."

"Miss Rockland, are you speaking for all women, or just yourself?"

I pursed my lips. After all I said, that's what he asked me? This was getting too personal.

"My apologies. I can see that question was too direct." He smiled when he said it, and it irked me. But only a little. "I interrupted your analysis of the phone number exchange. Do you want to elaborate?"

I bristled slightly at his now formal tone. "Certainly. If she gives him her number when he requests it, she expects him to call. Any guy who asks a girl for her number and doesn't call is a jerk."

Mr. Hughes flinched.

I smiled inwardly, wondering who the girl was, waiting endlessly for a call that never came. "Don't ask a girl for her number if you don't intend to follow through. Men should know that concept, as obsessed with sports as most are."

"So, he gets her number and calls her. Then what? She agrees to his wishes?" He chuckled.

I shivered from the deep sound and diverted my eyes back to his tie nestled under his Adam's apple. The latter bobbed gently as he swallowed, and I felt a sudden urge to leap forward and run my tongue and lips along that protrusion. I mentally smacked myself. "No. She shouldn't be too willing to agree to anything right away."

"You mean—"

"If he suggests Friday she'll pick Saturday. She stays in control, yet gives him the impression he's in control."

"She's in control. Interesting."

I couldn't stop my eyes from jumping to his.

He was staring at me again, his head cocked to the right.

My mouth was so dry. I took another sip of water, but it didn't help. "She shouldn't drop everything and agree to his first suggestion. That shows desperation again. And it's a test. Is he willing to be flexible? If he shoots down her suggestion and continually insists on his way, that will scare her off."

He just nodded.

I gulped down the rest of my water in an unladylike fashion and set the glass aside. "I'm sorry. Somehow we got way off subject. Did you have any more questions on my book?"

His eyes locked on mine, and something within his gaze made my heart skip a beat. Then he blinked and the moment was gone. "No, no. I think I got enough for the article."

"Okay." We both stood at the same time, my legs feeling a little wobbly for some reason. Maybe I had been sitting too long. What time had we started—

Oh my!

He turned and bent down to grab the briefcase beside his chair, his suit coat rising up to reveal the most delicious, firm ass I had seen in a long time. A spark ignited in my belly, and I smoothed my hand over the front of my shirt, swallowing my moan.

He straightened and turned back to me. "Did you say something?"

"No." Oh, no! Did I actually moan out loud?

The corner of his mouth twitched. He put away his mini-recorder and then offered me his hand. "It's been a pleasure, Ms. Rockland. Thank you for your time."

I took his hand and bit my cheek so I didn't moan again. His grip was warm, strong, and for a brief moment, I could imagine that hand moving over my body. I blinked. Smiling, I gave him a firm shake back. "The pleasure has been all mine. I look forward to reading your article."

He raised that eyebrow again and then he followed me to the door. "Good day, Ms. Rockland."

"Good day, Mr. Hughes."

He reached for the knob, but then he turned back to me. "Do you have a card?"

"No, but hold on." Inside my own briefcase, back at my chair, I retrieved a business card for my publishing house and handed it over. "They know how to get ahold of me."

He held it up between two fingers and then slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "In case I have any more questions."

"Of course. Good day."

He nodded, turned, and left this time.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I let out a loud sigh and collapsed into the nearest chair. Why was my heart beating so loud? Why did my knees feel weak? It was just an interview about my book.

Which had nothing to do with stalkers or being chased by hot critics in fitted suits.

I snorted out loud, glad there was no one to hear me in this hotel room. The one item on my agenda now complete, I stripped off my business clothes, pulled on a T-shirt and sweats, and sprawled on the bed in the adjoining room of my suite. I placed an order with room service and then laid back, contemplating the last two hours of my life.

It had actually started three weeks ago with a phone call to Sue, my agent and editor. Mr. Hughes had requested a private interview with me to discuss my latest manuscript, "Loaded Questions," the final installment in my Dex Knightly Mysteries series. The books started out as an experiment—a woman writing entirely from a man's point of view—and became a complete success. Each of the seven books had stayed in the top five on the New York Times Best Seller List for Fiction at least three weeks.

While I enjoyed the public praise, I did not enjoy paparazzi. I'd already had my taste it of it and decided it wasn't palatable. Which is why I wrote the Dex novels under the pen name Drake Alexander—incidentally, derived from the names of my two brothers. No one but my family and agent knew who the author really was.

I scrunched up my nose and sighed. No one but my family, my agent, and now Mr. Hughes.

Despite being in journalism, he seemed like the kind of guy who could keep a secret. But I had still insisted on having insurance: a non-disclosure agreement. He could write all he wanted about my books and about me, but he could not reveal that Drake was really female...nor that I was Drake.

I had had interviews before regarding my books, but those were all under my real name. And while my previous work had sold well, they could not compare to the Dex Knightly series.

I shivered just thinking about how I had recently been followed for six days by an obsessed—albeit harmless—fan of my very first book, "Tears and Coconuts," the first in the Island Oasis Romances trilogy. That series hadn't been on any list for half a dozen years, and yet there was still a fan base. And this guy had, for some reason, fallen in love with the books, imagining my picture on the back cover when he pictured the heroine of the story. Talk about creepy.

Imagine how bad it would have been if my fans knew I had also written Dex's mysteries! Last week's incident paled in comparison to most stalking situations, but it was still scary as hell. I hated not being in control, not knowing who was leaving love messages on my car while I was at the office. I had never been so glad to have that refuge than I had last week.

I had been in the industry only a short time before I realized I needed to have a separate place for my business life, even if I was rarely there. My condo was inherited from my deceased grandfather, and Sue had worked the legal angle to keep my name off any public records to retain my anonymity. My personal mail went to a post office box, my business mail to the office. And while I knew I couldn't remain private forever, it had worked so far.

Thankfully last Thursday, an off-duty officer had been in the parking lot of the business complex where not only my publishing house but also my office was located (which made it very convenient when meeting with Sue). I'm still not sure what the officer was doing there, but he had noticed the young man hanging around my car. The latter had looked around quite nervously before slipping something under my wiper blade, and the officer had discreetly followed him to his car.

I was more than shocked when the officer knocked on my door and asked me if I knew the gentleman he had seen. A few hours and a signed confession later, the youth was charged a fine for harassment, produced with a copy of a restraining order, and sent on his way. That night, I slept peacefully for the first time in a week.

My dinner arrived, and I brought it back to the bed to eat. While munching on my cheeseburger and fries, I tried to remember what it was that got us off track in the interview today. It had started out abnormal anyway, since Mr. Hughes had not known my real identity. Boy had he been shocked when Sue opened the door and introduced us before she left us alone. I don't know who he was imagining Drake Alexander was, but I'm sure he never thought he was a she. And a well-published author to boot.

I think he was more nervous than I was, but we had settled into a comfortable conversation not long after we had sat at the conference table in the front room of the suite. He asked the typical questions: Where did I come up with the idea? The character? What did I like most about Dex? Least? Am I pleased with the success of the series? Will I start another one?

I sighed, remembering now. It was all my fault. Eventually, he brought up my previous books. Asking why I chose to change from romance to mystery when my readers had espoused my previous work. And why the pen name since it would mean I'd be starting out as an unknown in the industry. That was a huge risk, although I did already have both feet in the door with Sue.

I admitted that I wanted to experiment with a new genre, and I didn't want to tarnish my current success if it failed. Maybe it was selfish, I don't know. But I still think I made the right decision.

Then I mentioned there was a sense of adventure, the thrill of the chase in Dex's stories. It was so much more different than the chase in a romance novel. How after awhile it got old trying to find a new way to explain how 'boy meets girl—boy loses girl—boy wins girls back.' But in a mystery, the possibilities seemed endless. If written well, you never really knew how the book was going to end unless you skipped ahead.

On the other hand, in a romance, you know the hero and heroine are going to end up together, you just don't know how it will all happen. And most people don't read mysteries to live vicariously through the characters like they do with romance novels. That's a casualty of those kind of stories; you can lose yourself in the story, and it can take an emotional toll. I've been there myself. I tend to not be good company for a few days after reading a well-written bodice ripper.

And of course, that had led Mr. Hughes to mention that there can be a thrill in the chase of a romantic relationship. I had agreed but added that it's not the same in a book as it is in real life. He had asked why not. I had explained that many romance authors portray the heroine as someone who does not want to be caught, does not want to be with the hero. She wants to be independent. That the story is usually written where the hero seduces and overpowers her and convinces her she should be with him. Then they fall madly in love and live happily ever after.

He had laughed then. I had frowned, told him life is not like that. Mercifully, he had agreed. If not, I would have ended the meeting abruptly, casting him out of my hotel room. He had asked what I thought life was like...what I wanted from a relationship.

In a pout, I had admitted my true feelings.

###

I woke late the next morning, well-rested. I stretched and then cuddled deeper into the soft comforter and pillows surrounding me. I really needed to thank Sue for setting up this interview. The hotel room alone was worth revealing my identity to one more person.

I was thinking of ordering breakfast when the bedside phone rang. I flinched and then picked it up. Had I requested a wake up call?

"Sue Warner speaking." I always used Sue's name when traveling. Since she booked my travel arrangements, it just made sense, and it let me stay under the radar until someone recognized my face.

"Ms. Warner, this is Jackson at the front desk. I have Mr. Hughes on the line for you. Would you like me to put him through?"

I smiled and sat up, propping a pillow behind me and pulling the bedclothes around my hips. "Yes, please. Thank you, Jackson."

The was a soft click and then a warm, deep voice chuckled from the other end of the phone. "Ms. Warner, eh?"

"Anonymity. I'm surprised you didn't ask for Drake Alexander." I laughed, glad he hadn't.

He was silent for a moment, his tone serious when he did speak again. "I promised not to reveal your secret, Ms. Rockland."

I sighed. "Please, it's Becca. I'm assuming you got this number from my agent?"

"Fine, Becca." He sounded like he was smiling again. "I already knew which room you were in. Remember, I was there yesterday?"

"Of course. My apologies."

"The problem was, I didn't know what alias you were under. So I rang up Ms. Warner again, and she was more than happy to tell me how exactly to reach you."

I rolled my eyes. On top of being my agent and editor, Sue also took it upon herself to be a freelance matchmatcher for me. 'Pro bono, darling. It's the least I can do to repay you for all the profits you're bringing in for us.'

"Becca? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry." I swallowed heavily and looked across the distance to the bathroom. I really could use a drink of water, but I did not want to get out from under the warmth of the covers. Why did his voice affect me so? "What can I do for you, Mr. Hughes?"

"Brian, please." There was a muffled sound. Was he laughing at me? Again?

"Okay, Brian, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm just following protocol. I guess the next step is to ask you to lunch."

I couldn't breathe for a second. "Protocol?"

"Yes, Ms. Rockland. I mean, Becca. You said that if a guy asks a girl for her number, he would be a jerk if he didn't follow through and call her."

I think I aged ten years. I wondered if my black hair was still all black. "Uh, yeah, I guess I did say that, didn't I? You've got a good memory."

"That and a little tape recorder."

I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the headboard. What else had I said on there that he was going to hold me to?

"So can you fit in lunch before you leave town?"

I tried not to snort. He knew very well that I lived in town and meeting at the hotel was just a ruse to hide my identity. He didn't need to know it was also a gift from Sue for the completion of the series—a much-needed vacation, especially from the escapade last week.

So yes, I could fit in lunch. The question really was, did I want to? The suite was booked for the next two days, and I had no plans whatsoever. What would it hurt? I shrugged and sat up. "Yes, I can do lunch. Where do you want to meet?"

There was clicking in the background, as if he were typing on a keyboard, and then he said, "I'll pick you up at eleven-thirty."

I bristled, wondering why he'd asked if I could do lunch but not giving me a choice about transportation. "That's fine. I will see you downstairs in," I checked the clock and about choked, "thirty minutes."


Raw Ch. 01



"Until then, Becca. Or should I say, Ms. Warner?"

I laughed, and we both hung up. Then I shot to my feet and took the fastest shower I could ever remember having taken. For a moment, I regretting not being able to stand under the multi-faceted super-showerhead. But my stomach growled, and I reminded myself I had the next two days to become a prune as much as I wanted to.

I didn't have time to dry my hair to my usual liking, so I pulled it back into one long braid, the end tickling the middle of my bare back. A quick run of the toothbrush and a light coating of makeup, then I went in search of clothes. I hadn't packed much, mostly jeans and casual tops. I had had no plans except to relax here, maybe go for a swim or workout, but nothing outside the hotel for a full seventy-two hours.

I couldn't put on what I had worn here yesterday—the gray pencil skirt and burgundy blouse. If I'd had more time, I would have swung by home to find something else. And then I remembered I did have 'something else' with me. It had been a last minute just-in-case addition. But maybe it was too dressy? Why hadn't I asked Mr. Hughes—Brian—what I should wear?

My eyes jumped back and forth between the jeans, to the walk-of-shame outfit, to the formal choice. If I'd had his number, I would have cancelled right then and there. Stupid me and my old-fashioned rules. I groaned, closed my eyes, and pointed.

With five minutes to spare, I fidgeted in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. There wasn't anything else I could do. I just hoped I was dressed appropriately for wherever he was taking me.

I grabbed my purse, room key, and decided it was now or never.

I think I held my breath the entire ride down the elevator. I kept telling myself I was going to a business lunch. It wasn't anything to be nervous about. Maybe he wanted to do an article on the real me, find out what Ms. Rockland was working on next now that she'd taken a five year sabbatical.

The elevator dinged. I smoothed my hand against my thighs and patted my hair to make sure it was still bound. When the doors slid open silently, I inhaled and let it out slowly, then stepped out into the lobby. Brian was waiting by the front desk, talking to the concierge, his back to me.

At the sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor, both men stopped talking and stood up straighter. The concierge was smiling brightly. Brian turned, and for the briefest moment, I could see his jaw clench before he smiled, too.

My shoulders relaxed when I lowered my gaze and saw his dark gray suit, blue dress shirt, and a silver diamond-patterned tie. "Oh, good, I'm not overdressed."

"Ms. Warren." Brian's voice sounded tight.

I glanced down, smoothing the skirt of my navy sheath dress over my thighs. The satiny material shimmered slightly under the chandelier above us. Then I looked up at Brian. Was something wrong? He was being so formal. "Mr. Hughes, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise. Shall we go?" He held out his elbow, nodded at the concierge and then led me to the main door. He didn't speak again until we were in the back seat of a black sedan that was waiting out front. He rattled off an address to the chauffeur and then said, "You look stunning."

I laughed. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. "Really? You're not even looking at me. And by your reaction inside, I thought I was missing some articles."

Suddenly the atmosphere lightened, although he merely glanced at me. "I apologize. I was in awe."

"Oh, that's what that was." I gave him a skeptical look, hoping he could see it out of the corner of his eye. "So where are we going? I should have asked you that when you called. I don't have too many clothes with me at the hotel, so I wasn't sure what to wear."

He glanced out his window and then back at me. "How long are you staying at the hotel?"

"Until Monday. I'm on a little vacation. A gift from the publishers for finishing 'Loaded Questions.' "

His shoulders visibly relaxed, yet he still didn't seem completely comfortable. Maybe it was the suit. "Do you have any plans this weekend?"

I turned sideways in my seat to face him head-on, tugging on the seatbelt as it tightened across my neck. "You do realize I live in town, right?"

His eyes widened fractionally, and I couldn't tell if this truly was news to him. "I knew Ms. Rockland did, but I was not aware that Drake Alexander also lived here. I was thrown off kilter with that surprise last night."

"Well since I am both people, yes, we both live here. And no, I do not suffer from multiple personalities. As I said in our interview, it was an experiment that actually worked."

"A fact that has been noted." He clammed up after that.

I rolled my eyes and stared out my window. Great. I was so looking forward to lunch now.

Several minutes later, we arrived in front of an upscale restaurant I had not known existed, even though I'd lived in the city most of my adult life. He escorted me inside, his hand on my back between my shoulder blades, gently guiding after he opened the door.

We were seated with menus in our hands before he looked up at me and smiled. It was that same tense one I had seen in the lobby. Something really was bothering him, and I had a good notion it was me. But I wasn't going to get all worked up over it. He had insisted on meeting, and until he let me in on whatever was going on in his head, I was going to continue to treat it as a business lunch. Nothing more.

The waiter arrived, took our orders, and then we were back to the silent treatment. Brian stared at the tablecloth, one hand fisted lightly next to his silverware. This was ridiculous, but I couldn't think of a valid topic to broach.

I pulled a breadstick from the glass vase on our table instead, broke off an end, and nibbled on it. The crunching seemed especially loud. I wondered why we were here if we weren't actually going to speak to each other. I could be sitting in my hotel room eating ice cream and cheeseburgers while watching old movies in my PJs. I decided to give him a moment to get his act together.

"I'm going to use the ladies' room." I rose and walked away before he could react. My knees were wobbly again, just like last night.

Safe behind closed doors, I let out a strangled groan. I paced, wringing my hands. What in the world was going on? This was not how I wanted to spend my vacation. Maybe I should sneak out, grab a taxi, and escape to my hotel oasis. I snorted softly. Would he even notice that I was gone?

I was still contemplating what to do when another woman entered the bathroom. She smiled and nodded at me before disappearing into a stall. I sighed. I could not hang out in here all day. Better to just get lunch over, have him drop me off at the hotel, and then he would be out of my life.

When I walked back to the table, Brian seemed a little more relaxed, his coat now on the back of his chair. He was sipping a glass of red wine, a matching one waiting by my place setting.

"Sorry about that," I smiled at him, smoothing my skirt under my legs as I slipped back into my chair.

"No need to apologize." He returned my smile, and this time it seemed genuine.

It was as if someone had replaced him while I was gone. He was talkative now, asking about my first book series with apparent interest. I relaxed and opened up, happy to share about my love of writing.

Our food came, and the conversation shifted toward journalism and what he did as a book critic. After our plates were cleared, he ordered us a refill on the wine.

"Did you enjoy your lunch?" He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped, his blue gaze on mine over the rim of his glass.

"It was delicious. Thank you." I tilted my glass to his, toasting the air, and then took a long swallow. I liked the open and smiling version of this man. Not so sure about Mr. Mute-and-Tense.

My left hand rested on the table, my fingers playing with the edge of my cloth napkin where I had laid it down. His hand covered mine suddenly, stilling my fingers. I flinched but did not pull away.

"I'm glad. I enjoy coming here."

I almost snorted. He could have been a little more convincing.

My heart rate picked up as his hand slid across my skin, lifting my hand to curl his fingers underneath mine. I gasped softly when his thumb stroked across my knuckles. I felt a shock travel all the way down to my core, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from where we were connected in the simplest of ways.

My right hand was shaking, so I set my glass down. Despite the wine—or maybe because of it—my mouth was dry once more. I wanted to lick my lips, but that would require my brain cells to be functioning well enough to send the impulsive desire down the line to my tongue.

He said nothing, just continued touching me ever so lightly. I had sudden visions of that hand stroking other areas of my body in the same way. I shuddered, clamping my mouth down to cut off the moan rising in the my throat. Okay, so my brain was working in some capacity.

Apparently I did not affect him the same way, as he continued to sip his wine, the movement of lifting and lowering his glass in my peripheral vision. I don't know how long we sat like that, but I was glad I had not fled earlier. It had even been worth sitting through his alter ego on the drive over and while we waited for our food.

I could hear the noises of people around us—waiters taking and delivering orders; random bits of conversation; the white noise of silverware on dishes—but it was muffled, as if I was hearing it through a tunnel. His hand moved again, breaking my reverie. I watched it slide up until his fingers circled my wrist just above my watch. His grip tightened, and I gasped, my eyes darting up to stare into his heated gaze. Those blue eyes were dark now, like the ocean at night, and my heart caught in my throat.

"Becca, do you want me to let go?" His voice was so calm, so low. So sexy.

I felt the word on my tongue, but my head responded in the opposite, shaking slightly.

"Say it."

I swallowed and closed my eyes for a moment. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, don't let go."

"Look at me."

My eyes fluttered open, slowly rising from his chest to his face.

He was smiling, his pupils wide. "Are you going to play hard to get?"

Once again, I wanted to answer in the affirmative, but my head just would not cooperate.

"Say it, Becca."

Oh, how hard it was to breath now. "No, I am not going to play hard to get."

"Good girl."

And those two words were my undoing. I had known the man less than a day, spent a total of maybe four hours together. And yet, it seemed as if he knew my deepest, darkest secret without me having to speak a word.

He gently twisted his fingers around my wrist.

I had to close my eyes again, swallowing hard. What was happening to me?

"I think it's time to leave." He helped me up from my chair, linked his arm under mine, and led me outside to his waiting car. Seated in the backseat again, he didn't say another word, but he pulled my left hand into his lap, his fingers circling my wrist again, alternately twisting and gripping gently.

I had no idea where we were going, but I didn't really care. I was too entranced, my blood boiling in my veins. Afraid that if he let go, I would combust with need...his hand the pin to my bodily grenade.

The sidewalks were packed with people rushing to and from wherever. No one seemed to be enjoying the beautiful day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was that perfect not-too-cold/not-too-hot median that left you wanting to run barefoot through the grass and twirl around, drinking in the sun. Or maybe that was just me again.

I wondered what those people were thinking. Where they were going. What they did for a living. What secrets were they hiding? If they saw me, what would they see or think? Would my private desires be visible in my eyes? On my face? Through my body language? Brian had seen it. Then again, he'd read all of my novels, so maybe he was just really good at reading between the lines.

I gasped softly as I involuntarily pulled my hand to my lap and he tightened his grip, holding my wrist immobile. My head snapped around, my eyes jumping to his face. He was staring straight ahead, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he listened to someone on the other end. Had he called someone, or had I just not heard his phone ring?

"No. Monday. I'm unavailable until then. Yes. Good."

He shut off the phone and looked out his window. His hold on me loosened a little. I couldn't tell if he was mad or nervous or what. He was back to Mr. Mute-and-Tense.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but for the life of me, I couldn't imagine what I would say. The longer I sat and thought about the last hour, the more irritated I became. He wanted to be inscrutable? Fine. Whatever. Wherever we stopped, once he got out, I would ask the driver to take me back to my hotel. I wasn't into mind games like this.

I turned to my window again, watching Central Park as it drew up on the left and then slowly disappeared behind us. I wondered where he lived. Were we going to his place?

As the office buildings turned to more residential ones, trees were more prevalent on the sidewalks. There were less people milling around. We drove for a few more minutes, and then the car pulled up to the curb outside a nondescript brownstone.

"Five minutes." That's all Brian said, and then he opened his door and climbed out.

I grunted when I was pulled across the seat. I forgot I was still tethered to him. So much for my plan of escape. I had to follow him. Out of the dark car. Up the stone steps. Through the ornately carved front door.

He still didn't speak to me as he locked the door behind us, tossed his keys, wallet, and phone into a bowl on the entryway table. Then he took my purse, also depositing it on the table.

"Brian, please. Say something. You're scaring me." And yet, something about all of this excited me a little, too. The unknown could be mighty tempting when you're with a hot man.

He remained tight-lipped until we were upstairs, standing in his bedroom. He ushered me in first, and I turned around to see his jaw twitching again. "If I close that door, you will remain silent until directed to speak. You will refer to me as 'Sir.' And you will trust me, no matter what."

I gaped at him, my heart beating so hard I wondered if I could experience a heart attack from the shock. Oh, I knew very well where this was leading now. A small part of me wanted to run, hoping it hadn't been five minutes and the car was still waiting downstairs. But the rest of me—that bigger part that had been patiently waiting for this for years—yielded to his will. Hungered to do it.

"Becca, I need your decision." He finally let go of my wrist and stepped closer to the door. "Do you want me to close it?"

He stood between me and freedom. But that awakened voice inside said that freedom was in this room. My knees trembled. I wanted to lift my chin—to be strong—and give him my answer. But I knew that was wrong. I took a deep breath. And looked at the hardwood floor.

"Yes, Sir."

I heard his loud moan of approval. The quiet click as the door closed. The louder snick as the lock slid into place. The thud as he toed his shoes off and they hit the floor.

"Stay there." His feet crossed my line of vision—he was wearing black socks, the hem of his pants just barely dragging on the floor. A door clicked shut somewhere on my right, and then it was silent.

I counted to thirty, and when he didn't return, I took the chance to scope out the room. I was facing the main door and turned left. The guy definitely had taste.

All four walls were a toffee color, the sole wall decoration an arrangement of framed prints above a squat armoire on tall, spindly legs. The prints consisted of random splashes of color—all in shades of blue—with a single streak of red, the thickness of which varied between the seven images.

The armoire itself had two large doors and a single, narrow drawer below the doors, both with a metal-plated keyhole in the middle. A chest with bronzed hinges and a heavy-looking padlock was tucked between the legs of the armoire. Both pieces were dark wood and looked very old.

On the adjacent wall was a massive, mission-style bed with a slatted headboard and footboard. The solid, dark blue comforter and several oversized pillows in a contrasting tan-and-navy stripe made the bed look comfortable but still masculine. Two tall windows—covered by dark blue curtains that were drawn—and two nightstands flanked the bed, a black lamp and shade on each table.

A wingback chair in a subtle, navy print, and a low, padded bench in the same fabric faced the bed from across the room. I blinked. Something didn't look right. I stared back and forth between the bed and the chair several times. Finally, I noticed there was a platform beneath the seating arrangement, lifting it up to be on the same level as the top of the mattress. The platform was covered in the same hardwood as the floor, making it seem to disappear.

I shivered, my imagination running wild with why someone would want to be able to see the bed at a certain level. I shook off my curiosity and turned to the fourth wall, having made a complete circuit of the room.

The final wall consisted of two doors, both closed. Brian had disappeared through one of them. Surely one had to be a bathroom and the other a closet. But which one had he gone into?

Between the doors was something large and bulky, about waist-high and three feet long. Its true identity was hidden by a red blanket. And despite the peculiar shape and color, it did not look out of place in the room.

I turned back to the main door, my gaze on the floor again just as one of the doorknobs rattled off to my right. The door clicked shut again, and I heard Brian's bare feet slapping on the wood floor. I tried to breathe evenly, especially when I heard a jingle of keys behind me.

He was moving around on my left. Metal scraped metal, and then the keys jingled again. Had he opened the armoire or the chest? What did he keep locked up in them?

"If you want to stop at anytime, Becca, say the word 'blue.' But once you say it, we're done. No more. I will take you back to your hotel, and you will never see me again in this capacity."

My breath caught in my throat. I had a way out! But did I want it?

Soft music suddenly filled the room. I moaned. It was Enigma, one of my favorite artists. Their music was very relaxing...and most songs were very arousing. My heart skipped a beat. I had fantasized many times about making love to their songs, especially "Sadness."

I felt the heat of his body behind me, his breath cool against my neck. His fingers brushed my braid aside, laying it over my shoulder so it hung down over my left breast. His lips tickled my skin where he kissed me ever so lightly, over and over again in a line from behind my right ear down the slope of my neck and over to my spine.

"You look very beautiful, Becca. This dress is stunning." He slowly lowered my zipper a couple of notches. "But I want to see your body."

I whimpered, my knees shaking. I squeezed my eyes closed, willing myself to not collapse.

"Shh." His whispered word brushed against my neck. The zipper moved down another inch. His breath touched my back now. And then his lips were kissing me there as well.

I bit my lip to suppress a moan. But I couldn't prevent myself from shivering when his fingers grazed my lower back as he finished unzipping the dress and pulled the sides of the material open.

"So, so beautiful..." His fingers skated up my spine, my body undulating beneath his touch.

I whimpered again, and he shushed me. I just couldn't help it. Even the lightest touch felt like fire on my skin. It felt so good.




Raw Ch. 01



"Do you like it when I touch you, Becca?"

"Yes, Sir."

His hands froze, buried under the material still covering my shoulders. His mouth pressed against my neck, the tip of his tongue licking in circles. He squeezed my shoulders lightly and then slid the wide straps down my arms. The dress went slack and dropped to pool at my feet.

"Oh, Becca!" His gasp was drowned out by his own growl.

I grinned, wanting to wiggle my butt a little. But I refrained.

"Step forward."

He held my elbow steady as I stepped out of my dress. Then I felt his hands on the outsides of my thighs. They stroked down to the backs of my knees and then up again until they reached the top of my sheer stockings.

I shivered when he ran a finger all around the lace top on my right leg, skipping over the clips of my garter belt. He repeated the motion on my left leg. I have no idea how I was still standing. Especially when he slid a finger under one of the straps on both legs, stroking the backs of his fingers up and down my thighs.

"Do you know what you do to me, Becca?"

I swallowed. Hard. "No, Sir."

He pressed his chest to my back—it felt like he was wearing a shirt, but it was unbuttoned. One arm circled my waist, his palm flattening on my stomach. Then he grabbed my braid near the base of my skull and yanked back.

I cried out at the sharp, slightly painful feeling. When he jerked his hips forward, I cried again. His erection pressed against my butt through his pants and my panties. He was very hard. My pussy twitched. I wanted to come so badly.

He held my head back against him and nipped gently at my right shoulder. "That's what you do to me, Becca. That's what you have been doing ever since I realized you were Drake Alexander. Since you stepped off that elevator this morning."

I rolled my head to the side, moaning and trembling. Oh, what this man did to me with just his words. I could not imagine how my body would unravel beneath his expert touch as he uncovered treasures that even I did not know I possessed.

"Does that make you feel good, Becca?" His voice was a hot whisper in my ear.

"Yes, Sir." I wanted to touch him, to wrap my arms over his and grind my butt back against him. But I just stood there, my arms dangling at my sides. I knew what was required of me, what I was allowed to do. This may have been my first time being a submissive, but I was a quick study. And I had done lots of research over the years.

"Do you want to touch me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Don't."

I whimpered as his hands moved up to cup my breasts through my black, satin bra.

"Look down, Becca."

I obeyed, although my head felt very heavy as I lifted it from his shoulder and turned my eyes to where I could see his hands.

He slowly slid them back and forth under my breasts, and then he pressed his thumbs against my nipples, which were painfully tight and straining through my bra.

My knees wobbled.

"Let go. I've got you."

"Yes, Sir." It came out all breathy, combined with a moan as he pinched my nipples through the material. When his thumb and finger twisted each one lightly, my legs gave out. I dropped a couple of inches until his arms caught me under my armpits. His erection dragged across my butt, stopping to press against my lower back.

"Now, when I tell you to, I want you to come. Do you think you can do that for me? Can you be my good little girl, Becca?

"Y-yes, Sir."

"COME NOW!"

I cried out, feeling the tremors deep within at the sound and tone of his voice. He pinched and pulled and squeezed as I rode out the orgasm. My head lolled to the side, pleasure and a tinge of pain taking my body captive.

"Good girl." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. He kissed the top of my head, and then I was up in his arms, leaning against his chest. He crossed the room to the bed where he pulled back the comforter and laid me down, my head on the pillows. He removed my heels and then bent over the nightstand.

I stared across the room in a daze. I had to blink several times, certain I wasn't seeing clearly. What was hanging on the inside of the cabinet doors? A feather duster? Whips? A flogger? Oh, I didn't know if I was ready for any of that.

The music changed to a new song, and I assumed the narrow black box on the top shelf was a stereo. The rest of the cabinet was filled with all kinds of dildos and vibrators and bottles of who-knows-what. I heard the grating of wood as he shut the nightstand drawer, and I turned my head back to see what he was doing.

"I want to heighten your desire, Becca." He slid a blindfold over my eyes, his fingers lingering on my cheeks. They stroked so lightly I wasn't sure he was actually touching me.

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled. I felt so tired, and yet I knew he wasn't nearly done with me. We had only just begun. I was glad I had eaten my lunch. I would need the energy.

"Good girl." His lips pressed against mine, and I moaned. He was gentle, his lips soft and warm.

I immediately lifted my arms to wrap around his neck, to hold him against me.

"No, Becca." He said it firmly. "Do not touch me. Not until I tell you to."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

I heard him walk away, something metal rattled, and then the weight shifted on the bed beside me.

"I want you to relax. I will not hurt you. Do you trust me, Becca?"

I took a deep breath and pushed the vision of the whips and other accoutrements out of my mind. "Yes, Sir."

"Say it."

"I trust you, Sir."

"Good girl." He took my right wrist in his, and I felt metal closing around it.

For just a moment, I clenched my hand. But then I relaxed my fingers. I could handle cuffs. I concentrated on breathing evenly when he raised my hand above my head, stretching it out at an angle. I heard the ratcheting sound of another cuff closing, probably around one of the slats in the headboard. When he let go of my hand, my arm lay comfortably against the pillows with a little slack.

The weight on the bed shifted again as he got up. The music drowned out his footsteps, but I assumed he was going to the other side of the bed. I was right. He didn't sit down this time as he picked up my left hand and secured one end of another set of handcuffs to my wrist. He stretched my arm in the other direction, securing it to the headboard as well, and then laid it against the pillows.

I could just imagine what he was thinking as he saw me, clad only in sexy lingerie, garter belt and hose, handcuffed to his bed. I shivered and wiggled a little.

"Be still, Becca."

I sucked in my breath, my body freezing.

"Are you keen on this bra?"

"Yes, Sir." I actually loved this bra and prayed he would not destroy it. I dared to speak again. "It hooks in the front."

"Ahh, very interesting. Thank you, Becca." His hand cupped my breast, squeezing gently. Then he slid his fingertip under the edge of the cup, running it back and forth against my skin along the swell of my breast.

I moaned softly and let my head roll to the side.

His finger dipped deeper, grazing over my nipple.

I gasped, my body flinching.

"Very nice." He moved his hands away, found the tiny clasp between the cups, and released it. As soon as my breasts were free, his hands covered them. They felt divine. And then his mouth was on my right one, sucking gently, alternately nipping at it and laving his tongue after he sent sharp jolts through my body.

The song changed once more, and I groaned. "Flowers Become Screens" was one of Enigma's more erotic songs. And another of my favorites.

My body responded to the mixture of Brian's touch and the music flowing around us. My heartbeat matched the base, my breathing becoming erratic. I tried not to move, but I couldn't prevent the moans and soft cries passing between my lips.

"That's it, Becca. Listen to your body. Let your mind go."

I gasped loudly when he released me. The bed shifted, and then his mouth was on my left breast. I didn't know how much more I could take, but I didn't want him to stop. The muscles in my pussy were twitching, and I could feel the heat rising from below all the way up through to the tips of my fingers.

He caressed my belly, gently rubbing circles into my skin. The part of my brain that was still functioning knew the song was almost over. Apparently he did, too. He kept torturing my breast, his pressure increasing with the woman's vocalizations until the final strains of the song rang out and he yelled, "COME NOW!"

I screamed as he bit down on my nipple. It felt like a dam had broken loose as my body shook. I had nothing to cling to except the air, and that made tears form in my eyes. I so wanted to hold onto something, someone. As I floated back to Earth, I realized Brian had disappeared from my side.

I cried out softly, my head rolling from side to side, wanting to see where he was except the blindfold prevented it.

"Shh, Becca. Everything's all right." His voice came from above me, and I automatically tilted my head up. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb rough as it grazed over my smooth skin.

My breasts throbbed now with a dull pain. I half wondered if he'd marked them. I sucked in my breath when his hands moved down, brushing against my sides. I didn't think I could stand to have him touch my breasts again so soon.

He surprised me by tugging on my bra until it slid up my back and arms and lay above my head, stretched out between my elbows like another binding.

"I love the stockings. They can stay on. And the garter belt, too. But the panties really must go."

I licked my lips, knowing what would happen once that thin barrier was gone. I held my breath as his hands covered my hips before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties and slowly pulling them down. I lifted my hips, listening to hear his response. I was rewarded with a gasp and a groan as he unveiled my shaved pussy.

"Oh, Becca. Oh, wow."

The heat of his body covered my legs, and then I heard him inhale loudly.

"I want to lick that, but right now, I have other pressing matters."

There was a rustling of clothes. The bed shifted as he crawled up beside me. He pulled my panties down to just my ankles, pressing on the inside of my knees to part my legs. Then he moved between my legs, the width of his hips and the makeshift binding around my ankles preventing me from closing my legs or pulling them farther apart. He pushed my knees up until my feet were flat on the bed, opening me more. It also pulled him tighter against me as my bound feet hugged the back of his thighs. It was the most erotic position I had ever been in, and I only wished I could see his expression.

A desperate moan filled my ears—I wasn't sure if it was his or mine—before I registered what song was playing now. My fantasy was coming true, in all aspects. If only... I tugged on my wrist restraints, writhing under him, eager to spur him along.

"Be still, Becca. "

I obeyed but whimpered louder.

"Say 'blue' if you are in pain or want to stop."

I tossed my head from side to side, biting my lip.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Sir." Oh, please, stop talking and just fuck me before the song ends.

"Good, then we will continue."

The tip of his cock rubbed against my clit now. I gasped, my hips arching toward him. He just pressed them back to the bed and repeated the motion. I bucked. He lowered me to the bed. We did this back-and-forth movement several more times before I felt him position his cock at my hot entrance.

He gripped my knees, and then he penetrated me in one long thrust. And I do mean long. 

I screamed. He felt so good stretching me. Filling me. I feared he wouldn't be able to fit all of his cock inside me, but somehow he did.

He didn't give me a chance to accommodate him before he pulled out all of the way.

"Damn, Becca. You're so wet and hot." He grunted and jerked his hips forward again, bottoming out once more. "And tight. I like tight pussies."

I shuddered and sighed. I relaxed my legs around him as much as possible. The lyrics of the song filled my head as Brian found his rhythm. I had never felt so much pleasure in my life.

Eventually, he let go of my legs and repositioned himself so he could piston his cock at a faster pace.

"Don't hold back. I want you to come when your body tells you it's ready. Just feel."

I groaned. He was so thick and hard. My inner muscles clenched around him, trying to hold on as he moved out, dragging him back in on the forward strokes. My panting matched those of the woman in the song, and I arched my head back into the pillows. A cacophony of sensations ran rampant through every muscle and every vein. The concept of thinking ceased to exist.

Somehow, he lasted through the very long song despite how aroused he obviously was. Me? I came at least a half-dozen little times. I was praying he was saving the big one for the grand finale. He did not disappoint me. Little flickers of fire danced over my skin, as if I was suddenly alive. I came loudly, screaming his name and thrashing below him. I'm sure if I wasn't secured around him as I was with my legs, I would have bucked him off me.

As the song ended and switched to a calmer melody, Brian collapsed on top of me, his head between my breasts. He was breathing as hard as I was. He hugged his arms around my sides, and I was coherent enough to be jealous that he could touch me as we rested in our post-coital afterglow.

###

When I opened my eyes, I was curled up under the comforter, all restraints gone. The music was off, and Brian was not lying beside me. I tried to stretch and found my muscles were stiff. My head even hurt a little as I sat up. The comforter fell away, and I glanced around at the now-shadow filled room. How long had I been sleeping?

It took me a moment to realize Brian was sitting in the wingback chair, a glass of something in the palm of one hand as he watched me. There was enough light to see he was wearing an unbuttoned black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the sides hanging open to reveal a smattering of dark hair on his chest. His legs were clad in black jeans, his feet bare.

My hand twitched and reached for the comforter, but then I thought better of it. He'd already seen it all. Why become shy now?

"Hello, Sir."

"Hello, Becca." He nodded at me and then drank from his glass. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Sir." I wasn't going to admit that I was sore. It was apparently still Saturday, and early enough that I hadn't slept the day away. I wanted to play some more.

"We'll take a shower later."

I raised an eyebrow. 'We'? I could go for that. I could feel his gaze drop to my chest, and my nipples hardened instantly. He smirked when I gasped. He took another slow sip of his drink before setting the glass aside and rising.

"I would like to try something with you first. Are you game?"

I watched him cross over to the two closed doors and place his hand on whatever was hidden by the red blanket. I gulped. It could be my best wet dream or my worst nightmare. But he had promised not to hurt me. "Yes, Sir."

He glanced back at me over his shoulder. "Good girl."

Whatever he had hidden, it was on wheels. He moved it easily to the end of the bed so that it was perpendicular between the footboard and the seating area. He pressed his foot on something, and I heard a loud click. Breaks?

"Get up and put your shoes back on."

I swung my legs out and stood up, but my legs were wobbly like a newborn deer. I grabbed the nightstand and the mattress until I caught my balance. I shook the cobwebs out of my head, found my shoes on the floor by the nightstand, and quickly slipped them on. I was wearing only my hose and the garter belt now. I felt damn sexy.

"Come here, Becca."

My heels were loud as they clicked on the hardwood floor. When I reached his side, Brian leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. Then he turned me to face the contraption and slowly pulled the blanket away. I realized his hand was on my arm, and I was grateful for the support as my legs threatened to give out on me yet again.

Before me sat the oddest bench. It actually looked like a miniature version of a pommel horse, although there were no handles on top. The end closest to the bed had a cuff attached on either side. I now noticed small handles in front of the cuffs.

Brian led me forward until I stood with my hips pressing against the bench. "Lie down on your stomach, Becca."

For a moment, the word 'blue' was on my lips. But his promise echoed in my head, and I remembered that what we had done thus far had awakened my secret desires. I took a deep breath and bent forward, his hand still on my arm.

The bench was padded, the material covering it soft like suede. It was wide enough that my whole body could lie on it, although my breasts were squished beneath me. It was surprisingly comfortable.

I turned my head to rest my cheek on the padding, watching him as he placed my hands on the handles and secured my right wrist and then the other. It was very much like bending face-first over a table while having sex doggy-style. I'd done it several times before. Only difference this time, I was secured to said table.

"Are you okay, Becca?"

"Yes, Sir."

He studied me for a moment. I got a nice view of his waist and his bulging erection pressing against his jeans. I licked my lips, wondering when I'd get a chance to wrap my lips, tongue, and hands around that lovely specimen of masculinity. I was contemplating how much I could fit into my mouth when my front end suddenly dipped down. I cried out, gripping the handles harder.

"Still okay, Becca?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, Sir. Just startled."

"You're doing great."

Now I was staring at the floor, very aware that my ass was sticking up in the air. I also realized why he wanted my shoes on. They gave me just enough height in the back that I could still stand on my feet while my body reclined forward, bent at the waist. It was not uncomfortable, just unusual.

Brian moved over to the armoire, pulled the key ring out of the lock, and squatted down. He unlocked the trunk and removed a long bar with cuffs at each end. Still squatting within my limited eyesight, he turned back to me. His mouth was tight, his eyes dark.

"This is a spreader bar. Are you familiar with any of the tools and toys used for Dom/sub relationships, Becca?"

I gulped, closed my eyes for a moment, and then said, "Yes, Sir."

"Good. The bench is something I created. I think you will enjoy it. Do you remember the safe word?"

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded and then stood, disappearing behind me. "Spread your legs."

I did as best as I could, and then I felt him secure the bar to my left ankle. I tried to breathe slower, to calm down. This was highly arousing—I could feel the dampness gathering in my pussy, and my muscles twitched—but I was nervous. Very nervous.

"This is adjustable." He tested the width, the cold metal bar pressing against the back of my right ankle. He moved my foot out a little more and then closed the cuff around it. "Is that too uncomfortable?"

"No, Sir."

"Tell me if it is, Becca. I don't want to hurt you."

"It's fine, Sir."

"Good."

I turned my head and saw him moving toward the nightstand on the far side of the bed. When he flipped on the light, I noticed it was a red bulb. Under the black shade, it emitted a glow that was reminiscent of a bordello, and yet it was kind of romantic. He disappeared behind me, I heard the click of the other lamp being turned on, and then the stereo came back to life. This time the artist was Delerium, another group similar to Enigma.

I held my breath as he moved behind me once again. I wasn't sure what to expect...was he going to spank me? Whip me? Fuck me? I did not expect him to do nothing. It took me a moment to realize he was sitting in his chair, watching me.




Raw Ch. 01



I'm sure that I was a vision from my black heels, up my legs covered in sheer black hose capped with lace, past the black satin straps connected to my garter belt, all the way to my bald pussy spread open wide. How long was he going to leave me like this? Maybe that was part of the arousal...not knowing what he was going to do and when.

I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. Slowly in. Slowly out. I was able to shift my upper body a little, but all that did was rub my breasts deliciously against the padding. So much for trying to relax. I flexed my wrists as best as I could, adjusting my grip on the handles. And then I waited.

The song ended and changed to "Fallen." I was humming softly, singing the lyrics in my head when Brian stroked his hands across my butt cheeks. I jerked, but there was nowhere to go.

"You know this song? The artist?"

"Yes, Sir. Enigma and Delerium are two of my favorites. "

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his hands slid up to my waist and down over my hips. They circled under my cheeks and up around again, barely touching the backs of my thighs.

I moaned when he trailed one finger down the cleft between my cheeks, circling around my asshole.

"Beautiful, beautiful, Becca." He leaned down and kissed each cheek.

I blushed. No one had ever done that before.

Every muscle became tense when his tongue darted out and trailed wet lines across my skin from my left hip all the way to my asshole. He repeated it on the right side. I whimpered when he spread my cheeks wider and licked lightly around that most taboo spot. I didn't know if I should be horrified or enraptured. Before I could think anymore about it, he moved his hands to my hips again, stroking my sides and lower back.

The song changed yet again, but I didn't recognize it. It didn't matter because Brian chose that moment to lick my pussy from top to bottom, and I came hard. Because I was restrained as such, I felt my body shaking all the way to my core.

I was gasping for breath as he latched onto my clit and slid two fingers deep in my bared pussy. I came again a moment later. He stroked me through the orgasm and then removed his fingers. His tongue replaced his digits, and I could feel the tip of that thick muscle poking and circling at my entrance, licking up my juices as they flowed out of me. His fingers now stroked around my pussy, holding my lips apart, occasionally rubbing my clit. I came at least three more times like that.

Suddenly he was gone. I whimpered, relieved and yet needing something more. I had just taken a deep breath when I felt him step up behind me, the front of his naked thighs brushing the back of mine. My exhale came out a shaky squeak.

"Shh, shh, shh," he said, rubbing the tip of his cock against my asshole in small circles.

I was supposed to be quiet when he was playing back there? Surely he wouldn't fuck me there...not without my consent? Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I bit my lip so I wouldn't utter that one word. 

My jaw relaxed when he finally moved down. The rest of my body remained tense as he now rubbed his cock back and forth through my swollen folds, coating it with my juices. He groaned when my pussy contracted against him.

I thought I was going to die when he suddenly grabbed my braid and tugged, my head wrenching back toward him as he pushed into me with just the head of his cock. He withdrew all of the way and then slowly penetrated me again. My muscles clamped around him, unrelenting. He slid in a little more, stroking just an inch back and forth.

"That's it, Becca. Good girl. You should see how lovely this looks. How easily you take me in."

I struggled to swallow. Oh, I could imagine. But right now, I wanted him to slam into me, to fuck me hard so I could come all undone around him. I wanted him to shatter me.

Apparently he planned to just torture me because he slid in another inch and stroked just two inches inside me. Then three inches. He did this, inch after inch, until all seven were sliding in and out at the most excruciating pace. He stayed away from my clit, which was driving me mad. He was bottoming out at such a deep angle since my body was already at an incline. I would have thought I could come easily that way, but I just couldn't reach that peak with the way he was gently pumping me.

But it felt absolutely wonderful. My restraints heightened even the smallest movement. His grip on my braid made me feel humiliated, like he was holding the reins of a horse. Yet, I wanted more.

Just when I thought I would pass out from desire, he picked up speed. His thrusts became harder. His grunts louder. He let go of my hair and gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh.

I moaned. Yes! This was what I needed. The slap of his balls smacking my ass. The sound of his cock squishing through my arousal. The feel of him driving so deep I thought he was trying to climb inside my body. Sweat dripped off my forehead and down into my eyes. I couldn't see, but I didn't care. I just wanted to feel.

"Becca, you are being such a good girl. I'm so proud of you."

He smacked my ass with his open palm. I cried out, gasping as tears escaped my eyes. Oh, that hurt! But the pain felt good, too. He repeated it on the other cheek, and I almost choked on my tears. I was once again tempted to say the safe word, but I couldn't find my voice. And I wasn't quite to the point where I couldn't stand it.

Brian continued talking to me, but his words were so soft the music drowned them out. So I concentrated on Sarah McLachlan singing "Silence" instead. He changed his rhythm once more, stroking now in time to beat of the song, his fingers caressing my hips instead of gripping them.

I relaxed beneath his body, enjoying the pressure he was creating inside and out. I tripped on a couple of small orgasms, and then suddenly he stiffened, yelled my name, and came hard inside me.

I could do nothing but lay there, crying softly at my own failed release. I wasn't aware that he had pulled out until he was removing the spreader bar. He opened the cuffs on my wrists and helped me stand. I cringed at the way my legs would not cooperate as he led me over to the low bench by his chair.

He gently laid me down on my back, my legs and arms limply falling open on either side of the bench. I cried silently at the odd, detached sensation I felt from my body. And then he was straddling the bench, too, slowly sliding into my pussy. I stared at him through my blurry eyes, half dazed. He smiled down at me, stroking steadily, his hands on my thighs as he held them still. His cock hit that perfect spot, over and over again, rubbing against my clit in the process. It only took a few moments before I was mounting that precipice and falling over, screaming his name, shaking uncontrollably beneath him.

I remember him picking me up in his arms. Setting me in the hot water of the bathtub. Washing my hair and body. Drying me off. Carrying me to his bed. Climbing in beside me. Wrapping his arms around me so I was snuggled against his chest. Kissing me softly. Stroking my back.

The last thing I heard before I drifted off into a long slumber was his oh-so-sexy voice whispering in my ear. "You belong to me, sweet Becca. Now we're playing by my rules."

~ H



Raw Ch. 01



Josie lifted her champagne flute in toast of the fog as it poured over Twin Peaks. A typical San Francisco evening, she mused, and it feels great to be home. Leaning on the railing of her balcony, Josie took a deep breath and smiled at the rich aroma of the flowered trees lining the streets, just as her first guest rang the bell.

Three bubbling glasses and countless greetings later, Josie was still catching up on all the gossip she’d missed while she was managing an architectural project in London for the past year. While it had been a wonderful adventure, nothing replaced the warmth of a home full of old friends, and she was glad to be back. 

As he always did, Josie’s dear friend Roger had made his way to the center of attention, and was sharing one of his more hilarious stories. Since she’d heard this one several times before, Josie allowed her mind to wander, and she began watching the faces around the room. Most were familiar to her, but there were a few that she hadn’t seen before – obviously new lovers and friends of the people she’d left behind for a year. 

One face in particular caught her eye. As Roger delivered his punch line, the woman threw her head back in unabashed laughter, and Josie was captivated by the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, the vibration of her crossed legs, and the long fingers she held tightly around a bottle of beer as she tried to stop laughing.

“You are too much, Roger,” the woman chuckled, “too much.” As the group’s banter picked up around her, Josie stood and headed to the kitchen to refill her glass. On her way to the refrigerator, she tripped on a case of beer that one of her guests had so considerately left in the center of the kitchen. Just before she fell to the ground, she felt strong arms surround her, and a woman’s low growling voice in her ear, “Whoa, honey.”

As Josie pulled her wits back together, she faced the tall woman. Gorgeous, she thought, as she memorized the soft wave in the woman’s dark hair, and the chocolate spark in her eyes. “So tell me,” she began, “do you usually follow strange women around their homes?”

The woman stepped closer to Josie, and spoke in a near whisper, “Not always,” she said, “just when I need another beer.” With silent laughter running across her face, the tall woman winked and gently shook the empty beer bottle clasped within her pale fingers.

Josie’s face lit up in a smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh, “Of course, how could I have been so presumptuous?”

“Oh, I think you’ve every right and reason to presume I’d noticed the way you looked at me in there – but you should know that I’m not one to just follow a woman around.” 

The woman’s intensity was beginning to arouse Josie – the control this woman had with just a glance of her eye was both intoxicating and refreshing, and Josie was certainly interested in getting to know her better. Sliding her right arm in the small space between their abdomens, Josie offered her hand, “I’m Josie.”

Grasping Josie’s delicate fingers with a grin on her face, the woman replied, “Kendall Waters. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Much to Josie’s dismay, the woman stepped back from her and walked to the coat rack in the living room, where she found her leather jacket and began to slip it on. 

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke -” Kendall called, “anything special I need to do to get back up here?” 

Breathing a barely noticeable sigh of relief, Josie offered, “No need to go all the way downstairs – there’s a balcony,” leading Kendall toward her bedroom and through the balcony door, “it’s just down this hallway – there’s a beautiful view.” 

“There seem to be a lot of nice views in this place,” Kendall breathed from behind her as Josie stepped into the crisp night air. 

Surprising herself, Josie spun around, threw a hand on her hip, and spoke with a daring gleam in her eye, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get anywhere further than my balcony, darlin’.” 

Kendall’s jaw dropped slightly at the audacity of Josie’s comment, but she recovered quickly and tossed back a challenge of her own: “Who said anything about taking this beyond the balcony?”

“Touché,” Josie laughed, stepping to one side of the doorway, allowing Kendall enough space to inch past her if she so chose. 

Lightly touching Josie’s hips with either hand, Kendall smiled and stepped through the doorway, then looked out to the fog-blanketed hills. “You weren’t kidding about the view,” Kendall offered with a whistle, sliding her hands into her jean pockets.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when I found this place,” Josie said, moving to Kendall’s side, resting on the cool rail, “as much fog as there is in London, it never took my breath away the way that this does. There’s something mystical about the way it rolls over the hills, like a blanket coming to put the city to bed.”

Sighing as she turned to meet Kendall’s eyes, Josie was caught off guard by the intensity of her stare – despite the soft smile playing on Kendall’s lips, there was nothing light in her focus. God, this woman is sexy, she thought. As she leaned toward Kendall and slid a hand up her leather sleeve, she felt Kendall tense her arm and take a step backward.

Unused to being rejected, and confused at the crossed signals she was receiving from the beautiful stranger on her balcony, Josie stared quietly toward the hills. Kendall finally broke the silence.

“Look, Josie, I don’t…really know…what to -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Josie cut her off, flashing a rubbery smile, “It really doesn’t matter. I’ll let you smoke in peace.” As she turned to walk back inside, she watched Kendall’s face fall into a deeper frown as she hung her head. Not curious enough to risk rejection again, Josie kept on her path and headed to the master bathroom.

Leaning over the counter, Josie looked her reflection square in the eyes and said, “calm down, girl. You’re too raw to be starting something new right now anyway. Just enjoy the single life, and be happy you’re home.”

When she left the bathroom, she noted that Kendall was no longer on the balcony, and prepared herself to face the sexy woman who’d just shunned her attempted kiss. When she stepped into her living room, however, it became obvious to Josie that she had braced herself for the wrong discomfort. The low-key, almost romantic atmosphere that once filled her apartment had dissipated, and had been replaced by a very cold mood – all of her friends were pulling on jackets and scarves and heading out the door. 

“What’s going on?” Josie asked, touching Roger’s sleeve.

“Honey, I am so sorry. Your girl from the UK just called and left a message, and it seems – well – you’d better listen to it. Call if you need anything, but I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna need your space for a bit.”

“Rog, you’re scaring me,” Josie pleaded, “just tell me…please?”

Pulling her into a tight hug, Roger kissed the side of her head and said, “Honey, I know you too well to stick around right now. I love you – call if you need me – I just don’t think you’re going to want anyone around.”

An acidic uneasy feeling crept into Josie’s stomach as she closed the door behind her friends. “What now, Camryn?” she asked herself as she strode to her answering machine, hesitating for a moment before she pressed the playback button.

Beeeep. “Hi Jo, it’s Cam…guess you’re probably out or something – I mean, why wouldn’t you be? It’s your Saturday night and you’re single again after a year of hell, right? Well, I just thought I’d call to let you know that I’m doing okay, you know, even though you left me out on the streets…I’m back with Jacob now, and I’d give you the number, but you know how Jake feels about dykes. So I guess you’ve gotten rid of me after all, and I hope you’re happy. I know I will be from now on, because I’ve got a real man now, not some impossible-to-please princess that I’ll never be good enough for. Have a nice life.”

Josie stood in front of the machine with her mouth agape, shaking with frustration, and, difficult as it was for her to admit, anger. She turned to throw herself on the couch for a good cry when she saw Kendall standing across the room, looking like a deer in headlights. “What are you doing here?” Josie growled at her, immediately regretting her sharp tone.

“I was in the bathroom,” Kendall began gently, “and then when the message started playing, I was torn – I know it wasn’t my place to listen in, but I wasn’t sure if you might want someone to talk to. I’m sorry, I’ve probably overstepped my bounds.”

Sinking into the couch, Josie pulled her feet underneath her and rested her head on her knees with a deep sigh. She began to shake and sob, bitterness flowing from her. “I’m sorry, Kendall,” she groaned.

“No worries, Josie – I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Kendall made her way to the door, and was just about to step outside when Josie called out, “Wait!” Kendall stopped in her tracks and spun around to see Josie’s flushed, tear-streaked face staring at her.

“Usually,” Josie started, “I’d want to be alone and handle this on my own – but nothing sounds better right now than some company. Would you mind?”

Her face softening, Kendall shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, making her way to the couch. “I’d be honored.” Tugging a tissue out of its box on the coffee table, Kendall offered it to Josie with a smile, “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but that ex of yours doesn’t sound like she’s all that together.”

Josie chuckled. “That’s the nicest it’s been put, Kendall – even after hearing or witnessing something that’s not nearly as bad as what she’s done now. But you know, the hardest part isn’t that she’s blaming me for leaving – it’s that she went back to her scumbag of a husband and knew that if she told me, I’d feel terrible about it. Not that I’ve got any ridiculously romantic notions about going back to London and rescuing her from that prick, but she’d really come so far…”

Josie glanced at Kendall, gauging her interest. “Go on,” Kendall urged, resting her hand on Josie’s arm that lay across the back of the couch. 

How did she know that that small touch was exactly what I needed? Josie thought, tilting her head slightly with a light smile. “Are you sure you want to hear all of this?”

“Absolutely.”

“When I first met Camryn, she was this sweet, scared woman who’d been burned by too many people. We spent a lot of time together and became fast friends – we were nothing more for a good six months or so. She helped me feel at home in a place that was new to me, and I really enjoyed her company. I knew from what she’d told me that her husband was a real asshole – he was manipulative and abusive – but I’d never met him until we were at the pub one night and he stormed in. 

He walked right up to her and smacked her on the back of her head. Cam screamed, but didn’t even try to get away from him – she just pulled her legs up and curled into herself – it was so obvious that she’d learned that from experience. And he was screaming all the while that he was beating on her, ‘You sick fuckin’ dyke, is this the bitch you’re fucking?’ I stood up and did the first thing that came to mind, which was to try to get in between the two of them so he’d cut it out. 

I yelled at him to stop but he just threw me against the table, called me a perverted homo bitch, and dragged Cam out of the pub. I was so scared that he’d kill her – I’d never seen someone treat another person that way before, and it was just heartbreaking. I called the police on my mobile on the way back to my flat, and gave them Cam’s address. I stayed there pacing the floor hoping that she’d call, praying that the police wouldn’t come to my door and tell me Cam was dead. 

And then there was a knock on the door. I was afraid to open it, but when I peeked through the eyehole, I saw that it was Cam, and I threw the door open and pulled her into my arms. I think it was right then that I realized how much I loved her – the panic I felt, the emptiness I feared, all disappeared while I held her. She told me that she’d left Jake, that she couldn’t take it anymore, and couldn’t believe that he’d tried to hurt me. She said that she loved me, and couldn’t bear going back to him. 

So that’s how it started. We made love for the first time that night, and she basically didn’t leave – she just stayed with me, and she healed slowly from everything that she’d lived with for the past five years. But, as much as I loved her, I knew that Cam was bad for me. If I went out for a beer with coworkers, she accused me of being unfaithful. When I asked her to clean the dishes, she would cry and say that I didn’t value her. This went on for a year – and I tried to forget that I had no independence, pretended to be perfectly happy with the woman I loved – but as my project drew to a close and I started preparing to head back to San Francisco, I realized that I felt a huge weight being lifted from me.

I had no idea how to tell her, but I knew that there was no way that Cam was coming back here with me. I started to break it to her easily, asking where she planned on living once my project was completed, suggesting places that I knew were available, and things like that. Then, about a week before I left, Cam cooked a wonderful dinner for me, with candlelight and everything. She asked me to stay there with her. I told her that I couldn’t, because my job and my life are here. So then she proclaimed that she’d come with me. I told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea for that to happen, because I didn’t see us working out in the long term. I told her that I loved her, but that there was too much difference in our philosophies about relationships for it to last. 

She basically threw a tantrum. She threw things and she hit me. And then it was over. The moment she laid a hand on me confirmed that she was at best unstable, and that I was putting myself in a disastrous situation by being with her. It was the most heartbreaking thing that I ever did…but I slept on the couch that night, finished packing my clothes the next morning, and stayed in a hotel for the next five days before I came home. That was two months ago. Guess I’m still feeling it.” 

“You wouldn’t be human if you could just dump your emotions like that, Josie,” Kendall assured her, stroking Josie’s arm lightly, “You left the woman that you loved just two months ago – it’s still fresh. Give it time.”

Josie laid her head on her arm and took Kendall’s hand, studying her face, “Thank you, Kendall Waters. You’re a good friend.”

The two women locked stares in silence, and as minutes passed, the world around them began to disappear. Josie felt vulnerable, floating in Kendall’s eyes in her living room, and looked down at Kendall’s hand in her own.

Breaking the thick silence, Kendall spoke softly, “You’re wondering why I backed away earlier.” 

Josie raised her eyes back to Kendall’s face, and nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. “It was a little surprising, yes.”

Kendall chuckled lightly, and stroked the back of her fingers against Josie’s cheekbone. “I’m a little raw right now, too. Not sure what I’m ready for – guess I’m a little vulnerable, and I’m not sure who I can trust.”

With a light smile, Josie squeezed Kendall’s hand and rose from the couch, pulling Kendall up to face her. “Stay with me tonight, Kendall. Fully clothed, but in my bed. I want to sleep in your arms. Think you can handle that?”

“I’m up for the challenge,” Kendall croaked, and followed Josie to her bedroom.

Josie retreated to the bathroom to change into her pajamas while Kendall stripped down to her underwear and T-shirt. Sliding into the bed, Kendall felt herself becoming aroused at Josie’s scent on the pillows. Josie couldn’t hold back her laughter when she left the bathroom and found Kendall burying her nose in the pillows on her bed. Kendall looked up sheepishly and began to blush immediately. 

“Fully clothed my ass,” Kendall groaned as Josie walked toward the bed wearing a short, maroon-colored silk spaghetti-strapped nightgown. Falling mid-thigh, the material clung to her rounded hips and full bust, and her nipples began to stiffen under Kendall’s stare.

Face flushing, Josie smirked as she stood in front of the dark-haired beauty, “I thought you were up for the challenge?”

“Talk about setting a girl up for failure!” Kendall laughed, opening her arms as Josie slid into their enveloping warmth. As Josie settled in comfortably after clicking off the light, Kendall kissed her tenderly behind her ear and whispered, “You know this isn’t the last night you’ll be in my arms, don’t you?”

Josie turned her body to face Kendall’s, draped a leg across the tall woman’s thigh, and slid an arm around hers waist. “I’m up for the challenge,” she whispered huskily, peering deeply into Kendall’s chocolate eyes as she took a risk for the second time that evening and moved to press mouth to Kendall’s full, moist lips. 

Kendall tightened her arms around Josie as their lips played against each other. Working her fingers into Josie’s blonde silk, Kendall pulled her head even closer, and urged her lover’s mouth open with her tongue. The tender exploration they had shared to this point grew more insistent until Josie growled and threw her body atop Kendall’s muscled form. Her wet pussy leaked onto Kendall’s thighs as she pushed her clit into Kendall’s mons, earning a gasp of surprise from the sensitive woman beneath her. 

Resting her hands at Kendall’s sides, Josie pushed her face toward Kendall’s and stared into her eyes as their hips moved of their own will, pushing their clits into one another. Josie leaned forward and met Kendall’s lips as her face rose up. Their tongues slid against each other’s lips and teeth as they pressed together in passion. Kendall slipped her hands to Josie’s breasts and rubbed the sensitive nipples with her thumbs while she began nibbling her way to her lover’s neck. As she sucked Josie’s pale flesh into her mouth and massaged it with her tongue, she felt Josie begin to convulse against her as her breath came in ragged gasps and she moaned into Kendall’s ear, “God baby, yes-oh-oh-oh-yesssssss, oh, God yess!” 

After collapsing against Kendall’s chest, Josie took a moment to recover from her climax, then placed a moist kiss on her lover’s lips and slid her body down. With her head at Kendall’s groin, she reached her hands to the soft round breasts she’d admired all night. “God, you have great tits,” she exclaimed, rubbing her palms against the thick, firm nipples pressing so proudly against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Reaching down to the hem of Kendall’s shirt, she began to slowly raise the material, but Kendall caught her wrists.

“I thought you wanted me ‘fully clothed’ in your bed,” Kendall teased.

“Mmmm…” Josie moaned, her voice heavy with lust, “You wanna play hard to get, eh? I’ll give you one chance to take it back – after that, you’re going to wish you’d done it my way.”

“A deal’s a deal – I wouldn’t want you to make an special exceptions on my behalf,” Kendall explained with a playful grin.

“Have it your way.” And Josie began to painfully tease her lover’s sensitive skin. Scratching lightly down Kendall’s stomach with her manicured nails, Josie softly licked and nibbled at her firm thighs, breathing hot air right above her swollen lips as she switched legs. Teasing Kendall’s mound with her nails, Josie soon had her lover raising her hips suggestively, her swollen clit begging for attention.

As Josie began to gently nip at Kendall’s mound, the taller woman gave in and began to pull her panties from her sopping flesh – but Josie stopped her.

“Uh-uh,” Josie protested, “A deal’s a deal.”

Smiling through her groan, Kendall compliantly raised her hips while Josie forced her hands behind her. Perching herself on her knees, Josie held Kendall’s thighs apart at a wide angle and shared a daring glare with her lover. “Stay put,” she ordered, and then began to slowly tease Kendall’s swollen lips through her panties with her teeth. Nibbling up one lip and then down the other, Josie watched as the thin cloth became even more saturated and Kendall’s lips began to part. 




Raw Ch. 01



Positioning her strong tongue at the base of Kendall’s panty-covered slit, Josie slowly pulled it upward until it pressed against her lover’s swollen clit. Kendall moaned and her hips bucked up to press against Josie’s mouth. But Josie was determined not to let Kendall come too quickly, and so she began to nibble at her drenched lips again, then slide her tongue against Kendall’s tasty slit. Josie continued her torture until it was obvious by Kendall’s labored breathing and repetitive moans of “Yes, baby, yes!” that she was going to come soon. 

Ready to reward her lover for letting Josie tease her to such a highly sensitive place, Josie locked her lips against Kendall’s mound and applied suction to her lover’s clit while gently grazing the tip with her lower teeth. Kendall came in crashing waves of ecstasy as she clamped her thighs against Josie’s ears and tangled her long fingers in Josie’s hair.

Crawling back into her lover’s arms, Josie offered Kendall a tender kiss, and the two women settled into a comfortable sleep.

Look for Raw (Ch. 2) soon! 



Raw Ch. 02



Josie awoke peacefully as the woman in her arms began stirring beside her. Turning her face toward her lover’s, she smiled to see Kendall’s dark eyes already staring down at her. 

“Good morning,” Josie whispered.

“Good morning yourself, kitten.” Kendall rubbed Josie’s back with strong fingers, encouraging her to slide up for a kiss.

Tentatively, Josie approached Kendall’s lips with her own, and gently pressed them together. Kendall groaned softly and pulled Josie’s body closer to her own, holding her tightly, feeling their breasts press together. “Your lips are so fucking sexy,” Kendall moaned, keeping her lips pressed against Josie’s as she spoke. 

“Mmmm,” Josie responded, smiling through their conversant kiss, “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Grinning, Kendall pulled her face away from Josie’s, which elicited a grump from her lover. “And what exactly do you think I can’t finish?” she asked, holding Josie’s shoulders to keep her from resuming the kiss without answering.

Josie pulled her arms from Kendall’s firm body, leaned her head on her hand, and with a dare in her voice said, “Well, it’s just that last night you insisted on remaining clothed, and I refuse to fuck you again without seeing all of that gorgeous body you’re hiding under there.”

“Oh, really?” Kendall dared.

“Uh-huh,” nodded Josie, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing I can do about that,” Kendall sighed. 

“ I think you’re right,” Josie nodded, bringing her fingertips to the hem of Kendall’s shirt.

Grasping Josie’s hands in her own, Kendall smiled into Josie’s eyes. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page.” With that, Kendall lifted Josie’s arms above her head and lay atop her newfound lover, kissing her soundly. Kendall licked along the crevice of Josie’s mouth, which opened to accept her soft tongue. Josie struggled lightly against Kendall’s grip on her arms, and wrapped her legs around her lover’s, intertwining their limbs. 

As Kendall began sliding her mouth down Josie’s face, placing wet kisses on the soft skin, Josie felt her nipples sliding against Kendall’s chest, and her pussy gushed in reaction to Kendall’s thigh pressing against it. “God, Kendall, I want you inside of me,” Josie pleaded, locking eyes with the brunette. 

About to return to Josie’s lips for a sensual kiss, Kendall stopped when the telephone rang. With faux concern in her face, Kendall asked, “Aren’t you going to answer that? It might be important.”

Josie’s face fell as she remembered last night’s events, and what led to this incredible woman sharing her bed. The sultry vixen became subdued, and she felt small and pained. “No,” she nearly whispered, “I don’t want to talk to her.”

Kendall ignored her swollen clit and eager libido and slid back to the head of the bed, pulling Josie into her arms. “I’m so sorry, Josie.” They lay cradled together, with Kendall stroking Josie’s hair and placing light kisses on her cheek, waiting for the answering machine to pick up. 

Josie held her breath until the machine beeped, not looking forward to Camryn’s next message. 

“Hiya Josie – Roger here.” Both women exhaled, grateful to hear the friendly voice, and Kendall lightened her grip, leaning back from the blonde head in front of her. “I’m just calling to check in with you about last night – hope you’re doing okay. I felt a little weird about leaving you like that, but I know you wouldn’t have done too well with company…give a call when you get this message – we’ll grab coffee soon, okay?”

Chuckling into Josie’s ear as the machine sounded off, Kendall whispered, “I think you did pretty well with company last night, don’t you?”

Squeezing her new lover’s body closer to her own, Josie grinned as Kendall nibbled the tender flesh just behind her ear. “You have no idea how much better I’ll be doing in a few minutes,” Josie suggested as she slipped her fingers under Kendall’s shirt, caressing the soft skin with her fingertips. 

“Mmm,” Kendall groaned, “That’s right…you were about to reveal every last inch of that sexy body for me…”

Josie pushed Kendall on her back, then sat up and slid her thighs over her lover’s waist. Subtly rocking her hips against Kendall’s mound, she chewed lightly on her lower lip and placed her lover’s hands on her hips. 

As she played her fingertips lightly over Josie’s milky skin, Kendall teased, “I see I’m going to have to do all the work around here.” In a smooth motion, the dark-haired beauty swept Josie’s thin nightgown over her head and onto the floor. With a soft gasp, Kendall settled her hands back onto Josie’s hips. 

“Wow…” was the only word Kendall could mutter as she caressed Josie’s soft skin beneath her fingers. Gingerly, she freed herself from underneath the sexy woman and situated herself at Josie’s side. 

Tracing her generous curves with tender strokes of her fingertips, Kendall locked her eyes with Josie’s. “You are so fucking gorgeous, Josie,” she groaned.

Without a word, Josie slowly pressed her mouth to Kendall’s, applying a gentle massage with her lips and tongue until Kendall moaned and opened herself to her lover. Before Kendall could wrap her strong arms around Josie’s naked form, Josie pulled the shirt from her lover’s torso and began impatiently grabbing at the waistband of Kendall’s panties.

Urgently, the women tangled their limbs and pressed their bodies to one another, creating electric friction between their bodies. Josie’s thigh was quickly moistened with Kendall’s juices, and Kendall’s hands were full with Josie’s firm ass and swollen tits. 

Rolling atop Josie, Kendall deftly chewed along her soft jaw line and moved her hands down her sides. Josie’s legs opened on their own volition as Kendall raised herself onto one arm, peered straight into Josie’s frenetic gaze, and slid her fingers through Josie’s soft, light bush and between her pouting outer lips. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet!” Kendall cried. As she slowly stroked Josie’s clit through it’s thin sheath, she whispered, “I am going to make you come so fucking hard, Josie – you’re going to come for me, around me. Your clit is so hard – fuck, baby, you’re so close, I can feel it.”

Josie arched her back, pressing her clit harder against Kendall’s talented fingers. “Yesss, Kendall,” she pleaded, “I want to come for you – please, let me come for you!”

Sliding quickly between Josie’s thighs, Kendall flattened her tongue against Josie’s dripping slit and pressed upward, flicking her swollen clit with the tip. Sliding a finger into Josie’s pussy, Kendall sucked her clit into her mouth, massaging it rapidly with her tongue. 

Josie clenched her fingers to Kendall’s broad shoulders, pressing her deeper inside of her core. “Oh, God!” Josie cried, frantically pumping her hips in time with Kendall’s hard fucking. Kendall continued to rapidly fuck her tight pink hole, adding another finger, and then another, cramming as much of herself as she could into Josie’s tiny crevice until her body finally tensed and shook, and Josie’s throat released a guttural scream of rapture.

Tenderly pulling her fingers from Josie’s stretched tunnel, Kendall slid her lips along her lover’s tender skin, pushing herself up until her face was again level with Josie’s. Placing a soft kiss against the spent woman’s brow, Kendall pulled the smaller woman into her arms and prepared to catch her breath.

Josie continued her momentum and didn’t stop when she reached Kendall’s side; she again straddled the dark-haired beauty’s hips, placing her hands on either side of her head, teasing Kendall’s collarbone with her nipples. “You don’t think you’re finished yet, do you?” she growled, sliding her damp slit against Kendall’s trimmed mons.

“Mmmm, I was hoping not-“ Kendall began.

Josie silenced her lover with a smoldering kiss, nibbling sensually on Kendall’s sensitive lips. “Shhhh,” she whispered, kissing lightly from Kendall’s mouth to her ear, “not another word, or I’ll gag you.”

Kendall groaned through her thick arousal, kneading Kendall’s ass in her hands. “Good girl,” Josie mocked as she delicately traced a path from Kendall’s neck to her hips with her pointed nipples. Dancing her fingertips lightly along her lover’s arms, Josie slid to a sitting position, sliding Kendall’s long legs over her own, positioning her own pulsing cunt just inches from her lover’s. 

Grazing her fingertips along Kendall’s shiny slit, Josie moaned to feel the liquid silk of her arousal. Pulling her lover’s lips apart, Josie sat in awe for a moment as she watched Kendall’s pulsing hole try to reach out to her, begging to be penetrated. Josie ran her fingers along the dripping pussy in front of her, lubricating her digits. Lightly, she began tracing the swollen purple veins on Kendall’s nether lips, applying gentle pressure. As she worked her way to the top of her lover’s slit, she pressed firmly around Kendall’s clit, acknowledging its prominence only by refusing to touch it. 

Kendall squirmed under Josie’s teasing touch, then half-whimpered and half-moaned when Josie grasped her clit firmly between her thumb and forefinger. Josie pinched and released Kendall’s clit in this manner while she deftly worked two petite fingers into Kendall’s red hot pussy, sliding easily yet snugly in and out of the tight canal. 

With her lover groaning and gasping before her, Josie began to tap Kendall’s clit with her thumb instead of pinching; this freed her fingers to slide into Kendall’s hungry cunt, replacing the fingers that Josie was now using to simulate the tender skin between her dripping pussy and her pink asshole. 

“Unngghhhh…” Kendall groaned, reaching for Josie’s legs. 

Pushing a third finger into Kendall’s throbbing pussy, Josie circled her asshole, honing in on the center. Kendall’s hips began bucking toward Josie, pushing her deeper inside. Unable to resist temptation any longer, Josie swiped a bit more of Kendall’s juices across her asshole, then pressed a finger inside. 

“Aahhhh,” Kendall cried, rewarding Josie for making the right move. The more Kendall gyrated her hips at her lover, the harder Josie fucked her. As a sheen of sweat began to coat Kendall’s muscular body, Josie slipped a fourth finger into her pussy, and a second into her asshole. The fullness finally sent Kendall over the edge, and her orgasm washed through her body and onto the sheets.

“Oh, God,” Josie cried as she was flooded with Kendall’s come, awestricken at the proof of her lover’s pleasure.

Gently, Josie pulled her fingers out of Kendall, and quickly leapt into the taller woman’s arms, kissing her passionately, yet softly, blissfully.

Once she’d recovered her normal breathing pattern, Kendall stroked Josie’s hair and confided, “It’s been a long time since I’ve come like that…didn’t know I still had it in me.”

“That wasn’t you – I was in you, silly,” Josie teased, “But seriously, I’ve never actually been with a woman who has come like that – I always thought it was something that butches with penis envy made up…”

Kendall laughed heartily, throwing her head back, and held her new lover tight in her arms. They lay quietly, listening to one another’s breath for a long while, but Josie was concerned. 

“Kendall?” she began, “I don’t quite know how to ask this…”

“Just ask – I won’t bite…unless you ask me to, of course…” Kendall responded, pressing her lips to Josie’s forehead.

Josie sighed, frustrated that Kendall seemed so good, so right. But they were both raw, freshly burned and fragile. As wonderful as their time together had been so far, there would invariably come a time where one or the other would realize that this was just what they needed to get through the heartbreak, and it was time to move on. It would be so much easier if they could just skip the emotions and break it off before it began.

“I’m just not sure we should be doing this. We’ve had a great time – a better than great time – but is this really a smart move for either of us?” Josie held her breath, waiting for the anger, the accusations to be hurled at her.

Kendall chuckled, “I’m glad you asked – I wasn’t really sure how to bring it up myself. I’m not ready to commit myself to someone, and I don’t think you are either. Bad timing on our part I guess – maybe we’re not meant to be lovers beyond last night...I think we could be great friends…I mean, this isn’t necessarily the most conventional way to begin a friendship, but hey – at least I know I can trust you with the most delicate of matters…and body parts!”

Wait a minute, Josie thought, is that really what I want? I really like this woman – how could I ever be only a friend to her? Then again, I’d rather be her friend than never see her again – she’s certainly friendship material…but I haven’t felt this way in so long…but…”You’re right, Kendall – bad timing…really bad.”

Raw Ch.03 Coming Soon! 



Raw Ch. 02



Fucked. That's what I had been. Rightfully and thoroughly fucked.

Saturday night, I awoke on my back in Brian's bed. I could barely move, but I wasn't complaining. The spot next to me was empty but still warm.

I smiled. We'd been having sex of some sort ever since we'd arrived after lunch.

Whether I'd been on the bed or the padded bench or his kinky creation. Whether he'd used his hands or his mouth or his cock. Whether it had been fast or slow or a combination of both. However he had done it, it had been pleasurable. And at the end of each scene, he'd brought me to release—albeit there had been times I thought he'd never get there.

He had pushed my boundaries. Not beyond what I could tolerate, but I had never experienced sex like he had shown me. It had scared me a little.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, I reflected on our time together. Although I had reached orgasm at some point within each of our scenes, he'd hinted that it wouldn't always be the case. I half wondered if I would be able to handle that when the time came.

Which made me think of something he'd said after he had completely exhausted me. After he'd carried me to the bathtub and tucked me into his bed, wrapped in his arms.

"You belong to me. Now we're playing by my rules."

Belonging? As a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of thing? Or did he imply something deeper?

And his rules? I knew I was to call him Sir while in this room; to trust him explicitly; to use the safe word if I wanted him to stop. What other rules were there? Did he have a limit? Was there nothing he wouldn't do to me? Did I not have a voice in what I would allow?

Even from the modicum of research I had done on BDSM relationships, I knew that couples should have safe words. But I understood that the word wasn't supposed to end the relationship, just the session because the dominant partner had crossed a line, whether it be a pain threshold, exhaustion, or simply a lack of comfortableness for the submissive partner.

But Brian had expressed that if I uttered our word, he was done with me.

After having experienced him for just a few hours, I knew this was a lifestyle I wanted to explore much more deeply. But because of his sometimes cold personality, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue the exploration with him. To be turned away like a used toy if he did something I didn't like without discussing it first? That made me shiver again. And not in a good way.

The bedroom door opened. By instinct, I sat up and I lifted the sheet to cover my breasts.

"Good evening, Becca. Lower the sheet."

I obeyed. But deep inside, with just those few words, he'd made me feel like a child. And that irked me even more. "Good evening, Br— Sir."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. Was it always a scene in action once we were on this side of the threshold? Was there no "at ease" stance where we could just be two human beings with similar interests who'd just shared a mind-blowing sexual experience? That was what I'd longed for in a partner. What I had hoped I'd find by agreeing to come home with Brian. But now?

The door closed, and I heard his bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. He sat beside me on the bed and laid his hand on the sheet still covering my knee. "Did you sleep well?"

I started to nod but stopped myself. "Yes, Sir."

"I didn't want to wake you too soon. Have you enjoyed our time together thus far?"

"Yes, Sir." My exhale came out shaky. I had so many questions. But did I dare ask them? Or would he turn me out? I had never agreed to 'belong' to him. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted—

He cupped my breast and stroked his thumb over my nipple.

A jolt ran through my body, and I flung my head back, moaning loudly. I saw him staring down at me, his eyes dark and shiny. I arched into his hand, wanting more of his touch. Despite my reservations, I couldn't resist him. He was a growing addiction. And I didn't care at the moment that he was dangerous for me. To me.

"So beautiful." He squeezed my breast almost painfully. His other hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back as he and kissed me, swallowing my sharp gasp. His tongue flicked at my lips, my teeth, and then my own tongue. Both hands buried in my hair now, tilting my head this way and that.

Then I was falling sideways, his body following until he laid atop me. I moaned again, my hands twitching on the bed next to my body. I wanted to grip his arms so badly. To hold him close to me. My muscles burned as I forced myself to remain still, denying my natural instinct.

He'd spent the day touching me. I was not to touch him without his permission. And while I had held his cock when he'd given me instructions on how he liked to be pleasured with just my hands, I had wanted the more simple, intimate connection with him. But I had also wanted to comply with his rules, so I had obeyed.

Right now? I wanted to cry. Rules be damned, I wanted to—

"Put your hands on me, Becca," he said, his voice low and broken by his shallow breathing. "I want you to feel me. To know me as I've gotten to know you."

I choked back a sob, my heart lurching with joy. My hands shook as I lifted them to him. Until finally, the skin of his bare chest brushed against the pads of my fingertips. I gasped and brushed his skin again, harder this time, sliding further under the partially open ends of his shirt. Unbuttoning it the rest of the way. Pushing it back off his shoulders. Stroking there, increasing the pressure until I could feel the tight muscles under his skin.

He kissed me again, and I traced his neck, his spine, his shoulderblades, down his back. Then my fingers wandered back up to the soft waves of his hair. I tried to memorize him as if he would be leaving me for a very long time and I had to remember everything I could about him.

I have no idea how he did it, but I felt his cock against my thigh as he reached between us to pull the sheet away. Maybe he'd removed his pants before he sat down, or maybe I had been so lost in the moment that I hadn't realized he'd maneuvered his pants off while still kissing me. In any case, I parted my legs with a throaty moan and gripped the back of his shoulders.

He shifted. His cock grazed my thigh before it rested directly over my pussy.

I almost choked on his tongue as he kissed me harder. I lifted my hips up to his. I clutched him to me. Wrapped my legs around the back of his thighs. I whimpered against his mouth when my nipples touched the coarse hair on his chest, and I arched my back up more so I could rub against him.

He froze, his hands on my shoulders now. "Becca. Control yourself."

I immediately loosened my grip on him, collapsing to the bed. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Look at me," he said at the same time as he sat back on his knees, spreading my legs wide around him.

I blinked and slowly dragged my eyes up his well-defined chest to the slight stubble on his chin and finally to those seriously deep blue eyes.

He rubbed something—presumably the tip of his cock by the width—against my clit. "I said you could put your hands on me. That was not a license to lose your inhibitions. There will be times I will allow you to indulge your personal desires. You will know it. This was not one of those times."

I groaned and clutched the sheet, closing my eyes. He immediately pulled away, making me gasp.

"Do you understand, Becca?"

"Yes, Sir."

"We talked about this earlier. You need to control your emotions. Listen to me. Follow my commands. When we are in this room, I am in control, not you. We will work on perfecting these rules. If I give you a little leeway, like touching me, you need to remain within those boundaries."

I bit my lip to silence the moan creeping up my throat as he rubbed against me once more.

"I know it is difficult for you to resist what your body wants. I know this is new and maybe strange for you. But you want it. Otherwise, you would have walked out that door without a second glance when I gave you the chance. You would have spoken the safe word long ago."

I rolled my head back and forth. Fuck. I so wanted him to slide his cock in deep with one hard thrust. I wanted to grip onto his arms again. To wrap my legs around him again as he claimed the deepest part of me. It was so hard not to. I feared I would shred his sheets with my fingernails if he kept this up.

I mouthed the word first, and then it slipped out in a breathless whisper. "Please."

"No, I think you need to learn a lesson." His hand rested on my pelvic bone, his thumb pressing between my lips to barely brush against my clit before his touch was gone.

"Please, Sir!"

His hand returned to my pussy, his thumb circling my clit again. "With time, you will learn to obey."

With that, he grabbed my arm and flipped me over onto my stomach. He dragged me to the edge of the bed until my legs hung off. My toes barely touched the floor. Then he thrust his cock into my pussy so hard and fast it made me cry out.

But my gratitude was bittersweet. We'd done this position before. I knew I would receive no release at this angle. It was my punishment.

I relented to muffling my cries, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. He proceeded to fuck me roughly, holding my hands behind my back.

Eventually, he withdrew. I heard the snap of a condom being removed. His hand pressed against my ass, massaging it. After a few moments, I heard him grunt long and low and felt the warmth of his release on my lower back.

"Don't move."

A door opened and closed. I heard water running.

My arms lay numb at my sides. My fingers twitched again, and I had to force my hands to not move. To not slide underneath my body and rub my clit so I could come. I let out a shuddered breath, trying to suppress the need to cry as I felt my vaginal muscles spasming.

I stared at the armoire, the doors closed now. Probably locked. The bedside lamp was on, the black shade and red bulb casting a dull glow onto the otherwise bare surface of the table. I was just considering if I could try to mentally force myself to orgasm when he returned.

He laid a warm washcloth on my backside and slowly wiped at my skin. When he was done, he scooped up my legs and turned me properly onto the bed so that my head rested on a pillow again, facing away from him.

The bed shifted. I closed my eyes and whimpered as his body pressed up against me from behind. It was warm and slightly damp. I would have expected a lover to invite me into the shower with him if he had felt the need to wash the sweat away. Instead, he treated me as if I were dirty and he needed to be cleansed of me.

He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me until his legs fitted against the curve mine naturally made as I attempted to curl into myself. One hand caressed my arms. The other brushed my hair back from my forehead over and over again. His face nuzzled the back of my neck.

Was this the same, cold man who had just denied me an orgasm because I'd touched him with more than my hands? The man who had barely said a dozen words between picking me up this morning and bringing me to his place after lunch? The man who had spent the day screwing me, turning me inside out with pleasure, yet had not really shown me who he was?

He was a shell. A fucking empty shell. Literally.

And while the sex had been great, I wanted more. I wanted to be submissive. But I wanted him to be emotional. To show he actually cared about me. That I wasn't just another partner to him. And if I continued with this, would it always be like this? This disconnected feeling, at least in the bedroom? Would he be different outside that door? Or would he still be the closed-off professional he made himself appear to be?

Of all the questions running through my head, I chose one that would at least give me an idea what I was working with. I just wasn't sure how to word it. How he would react. But I had to try.

"Sir? May I speak freely?"

"Yes, Becca. Please do."

"How many...Am I..."

"Ahh, yes, that question." I imagined him smiling as I felt him press his mouth against my hair. "I am not seeing anyone else right now. I haven't in quite a long time. I am picky with the women I see. That I bring here. And no, there haven't been many."

I relaxed a little. "May I ask what made you think I would want to do this?"

"A very valid question indeed." He was silent for a moment, but his hands still soothed my back. "It was something in the way you answered my questions during the interview. How you liked to be chased. That's a very primal quality of a submissive, even if most won't admit it. They have this desire to be wanted. And the chase...that's a major way of showing he wants her. The ultimate goal is to be caught. To feel worthy of being chased in the first place."

I half-wished he'd stop touching me. While it felt nice, I couldn't think, and the fact that I hadn't had a release after he'd built me up only complicated matters. I was frustrated. Horny. Which made me more than a little pissed off.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer to my next question, but he was giving me an opportunity. It was do-or-die time. "Can I ask what you meant when you said I belonged to you?"

He pulled me closer, and I felt his cock press up against the curves of my ass. My pussy clenched, and I bit back a moan. I was tempted to wiggle backwards, hoping he'd slide inside. I couldn't be that lucky, though, so I pushed the thought away.

"You will have sex with no other man. You will see no other man. Your body is mine and mine alone as long as we are together. How long that is will depend on your obedience and desire to remain. I will draw up a contract once we've discussed it more, but for now, we'll consider it an indefinite, verbal agreement."

I gulped. Contract?

"I will train you to use all of my toys. It may take time, but we have plenty of that. When I think you're ready, I will collar you. You can continue your writing career if you so choose. I will arrange for you to have an office here so you can work but are also available to me twenty-four-seven. Eventually, you will obey me without even thinking about it. It will come naturally."

Oh shit. I opened my mouth to speak, but he pressed two fingers inside, stopping me.

"I am free to do with you what I please. Whether it be using your mouth..." He stroked his fingers a couple of times against my tongue before pulling them free. Suddenly, they brushed against my clit. I could not stop the moan this time. "Your pussy..."

I moaned even louder when his fingers easily pushed up inside me.

His touch slid back and rubbed against my anus, pressing slightly for entry as he whispered, "Or your—"

"Blue!" I yelled, yanking myself away from his grasp and scrambling out the other side of the bed. I whipped around, my hair flying around me in a tangled mess. It matched my temper. "Dammit! Blue!"

Brian sat upright, his eyes narrowed slits, his mouth turned down into a grimace. When he spoke, it came out a low growl of disapproval. "Becca. Consider what you are doing. What you are giving up."

"I am not fucking Anastasia Steele, and you are not fucking Christian Grey, so get off your fucking power trip!" I scooped up my dress and pulled it over my head. 

"I don't know—"

"Don't even try it! You know very well what I'm referring to." I found one shoe and looked around for the other. Brian didn't get out of bed, but his eyes had widened, almost as if he were bewildered. Wonders would never cease. The man could show emotion. I stooped to look under the nightstand, trying to keep an eye on him as well. "I did not sign up for do-it-yourself 'Fifty Shades.' I am a person with feelings and rights."

"I see. Can we talk about this?"

"No, it's your rule. Remember? I use the safe word and you take me back to my hotel, never to see me again? If you rather, I can call a cab. I have no problem with that."

"I never thought you would use it." His voice was quieter and very honest. He really had no clue.

I hopped on one foot, trying to put my second shoe on. Footwear back in place, I clutched my underwear, stockings, and garter belt in one hand. "Are you fucking serious? You expected me to just go along with you dictating my life without a say so? You don't even know me. You never once asked me what I wanted. Besides being chased, that is. Or staying eight hours ago. What if I don't want to be your live-in sex slave? What if I want to touch you and have you make love to me for once rather than just fucking my brains out? What if I don't want you touching my ass?"

"I see." He sat back against the headboard. "We can discuss this. Outline your hard limits in our contract. It really is what you want. You just have to be open to learning."

I took deep breath. "There will be no fucking contract. Thank you for the introduction to the lifestyle, Mr. Hughes. I may want to be submissive, but that doesn't mean I want to lose my identity. Goodbye."

I slammed the door behind me. I wanted to stop and catch my breath, but I was afraid he'd try to follow me. Even more afraid that I would reconsider if he tried any harder to convince me to stay. I clambered down the steps, grabbed my purse off the table, and tugged on the door handle. I cursed under my breath when it didn't budge. I forgot he had locked it.

I heard the door open at the top of the stairs as I unlatched the deadbolt. I didn't look back. I just walked through the door and closed it behind me. Then I began to walk down the street towards where I saw traffic. I had no idea where I was, but we had passed a strip of stores not far from the row of brownstones on our ride over earlier today.

I half expected Brian to run out after me. To insist we go back to his place and talk about this like two mature adults in private. And when he didn't, I started crying. I wasn't sure if it was from the relief to be away from him or the disappointment that he wasn't chasing me.

I didn't want what he was offering. I would not become the physical embodiment of a spineless girl in a lame sex story, no matter how popular it had been on the bestseller list and how thousands of women claimed to want exactly what I could have if I turned around. But reality did not follow the story. It never did, it never would.

As I walked, my steps slowed. A very big part of me did feel like a used toy. What had been mysterious and sexy earlier today now seemed almost garish when it was finished. It was like I had been living a daydream and someone had shaken me awake. Told me I had to get up and go back to my life.

Was this eccentric lifestyle something I really wanted to embrace so I could explore this side of myself? What would tomorrow bring? Would he try to contact me again? What would I say if he did? Would our encounter alter his article on my books? Would he out me for who I really was? Or would he hold himself to his professional standards when society called for it?

I was still processing my thoughts when I came upon an open coffee shop. I hugged my articles to my body, hiding them behind my meager existence of a purse, and slinked to the bathroom at the back. Washing my face, I finished dressing and made myself presentable.

At the main counter, I ordered a caramel latte and a cinnamon scone. The girl took my money and gave me a soft smile when I asked if she could call me a cab. Then I sat to wait for my ride.

Why did I feel so...lonely? I couldn't help remembering what it had been like to have Brian lying next to me. To have him touching me. His cock inside of me. Every position I'd been in flashed through my eyes. The pleasure he'd brought me. The experiences I'd never though possible.

I thought of his contraption. My gut twisted deliciously as I remembered how it had felt to be strapped down on my stomach while he fucked me from behind. While he spanked me with a leather riding crop. While he fingered my pussy until I was screaming his name.




Raw Ch. 02



I groaned and finished the scone, licking the sugar topping off my fingers.

I tried to imagine what it would have been like to just have regular, slow, passionate sex with him. Did he even like that? Was he capable of that? Or was he all Mr. Dominant? And now that I had experienced a little of the kinky world, would plain old vanilla sex be enough for me anymore?

My cab arrived, and I settled into the backseat with my latte. The scenery passed by in a blur as we headed back to the city. I swallowed the tears that threatened at my eyes and tried to repair my self-esteem.

I had made the right decision. I know I had. It just hurt to see my hopes shattered like one of his wine glasses dropped on the pristine hardwood floor of his bedroom.

###

Safely back in my hotel room, I stripped down and sat on the edge of the bed. I could imagine him in the room. Over there. Sitting in the chair. Straightening his tie. Staring me down with one eyebrow raised as he debated my answers. Standing by the door, slyly asking for my phone number through the ruse of needing it in case he had any more questions as our interview concluded.

Those memories only led to more erotic ones. I switched off the light, pulled the covers back, and lay down. My fingers took on a life of their own, caressing and squeezing my breasts, pressing between the swollen folds of my pussy. I stroked myself to release, crying out in anguish and relief when I finally came. I curled onto my side to come down from my high, but that made me think of how he'd spooned up against me just an hour ago after denying me an orgasm.

"Dammit!" I sat up and slammed my fist down on the mattress, glad of the soft surface but wishing the impact had been more rewarding.

I took a hot shower, scrubbing every inch of my skin, as if that would erase the memory of his touch, his scent. Then I changed into jeans and a T-Shirt, packed my bag, and used the automated checkout service. Sue had paid for my room through Monday, but I couldn't stay here another minute. Not when he could find me.

I hailed a cab out front again, repacked my bag at home, and jumped into my own car. Sue's voicemail picked up when I tried her number, so I left a message that I would be unavailable for a few days. I wasn't due to meet with her for another week to discuss what I would be doing for my next project. Even if I'd had pressing matters to attend to work-wise, she would have understood my need to escape.

With the stereo turned up, I headed out of the city. I needed to put this day as far behind me as possible right now. The further I got from Mr. Hughes and his masculine yet kinky bedroom, the better I could think.

Honestly, I wanted Brian's control in the bedroom. I didn't think I could handle it outside—although the memory of his hand restraining my wrist at lunch made my heart thump faster. With a sigh, I had to admit that I didn't want his dominant personality blocking all of his emotions. I wanted his strong control in a sensitive man. Both things at once. But did that exist in a Dominant/submissive relationship? If so, I didn't think it existed within him.

It wasn't until I took the exit for Wheaton that I realized I had been on auto pilot to my brother Drake's house. I guess something deep down knew I needed company. My brother Alexander was great, but he was always trying to make light of every situation. Tonight I didn't need humor and sarcasm, I needed a serious brother's support. I knew Drake could give it, although he probably didn't realize it. I would have to admit I knew a secret about him before we could go down that road.

I paid more attention to my driving now, watching traffic and the street signs for my turns. When I pulled into his drive, the porch light turned on, as if he were expecting me. A moment later, the front door opened.

"Becca?" a voice called from behind the light as I stepped out of the car.

I tried to smile, to stay strong. "Hey, Drake."

"What's wrong?"

"Who says anything's wrong?" My voice cracked as I spoke. "Can't I just come see my brother?"

"Come here." His arms surrounded me as tears spilled down my cheeks. "Hey, it's okay. Give me your bag. Let's go inside."

He waited until I was seated on the couch and he was in his recliner, both of us with a bottle of beer, before he spoke again.

"What's his name? What did he do? And where can I find him so I can kill him?"

I snorted softly. "What makes you think it's a man?"

"It's eleven o'clock on a Saturday night, and you're crying. You only cry about men."

"I do not," I said, sticking out my lower lip.

"You do when it's serious. So spill."

I sighed and took a long sip. "Let's just say I was introduced to something I thought I wanted, but it didn't go the way I expected."

Drake's forehead furrowed, and it looked...charming. Not like when Brian had done it several times today, as if he were chastising a childish decision. Drake seemed genuinely concerned.

"My lips are sealed."

"Yeah, but your face is red."

"It's the beer."

He snorted this time. "You had sex. Hot, dirty sex."

"Shit."

"Hell, I was just guessing." He grinned. "But now that you've admitted it, what don't you like about hot, dirty sex?"

I grimaced and took a swig for courage. "What do you consider hot and dirty?"

"Well, um..."

"Who's face is red now?"

"Touché."

I pointed my bottle at him. "You were explaining hot and dirty sex?"

"Fine. Obviously, anything that is fast and rough."

"Obviously," I grinned. It would be more fun getting him to admit his little secret himself.

He glared at me. "Some dirty talk as well. Maybe a little hair pulling. Not on the bed, of course."

"Of course."

"I'm being serious, because you asked." He took a drink. "Not your typical missionary."

I held up my hands. "Oh, this definitely wasn't missionary."

"Vanilla?"

"What's that?" Oh, how I loved goading him. He considered me his naïve little sister? I'd be happy to let him believe it...at least for a few more minutes.

"Well, uh, your typical sex. Usually missionary or doggy-style. Or cowgirl with her on top."

"What do you call atypical sex? Non-vanilla? Chocolate? Neapolitan?"

Drake laughed. "You're the writer. Don't you know?"

"I include sex scenes in most of my books, but I don't really do a lot of research beyond the norm. I guess my scenes are what you're considering 'vanilla.' I just don't—"

"Kinky, Becca. It's called kinky sex. BDSM. Control, ropes, and spanking. Shit like that."

I lifted my bottle to my mouth, but it couldn't hide the corners of my mouth as they turned up.

"Are you shitting me? You knew what I was talking about?"

I was smiling fully now, drinking back the cool liquid with delight. My cheeks felt stiff from the dried tears as I utilized the muscles there. "I don't think I've ever seen you so embarrassed before. Priceless. It was worth it."

"Anybody ever call you a tease?"

"Yeah, well, they used to." I sobered up a little, my melancholy returning. And before I could stop them, the words spilled out of my mouth. "I need some advice. Sex advice. What, with you being a control freak, I knew I could come to you. I'm in deep shit."

"Becca?"

"I got involved with a dominant man, and he kind of freaked me out."

He sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Are you okay?"

I shrugged. "I will be, eventually."

He was silent for a long time, rubbing his thumbs over the condensation on his bottle. He kept his eyes on the floor when he spoke again. "How long have you know about me?"

I blinked. That was an unexpected question. "Well, a few years now."

"What gave it away?"

"A comment you made after you proofread one of the Dex Knightly books. Something about how the heroine should have been more submissive in the bedroom. You gave me some suggestions that implied you had first-hand knowledge of the topic."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So, Becca, are you into kinky sex?"

Oh hell. Just get it over with.

"Yeah," I mumbled against the glass lip.

"Is this too much for you? I mean, you're my little sister."

"I'm thirty-five years old."

He rolled his eyes.

"I won't go into details if that was what you're asking me to do."

"Okay." He sat back, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief that we were having this conversation in the first place. "Can you...will you tell me what about it made you drive an hour to see me?"

I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words but failing miserably. I shrugged and curled into the corner of the couch. "I guess I liked the feeling of not being in control. Of being restrained. Being told what to do. But I fear he was a little too...I don't know...overly aggressive? Maybe I'm just so unfamiliar with the territory I don't know what's normal and what isn't in the lifestyle."

"Okay. It's pretty typical of one in a submissive position to want to be controlled. Did you have a safe word? Did he do something specific you didn't like? Like cane the back of your legs as hard as he could while holding you down?"

"What the hell—"

"I read 'Fifty Shades,' too."

I almost choked on my beer.

"It's not just for soccer mommies, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "What did you think of the books?"

"Well, Ana needs to get a spine, Christian needs to get knocked down a few pegs, and that author clearly had no experience herself with the lifestyle because Christian is not what most true Doms are like. He's a poor excuse for a model of one, and anyone who wants to try the lifestyle assuming that's the kind of guy they'll get as a partner...well, they'll be sorely disappointed. Plus, why would anyone want that kind of a partner? He's manipulative, abusive, and disturbed. Not to mention his Mrs. Robinson issues."

"Don't hold anything back now, dear brother." I went to take another drink but slowly lowered my bottle. Although I knew he was into kinky sex, I did not know the full extent. Now was as good a time as any to find out. "How long have you been involved the lifestyle?"

"Don't tell Alex. Or Mom. Dad never knew, God rest his soul."

I crossed my heart. "I promise, I won't."

"It wasn't a question, Becca."

"I still promise."

"Fifteen years."

This time I did choke on my beer. Drake rushed over to pat me on my back as I coughed until I could breathe. Well, damn.

"Secret is finally out. There's two of us kinksters in the family now. Except that you're just a novice."

"I take it you're Dominant?" There was no response. "A Master?"

Drake just smiled. Not a grin or a smirk, but an honest-to-goodness smile. He was fucking serious.

"Hot damn," I whispered. I processed that for another moment. "So you know what a typical Dom should do? How he should act?"

"No two are alike, just like no two humans are alike. There isn't a test you take that says 'If you do A, B, and C, you're a Dom.' But for the most part, they practice the same principles. He didn't make you sign an NDA, did he?"

I laughed wholeheartedly.

"What's so funny?"

I was almost crying again I was laughing so hard.

"Becca?" His smile faltered.

I waved my hand at him until I caught my breath. "I made him sign one."

Drake stared at me, his mouth agape. "No shit?"

I grinned. "He interviewed me Friday evening about the Dex Knightly Mysteries. You should have seen the look on his face when Sue introduced us. If he hadn't been so poised in his Armani suit, I would have sworn he'd shit his pants when he realized Drake Alexander was a woman. I made him sign the non-disclosure agreement so he wouldn't spill that little fact."

"You slept with a reporter?"

I shook my head. "He works for 'Lit Wild.' The erotic magazine?"

"You slept with a glorified reporter?" Drake was smiling again.

"Yeah. But not until today."

"Did you come straight from being with him?"

"Sort of." I pulled my legs up under me. "I ran out on him. Caught a cab and cleaned up at the hotel Sue had booked me for the weekend. Then I went home to get my car and different clothes."

"Becca?" Drake moved to sit next to me on the couch. He laid his hand on mine. "Did he hurt you?"

I frowned. "No. He just...confused me, I guess. I thought I wanted this. Then he scared me. But now that I'm away from him, I'm not so sure I made the right decision by running."

My big brother remained silent. His face was clouded now, his eyes dark, his jaw jerking slightly as he clenched it.

"He was cold, at first. It's the only word I can think of to describe it. When he picked me up this morning. When we had lunch. When he drove me to his place."

"What about during? After?"

I thought about it then shook my head. "He was a different person. It wasn't like I was a whipping post or an object. He was very good at what he did. It was very erotic...arousing. Of course, I'd never experienced any of that, so it was all kind of surprising and strange, yet at the same time, I liked it."

"You had a safe word?"

I nodded.

"Did you ever use it?"

"Only at the end."

"Did you ever want to use it before?"

I shrugged and then sighed. "There were a couple of times, but it was more of a fear of the unknown. I wanted to test my boundaries. I was certain that's what he was doing as well. It's just..."

"What?"

"He seemed...detached. He was there, I was there, but it was like we were in these roles. And I'm sure you're going to say that's part of the experience."

"Yes, it can be. It usually is for most couples during a session."

I groaned loudly. "I expected more emotion from him. Not that guys in general are emotional, but at least they've expressed themselves while we're having sex, or just after. Br—um, he just...I don't know. He didn't talk much. Played music most of the time, but I liked that. Helped me stay in the mood."

"Shit. Are you sure he wasn't Christian Grey?" Drake snorted.

"No. But he might have read the books." I shivered. "I enjoyed the sex immensely. I just wish..."

"What?"

"I don't know." I relaxed against him when he put his arm around my shoulders.

"Yes, you do. And if you don't voice it, you'll never make it as a submissive. You do have a voice, and you need to use it. Any Dom who won't hear you out or ignores you when you do tell him things is not real. He doesn't take his role seriously."

I shrugged. "I wanted the affection. The warmth. To not shut himself off, like I'm just a body he gets to fuck how he wants to. To not let it be all about the control. I wanted more...intimacy. To be desired for who I am. Even just a little normal, vanilla sex. I don't understand why it all had to be kinky. And afterwards? Maybe for us to just cuddle and talk about it. Maybe that's just what women want, though."

"Aftercare."

"Hmm?"

"That's called aftercare. The comfort you want, you need after a session. The cool-down time. It differs for everyone, but most women need a time of being held and calmed that makes them feel important and cared for, even if the sex was rough and sometimes painful."

"Yeah. It was there in some aspects. But not exactly what I was needing."

Drake sighed. "He sounds like he saw you as a vessel, not a partner. I'm sorry your first experience wasn't all you had dreamed it to be. Honestly, I don't think they ever truly are. Even a vanilla relationship isn't perfect the very first time. Throwing a kinky wrench into the mix makes it harder. Sometimes it just takes longer to...well, work the kinks out."

I laughed and took a sip of beer, swishing it around my mouth while I did the same with the thoughts in my head.

"What were his basic rules?"

"Call him Sir. Not speak unless spoken to. Not to touch him unless he gave permission. Trust him blindly. And if I used the safe word, he was done with me. Oh, and..." I went on to relay Brian's expectations of our relationship.

Drake pulled away and stared down at me. "He said all that?"

I blinked and bit my lower lip.

"Shit, Becca." He hugged me close. "My first instinct is to say you did the right thing by walking away. But I can see the draw for you. Especially in a guy like that. I don't know if talking to him about what you want and need would do any good. But I want you to take some time to step back and think about it. You're too raw from the experience to look at it from a sensible perspective at the moment."

"Okay," I mumbled against his shoulder.

"Do you think that makes sense?"

I shrugged and sighed. "You obviously know more about this lifestyle than I do. I never thought I'd be getting sex advice from my brother, but hey..."

"I love you, Becca."

"Yeah, I know."

"But this has to be your decision. I can't make it for you. You were there, not me. You know what he's like, even after only a few hours. Please, just keep your head about you. Don't make choices based on how good the sex is or what you think you'll get out of it if you just 'hang in there.' I don't want to see you hurt. And trust me. People get hurt in this lifestyle. I'm not talking physically, although that does happen. The emotional turmoil of a bad session or relationship... The heart is a very fragile thing. The wrong partner can make it shatter, sometimes beyond repair."

"Point well taken."

We were both quiet for a long time. It felt good to have talked to someone about it, to be held. Even if it was my brother and it wasn't the comfort I had been hoping for from Brian, my lover.

"You know, Becca..."

"Yeah?" I leaned my head back to look up at his face.

"If you're willing, I could introduce you to a couple of friends I trust. One is another Master, unpartnered. The other is a female sub. You could talk to both of them. Ask questions. They'd be more than happy to help ease you into this lifestyle if it's something you really want. To train you."

I scrunched up my nose. "I'm not a dog."

Drake laughed. "It's just what they call it when a seasoned Dom teaches a new sub. Shows her the ropes. Sometimes literally. In this case with my friend, you would have full say over everything. Let him know what you want to learn. Feel free to ask questions without feeling like you're disobeying."

"Oh. Okay." That did sound like it might be a good idea. I frowned suddenly. "Would you be there?"

"Only if you want me there."

I gulped.

"You don't need to answer right now. In fact, I don't want an answer tonight. Don't rush it."

"Okay."

"How long are you staying?"

"I don't know. I took the week off. At least over night. Maybe a couple of days. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. I'm on vacation myself."

"Thanks, Drake."

"Anytime. Let's get you settled into the guest room, and we'll talk more in the morning, okay?"

I nodded and reluctantly got up from the couch to follow him down the hall. This weekend had definitely not gone the way I had planned. But I was so exhausted, all I could think about right now was crashing in a soft bed with warm blankets piled around me.

###

"You'll be fine," Drake said in my ear Monday morning as we stood on the front porch to a modest two-story house.

"So you keep saying."

His hand remained on my back. It was a welcome anchor to my extreme nerves. Ever since he'd broached his idea yesterday morning over breakfast, I'd been trying to corral my questions. I'd expected to spend the day recovering from the ordeal with Brian. Instead, my brother had wanted to compare kinky experiences, or at least his knowledge of some practices. Normally, I would have told him that was pushing our sibling boundaries, but I was honestly interested and more than a little curious about what else was out there that Brian had not shown me.

Apparently there was a hell of a lot more than I ever would have guessed.

Now, I tried to take deep breaths. Slowly, I began to believe the mantra in my head that I could do this. That I wanted to do this. But when I heard the snick of a deadbolt turning on the front door, my heart beat sped up again.




Raw Ch. 02



We were led into a living room area with a fireplace surrounded by two green couches and two matching recliners. The decorations were simple and masculine in nature. Nothing showy. Obviously a bachelor pad. I was distracted from my observations by Drake's voice.

"This is my sister Becca. Becca, meet Master Malcolm."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." My voice sounded faint to my ears. I added a smile to show my sincerity. "Thank you for taking the time to see me."

"The pleasure is all mine." The tall man before me had his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, his brown eyes shiny. His hands were warm as he clasped mine between his. "When not in a scene, you can just call me Malcolm. Tell me, are you really the writer of the Dex Knightly series? I told your brother I wouldn't believe it until I asked you in person."

I laughed, letting my shoulders relax. "Yes, I am."

His gentle smile widened into a full-fledged grin. "I so want to get your autograph before you leave today. I love your books!"

"I would be honored." I felt the heat rising in my cheeks now. Well, this could be...interesting.

"If you'll take a seat, I'll be back in just a moment. I'll let Lady Daphne know you've arrived."

I watched him walk away. He looked rather casual in his green T-shirt with an open-flannel shirt over top and his dark jeans—which showed off a mighty-fine ass. But, his flawless posture, constant eye contact, and the direct but polite way he spoke told me he was in charge. Yet, he didn't appear over-confident like Brian had, as if he knew he wielded control over a woman merely because he could.

Malcolm hadn't made me feel small or invisible. In the short few minutes since I'd walked in the door, he'd made me feel welcome. That went a very long way. Especially after what I had been through.

Drake chose one of the couches but gestured to a recliner for me. "I think you'll feel more comfortable without all of the open space around you."

I took the proffered seat and sat upright with my feet planted on the floor. After a moment, I relaxed and pulled one leg up under me. Then I adjusted with both legs up on the chair. Finally, I returned to my original position. I heard a clock ticking nearby and proceeded to tap my fingers on my knee to the same rhythm until Drake cleared his throat.

"Malcolm won't bite, you know? You don't even have to entertain any of his suggestions. Just listen. Think of it like you're doing research for one of your books."

"Thanks, Drake. I really do appreciate it. I don't remember ever being so nervous."

"Weren't you nervous about your interview? You were revealing your true identity to a stranger with the assumption he'd keep your real name and gender a secret."

I shrugged. "I had the upper hand."

"Ahh. I thought you liked being controlled?"

I lowered my gaze and scratched at an invisible stain on my jeans.

"Now is the time to be honest, Becca. You told me not being in control was one of the aspects you liked during your encounter on Saturday. You had no idea what was going to happen next. You were at the mercy of your partner, and that turned you on."

I nodded slightly. Dammit, why did he have to be such a good listener?

"The interview was my own realm. My world. I wasn't really anxious about Brian leaking the truth because I could enforce legal action on him if he did. But in the bedroom?" I shuddered and tried to push away the memories.

"He chased you, Becca, just like you told him to."

"Not the way I wanted, though."

"How so?"

I stared at the dark fireplace. It reminded me of Brian's attitude at lunch. In the car. Cold. Dark.

"Becca?"

"He exuded control. He wore it like his suit. Yet he was all business. He had an agenda. As if he considered bedding me a prize, the end goal. He didn't care about me. My feelings. What I liked and didn't like. That was evident in his decision to end any further interaction if I voiced the safe word."

"What did you want, Becca?"

I snapped my head up to see Malcolm perched on the opposite arm of the couch from where Drake sat. I kept my eyes on his, unwilling to submit even if he was a Master in the sexual arena. We were not under any agreement, and I needed to build up my courage if I wanted to keep my voice in future arrangements with kinky partners. Drake had drilled that into me yesterday.

"Yes, I wanted to be chased. But I wanted him to have feelings. To not be just another notch on his twisted bedpost. I enjoyed our time together very much once we'd reached his house. Yet..."

The men were silent while I tried to find the right words. Eventually, I shrugged.

"He was the embodiment of Christian Grey. Or he was attempting to be. As if he'd studied the character and became him because he thought that's what women wanted. If he could be what they wanted, they would want him. And for a few hours, I was his naïve Ana. I'd had no experience, so I didn't know what I liked or didn't like initially. And he knew that. He used that to his advantage. Drew me into the pleasure. But secretly, he had every intention of controlling my life like Christian wanted to control Ana's. He just thought if he could seduce me first, get me addicted to the sexual part, I'd blindly agree to whatever he offered. I hate those books, you know?"

Malcolm just nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"As much as I enjoyed the kinky nature of our time together, I really wanted...vanilla, too." I closed my eyes and sighed. "God, I just wanted to hold him and be held while we had sex. But it was all 'hands off' and 'don't speak.' Rules that set the mood off kilter."

"You know, I was only going to have us sit and chat up here today, but I think I'd like to try something if you're willing." Malcolm stood and waited for us to rise as well.

The three of us walked through the living room and the kitchen before Malcolm opened a door. At the bottom of a stairway was another closed door. A red light bulb was lit up beside this one.

"You did not tell me we were entering the red light district," I whispered to my brother with a giggle.

"Tells any visitors that a session is in progress," Drake said.

Malcolm knocked twice on the door before he opened it. Apparently he saw my eyebrows raise in question as he added, "I host parties occasionally—some of them for training—and I had a roommate until a month ago when he got married. It's unfortunate to have someone walk in on you when you're not expecting it."

I took a deep breath as he led us onward. Drake had told me about play parties where the kinky folk would get together and embrace their fetishes; sometimes for show, sometimes in one-on-one couples. It was just strange to actually be in someone's house where it was designed to accommodate those parties whenever the opportunity arose.

I glanced around, not sure what I was expecting. Part of me assumed it would be a 'red room of pain' like in the 'Fifty Shades' books. The other part wanted the coziness of Brian's master bedroom. In reality, it was neither.

The full dimensions could not be determined as black curtains hung down the width of the room. If I reached out with my arms, I would only be about two feet short of touching the curtain on my left and five feet from the wall on my right. Also to my right were four folding chairs with padded seats, lined up in an L-shape facing the middle of the room. The space before us was void of any furniture besides a wooden, ladder-back chair and a stereo on a small table. The floor was dark gray carpet, and the walls matched the curtains. Above us, soft yellow light glowed through inset squares in the ceiling.

"Becca, would you prefer to have Drake stay?"

I flinched at the sound of Malcolm's voice so close to my ear. "Y-yes."

"Please join our guests," Malcolm said.

For a moment, I wondered who he was talking to. Then the black curtains parted, and a blonde-haired, barefooted woman wearing a plain white T-shirt and denim shorts stepped through. Lady Daphne, I presumed. I was half-expecting her to be dressed in a corset with knee-high leather boots, maybe carrying a riding crop.

I stifled my snort. So much for the stereotype.

"Lady Daphne, I would like to introduce Lady Becca, Master Drake's sister."

Drake gave her a soft smile and tipped his chin before taking a seat in one of the chairs. If I didn't know better, they knew each other quite well. He hadn't given me any indication he was in a long-term relationship when we'd talked yesterday, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were partners. Which really made me feel like an outsider right now.

My hand shook as I raised it to her outstretched one. "It's good to meet you, um...Ma'am?"

"That sounds so old. 'Lady Daphne' is fine." She turned to our host. "I like her, Master Malcolm."

She winked at me before she took a seat next to my brother. The way she smiled back at him and held his eyes for a long moment, I knew I had been correct in my theory.

"Now, Lady Becca, I want you to relax," Master Malcolm said, taking my hand and leading me toward the solitary chair in the middle of the room. "There is no right or wrong here today. However, there are two rules. Please address me as Sir or Master Malcolm. And the safe word is 'Chewbacca.' If you feel uncomfortable at any time, use it."

I couldn't help it. I tried to cover my mouth as I laughed, which only made the sound come out as a strange, muffled giggle, to which I then snorted.

Master Malcolm's serious face broke into a wide grin. "I have a Star Wars fetish. Sue me."

"Yes, Sir." I glanced at Drake—I could not fathom calling him Master—and Lady Daphne who were smiling and nodding. I did not want to think about Master Malcolm roleplaying as Hans Solo and Princess Leia. I would completely lose my focus then. So I took a deep breath and said, "The safe word is Chewbacca. Got it."

"Master Drake has already informed me of your situation, and of course I heard most of your conversation upstairs. May I first express my sincerest apologies that you were treated that way by one who professes to live this lifestyle. That was highly inconsiderate of him. One's first experience should not have been fearful. I'm glad you were not discouraged to try again."

I lowered my eyes to the carpet and tried to clear my head. I could do this. You didn't learn until someone showed you. Brian hadn't been trying to teach me. I saw that now. He had done what he wanted. He had expected me to be pliable to his decisions.

"Lady Becca?" Master Malcolm tipped my chin up. "We will take our time, okay? We won't do anything you do not want to do. And the safe word will stop the session. We'll take a break and come back if you so desire. I am here to help you, not chastise you. Do you understand?"

My lower lip trembled, and I blinked away pending tears. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. First things first. Do you have any hard limits? Things you absolutely will not do under any circumstance? Any areas to avoid on your body?"

"Anal." I blurted the word out and then slapped my hand over my mouth.

Master Malcolm gently took my hand and lowered it, squeezing it in his. He laid my hand on the back of the chair. "It's okay, Lady Becca. You are not alone in that realm. You have every right to say how your body can be touched. Anything else?"

I struggled to think. Hell, I could list a lot of things that Drake had mentioned yesterday. Things that I could never have imagined people being interested in to get their rocks off.

I glanced nervously at Drake then back to Master Malcolm. "I guess anything that would cause me pain or humiliation. I'm sorry. I'm drawing a blank on specific acts. I'm not too well versed in the lifestyle."

"That's quite alright. You mentioned no pain. Would that include spanking?"

I had to close my eyes for a moment. My grip tightened on the wooden slat as my legs wobbled. When Brian had smacked my ass twice, once on each cheek, and then later used a riding crop, I'd been confused at my reaction. While it had smarted, it had also been shockingly arousing.

"Lady Becca?" Master Malcolm's voice was soft in my ear, his hand gentle on my shoulder. He leaned around me so we were eye-to-eye. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed heavily then nodded. "Yes, Sir, I'm fine. He used a crop a few times. But I haven't had enough experience, though, to determine if I like it or not."

"Understood. If you're ready to begin, please face the wall." He moved my left hand so it was resting on the top rail of the chair back as well. "Close your eyes."

I did as he asked. For several minutes, nothing happened. I just stood there by the chair, thinking about what could happen. What did I even want to happen?

I flinched when music started. It wasn't loud, but it sure sounded like it against the otherwise stillness of the room. I recognized the song as Dido's "Stoned." Then I gasped as Master Malcolm's chest brushed against my back. His hands rested on my shoulders and massaged lightly. I exhaled as I relaxed, my grip on the chair loosening I listened to the beat and lyrics.

I could hear Master Malcolm breathing. Slow, steady breaths. I tried to match them as his fingers rubbed harder. They moved to stroke my neck on either side, then the base of my skull until I let my chin drop.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Just relax."

Shivers ran up my back, and I whimpered softly.

"Do you like to be called that, Lady Becca?" His warm breath skimmed my ear, making goosebumps pop up on my arms. The power of words could be as arousing—if not more—than an intimate touch. His sultry tone just added to the effect. "Do you like to be told you're a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir." My knees wobbled again. I had trouble inhaling. Especially when his hands moved from my neck down to my arms, grazing over my bare skin below the short sleeves of my shirt. I wondered if he felt the shudder that made my body tremble.

Since my arms were in front of me, he had to step closer to continue his path. His groin pressed up against my ass, and I whimpered again. He continued to stroke my arms over and over again, his flannel shirt brushing against my exposed skin, the texture slightly rough and highly stimulating.

When I could resist no longer, I pressed my ass back into him. He pressed forward, making me moan.

"Good girl."

He returned to the massage, starting at my neck and shoulders then back down to my arms. Again, I pressed back into him, and he into me. My moans became more frequent, although soft and drowned out by the music.

Okay, the man was going to drive me crazy if he continued like this.

"Stop, Lady Becca."

I gasped and froze.

"Tell me how you feel. What are you thinking?"

I gripped the chair tighter. "I'm embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to tell me what you're thinking?"

"No, Sir." I licked my dry lips. "Embarrassed to...well...be dry humping you...and the chair."

There was dead silence for a moment. I half expected to hear a snicker from my brother. I was glad I did not. He should be as well.

Master Malcolm finally spoke. "Would you prefer Master Drake leave?"

I struggled with that answer. I settled on shaking my head. "No, Sir."

"Very well. What else are you feeling, Lady Becca?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed heavily. "Horny, Sir. Anxious, yet not sure what to expect."

"Shall we continue?"

"Yes, Sir."

Master Malcolm's fingers caressed the top of my hands now, and I realized he was standing in front of me. I leaned toward him as his hands withdrew, feeling the chair back press into my belly. He repeated the gesture, and I reacted the same way.

"Take my hand, Lady Becca. Keep your eyes closed."

My hand shook as his fingers curled around mine. He led me around the chair and gently pressed on my shoulder until I sat. Then he lightly tapped his foot against the insides of my feet.

I spread my legs and waited.

"Are you doing okay, Lady Becca?"

"Yes, Sir."

The insides of my knees brushed against his jeans as he stepped between them. Immediately, my hands lifted to his hips. I moaned. Dammit. I was so fucking horny...

"I'm sorry, Sir." I went to pull away, but his hands covered mine.

He didn't speak. He stood still, the heat of his palms warming the tops of my hands, the flannel of his shirt pressed to my palms.

I took a couple of deep breaths, grateful for the support against my back and underneath me. I would have collapsed if I'd been standing up. I could feel the heat emanating through his clothes; the warmth of my own breath as I exhaled and the air hit him, bouncing back to me.

After a long period of hearing my heart trying to escape through my ears, he removed my hands.

"I think we're done for now. It has been a pleasure, Lady Becca." He helped me stand but kept his hand on my elbow as I opened my eyes and turned around. "Why don't we retire for some refreshments?"

I let out a deflated sigh. That was it? I had been expecting...well, I wasn't sure what. But something more than a short neck and arm massage. And sitting me in the chair? I don't know what he was trying to prove, but I'd be damned if wouldn't have sucked his cock if he'd pulled it out right then and there, to hell with my brother and his lady friend. That thought made my whole body shake.

Drake took Daphne's hand and helped her to her feet. They waited until Malcolm and I passed before following us upstairs. Daphne disappeared once we reached the main floor, and the three of us ended up in what I assumed was a den. As warned, the room was decorated—quite tastefully—in Star Wars memorabilia: framed posters on the walls; figures, vehicles, and a replica lightsaber displayed in plastic cases on backlit shelves.

Master Malcolm led me to a black, leather sofa. Drake sat on the opposite couch, and I didn't even try to hide my smirk. Daphne appeared with six-pack of beer. After handing each of us a cold bottle, she took a seat next to Drake, cuddling up to his side. Drake smiled at me as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

He had a kinky lover and a girlfriend all wrapped up into one. I was happy for him. And a tad jealous.

To my surprise, Malcolm sat at the other end of my couch although there was an empty recliner that would have probably been more comfortable and allowed him to see all of us. In his current position, he could only look at me.

"Are you ready for your analysis?"

I swallowed the gulp of beer in my mouth. I wanted to look away, but I felt compelled to keep eye contact as well. He did have lovely eyes. They were the color of maple syrup. Warm, sweet, inviting. The thought made me smile. "Analysis?"

"Yes. That's why your brother brought you here, was it not?"

I glanced at Drake, and he just nodded. My stomach clenched as Daphne reclined against him, her head on his shoulder. Okay, so I was getting a kinky analysis. It couldn't be too bad.

"You're very tense." Malcolm took a drink of his beer. "You need to relax."

"Given the situation..."

"No, Becca. When you're in a scene. Your muscles tighten. If you're not relaxed, you can't fully enjoy the experience. You need to be comfortable. Willing."

"Okay."

"You're needy. Touchy."

I sat up. "I beg your pardon?"

Malcolm held up his hand. "That's not a bad thing. A lot of women are. You said you wanted to touch that guy Saturday. He'd spent the day touching you, and you wanted to reciprocate."

"Yes." I snapped my mouth shut before adding 'Sir.' We were no longer in a scene, and I felt keeping it less formal would help me do what he requested: relax. Plus I was a little on edge. Not speaking my mind at this point was probably a good idea. So I sat back, crossed my arms, and tried not to be cheeky.

"You need to have your partner show he's invested in you for more than just the sexual experience. And you want to express that yourself. That was evident today." Malcolm tilted his head, his smile comforting. "It isn't easy to hold back, is it?"




Raw Ch. 02



I shook my head in agreement.

"You can feel the heat of the other person, even if they aren't touching you, and your first instinct is to touch them. That is normal. However, dominant partners want to curtail that reaction. They want to train you to only touch when they allow it. It's usually their first rule. But the rest of them? They should be mutually agreed-upon. Not something he demands and you are unwilling to submit to. Which means it has to be discussed openly. And practiced."

I nursed my beer to stop myself from saying I already knew that part. That the lack of that communication had been the downfall of my time with Brian.

"I'm not saying the dominant partner should always restrict your natural reactions. To never let you touch him is unfair to you. Especially when you want more than just a BDSM relationship. You want the vanilla mixed in, from what I gathered of your earlier discussion with Drake. Your dominant partner needs to understand that, and to incorporate it into your play."

I felt like a bobble-head doll. What he was saying was good. Helpful. Any little piece of advice could be taken away and used for the future. Even if that was just to learn to listen and not talk back. I wasn't in my element. I had to understand that in order to embrace being a submissive, I had to accept that I would not be in charge.

"It will depend on the partner you're with, but kink and vanilla aren't usually combined in the same scene." Malcolm rested his elbow on the back of the couch and propped his head in his hand. "Most likely, you will find a partner who will not let you touch him through an entire scene. But your reward during aftercare should be to allow you that indulgence. It's something you need from a relationship—even one as play partners—therefore it should be given to you. But when it is withheld, don't think of it as just a control issue on his part. His ego getting in the way. It can be highly arousing for you as well. To delay the inevitable."

A shudder ran through me. Good Lord, was this man inside my head?

"If you're willing, I'd like to spend more time helping you learn to manage your emotions. To not react immediately just because your body wants to."

I glanced at Drake. He was smiling at me. This could be the best or the worst decision I'd made all weekend. Which was saying a lot since I'd willingly gone back to a virtual stranger's place and allowed him to ravish me senseless forty-eight hours ago.

I locked eyes with Malcolm again. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Casual conversation ensued after that with the guys discussing some sport show they'd recently watched. Daphne took my hand and led me out of the room.

"Come, help me make lunch."

I followed her to the kitchen and took a seat on a barstool at the island. "So, how long have you been with my brother?"

She giggled and glanced over her shoulder at me while she opened the fridge. "A few months now. He's really sweet for being a Master. Like Malcolm."

"The way I understand the dynamic, a Master has a slave. Are you Drake's slave?" I set my bottle down on the marble, the hollow sound loud as it echoed. Very unlike my head at the moment with all my questions.

"In a way, yes. But 'only in the bedroom,' as they say. Outside of a scene, we're just a normal dating couple. Or as normal as two kinky people can be."

I nodded. "I'm not going to ask you to divulge anything. Honestly, I don't really want to think about my brother having sex. But can I ask if you enjoy it? Is he good to you?"

Daphne set the fixings for sandwiches on the counter and took my free hand in hers, squeezing it. "He's absolutely wonderful. I've never met a more caring dominant male. Besides Malcolm that is. Drake treats me like a princess, inside and outside the bedroom. And yes, the sex is phenomenal."

"Good." I reached for the bread, a knife, and the jar of mayonnaise. As I spread the dressing on eight slices, I let out a long sigh. "I'm new to this. I think I know what I want, I'm just unable to put it into words. Does that make sense?"

"I think you're doing just fine. Just give it time. Malcolm said you had your first experience Saturday. I'm sorry it didn't go as well as you expected."

"Thanks. It was kind of spontaneous. But I enjoyed it for the most part. It was...enlightening. And I when I knew there was something off, something I was missing, I ended it. It was hard. But I couldn't see myself living up to his...rules."

"Malcolm is the best candidate to help you sort through those ideas. Trust me."

"Really now?" I raised my eyebrows.

My shoulders hunched up, and I knew right away what Malcolm had meant. When dealt with conflict, I tensed up immediately without thinking. And why was I reacting in such a way? I knew less about Malcolm than I did Brian, and I was getting jealous already? Maybe it was the ease that Daphne moved through his house. As if she were a frequent or even long-term visitor.

"Oh my goodness! I'm sorry, Becca. I didn't mean to imply we'd been a couple. He trained Drake years ago. I met Drake at a munch—a gathering of kinky people for snacks and chitchat—about a month before we hooked up. I had had a bad experience, too. Drake brought me here to Malcolm, and Malcolm helped the two of us overcome some of my issues. We're all just good friends. What I'm trying to say is, Malcolm is good at what he does. Don't doubt him."

"Quite alright." I shook my shoulders and helped her finish assembling the sandwiches. "I can see what he means by me needing to relax more. And not just in a scene."

Any help Malcolm could give me would be appreciated. I wondered how much time I had before he moved on to the next girl he was training. Daphne may not have been one of his partners, and Drake had said Malcolm was currently unpartnered. But for how long? Was he even available for an extended period? Who knew how long this could take.

###

After lunch, we returned to the basement. Drake and Daphne disappeared through the curtain, his hand on her back as it had been on mine when we'd first arrived. I smiled sadly, knowing what they were going to do. Malcolm distracted me from my thoughts and had me sit in the chair again.

"I thought it best if we spend some time alone. Maybe it will help you relax without your brother observing."

"I'm willing to try anything, Sir."

"Good. Close your eyes, Lady Becca. When you feel the desire to touch me, don't. Tell me instead. No need to be ashamed. Just be honest. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir." I shook my head and moved my shoulders around a bit. "I'm ready."

Master Malcolm stood behind the chair and placed his hands on my head. His fingers lightly stroked my hair, massaging my scalp. I sighed and went to lean into his touch when I stopped myself.

"Now."

"Good girl." He massaged harder.

I whimpered and went to lean into him again. "Now."

"Hmm mm."

His hands left my head, and I felt heat near my right cheek. "Now."

The heat was on my left side now. Just as I was turning my head that direction, I whispered, "Now."

For the next hour or so, Master Malcolm tested my reactions in a similar fashion. Him barely touching, me resisting to lean into the touch.

I laughed when he told me to stand up, bend over, and put my hands on the chair. But my laugh turned into quiet moans as he pressed up against me. I couldn't deny I was getting aroused. I wondered if this session was affecting him as well. Although I was sure he was used to doing this with other women he'd trained, and he was capable of controlling his own reactions.

As promised, I signed each one of Malcolm's copies of my books before Drake took me back to his place. We were both quiet on the drive. I wondered if he was thinking about what all we'd discussed today...or if his mind was on Lady Daphne.

I looked out the window and smiled. Either way, I was in a much better mood.

###

Tuesday morning after breakfast, Drake asked if I wanted to go back to see Malcolm. I didn't need to think twice. Daphne had another engagement, so Drake sat in one of the padded chairs and observed again. This time, I mostly forgot he was there as Master Malcolm and I spent the morning practicing how to keep my natural reactions restrained while music played in the background.

It was a lot of repetition from the day before, but I could see the method to his madness. Start with the baby steps and conquer those first. I shuddered when I wondered how far this would progress. Like was I expected to get naked in front of Master Malcolm at some point?

We broke for lunch, returned to training, and then stopped mid-afternoon for the day.

We continued the routine the rest of the week. Sometimes Lady Daphne joined us and gave me pointers when she didn't disappear through the black curtains with my brother. I wondered what was on the other side. I never heard them, so there must have been another room that could be closed off.

On Friday, the four of us stayed through to the evening. We ordered in pizza and chatted in the Star Wars den about our week together. I had been enjoying my time away from work, even though I'd gotten frustrated with myself repeatedly at the beginning for not being able to control what my body wanted to do. 

Malcolm said he was impressed at my improvement. Drake was proud of me for sticking with it. Daphne was hopeful that I'd find someone new quickly. Me? I was horny as hell after having a handsome man such as Malcolm touching me through my clothes for five days. 

They all emphasized that the type of man I chose as a partner would play a big role in my own success as a submissive. While there were a plethora of levels of experience and styles of kink, finding the right combination in a partner was key. As I'd quickly discovered with Brian. Experience aside, he had held similar interests as I desired, but he was missing other elements that were crucial for me to be comfortable in the relationship.

Eventually, we all hugged and parted ways. I drove back into the city that night. I couldn't believe it had been a week since my first BDSM sexual experience. I missed it. I had stayed fully-clothed during my sessions with Master Malcolm, although that had not prevented him from touching other parts of my body to gauge my reactions and thus learn what areas I needed more control of...well, controlling.

After five days of being subjected to this strange but quite beneficial training, I was quite frustrated. I had not had any release while at Master Malcolm's home. And I had not had the guts to try to find it at Drake's place. So I had gone without.

I returned home to the silence of my condo. It was comfortable. Familiar. Yet empty. I made a bee-line to my bedroom to get some relief, but the flashing red light on my answering machine stopped me.

I stumbled back as I saw the number seven lit up beside it. No one had this number but Sue and my family. Surely she hadn't given my number to anyone. Alex never called, my mother only did for emergencies, and Drake, well, he had no reason to call either.

I grabbed a pen, the pad of scratch paper I always kept nearby, and dragged a chair from the dining room table over. I expected the worst. Had something happened to someone in my family while I'd been exploring my sexuality? I really should get out of the dark ages and get a cell phone or at least caller ID.

With a shaky finger, I pressed the button to play the messages.

"Becca, this is Sue. I got your message. Hope you're enjoying your time off. Give me a buzz when you get back. I'd like to see what your thoughts are for your next novel...unless you're going into early retirement." There was a cackle of a laugh before she continued. "But seriously, call me."

I deleted the message with a soft smile and made a note to call Sue, the pen tapping against the paper nervously as I waited for the next message to start.

"Hey, Becca, it's Sue again. I know you like to write what you want to write, but a ghostwriting proposal came across my desk. Let me know if you'd be interested in that. Bye."

I jotted down "ghostwriting?" beside her name and deleted the message.

"Sue again. Forget about the ghostwriting. I talked more to the author and it's a biography. I figured you'd want to stay away from that. But I would still like to know if that's an option for the future. Later."

I crossed out my last note, another message deleted.

"Becca, I know you're going to block my number eventually, but it's Sue again. Instead of calling me when you get back, stop by the office on Saturday. You've got some mail, and we can do lunch. I want to hear about your interview. Take care."

I scribbled out my first note and wrote "pick up mail/Sue lunch Saturday" beside it. Message deleted.

"Speaking of your interview... I wasn't going to say anything, but I've had fifteen calls from Mr. Hughes. He's been insistent to get in touch with you. Don't worry, I didn't give him your number. But he gave me his so you can call him. I really want to hear about this interview now. He was one good looking man, if I do say so myself. Too bad I'm married. You go girl! Ciao!"

My hand trembled as I took in her words. Fifteen calls? Was he insane? We'd explained the whole chasing versus stalking scenario. Did he not understand he was on the verge of the latter? Whatever did he want? No, wait, I knew that answer. And it gave me chills. Not the good ones, either.

I deleted the message. I would have to think about how I would respond to that one.

"Hey, sis, it's Drake. I know you're not home yet, but I wanted to let you know I really enjoyed our week together. I miss spending time with you. I should come into the city one of these weekends and we'll paint the town. I could take you to a few darker clubs, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I hope you made it home safe, and I'm glad you felt comfortable opening up to me like you did. You know I'm always just a call away if you ever need me. Love you. Bye."

I smiled and sat back, although my shoulders were still hunched with tension. Just hearing my brother's voice calmed me down some. But there was one more message left.

My finger hovered over the button. Should I listen or should I just delete it? I closed my eyes, waved my finger, and pressed.

"It's me again," Drake's voice said from the technological abyss. "Do me a favor this weekend, okay? Go out and get a cell phone. I understand you like your privacy, but this is getting ridiculous. Get a plan where you can block numbers. Call me if you have any questions."

I added one final note to my list to buy a phone. Not knowing what else to do, I took a long, hot shower, trying to drive out my thoughts with the stinging streams of water.

The sheets were cool as I slid between them, completely naked. I tried to sleep; I was exhausted. But I kept thinking about this week. Last weekend.

With my eyes closed, I caressed my breasts. I moved my hands down to stroke the rest of my body until my fingers played over my clit, spreading my moisture around. Visions of Brian's boudoir filled my head. Of his kinky contraption. Of how I'd been handcuffed to the bed while he'd made me come over and over again.

I shuddered on the brink as I remembered our last encounter. How he'd left me wanting and without release. Then my mental picture changed to visions of what I had hoped would have happened. They morphed into my time with Master Malcolm. How he had barely touched me and I'd wanted to come undone.

I came then. It didn't compare to what Brian had been able to extract from me, but it sufficed for now. I slept peacefully that night, curled into a ball of coital bliss after my body relaxed from the long-awaited erotic shudders.

###

"So tell me all about Mr. Hughes," Sue said as soon as I stepped into her office late Saturday morning.

I felt the heat in my cheeks and scrambled for some composure. "It was an interview. Very professional for the most part. He agreed not to divulge my identity. I think it went well, but we'll have to see how he spins the article."

She winked at me. "He obviously took a liking to you."

"Yes, I heard. Fifteen calls? Seriously, Sue?" It was a struggle not to roll my eyes. She had no idea the interest he had taken.

"Just call him, okay? Get him off my back." Sue grabbed her purse and sunglasses. "I'll drive. You talk."

Two hours later, I was back home perusing over the brainstorming we had done at lunch...when I wasn't playing with my new iPhone. Sue wanted me to try a new genre and write under my own name again. Maybe do another series. I had clamped my mouth shut on the idea that popped into my head of writing my own 'Fifty Shades' novel based on my experience with Brian...published under a pseudonym, of course.

I kept glancing at the slip of paper she had given me with seven digits printed on it. What would I say if I called him? Would I let him talk me into returning to his brownstone? Did I really want to go back? Was there something in my subconscious that was telling me what he was offering was what I really did want, despite what I had said to Drake and Malcolm?

After trying to watch a movie for an hour but not really finding it interesting, I tossed the remote aside and picked up the phone.

I paced as the line rang on the other side. After six rings, I was ready to hang up when he answered.

"This is Brian Hughes. How may I help you?"

Just the sound of his voice made me stand still. Made my legs shake for a moment. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "Brian, it's Becca. Becca Rockland."

There was silence for a moment. I could swear I heard him cuss under his breath. Great. This had been a bad idea. I should just hang up now before—

"Thank you for returning my calls, Becca. I wanted to apologize."

I sat down heavily in a chair by the window. I had definitely not been expecting that. "Okay."

"I would like to talk in person. I can pick you up."

Why had my throat suddenly shrunk? I gulped for breath and shook my head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Talking?"

"Being near you. I can't think." I could imagine him smiling at that. I'd just admitted I'd let him get under my skin. I was so stupid.

"Please, Becca. Just hear me out."

I stared out the window, watching a couple walk by below on the sidewalk, his arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him. That. That's what I wanted. A real relationship with someone. Kinky in the bedroom, like Drake and Daphne, but vanilla the rest of the time. Was Brian capable of that? I would never know unless I asked. Maybe if we talked it out...

"Becca?"

"Fine. We can meet. In public. Tell me where and when."

He sighed. He'd won a small battle, and I knew that he knew it. He gave me the name of a restaurant and a time. As soon as he hung up, I dialed Drake.

"I need a huge favor," I said before he finished saying hello.

"Becca? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Brian wants to meet and talk. I need backup."

"Of course. Anything you need. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"He apologized, Drake. I'm not promising I'll concede to his demands, but I feel I have to hear him out." I relayed the details of our meeting and heard him groan. "What's wrong?"

"I can't tonight. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Well, I could call him back and reschedule."

"No, don't reschedule. You need resolution. Let me make a phone call and I'll call you back, okay?"

I stared at the clothes in my closet while I waited for Drake as if the hangers held any answers to my problem. The two times I'd met with Brian, I'd been wearing a skirt and then a dress. I needed to downplay my sexuality. Literally be comfortable in my own clothes.

I tossed my decision on the bed and stripped to take a shower. The light was blinking on my machine when I stepped out of the bathroom thirty minutes later. There was some static as if he were driving and kept losing reception, but I got the gist of the message from Drake.




Raw Ch. 02



"It's all good, Becca...meet you at the restaurant...proud of you...don't worry...love you."

I dropped my brush at least a dozen times while I drying my hair. Despite my confidence in the outfit I'd chosen, I still changed my clothes three times, finally settling on the original selection.

Quite possibly, I was making the biggest mistake of my life. But Brian Hughes had exposed a part of me that I had buried out of fear. And now I feared never experiencing that life again.

~ H



Raw Ch. 03



Josie waited a moment for her eyes to adjust when she stepped into the restaurant. Before the sunspots disappeared from her view, she felt warm arms encircle her, and breathed in Kendall's familiar scent.

"Hi, you," Kendall said lightly, pressing her lips gently against Josie's sensitive neck.

"Hi yourself," Josie breathed, wondering why in the hell she'd agreed to have dinner with this woman, considering their first brief passionate hours, and Josie's reluctant agreement to take no more than friendship beyond that time.

Stepping back, Josie grasped Kendall's hands in her own and drank in her tall form, taking note of the thick black sweater clinging to her subtle curves, her hip-hugging jeans, and the sly spark in her deep brown eyes. With a sigh, Josie squeezed and released Kendall's long fingers, and followed her to their reserved booth.

"So what'll it be, gorgeous?" Kendall asked, presenting the wine list with a wink.

Josie's stomach fell when Kendall grinned at her – she'd had no idea how difficult this evening would be, but was beginning to understand that it would be more than painful. She hadn't expected to fall so easily for the beautiful woman at her side, and had in fact promised herself that she wouldn't. Taking a deep breath, she peered up into Kendall's big beautiful eyes. "Beer. Definitely a beer night – I think I'll super-size it," she joked, hinting at the tension she noticed between them.

Chuckling, Kendall replied, "A girl after my own heart – I need to put out some flames on my end, too." 

The two exchanged small talk, staring at their menus and sipping water as if they were dying of thirst. Once they had exhausted topics of the weather, Josie's job search and Kendall's dog Pete, silence hung heavy in the air between them. Both were startled when the server appeared over Kendall's shoulder to take drink orders.

"Hiya, ladies – I'm Adrian and I'll be taking care of –" the spiky-haired femme froze with her mouth agape when Kendall turned to look at her – "Kendall?"

Stealing a quick glance at Josie and shifting with visible discomfort in her seat, Kendall met the newcomer's eyes. "Hi Adrian," she spoke tentatively, "this is, um – surprising."

Josie watched Kendall carefully, and noticed a frown spread from her brow to her chin, tensing each muscle in her strong face.

"I'll bet," Adrian scoffed as she shot a darting glare at Josie and bore her eyes into Kendall's. "Is this her?"

"Wha-?" Kendall began, confused. Then, "Oh – no. Um – Adrian, this is my – uh – this is Josie. Josie, this is Adrian."

"Don't try and spare my feelings, Kendall."

"Look, Ade, I don't want-" 

Adrian's low growl kept Kendall from finishing her sentence: "Don't you dare call me that, you fucking-"

"Excuse me, is there a problem?" Adrian stopped short when her manager came up and put a hand on her shoulder. 

Josie couldn't help but compare the interchange between Adrian and Kendall to what she imagined it would be like if she and Camryn were to meet unexpectedly, and acted on instinct. 

"No," Josie said, standing. "There's no problem. We were just leaving – I forgot about an appointment we had. Ready, Kendall?"

Wordlessly, Kendall stood, grasped Josie's outstretched hand and allowed herself to be led from the restaurant. When they reached her motorcycle just outside the front door, Kendall broke the silence between them. Whispering, with her head bowed, she squeezed Josie's hand and said, "Thank you."

Slipping her arms around Kendall's shoulders, Josie pulled the taller woman close to her and sighed as she felt strong arms wind about her waist. "You're welcome," Josie soothed, pressing her lips to Kendall's earlobe. She pulled back enough to look into her soulful eyes and asked, "Wanna get out of here?"

Kendall grabbed her helmet, helped Josie slip into the spare and mounted her bike. Josie's heart leapt into her throat as she felt the gorgeous brunette's buttocks pressed against her inner thighs and the engine roared to life between her legs. After a few blocks, they reached a red light and Kendall rested her feet on the ground. Her right hand fell naturally to the side and rested on Josie's knee, eliciting a soft groan from both women's throats. Josie tightened her grip on Kendall's body and hugged her close as they flew forward.

As they drove closer to Josie's condo, she reminded herself that agreed that neither was in the right place for a new relationship and resigned herself to being dropped off while Kendall rode away to brood alone. How could I have been so stupid, she thought to herself, why did I think that she wouldn't break my heart? This is what happens, she mused, to raw women who let themselves feel again.

When they pulled up in front of Josie's place, Kendall shut off the engine and helped Josie dismount. "I hope you don't mind," Kendall began as they pulled off their helmets, "I just kept thinking of the last time I felt truly comfortable, and I drove here."

Josie's heart raced. "Do you want to come in?" Kendall smiled sheepishly. "Just to talk, right?" 

"Right," Kendall nodded, "That's what friends do...right?"

Doing her best to smile, Josie smiled. "Right."

Halfway up the stairs, Josie felt Kendall's eyes boring into her ass and she took care to sway her hips a bit more than usual as she approached the landing. After sliding the key into the lock and pushing it open partially, Josie whirled around, expecting to catch Kendall checking her out from a few steps below. Instead, the tall brunette had closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around Josie's waist, lifting her until their lips were at the same level. As her emerald eyes stared into Kendall's brown pools, their mouths searched through the air until they met softly, intentionally in tender connection. 

The kiss intensified as Kendall carried Josie into the entryway, grabbed her keys from the front door, threw them on the table and kicked the door closed. Josie grabbed handfuls of Kendall's soft brown waves and wrapped her legs around her sturdy hips as the taller woman squeezed Josie's ass and lifted her deeper into their lip-lock. Carrying Josie back to the bedroom, Kendall supported her with her strong hands and lightly teased her swollen lips through her denim jeans with her fingertips, causing the aroused blonde to tighten her hands in Kendall's hair and groan into her mouth, rotating her hips sexily.

Once they reached the bedroom, Josie began to pull at Kendall's sweater, eager to feel her lover's soft skin under her fingertips and Kendall pressed Josie into the wall with her hips as she pulled her sweater over her head. As Kendall busied her mouth nibbling along Josie's sensitive neck, Josie pushed her feet to the ground and tore the buttons from her shirt as she attempted to remove it. Her slim fingers reached Kendall's belt buckle as her lover's mouth slid along her ear and groaned, "God, Josie, I need you."

They removed each other's jeans together and moaned hotly as they realized that neither wore panties. Josie urged Kendall to the bed and pushed her backward; they fell together and Josie moved her lips to cover Kendall's nipple as she pulled roughly at her own bra, which Kendall tore from her chest. Biting Josie's shoulder, Kendall rolled them onto their sides facing one another and reached down between them. Their hands clasped and traveled between their legs in a simultaneous movement as their mouths hungrily clung together – nibbling, sucking and licking loudly. 

With a gasp, each woman slid her fingers into the other's hot and dripping slit. One of them cried, "Yes – fuck me!" and neither knew which; their digits were synchronized as they slipped over their clits and made shallow plunges into their hot pulsing holes only to pull back and repeat the movement. Clutching to one another with arms and fingers and lips and teeth, they ferociously fucked in and out of each other hard and short and fast, gyrating their hips in time to their fucking. 

Each tangling fingers in the other's hair as their mouths pressed tightly together, they snapped their eyes open and begged passionately for release. Without breaking eye contact, Kendall was the first to go, pumping her fingers deep into Josie's cunt and holding them there as she cried in exquisite pleasure. The sensation set Josie off and she too drove her fingers deep into Kendall's tight hole and came in waves. 

As they lay breathless and tangled on Josie's bed, they tenderly stroked one another's bodies, falling into a peaceful slumber.

----------------------------------------------

Josie awoke in the most pleasurable way possible: Kendall's face was buried in her crotch and her talented tongue was applying perfect pressure to her engorged clit, holding her mercilessly just short of climax. "Fuck, Kendall!" Josie cried as she grabbed the brunette's long fingers in her own. Deftly, Kendall wrapped her fingers around Josie's wrists, pulled them underneath her writhing body, and inserted two of her digits into her dripping pussy, grazing the short nail of her pinky across Josie's tender rosebud. The extra sensation was more than she could take, and Josie's pink walls clenched around Kendall's fingers as an intense orgasm raced through every nerve in her body.

As she crawled up to kiss her lover, Kendall saw a look of concern beneath the relaxed pleasure. "I guess we need to talk, don't we?" she asked, gently pressing her lips to Josie's.

"Yeah," Josie said, "we really do."

"I'm sure you have questions, Josie – I know I would if I were-"

"Adrian - who was she?"

Kendall sat upright with a sigh. "She's a woman who has earned the right to hate me." 

Silently, Josie sat up to face her lover and rested a hand gently on her knee, nodding her support.

"Adrian and I were together for almost six years, with a significant year-long break about a year ago. Just after we celebrated our fourth anniversary, she made this incredible dinner in the middle of the week, candlelight and all, and took me to bed and we made love nearly all night – we hadn't had sex like that since our first year together, and it was amazing. I woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a note taped to the vanity. She said that she couldn't be tied down anymore, that we'd moved too fast and I just wasn't 'the one.'

"I was devastated. She came back when I wasn't home and took all of her things – clothes, trinkets, dishes, artwork - everything. I started going to a different bar each night, bringing home a different woman, trying to prove that I was better off without Adrian in my life. I kept it up for several months and then finally went to see a therapist – she was really great, and I started to put my life back together. After about two months of seeing her, I was out to dinner with some friends and when I looked up, Adrian was sitting at the bar, drinking alone.

"I couldn't believe it – she was right there, and she looked fucking miserable. I'd always thought that it would make my day if I ran into her and she was in worse shape than I was; instead, it broke my heart. Here was a woman that I had shared so much with, and I could tell how much she was hurting. So I excused myself from dinner and went up to her. I wasn't sure how she'd react, but I certainly wasn't prepared for what happened. 

"She threw her arms around me and just let go. She cried for a long time, and told me that leaving me had been the worst mistake she'd ever made, that she was miserable and just wanted to come home. Stupidly, I thought that was the answer to all of our problems. She moved back in and everything was perfect for about a week."

Kendall sat back against the headboard and Josie slid into the space under her shoulder, wrapping an arm around the brunette's waist and resting her head just above her breast. "Go on," Josie urged, "I'm still listening."

With a small smile, Kendall held onto Josie's soft body as she continued, "I was more miserable than I'd been without her. Adrian told me that she'd been scared at how intensely she felt for me, that she was overwhelmed and felt unworthy of the love we shared – she was insanely generous with her emotions and the truth about who she was and who she'd been. She was being so kind and open, completely honest with me about what she'd been feeling and what she wanted, and I was keeping everything inside. I didn't tell her that I was angry or bitter, that her moving back in to my home and my life felt like being occupied by the enemy, that I couldn't trust her with my heart because she'd broken it so soundly before. I didn't care that she'd been scared – if she'd only been this open before, I told myself, it would have saved us a world of hurt.

"It only got worse. After about three weeks of us reuniting, I started cheating on her. I reconnected with one of my lovers from the bar, Kayla, and fucked her every chance I got, barely trying to hide it. Adrian must have known, but she didn't let on – I guess she thought that if she was there for me and was open enough, I'd come back to her. She was wrong.

"Six months ago, Adrian woke up to an empty bed and a note on the vanity. I came clean, told her everything: I'd been lying and cheating, I didn't want to be with her. I was on a brief vacation with my new lover and expected her and her things to be out of my apartment by the time I returned a week later."

She pulled her arm from around Josie and pushed her away, looking into her eyes.

"I was such a bitch, Josie – I really fucked with her. She has every right to hate me – I don't blame her one bit. And I understand if you'd like me to get the hell out of here now. I warned you that I'm raw, but I didn't give you the full story, Josie – I don't know you all that well, but what I do know is that you are incredible and deserve a woman that can be real with you."

Grasping Kendall's hand, Josie looked directly into her eyes and leaned forward, kissing her firmly, yet gently. "I think that was pretty real, don't you?"

"You scare me," Kendall whispered, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Josie grinned, squeezing her lover's fingers in her own. "The worst is over," she teased, reaching playfully to tweak one of Kendall's swollen nipples, "you've already fallen for me."

With a growl and a smile, Kendall pounced, pinning Josie beneath her and pressing her wrists into the pillow above her head. "I may have fallen, but look who's on her back..." 

Josie groaned and gave herself to Kendall's lips as they teased, pressed, sucked, and devoured her own.

-------

Look for Raw Ch. 04 soon!

Voting and Comments are VERY appreciated!



Raw Ch. 03



The last week had been one fucked-up, crazy dream. I had loved and hated it. And like any dream, someone or something would waken me any moment. Then I'd be back to my illustrious life as a best-selling novelist.

Yet, as I kept telling myself that, reality did not change. I still stood in the foyer of an Italian restaurant, ready to face the man who had opened the proverbial red door in a hall of unending white ones called my life. The door to unknown pleasures and yet more fears. Fears of what I would experience...and fears of never again experiencing those things to which he'd introduced me.

"I'm meeting Mr. Hughes," I told the hostess.

She smiled and led the way toward a table near the back of the restaurant away from the regular dinner crowd. Brian was already seated but stood as we approached.

"Ms. Rockland, it's good to see you."

"Likewise." I was unsure what to do as he remained standing at his place. Even the hostess looked back and forth between us, as if waiting for further directions. Brian eventually took his own seat again and gestured to the chair across from him. I forced myself not to roll my eyes as I pulled out my own chair and sat. "You look very professional, as always."

His chin dipped as acknowledgement, then his eyes lowered, slowly rising to meet mine again. "You look...nice."

His lower lip twitched as if he wanted to frown but was afraid of breaking his stoic demeanor. The man already looked like a god, but a smile every now would have done wonders. Geesh.

I tried not to let his hesitation bother me. Despite changing my clothes three times, I was satisfied with my final decision, which had been my original choice. I had just been having a bad case of the nerves. Still was. In the end, I was more comfortable in my slacks and loose blouse this evening than the tighter, more revealing outfits he'd previously seen me in.

He, of course, wore what I assumed was his trademark dark suit and tie.

Impeccable. Meticulous. Those were two more words I could throw in the pot that described him which included cool, calculating, and dominating. Even when it came to his looks.

I focused on the knot of green and black material at his throat for a long moment, remembering how I had been entranced by that part of his body just last Friday while he sat in my hotel room interviewing who he had anticipated to be a male author for the erotic "story of the season."

Albeit, my novels were pretty graphic when it came to the sex scenes, they weren't anywhere near 'mommy porn' as the "Fifty Shades" books had been dubbed. More along the lines of "Nancy Drew" meets "The Hardy Boys" with a little Harlequin twist. Brian had explained it had been the explosive popularity of my male-perspective "Dex Knightly Mysteries" within women's circles that had driven him to track me down. Or rather, the mysterious Drake Alexander, my nom de plume taken from the names of my two older brothers.

I tried not to make it obvious as I glanced around. I didn't see Drake—my brother and recent confidant when it came to all things kinky this past week—anywhere near us. Maybe he hadn't been able to get a seat nearby...or change his plans.

But then, my eyes met the warm smile of a familiar face, and I felt my heart skip a beat. A mixture of relief and sudden apprehension that I was being watched flitted through my brain.

I briefly returned the smile then shifted my eyes back to the tall man seated before me. I tried to envision him in a more relaxed look. His worn pair of black jeans, perhaps. His unbuttoned, black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a smattering of hair on his muscular chest. And then I thought of how he had looked with those clothes removed. The part of me that longed to see him either way again jerked to attention.

I took a long sip of water to settle her down. One step at a time, old girl.

Brian's fingers lightly stroked the top of my free hand that I had rested on the table. "I'm glad you agreed to come."

When we'd parted a week ago, he had denied me that pleasure. I suppressed a snort and the desire to continue the train of thought on that unintentional innuendo. Now he was allowing me to take the lead and make my own decision?

Slowly, I pulled my hand back. It was so damn difficult. Memories flashed before my eyes of his fingers encircling my wrist, of his light touches drawing me into him while we sat at another restaurant, another time.

Now, I wanted to keep my distance. I forced myself to breathe evenly, bringing my gaze up to his. A very bold move for a submissive to do before a Dominant. But we had ceased to be on those terms, as far as I was concerned. At least until we hashed this out. Those blue eyes stared back, unblinking. So unreadable.

I wondered what went on his head. A shiver raced up my back as I remembered the contraption he had built and I'd been strapped down to. The thought-process that must have gone into designing it. Yeah, probably best not knowing his mind too much too fully. I picked up my menu. "Let's order. Then we can talk."

For a moment, I thought he was going to object. His lips pursed, and his fingers flexed on the tablecloth. But he nodded and opened his menu. I had a feeling he'd had no intention of eating. Quite possibly, he thought he'd take me back to his car and his bedroom after a quick drink. But then we'd be right back where we were now...where we were last Saturday night.

We placed our orders with the waitress, and when we were alone once more, Brian went to reach for my hand again.

I used unfolding my napkin as a reason to put my hands in my lap. "What did you want to talk about?"

His hand smoothly changed course, collected the bowl of his wine glass from underneath like a proper wine connoisseur, and lifted it to his lips. I tried not to think of those lips. How they'd kissed my neck while I stood half-undressed before him until my knees gave out. Kissed the top of my head after my first orgasm. Kissed my lips, my breasts, my pussy, my butt cheeks. I brushed aside the memories and noticed that he had ordered me a glass as well. I had no intention of imbibing. I needed to keep a clear head.

"Brian? You've been quite persistent to track me down this week. Now that I'm here, what did you need? More information for the article, perhaps?"

He blinked and set the glass down. "No. The article has been submitted. As I said on the phone, I wanted to apologize."

I waited for him to continue, but he appeared to be finished as he took a piece of bread from the basket, buttered it, cut off a piece, and placed it in his mouth.

I sipped my water, eyeing the bread myself as my stomach growled softly. But the basket was on his side of the table. He didn't even offer it to me. I clutched my napkin and darted a gaze over his shoulder.

Behind him, the warm smile parted and slowly formed a single word. Even from this distance I understood: relax.

I took a couple of deep breaths, counted to ten, and pasted on another smile for Brian. "I'm sorry, but can you elaborate? What are you apologizing for?"

The waitress chose that moment to deliver our salads. At least I could eat something now. I thanked her. Brian gave her a dismissive tip of his chin, and she moved on to another table.

"Well, I'm sorry for scaring you," Brian said. "I realize the timing of answering all your questions was probably off. You were coming down from a high. I should have waited to broach the subject of our arrangement until your full mental faculties had returned."

I slowly lowered my fork, struggling to swallow the lettuce I had just placed in my mouth. The audacity! Who did he think he was? Even now, he was trying to control me...acting as if I would have agreed to his enslavement if I had not just had sex with him. I thought of Drake and Daphne. How their Master/slave relationship was mutually consensual. How they enjoyed being in the company of each other outside of their scenes as well as within them.

My fingers twitched. I wanted to grab my untouched glass of wine and throw it in Brian's face. I decided to keep what was left of my sanity instead.

"Will you excuse me? I need to use the ladies' room." I pushed back my chair and grabbed my purse. Somehow, I managed to walk towards the designated sign.

I rounded the corner, entering a hallway. The kitchen was off to my right, the restrooms in another, shorter hall on my left. Straight ahead was a door with an Exit sign above it. My feet moved towards it of their own volition. But before I could reach that door, a strong grip on my arm stopped me.

I raised my free hand and started to turn. "Get your fucking—"

Another hand—not Brian's—caught my open palm before it hit. Familiar, masculine fingers curled around mine, tucking my hand to a broad chest.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry." My legs wobbled as a tear escaped.

"Shh." Malcolm wrapped me in his arms, pulling me closer. He pressed my head to his shoulder and smoothed my hair. "It's okay, Becca."

The texture of his polo shirt was soft and comforting against my cheek. The scent of his spicy yet sweet cologne invaded my head for a moment. I had to remember to thank my brother for his quick thinking. It was better this way, too. I would have been so embarrassed for Drake to have seen me like this.

"I can't do it, Malcolm. This was a mistake."

"You were doing great from where I was sitting. What happened?"

I managed to relate what few words had transpired between Brian and I. "He's an ass. He was last week. Why did I think he'd be any different today? I thought I could talk to him. Change him. Make him see what I wanted. I thought he was really sorry for how he'd treated me. I was so wrong."

"Becca, you had to take the chance. Now you know." Malcolm tilted my chin up and rubbed his thumb at my tear-stained cheek. "Do you want to leave?"

"Would you consider me a coward if I said yes?" I so wanted to lay my head on his shoulder again and sob. But I resisted to break completely. Especially while standing in the back hall of a restaurant.

"No, I would consider you very brave for standing up for yourself. I have my car. I'll meet you out front?"

I nodded and went into the bathroom to touch up my face. When I felt presentable again, I returned to the table and remained standing. I waited until Brian looked up from his barely-touched salad.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hughes, but this arrangement will not work out. I am not the woman you want me to be, and you're not the man I need. I expected so much more from this whole situation. But thank you for the experience. I look forward to reading your article."

I didn't wait for him to respond. I just turned and walked away. I held my breath until I stepped outside. As promised, Malcolm was waiting by his car. He opened the passenger door, and I gave him a small smile as I slid in and fastened my seatbelt.

We were both quiet on the drive over to my place. He pulled up to the curb and shifted into park.

"Are you okay, Becca?"

I nodded, staring straight ahead.

His warm hand covered mine and squeezed gently. "Can I do anything for you?"

My lower lip trembled and I dropped my eyes to my lap.

"Becca, I have a confession to make. I enjoyed our time this past week. I was sorry to see it end."

I gulped. "Me, too. I wanted to thank you again for all your help. I'm sorry it didn't go so well tonight."

"Shh. Stop berating yourself. Like you said, he's a real ass for treating you like that. I'm glad your brother considered me worthy to be there for you. You are strong-willed but resilient. You know exactly what you want even if you can't always express it. I admire that. I—"

"Would you be offended if I asked you to sleep with me?" I forced my other hand not to slap over my mouth. To not apologize for being so brash. To go after something I really wanted.

Malcolm was quiet, although he still held my hand.

I cringed, mentally smacking myself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"Becca, I would not be offended in the least. I would be honored." He raised my hand and kissed my knuckles, his lips moist against my smooth skin.

It seemed like slow motion as Malcolm turned off the ignition and came around to open my door. As his arm circled my shoulders and we climbed the front stairs. As I found the key and unlocked the door to my condo.

Inside, I didn't switch on the lights. I heard him close the door behind us. Turn the deadbolt. Unlike when Brian had locked the door, making me feel like a prisoner, I now felt safe. I didn't feel rushed, as aroused as I was with the thought that I was going to have sex with Malcolm.

No, wait. Master Malcolm.

That thought sent shivers racing up my spine. I didn't want to compare him to Brian, but having been controlled already, I was anxious to find out if they did anything similarly. What else Malcolm could teach me. If he incorporated his training techniques in the bedroom as well.

I slowly turned to him. Moonlight from the living room spilled into the hall, illuminating the both of us. Highlighting the lines of his face and he watched me. I held my ground as he took a step forward.

"I want to give you a gift, Becca." His voice was low, slightly rough.

My breath caught, my hand trembling as he took it in his again.

"I want to give you what you need. What you really want. Tonight we are Malcolm and Becca. Nothing kinky. No rules, no safe words needed. Plain, old vanilla sex."

I just nodded, my heart beat skipping for a moment. I wasn't sure if it was from disappointment or relief.

"Bedroom?"

I pointed with my free hand. He led the way, gently tugging me behind him. Once we'd reached my room, he toed off his shoes. I followed suit, not knowing what else to do.

Before I could think about it, Malcolm pulled my blouse up and over my head. Then he lowered my slacks. As I stood in my bra and panties, he undressed completely.

The room was mostly dark, so I was unable to see his package, but the rest of him was mighty fine. He stepped toward me. I held my ground, staring with awe at his smooth chest. At his lean waist and hips. At his long, thick legs. He wasn't bursting with muscles, but I could tell he tried to stay fit. I wondered how much of his exercise regimen included sex. 

No, I didn't want to think about the other women he'd bedded. I changed my focus to how much I wanted to run my hands across that expanse of skin covering his shoulders and chest. To taste his nipples, to tease them with my teeth and tongue.

He took another step forward, and this time I retreated. The back of my legs hit the bed, but he caught me around the waist before I fell. He lifted his free hand and caressed my cheek.

I closed my eyes and finally leaned into his touch with a soft sigh. A gasp escaped as he slid his hand down, gripped my chin, and tilted my face up before he pressed his lips to mine.

My arms circled his neck, pulling him closer. His moan combined with mine, and he lowered me back onto my bed. He climbed over me, his fingers buried in my hair now. It felt so good to have him nestled between my legs, his body weighting mine down.

I touched every part of him with my hands and my feet, my limbs tangling with his. My breaths came out in shudders as he broke the kiss and brushed his lips against my chin then up along my jaw to my ear. His tongue traced the folds there, his breath hot against my skin.

One of his hands slid down and cupped my breast through my bra. I arched into him and moaned louder.

His hands were everywhere then. On my arms, on my legs, on my hips. Stroking. Fondling. Driving me mad. I couldn't stop touching him, either. It felt so good to just do what came naturally. As much as I wanted to explore my kinky desires, this was exactly what I needed right now. And I felt a tear in my eye that Malcolm understood me.

He tugged my cup down and latched onto my breast like a hungry babe. I cried out as his tongue rasped against my sensitive skin, as his teeth teased my nipple. I could feel his arousal pressing against my panties, hot and thick and hard. I whimpered, grinding against him.

"Shh, Becca. I know."

He removed my bra, and finally, his hands covered my breasts. I sighed as he squeezed them, lifting them to his mouth so he could lick all over them in long strokes. I alternated between clutching at his shoulders and his hair, the differences in texture heightening my own sensations.

When I felt him sit back and tug at my panties, I lifted my hips. He slowly removed them, but they got caught on my feet. I growled softly, kicking my leg to try to dislodge the hindrance.

Malcolm chuckled. "We'll get there. Calm down."

Now fully naked, I stared up at Malcolm. I expected his eyes to be on my body. Instead, he was watching my face. I licked my lips and bit my lower lip, lifting my hand to stroke my fingers down his arm.

"Darling, I want you to relax. To enjoy this. I think it's long deserved."

I wasn't quite sure what he was referring to until his fingers parted my folds and circled my clit.

I cooed, opening my legs wider. He acquiesced to my silent request, slowly stroking his thick fingers up and down, spreading my wetness. His lips pressed to my cheek before moving up to my ear. There, he whispered encouraging words and phrases.

I closed my eyes and gave into the pleasure he was bringing me. I felt his strong body pressing against my side, his tongue and lips worshipping my jaw and neck and ear. One of his fingers pushed up inside me, and I cried out.

My body was on fire. His expert touch was a salve to my ache. But I couldn't get enough.

His mouth moved down to suck on one of my breasts again. His thumb brushed my clit, then he added another two fingers, plunging them faster and faster.

I came screaming his name as he bit down on my nipple, my hands gripping his shoulder. He did not stop touching me as I writhed beneath him.

I was still shuddering when he laid on top and slid his cock inside of me. I came again, managing to wrap my limbs around him to hold him as close as possible.

He stroked long and deep, his mouth returning to mine. He rolled us over so he was on the bottom, helping me sit up. With his hands on my hips, he guided his thrusts until I let him know with my groans and cries that he was hitting a sweet spot. When I found my rhythm, his hands traced my silhouette.

For the longest time, I got lost in the feeling of just making love with a man. Feeling his cock penetrate me over and over again. His hands on my body, my hands on his. My knees hugging his hips. As promised, it was raw, vanilla sex. But it was far from old and plain.

I reached between us, and with one hand on his chest for support, I stroked my clit until I felt the tingling sensations building. My fingertips brushed his cock, and I choked back a sob between my labored breaths.

"Good girl. Come for me, Becca."

I whimpered and focused on reaching that pinnacle. His thrusts slowed, became more deliberate. His hand covered my breast and rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I cried his name again as ripples raced up and down my back, through my arms and legs. I tried to keep rocking, to make him come with me. But I was growing tired, and I think Malcolm realized that.

He wrapped his arms around me, rolled us again so I was under him, then he pressed my legs up with his hands under my knees. He thrust harder, his groans mixing with my cries, until he went still, his back rigid under my hands. His cock pulsed inside of me as he came with a long groan.

He collapsed on top of me. I expected him to roll off and clean us both up. Maybe to want to leave. To my surprise, he wrapped his legs around me and held me close, pulling the comforter up over us. His hands caressed my back as his lips pressed to my forehead.




Raw Ch. 03



I snuggled into his embrace, lightly stroking his back as I succumbed to a mixture of sated pleasure and exhaustion. I had no regrets about this decision. No, none at all.

###

Sunlight peeked through the blinds as I stretched, yawning. I hadn't slept so well in quite some time. I smiled, pressing my cheek into the pillow, just enjoying the light breeze that rustled the edges of the curtains. As it brushed against my bare shoulder like a lover's kiss. And against my back—with tongue.

"Fuck!" I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Good morning to you, too."

I glanced over my shoulder and sucked in my breath as I stared at Malcolm. By moonlight he had been mesmerizing and mysterious. By day? Oh, be still my heart. Lying on his side as he was, propped up on one arm, he wasn't chiseled like a Greek god like Brian had been, but damn if he wasn't fine. Especially with that smile.

He was all man. And naked. In my bed.

I took a couple of deep breaths, turning to face him fully, smiling in return. "Good morning. I guess I hadn't expected—"

"I realize that now. Do you want me to leave?"

I shook my head so fast my hair whipped about. Several strands fell over my left eye. I went to sweep them back, but his fingers clasped my wrist. I started to think of Brian, of lunch a week ago, but then I pushed the thoughts away. Brian was no more. I was with Malcolm now. For however long it lasted.

"I have to say, you are the most beguiling creature in the morning." He released my wrist and tucked my hair behind my ear, his finger caressing down to my mouth as he withdrew his hand.

I darted my tongue out to taste his finger. It was an impulse move. He didn't seem to mind as he pressed his finger inside, nodding slightly as I began to suck it. I hummed as he slid in and out, like he had done with his cock in my pussy the night before. I wondered what he would taste like. I sucked harder, as if it were his cock, twirling my tongue around his digit.

His eyes darkened suddenly. He withdrew his finger, and his gaze slowly lowered.

I kept my eyes on his face, watching, anticipating. Each part of my body reacted as it came under his scrutiny. My lips parted, letting a soft gasp escape. I tilted my chin up, giving him the full view of my neck, which I then found it difficult to swallow. I held my breath as I knew he was staring at top of my chest. Then my nipples puckered as he tugged the sheet down.

He growled softly and licked his lips. "Lie back, Lady Becca."

I obeyed, my breathing shallow. His tone, the name he addressed me by...it amped up my arousal. Still, I watched silently as he took in the rest of my naked body. My hips twitched as he traced a finger down over my hip to my thigh.

"So beautiful."

I barely heard his whisper over my gasp as his fingers trailed across my pubic bone, brushing against my labia. I clenched my fingers at my side, counting to ten and then twenty until I relaxed my muscles and my legs fell open.

"Good girl. I know you're trying so hard. I would like to do something. Are you game?"

I nodded and then gulped. "Yes, Sir."

Master Malcolm smiled and gently parted my legs further. "Put your hands up behind your head. Better yet, put them under the pillow behind your head. Yes, just like that."

Over the rise of my swollen breasts, I saw him crawl between my legs. Felt his shoulders press under my legs so that they lifted. One arm wrapped around my thigh from underneath, his fingers pressed to my pelvis just above my clit.

"I want to see how long you can go without an orgasm. And no touching. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." I bit my lip as he parted my labia with two fingers from above and his tongue darted out to click my clit. I lasted a minute before I whimpered.

"You may make noises, Lady Becca. Just don't come until I tell you to."

With that, he lowered his tongue again, sucking my clit into his mouth.

I lay as if in a trance. His tongue felt heavenly as it lapped and stroked. His fingers explored both inside and out. He brought me to the brink again and again, but it was never quite enough for me to fall over. I clutched the pillow, gasping and moaning, begging him—sometimes silently, sometimes aloud.

And then suddenly he pulled back and sat up. I opened my eyes. The look on his face was a thing of beauty: a mixture between lust and wonderment. It was so unexpected, so raw. He was in control, yet it appeared he had not truly known what—or whom—he was in control of until just now.

"Lady Becca, do you have anything I can use to bind your hands? Cuffs? A belt?"

Oh bloody hell, here we go! My brain decided not to cooperate with my mouth as I tried to think of what I had in my dresser that could be useful. I managed to mumble, "Um, scarves?"

"Yes, perfect."

I directed him where to find them. As he climbed off the bed, I moaned at the sight of his cock. It was long and thick and bounced against his abdomen as he stood. When he turned and I saw his bare ass, I licked my lips. I wanted to touch it as I had done last night. To grip it in my fingers as he plunged deep inside of my pussy.

He was back in a moment, a fiery red scarf draped over one open palm. "Turn over and kneel facing the headboard."

I did as he asked, repeating the mantra in my head that I was safe with him. That he knew my limits after our week together. That he would not harm me. I sat back on my heels and focused on a section of the wall where the paint hadn't been smoothed properly on application.

His own breathing was heavy as he knelt beside me and first tied the scarf around my wrists, binding them together. Then he tied the scarf through the slats in my headboard and around the top beam. When he was done checking the tightness of the bindings, he crawled behind me.

"Sit up, Lady Becca."

I bit my lip as I felt his chest brush against my back. He moved my legs further apart, and then he slid in behind me so I felt his knees against my knees, his thighs under mine.

"Relax." His breath tickled my neck as he swept my hair aside and began massaging my shoulders much like had done last Monday in his basement. Eventually, I dropped my head forward, and he whispered, "Good girl."

He spent several minutes easing the tension out of my shoulders, out of my neck. His soft encouragements had me feeling sleepy. Very relaxed. Which obviously was his intention. But unlike Brian, I truly believed Master Malcolm did it for my sake and not to manipulate me.

I was feeling so tranquil, in fact, that I didn't realize he was inserting his cock until he was tugging my hips to move down with him. Then he was fully sheathed. I was sitting on his lap now, my legs on the outside of his, his cock buried deep inside me, his hands on my hips.

He didn't move except to slide his hands up and down my sides. To stroke my back. To lean in and dot kisses along my shoulders and spine.

I gripped the headboard, my forehead resting on my outstretched arms. He twitched inside of me, and I responded by clenching my pelvic muscles.

"Very nice, Lady Becca." He nipped at my shoulder and soothed the sharp pain with his tongue and lips. His hands slid around and up, cupping my breasts. "Lean forward a little and lift up."

I whimpered as I felt him slide out of my pussy.

"Right there. Hold still now."

I cried out as he thrust up into me. His hands returned to my hips and lower back, his thumbs stroking my skin as his palms and fingers kept me where he wanted me. Over and over again, his cock stretched and filled me. I was so wet, I could hear the soft squishing sound as we connected.

I was on the cusp of an orgasm when he slowed down and then stilled. He waited a long moment, caressing my breasts, kissing my back, and then he started again.

I lost count of how many times he denied me release. I didn't really care. I was so enraptured by the scene I wouldn't have cared if he didn't let me come at all as long as he didn't stop touching me.

Suddenly, he stopped moving, this time withdrawing fully. I whimpered as he leaned over me, releasing my wrists.

"Push the pillows away. Grip the bottom of those two rails."

I was now flat on my stomach, my breasts smashed against the mattress with only the fitted sheet beneath me. He retied my hands, and I grunted as his weight on my back made my legs spread wider. When he was done and sat back, he pushed my knees forward so that my ass lifted up. For a brief moment, I couldn't breathe. I trusted him, but I was still scared of my vulnerable position.

"Don't worry, Lady Becca. I will not cross your boundaries." His words soothed as his hands caressed down my back and stroked my ass. His finger played with my pussy from behind, and I jerked beneath him. "You remember the safe word?"

I blinked rapidly, telling myself that Master Malcolm was not a sadist. "Y-yes, Sir. Chewbacca."

"Use it if you are in pain or can go on no longer."

Pain? I didn't have a chance to question what he meant as I felt his right knee beside my right thigh and his cock rubbing against my clit. I moaned through my confusion, panting rapidly as he penetrated me so slowly I thought he would never end. When he was fully seated, his left thigh rested against my ass. If he went in any deeper, I would feel his cock in my throat. I was sure of it.

"Use the headboard. Hold on to it," he said, his voice cracking.

I cried out again as his hands pushed against my shoulders, pressing me deeper into the mattress. With my arms in my face, it was difficult to breathe. I tried turning my head, but that wasn't much better. I resorted to spreading my arms enough so that I could fit my head between them, resting my forehead on the sheet with my chin tucked in to my chest. I gritted my teeth as he began thrusting.

Could I possibly pass out from so much pleasure?

His groans and my whimpers combined with our uneven breathing, filling the room. I remembered that the window was open, but thankfully my bedroom faced a private backyard. Yet sound could carry.

"Lady Becca, I want you to come when you're ready."

I had to struggle to understand Master Malcolm's words. I could come? Oh joy. Ahh! Right there. Damn, he was thick. And at this angle? Wow! I'd never experienced anything like it before. It was phenomenal.

His thrusts changed speed, no longer long and slow but short and quick. I felt his shaft rubbing against my asshole, felt a slight tingling there. I pushed the thought away and concentrated on falling over the edge. His balls slapped against my pussy, the smacking sound reminding me of when Brian had used the riding crop. But he had done it on my ass; the pressure on my pussy was a whole new feeling.

I gripped the rails of the headboard until I feared I would snap them free from the frame. I felt sweat dripping down my forehead and tried to blink it away. I pushed past the uncomfortable feeling of my body bent as it was. It wasn't painful, just different. I tried to focus on the pleasure instead. And all the while, Master Malcolm's strong hands held me down and in place, his fingers digging into my skin.

I relished the power he had over me. I gulped down a cry as he pulled back too far and slipped out, his cock slurping in my wetness and tapping against my clit before he penetrated me again.

I don't know how long it took me, but the pressure inside eventually swirled into a tight knot. I realized I was begging him aloud.

Suddenly, I screamed. Bright light flashed behind my eyes. I tried to move away from him, but I had nowhere to go. So l lay beneath his still pounding body as shudders racked through every inch of me.

In a haze, I realized Master Malcolm had let up on my shoulders. That his hands were stroking my back. He was still behind me, but I no longer felt his cock inside me. He was whispering a soft mantra.

"Good girl. That's it. Shh."

Somehow, I returned to my senses. My breathing slowed. He leaned over me and released my hands. I pulled them down under my chest, all crouched with my legs spread wide under me. I wanted to roll onto my side, but I had no energy. Master Malcolm did it for me, though. His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back into his body.

I curled into a ball. His deflating cock brushed my ass as he conformed his body to mine, tucking me into his cocoon. One of his arms was beneath my head. I smelled his sweat and his natural odor.

I shivered, crying suddenly. It started soft, and then it became uncontrollable sobs.

"It's okay, Becca. I'm right here. Let it out. I won't let you go."

I have no idea how long it took me to relax, but he was true to his word. He never left my side. And his hands never wandered away from my arms and my hair. I feared—and he knew it—if he touched any other part of my body, it would only make me worse.

He knew I did not need to be aroused right now. That I needed to be comforted. To feel protected. To know I could trust him.

When I expressed just the occasional shudder and sniffle, Malcolm gently me turned me to face him. He wiped his thumb at the drying tears on my cheeks and then pressed his lips to my forehead, enveloping me in his arms again.

"Becca, look at me." He lifted my chin until our eyes met. "Are you okay?"

All I could do was nod.

"Tell me the truth. I'm not going to turn you out if you tell me you don't like something we did. I need to know what you are feeling. Thinking. I am not looking to erase your identity. With me, you are still you. You are Becca. But the true Becca you have only been revealing through your characters all these years. I want you to come out. Be completely at ease. Be exposed."

I swallowed and gave him a small smile. "That was just...unexpected."

"Yes, I imagine it was for you. Have you crashed like that before?"

I shook my head and sighed, snuggling closer.

"It's different for everyone. One can even have different reactions depending on who their partner is. Extended play can cause exhaustion and deadens the intensity sometimes, as well. I suspect that's what happened to you during your first experience. It also seems to hit harder when one is completely relaxed." He tucked my head under his chin and rubbed my back.

"I feel like jelly." I tried to silence my yawn but failed.

"Sleep, Lady Becca. I'll be here when you wake."

###

My stomach growled. Loudly. I realized I hadn't eaten since lunch with Sue, my agent, the day before.

I rolled over, expecting Malcolm to be sleeping beside me, or at least watching me. I swallowed my disappointment when I found I was alone. But when I placed my hand on the pillow, on the sheet, as if that would miraculously make him reappear, I found them warm.

"Looking for someone?"

I turned to the doorway and smiled, feeling heat in my cheeks. "Not anymore."

Malcolm chuckled. "I thought you'd like something to eat. I took the liberty of making some breakfast."

I stared at his empty hands as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. He was in his boxers and his dress shirt from the night before. I tried not to giggle. His hair looked a little like an 80s rock star after a night of head-banging.

"I don't see any food." My stomach growled again.

He shook his head. "You'll have to come to the kitchen."

"Come here first?" Although I was new to this whole BDSM thing, I was at least able to tell when Malcolm was in a role and when he was being himself. I so enjoyed the ease of both personalities.

His smile widened as he approached. I patted the bed. When he sat, I reached up and laced my fingers into his hair, trying to tame it a little while relishing the thick texture of it in my loose grip.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming, okay?" I searched his eyes, not sure what I was looking for.

"You're not dreaming, Becca." His hand cupped my cheek, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. When I moaned, he deepened the kiss. Too soon, he pulled back. "Get dressed."

I obeyed, throwing on a T-shirt and shorts before I followed him out of the room. Once I was seated at the café table in the jut-out of my kitchen overlooking the backyard, he set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs on my placemat. He served up a plate for himself before taking the seat next to me.

"So tell me, Malcolm, what does someone like you do for a living?"

He paused with his glass of orange juice before his lips. The corner of his mouth turned up, and he took a sip. "Someone like me?"

I waved my hand up and down, indicating his body. "You know, a Master of kink. I don't believe you took of a whole week off from whatever your job is just to help out a friend's little sister."

He frowned suddenly. "Darling, you are not little. Please don't use words like that to describe yourself. You are a beautiful, grown woman. Quite sophisticated, yet not overly so. You are Drake's sister, and you may be younger than him, but you are not his 'little sister.' Understand?"

I lowered my eyes to my plate. "Yes, Sir."

I heard his chair scrape on the ceramic-tile floor. I closed my eyes briefly as his hand cupped my chin and lifted it.

"Look at me, Becca."

Slowly, I obeyed. His mouth was a straight line, his eyes dark and serious.

"I am not telling you this as a Master. I am telling you this as a friend. As a man. I am, like your brother, only interested in ultimate control in the bedroom. I do not desire to enslave any woman. I do not desire to belittle any woman. In so much as what her desires and limits are behind closed doors, they do not carry out into the rest of her life, or any relationship outside of a scene I may have with her, unless she wishes it."

I nodded, unable to speak, and unsure what I would say if I could.

His hand cupped my cheek now, his thumb stroking the rise of my cheekbone. "I believe in being the head of my household, in whatever capacity that may be. But that does not mean it's always my way. The key is to communicate. Compromise if necessary."

I nodded again, resisting the urge to press into his touch. He had a way of making me want to do that. All the time. Maybe because he made me feel safe. Comforted. He didn't give me the chance to second-guess myself, though, as he took his seat again.

"To answer your question, regarding my profession, I am a math teacher. It's summer, so obviously I was free last week. And I am always more than willing to help out a friend."

I forced my jaw to remain shut, lest the forkful of eggs I had just placed in my mouth tumble out. That would have been so very unladylike. Somehow, I swallowed without choking.

Malcolm smirked. "Wouldn't have thought it, would you?"

"No," I mumbled and took a drink to help the food go down. His job surprised me, yet it did make sense. He had vast amounts of patience, which would be required when teaching kids. But his comment left something twisting in my gut. Was he implying that what we'd done last night—this morning—was merely him 'helping out a friend?'

I refused to linger on that thought and ruin the current mood. We spent an hour at my kitchen table easily chatting about every day things like his job, my job, the weather. The world of kink did not come up. I kind of liked that. No, I really liked that. It had its place, and like he'd said, it belonged in the bedroom for us. We were similar in that respect, if nothing more.

After we cleaned up the dirty dishes together, we retired to the living room to continue our lazy conversation while the ceiling fan brought a nice breeze in through the open windows. I curled up on one end of my couch, and Malcolm took the other. He had just asked me about my new writing project when the phone rang.

I froze mid-sentence, staring a hole right through him to where the cordless handset was docked on the end-table.

"Becca, do you want me to get it?"




Raw Ch. 03



I barely heard Malcolm's words. It couldn't be Brian. I had not given him the number. Sue had promised again not to release it as well. And she never called on Sundays. Could it really be a family emergency this time?

"Becca?"

I blinked, realizing Malcolm was standing over me with the phone in his hand.

"It's Drake. Your brother."

I nodded my thanks and took the offering.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there last night," Drake said as soon as I said hello. "I hope—"

I let out my breath. "No, no. It's fine. Thank you for thinking of sending Malcolm." My eyes lifted to the topic of discussion. He was smiling at me, and I smiled back.

"Good. How did it go? I figured you'd be alright, but I didn't want to leave you high and dry without a little support. I was concerned for you, though. I wanted to call last night, but I wasn't sure in case...well...you know. I didn't want to wake you this morning, either."

"It was horrible. At least Brian was still alive when I left the restaurant."

"That's good to know." Drake laughed, but it was cut short. "Wait a minute. Did Malcolm answer your phone?"

Oh. My. God. I was going to get the third degree from my big brother.

"Becca? Everything okay?" Malcolm whispered. He sat right next to me, my knee pressed up against his thigh. His bare thigh. He still wore only his boxers on the bottom half of his body.

I gulped and pointed to him, upstairs to my bedroom, then the phone and shrugged. Malcolm put his hand over his mouth, stifling a chuckle. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Becca? Hello?"

"Hey, Drake."

"Don't you hey me! Did Malcolm answer your phone?"

"Yes." I cringed, dreading to hear what he'd say next.

"Did he spend the night?"

"Yes."

"Is he listening to your conversation?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to hear all the sordid details—"

"Drake!"

"—but I do want to know one thing."

"Oh, God. What?"

"Is he treating you right?"

The heat that had filled my cheeks raced down my neck and into my breasts, making my nipples pucker a little painfully. Oh hell yeah, he was treating me right. "Yes. Undeniably, unequivocally, yes."

"Good. Put him on, will you? And by the way, I love you. I'm proud of you for making a stand against that jerk. Brian, not Malcolm. Unless you are lying and you're just trying to be nice because he can hear."

"Love you, too, Drake." My hand shook as I held the phone out to Malcolm. He raised an eyebrow. I lowered my voice. "He wants to talk to you."

As soon as Malcolm took the receiver, I turned and hid my face against the back of the couch, covering my head with my arm. I had not just had that conversation with my brother. I couldn't believe he had caught me with his kinky buddy.

Malcolm's conversation was the same single-syllable answers as mine had. A lot of yes's. Finally, he said, "I understand. Talk to you later," and hung up.

"I so want to crawl into a hole right now," I mumbled against the cushion.

"It's not as bad as you might think." Malcolm rubbed my back until I looked up at him. "Although, he said he'd kill me if I hurt you in any way."

"Yes, that sounds just like him." I sighed and turned into his embrace. "It's probably a good thing you were there last night and not Drake. He would have hauled Brian out back and beat him to a pulp. Possibly killed him."

"I do not doubt you for a second." He kissed the top of my head. "So you were telling me about your plans for your next adventure."

"Ah, yes. Sue—my agent and editor—she suggested something a little more...kinky." I giggled and shook my head. "If she only knew."

"Are you talking 'Fifty Shades' kinky or something darker?"

"She's talking the former but more believable. I believe she was joking, but I'm seriously considering it. I'm not really sure what direction it will take, but I do have a few ideas."

"Another series?"

"I'm thinking maybe a trilogy. Three women who are best friends. A story for each of them that are combined in a way."

Malcolm chuckled. "A little ménage à trois? Very nice."

"Possibly. Of course, I'd have to develop a plot line. It wouldn't just be about the sex."

"A good story never is."

"Speaking of sex..."

"Yes?" His finger slid down my arm, and goosebumps popped up like little firecrackers being set off.

"I would like to thank you. For last night. For this morning."

"You are more than welcome, Becca. It was my pleasure."

"Mine as well. I still want to thank you."

"What do you mean?"

I eased away from his arm that he had draped across my shoulders. He raised one eyebrow, and I tilted my head with a smile. When I plopped a pillow on the floor at his feet, his maple-syrup brown eyes turned dark, as if they were being heated from within, and I knew he knew what I was up to.

"You, my dear, are topping from the bottom." His voice was a low growl. It was incredibly hot and made me drop to my knees on that pillow.

I lowered my eyes and sat back on my heels, my hands in my lap. "Sir, may I pleasure you?"

For a moment, he did nothing, said nothing. Then he placed a hand on my head. It was the lightest touch, but it held the potential for so much control. "Lady Becca, how do you want to pleasure me?"

I licked my lips. "With my hands and my mouth, Sir."

He caressed my head, his fingers threading through my hair. I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the moment. With my hands on my knees, I focused on keeping my breaths deep and slow. Relaxed.

"Instead of a safe word, Lady Becca, I want you to smack my leg twice if you cannot go on. Understand?" Master Malcolm's voice was quiet, just as it had been during our training last week. Staying with the tranquility of the scene.

"Yes, Sir. Two smacks on your leg."

"Good girl. Put your right hand on my cock. Feel how warm it is. How rigid."

I lifted my hand, hoping he didn't see how it shook, and placed it on top of his boxers. I suppressed a moan and the desire to pull him out and get down to business when his cock twitched beneath the cotton material. The only thing that stopped me was his constant touch on my head, reminding me who was in charge.

"Run your hand back and forth, Lady Becca."

I did as he asked. He was hard already. I could smell his musky scent. I relished to touch him. To taste him. But for several minutes, I merely stroked the length of his shaft through his boxers.

Eventually, he lifted his hips. "Remove my boxers."

I had to lean forward to reach his waist. My breasts pressed against his knees until he parted them. I tugged his shorts down to his ankles. After I tossed them aside, I tucked myself between his legs as he instructed and returned to just caressing him with the palm of my hand.

"Wrap just your thumb and forefinger around the base and squeeze lightly."

His girth was so wide, my fingers did not completely circle his cock. I thought about how he had pleasured me, and that part of it was because he had stretched me so with each of his thrusts. I squeezed as best as I could now, listening to his breathing as it grew more shallow.

I obeyed as he told me to fully stroke with my hand. To fondle his balls with my other hand. To rub the pad of my thumb over the tip of his cock.

I loved the smooth and pliable feel of him in my hands, knowing that the appendage I held disguised a power that could be unleashed at his will.

I was so entranced in what I was doing—kneeling between his naked thighs, holding his lovely specimen of a cock in my hands—that I leaned forward to do what, to me, came naturally. I wanted to taste him so badly. But I was startled from my daze by the jerk on my hair.

"Not yet, Lady Becca. I will tell you when."

I whimpered softly, licking my lips with disappointment, and sat back. I continued to squeeze and twist my right hand as I pumped it up and down. My left hand caressed his balls, his thighs, and anywhere else he told me to.

There was another jerk of my hair, but this time, he held my head back so I had to look up at him.

"Open your mouth and let your tongue stick out, Lady Becca. Keep your eyes on me. As I lower your head, I want you to lick my cock. Blink twice if you understand."

I started to nod, felt him tug the strand of hair he'd collected, and then blinked two times.

His free hand covered my right one on his cock, preventing me from moving either my hand or his cock. It felt like slow motion as he pulled my face towards him. I couldn't see what he was doing as my eyes were focused on his. I dared to lick my lips and swallow, but I stuck my tongue out again.

Eventually, I was rewarded as it touched the tip of his cock. I moved my tongue forward, gliding it through his precum as it dipped into the eye. I closed my eyes for a moment to relish the feeling, the salty taste, but I snapped them open when my hair was tugged once more.

"Good girl. Eyes on me."

He controlled the direction of my tongue. The pressure I applied. The angle I held his cock. Whether I teased the eye, licked the top like an ice cream cone, or ran the tip of my tongue under the rim. I got lost in the moment. No longer was his face clear, yet I kept my eyes there.

There was a tug of my hair. "Lady Becca?"

I slowly blinked, indicating I heard him. Although I was unsure how many times he'd said my name.

"Open your mouth wider."

As I did, he moved my head down. He slid into my mouth, and I felt for the first time that wonderful combination of smooth softness over a solid form. It was just the tip down to the crown, but it was divine.

"Close your lips around my cock."

I moaned softly as I obeyed. Then I moaned again as he moved my head back then forward again so I was sucking him. He didn't need to tell me to do that.

His other hand released mine, and I began stroking him again when he instructed. Still, he controlled how much of his cock was in my mouth and for how long with his hand on my hair, but he let me determine how I sucked or licked.

I couldn't get over the feeling of him moving against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I tried not to let my teeth graze his skin, but when they did, he growled lowly and increased the pressure on the back of my head so he stayed inside longer. I swallowed, and he jerked inside my mouth. I grinned. This was supposed to be my gift to him. Two could play at this game.

I felt him growing harder, fuller. My excitement was expressed in the increased grip on his cock, his balls. He groaned, again I assumed in pleasure. He ran the backs of his fingers against my cheek, encouraging, comforting.

My saliva dripped down his shaft, making it slick under my hands. I used it to my advantage, stroking faster now. I knew what the end result would be, and I wasn't much for swallowing cum, but at the moment, I really didn't care. I wanted to bring him to release. To show him how grateful I was for his training last week. His assistance at the restaurant. For his pleasure in my bedroom. For just being him.

"Lady Becca, look at me. "

I realized I had closed my eyes. I lifted my gaze to him. He removed his cock, told me to put my hands on his thighs, and he took control of stroking his cock. He held my head still, my mouth open and waiting. It did not take long for him to release. The wet, sticky strands hit my lips, my tongue. I lapped them up, not paying attention to the taste. I could only see his face, the pleasure there, the desire in his eyes.

When he was done, Master Malcolm helped me stand. "Are you okay, Lady Becca?"

I couldn't speak I was in such awe, so I just nodded.

"Missed some," he whispered. He brushed his thumb over my cheek then pressed it into my mouth. We both moaned as I sucked his thumb dry. "I hate to ruin the mood, but I should probably let you go. You have work to do."

I blinked as he stepped away, retrieved his boxers, and sauntered from the room, bare-butt swaying side to side. I silently followed him to my bedroom and watched him get dressed. Then I followed him to the front door.

"It has been a true pleasure, Becca." He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth.

Somehow, I found my voice. And some bravado again. I crossed my arms and stepped back. "That was not how I had envisioned pleasuring you, for the record."

Malcolm smirked. "Did you not enjoy it?"

I rolled my eyes. "That is beside the point."

"I enjoyed it. Immensely."

"Cad."

"Any day, my dear." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Good day, Becca."

With that, he opened the door and left.

I let out a long, deep breath. And realized my nipples were erect, my pussy throbbing. I had been so focused on him that I hadn't realized how aroused the whole situation had made me.

I raced to my bedroom, tore off my clothes, and masturbated. Loudly. To hell with my neighbors if they heard me.

###

Somehow, I slept peacefully Sunday night. It had been difficult getting through the rest of the day, thinking about Malcolm, but I had distracted myself with some movies and a pizza.

Monday morning, I was up at nine. I picked up coffee and bagels for Sue and I on the way into the office. By ten, I was ready to figure out what to do next with my life. Or at least consider my options.

I spent the morning brainstorming for plotlines and character traits. Sue stopped in twice from her office above mine, but for the most part, I only had the company of my iPod. I shut down my laptop around six o'clock and headed back home.

The rest of the week continued in the same way. Slowly, I got back into my old routine after not having written for a few months. I had developed my three main characters that I planned to explore in the three novels I'd mentioned to Malcolm. All in all, the week had been a success without too much thinking about either kinky man who had entered my life recently.

I was walking in the door to my condo Friday night when the phone rang. I was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but I ended up answering it on the fourth ring.

"Becca, the point of having a cell phone is that you can carry it with you so people can talk to you when you're not at home."

"Hello, Drake." I smiled and tossed my keys on the entrance table—right next to where my new iPhone was plugged into the wall charging—and toed off my shoes. "Sorry, I'm still trying to get used to having it with me."

"How was your week?"

I plopped into my favorite oversized chair and flung my legs up over the arm. "Surprisingly productive. I'm starting on a new series. A trilogy."

"What's it about?"

"Girls. Sex. Power."

"The best of the best, huh?"

I laughed. "Yeah, according to a man."

"Hey, I can only speak the truth. Sue me."

"So did you only call me to harass me?" My stomach growled. I needed to get some food, but I didn't feel like cooking anything tonight. "I need to raid the fridge, so you're walking with me."

"Actually, I wondered if you were free to come visit this weekend? Malcolm is having a little party, and he asked me if you'd like to come."

I stifled a snort. Sure I'd come for Malcolm. I realized I would do it any time, any where, if he asked. But I knew that wasn't what my brother implied. "Did he now?"

"He's called me three times for your number."

I stopped in the hallway, smiling like a lovesick fool. Was I being chased? Properly?

"I haven't given it to him, Becca. I wanted to check with you first. And I wanted to give you some downtime." Drake cleared his throat. "So um, did you two have a good time last weekend?"

This time I did snort out loud. I could be so unladylike sometimes. "I am not going to answer that question other than to say, mind your own business."

"At least tell me he treated you well."

"Yes, big brother, Malcolm was a perfect gentleman." When I reached the kitchen, I ended up in the pantry and grabbed a box of crackers to munch on while I thought of something better to eat.

"That's good to hear. Do you want me to?"

I swallowed a cracker and brushed the crumbs off my chest. "What?"

"Give Malcolm your phone number."

"Let me think on that, okay?"

"Okay. How about this weekend, then?"

I thought of how bored I'd be all by myself. But did I really want to watch Malcolm in a kinky scene with another woman? It wasn't like I had a stake on him. Drake would be there. And Daphne. Together.

"Becca?"

"Oh, all right." I leaned against the counter. It couldn't be any worse that the last time I was there. Right? "When should I get there?"

"You feel like driving down tonight?"

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Pack a bag. You're staying until Sunday at least."

"Yes, Sir!" I laughed and put the box of crackers away. "Does the party last all weekend, or are you just missing your dear sister?"

"Just get your butt down here."

"Can I grab something to eat first?"

"As long as you eat it on the way. Call me when you get to town. I'll give you the directions to meet me at Malcolm's."

"Ten-four, big brother."

I hung up and went to find my bag. It took me twenty minutes to figure out what to pack, and another twenty to get out of the city. I waited until I hit another suburb before getting food. I tried really hard not to get excited, but that was pretty much a foregone conclusion. So I let myself get excited but not set my expectations too high. I mean, Malcolm was having a party. It was too much to hope we'd have alone time together. Like he would want to anyway, since his 'helping a friend out' favor had been cashed in. Twice.

I was in Wheaton before I knew it. When I called him, Drake seemed a little miffed that it had taken me so long. I told him where to shove it.

His directions were precise, and I found Malcolm's place with only a little difficulty. We had come in daylight the previous week, and I hadn't paid much attention to the street names. Now I had to watch for every turn as Drake barked in my ear.

Malcolm's house was as I'd remembered. White with red shutters, two stories, seemingly inconspicuous among the rest of the houses on his street. Nothing advertising the kinkiness that went on within.

Five cars filled the drive and lined the street out front. The lights on the first floor indicated the party was located there. For now.

I was unsure whether to bring my bag inside. I could always come out and get it later. I finished off my soda, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. Before I could reach the front door, it opened.

"Becca, I'm glad you could make it." Malcolm smiled down at me as I joined him on the front porch.

I just nodded, surprised that he was treating me like...well, like someone special, I guess. I wasn't just another guest at his party. A sister to a good friend.

"Did Drake explain any of this to you?"

I shook my head.

"Geesh." He raked his fingers through his hair, mumbling to himself. He sighed loudly and tried to smile, but I saw it falter in the porch light. "Okay. This is a play party. I'm teaching rope bondage tonight."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking.

He truly frowned now. "Don't look at me like that. It turns me on."

I flinched...and smirked again. Well, gee, if that's all it took to get a guy hooked...or at least this guy.

"Becca, I'm serious." His hand was in his hair again, and I stifled a groan, wishing it was my hand. "I'll teach the lesson, then the couples will go off and practice in private, incorporating their kink."

"You mean the Dom will bind the sub with rope and then proceed with a scene?"

"Exactly. One of the couples tonight uses needle play. In another, the female is the Dom. If they like spanking, there will be spanking. Etcetera."

Goosebumps prickled my arms and legs. "Use needles how?"

"They put them just under the first layer of skin, sort of like marking material with a pin so you know where to sew. The needle lies flush with the skin, the tip poking out. It's usually done in a design so that when the needles are removed, the swelling from the puncture marks remain. Sometimes tape is laced through the needles and pulled away quickly, removing the needles like a domino effect. That's called a zipper."




Raw Ch. 03



"Shit. Doesn't it hurt? Don't they bleed?" I shivered. I was sorry I asked him to elaborate.

"There is usually little blood loss if done properly. And yes, there is some pain, but both are something the sub and the Dom get off on. It requires complete relaxation. Patience. Trust. I've heard it's quite arousing for some."

"And for you?" Oh, God, did I want to hear his answer?

Malcolm shook his head. "I'm not into needle play. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Trust me, you—"

"I was teasing, Becca. Your face turned as gray as the concrete. I'm no more into it than you are."

"Well, that's good. So what was the rush for me to get down here tonight?"

"You can say no."

I crossed my arms. "No to what?"

"I swear, I thought Drake had explained."

Now I glared at him, tapped my foot. "Explained. What. Malcolm?"

"Would you be willing to assist me? Be my model?"

"You're fucking kidding me! You want me to get naked in front of all those people?"

"Not naked. But at least down to your panties and bra. Unless you have a tank top in your overnight bag? I could loan you a pair of boxers. Nothing sexual, I swear. It's just demonstrating different methods of binding."

I was going to kill my brother. I really was. Yet at the same time, Malcolm's proposal intrigued me. Drake knew me well, even more-so after the past two weeks. He knew if he'd told me ahead of time, I would have refused to come. But I was already here. And it was really no different than being in a bikini on the beach, right? Except the focus would be entirely on me.

"I will agree, on one condition."

"Name your price."

"If you blindfold me."

He flinched, and his serious, straight-lined lips twitched as if he was resisting the urge to smile.

"I would be too nervous knowing everyone was looking at me in my underwear."

"I understand." Malcolm stepped closer and tipped my chin up. "Are you really okay with this?"

My breath came out shaky, and I started to nod. He gripped my chin harder.

"Say it, Becca."

My knees wobbled. I straightened my posture and counted to ten. "I'm okay, Sir."

"Good girl." He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. "Go grab your bag."

Surprisingly, he waited until I returned—which took me longer than expected; my feet just didn't want to move—and then he led me inside. Drake nodded when our eyes met. I glared at him, and by the way he gulped noticeably, he got the message that I was not pleased with him.

Malcolm presented me as "Master Drake's sister, Lady Becca." He went around the room, starting with Lady Daphne, whom I already knew. Then he introduced the remaining four couples which all consisted of boy-girl match-ups. I wondered if they were dating, like Drake and Daphne, or just merely "play partners"—a term I'd come across while doing research this week for my new books.

I wasn't going to remember anyone's names but the three people I knew. I told myself to just smile and nod. Everyone seemed so friendly. And relaxed. Well yeah, because they weren't getting naked in front of a crowd. Oh joy.

"Lady Daphne? Will you please escort Lady Becca to change her clothes?" Master Malcolm turned from us and gestured to the kitchen. "The rest of you may follow me."

I glanced back at Malcolm as Daphne took my hand and led me toward a hallway. He nodded before disappearing through the door to the downstairs playroom. The rest of the guests trailed behind, two-by-two except for Drake who brought up the rear.

The room Lady Daphne opened the door to was small and contained simple furnishings: a bed, a dresser and mirror, a nightstand, and a ladder-back chair—which appeared to match the one in the basement. The furniture was natural, unstained wood, and the walls and carpet matched the light tan linens. The few accents scattered around the room provided the only color: green. A guestroom that wasn't all that inviting yet would serve the purpose of providing a place to sleep if need be. And changing clothes.

"Are we going down to the birthday suit? I can get you a robe." Lady Daphne gave me a soft smile.

"No, bra and panties." I took a deep breath and pulled my shirt over my head. "And a blindfold."

"I will be right back, then. If you can, pull your hair back."

I stripped all the way down and fished out the red bra and panties I had thrown in on a whim. I hadn't really expected to use them. Like I would have had a chance to seduce Malcolm? But if I was going to do this, I was going to look good.

I sucked up my fears and adjusted the underwear so everything looked presentable in the mirror. I braided my hair, and then sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Lady Daphne to return. When she did, she held a black sleep mask in one hand, a white robe in the other.

"All ready?"

I put on the robe and tried to match her smile. I failed miserably. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I'll wait until we get downstairs and get you seated before I put on the blindfold, okay?"

I just nodded and followed her through the house. It was a struggle to tell myself to breathe and not to trip all at the same time. Two things that should have been innate but suddenly were alien to me for some reason.

The red light was on when we reached the foot of the stairs. Lady Daphne knocked two times then opened the door. I kept my eyes down but shoulders back as we entered. I was surprised to hear silence.

I glanced up, noticing that the black curtains had been pushed back, opening up the room. As I'd guessed the first time I was here, the space was quite large. And there were five closed doors at the far end of the room in a line. The lone, ladder-back chair that Master Malcolm had used to help me control my impulses now sat front and center of three leather couches. Three empty couches.

"Where is everyone?" My voice sounded loud when I spoke.

"Out of respect, they are waiting until you are ready, Lady Becca." Lady Daphne indicated the chair.

Even Master Malcolm? I shrugged off the robe and sat down. I closed my eyes as she put the blindfold over my head. I half wished it had been Malcolm doing it.

"We're ready, Master Malcolm," Lady Daphne said.

"Very good. Thank you, Lady Daphne." Master Malcolm placed a hand on my shoulder when I jumped at the sound of his voice. His breath touched my neck as he leaned closer. "You look divine, my dear. Trust me when I say I have never looked forward to a training session as I do tonight."

Oh, the shivers that raced up my back at those words, at his light touch.

"No one but me will touch you, Lady Becca. They may ask questions, so don't be alarmed." His hands caressed my face, tugged on the blindfold, and then disappeared.

I could see nothing, which was good. I tried not to think of the others seeing me. Especially my brother. I must have looked tense as Master Malcolm massaged my shoulders until my head drooped forward.

"Good girl. Just relax. You will probably even enjoy this. But if you don't, use the safe word."

"Yes, Sir. Chewbacca," I mumbled.

Someone knocked four times, and a door opened and closed. This was repeated three more times, then I heard feet shuffling against the rug. The squeak of leather as people sat on the couches. Muted conversation until someone clapped their hands.

Master Malcolm explained to the group that he was using jute rope, and that he would be demonstrating a simple karada harness with a crotch knot. I was unfamiliar with the terms, but I trusted him. As long as it wasn't painful, I was secretly looking forward to being bound by him.

Just when I was getting comfortable, he told me I had to stand. I tried to focus on his words as he explained the binding method while securing my arms to my sides. But his hands on my body, brushing against bare skin or my scantily-clad breasts and hips as he moved, distracted me. It wasn't long before my nipples hardened, before I felt my pussy clench. He had been right. I was enjoying it immensely.

"Are you doing okay, Lady Becca?" he whispered in my ear after some time of silence.

I flinched. "Yes, Sir."

"You are doing wonderful."

He stopped before I knew it. He answered some questions, helped me turn around so they could view the web detail of knots and crisscrosses. That hadn't been too bad. It had gone quicker than I had expected.

"Now I will show you a full body bondage," Master Malcolm said, his hands working at the knots he'd tied around my wrists.

I moaned softly. There was more?

"Deep breaths, Lady Becca." His finger deliberately skated up my spin. "Are you okay to continue?"

"Yes, Sir." I could barely manage a mumble. What was I supposed to say, anyway? I didn't want to disappoint him by saying the safe word, especially since there was no real reason to use it. Yet.

Once more, I tuned out the rest of the room, glad that I had requested the blindfold.

This time, he bound my legs together as well. I could feel the rope against my thighs and knees and calves. He looped it between my legs so it dug into my crotch again. I was glad I'd chosen full panties instead of a thong...or gone commando.

By the time he'd finished, I wanted to beg him to bend me over and fuck me right then and there. The control he held over me with having me immobilized now...it was making me high like a drug. I needed more, though, than his brief touches. Than the pressure of the tightened rope digging into my skin.

I thought he'd be done after the second bondage technique, but I was wrong yet again. He whispered in my ear that I was doing marvelous. Yeah, I felt real stupendous. Especially when he helped me straddle the chair so that my breasts pressed into the back rails.

"Lady Becca, please put your arms at your sides and reach back, crossing your arms behind you."

I obeyed, resisting the urge to lean my head forward against the chair back. Suck it up, girlfriend. You agreed to this. It's not humiliating. Your biggest problem is you need an orgasm.

I tried not to struggle as he arranged my arms so that one forearm was directly on top of the other, my hands gripping the opposite elbow. It was a little uncomfortable. But as he looped around my biceps, over my head and down the front and back around, the ropes held me in place and I didn't have to rely on my own strength to stay in position. He tied intricate knots, according to what he was explaining, creating some sort of cross configuration on my back.

He answered more questions, and then he untied me.

Finally. I massaged my arms after he helped me stand. I waited for him to bring me the robe again. To my surprise, he indicated I should sit again, but facing forward now.

"I would like to show one more technique, and then we will conclude our session. Lady Becca? Please put your arms down at your sides."

Fine. One more. Then I would insist on being done. I clamped my mouth shut and obeyed.

He wrapped the rope several times around my upper arms then across my sternum, assumedly binding me to the back of the chair. The rope then went around again, this time under my breasts and across my elbows. A few more times around my wrists, and then he circled my waist.

He wrapped the rope three times around each thigh. Spreading my legs open, I felt him beside one leg, then the other, and realized he was also binding me to the seat on either side of the chair. He bound each calf to a leg of the chair in a similar way. Each ankle. My toes flexed, brushing against the soft fibers of the carpet. Yeah, I was pretty much immobilized.

"Lady Becca, try to move, please."

I rolled my eyes under the blindfold but tried to wiggle anyway. Just as expected—and as I knew he knew—other than an inch or two side-to-side with my butt, I was stuck.

"Like suspension bondage and the use of stocks and other forms of bars and locks, furniture bondage can hold the submissive in a position for the scene. As Lady Becca demonstrates, a chair is useful for such instances. Anything that gives you access to tie around or through—like the rungs on the chair, or rails on a headboard or spindles on a railing—would work."

More questions, more answers. After what he was saying, I was thinking of only one use for being restrained in the specific way I was. I licked my lips, feeling slightly uncomfortable now with everyone's eyes on me.

Master Malcolm eventually dismissed the group, but he did not untie me. I heard voices being cut off as doors closed, and I assumed everyone was returning to those mysterious rooms on the far side of the basement.

"You, darling, have been absolutely wonderful. I am extremely proud of you," Master Malcolm said, removing the blindfold.

I blinked several times, adjusting to the light. "It was very interesting. I will admit that."

"Did you enjoy it, Lady Becca?" His voice came from behind me. 

"Yes, Sir." I wished he would come around front so I could see him.

"Did it arouse you?"

I gulped as he did move to stand before me. "Yes, Sir."

I had forgotten I could move my head. My neck was slightly stiff. I rolled my head side-to-side, working out the kinks. The thought made me want to giggle, but I bit my lip to stop it. I ended with my chin lowered, my gaze on the floor. Slowly, I dragged my eyes upwards.

The cuffs of his blue jeans were ragged as they hung over his bare feet, the knees torn, the thighs worn. His gray T-shirt was sweat-stained, the letters on the front mostly faded. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his forehead shiny. He towered over me like a statue. A living, breathing, smoking hot statue. Be still my heart.

Without a word, he crossed his arms and pulled his shirt over his head. I moaned, not trying to hide my reaction now. His chest was slick with sweat, and for some ungodly reason, I wanted to lick it off him. 

I glanced down once more, focusing on his crotch and the now-noticeable bulge pressing at his zipper. I rolled my lower lip into my mouth, wetting it with my tongue. When my gaze met his face again, I choked back a gasp. His eyes were dark, his mouth a firm line.

My focus was broken when his hands went to his waist and unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed the waistband down over his hips. They hung for a moment, then they dropped to the floor, revealing his red boxers.

For the briefest moment, my eyes darted up to his again, and then they returned to his waist. I couldn't decide where I wanted to stare. And how crazy was it that he had chosen the same color as the underwear I'd thrown in and decided to wear on the spur of the moment? He surely had no idea as he'd been downstairs when I'd changed. Unless, Daphne...

I didn't have time to think more about that as he pushed his boxers down as well. I licked my lips fully now and whimpered when his thick cock sprung free.

"Yes, exactly, Lady Becca. Open wide."

I was hoping I was going to get to taste that lovely specimen of manhood tonight, and now it was waving in front of my face. This chair and my height put me at the perfect level. Had he intended this all along? Or had his decision to show this binding technique transformed into so much more after he'd realized the position he had put me in?

"I will try to be gentle."

I wasn't too sure what he meant until he reached behind me and gripped my braid, jerking my head back. It stung a little, but the sensation dissipated as he slid his cock into my mouth with no preamble. I gagged at first, but as he thrust, my saliva coated him, making the passage easier.

"You in that bra and panties?" His breath hissed out as he held my head still and pumped his hips against my face. "Letting me bind you? Trusting me explicitly? When you had your arms bound behind your back, that exasperated look on your face?"

I mumbled against his cock, so warm and thick as it pressed against my tongue, striving to reach the back of my throat.

"Don't deny it, Lady Becca. I saw it. You were trying to hide your arousal, to decide if you liked this or not. I was pushing your boundaries. I realize that. And you let me."

I moaned and blinked my eyes to agree.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to bend you over that chair and fuck you until you screamed for all of my guests, your brother be damned. I would never dishonor you or any woman in that way, though. That is a true Dom. Being able to control oneself when in control of another."

I whimpered, loving the way he took command of me. Never in a million years would I have allowed Brian Hughes to do this to me. But with Master Malcolm? There was something different. It was the way he actually cared about me as more than just another human being. I may not have been girlfriend material to him, but I wasn't just another play partner.

He trailed a finger down my cheek. I started to lean into his touch, but he jerked my hair. "No, Lady Becca. Right now, I am fucking your mouth. You have such a lovely mouth. Those red lips wrapped around my cock. I love it when you look up at me like that. So submissive."

I blinked as I moaned. The man was an addiction. Was there nothing I wouldn't do for his touch?

As if he knew what I was thinking, he reached down and slid his hand inside my bra to pinch my nipple. I squeezed my eyes shut, my groan of delight a low, muffled rumble as his cock pressed in again. "Such a good girl. You are so beautiful."

It wasn't long before he came, his cock buried deep into my mouth. I managed to swallow most of it, but some dribbled down my cheek as he withdrew. He tipped my chin down, and the white, sticky substance landed on the swell of my breasts, more prominent than usual with the rope binding. He smeared his fingers through it, rubbing it down around my nipple. Then he slid his fingers into my mouth. I eagerly licked them clean.

When we both were breathing normally again, he worked at the knots he'd formed around my ankles. Once unbound, he slid an arm under my legs and one around my back, lifting me up and holding me to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes.

Naked, he carried me upstairs to the second floor. I had to give the man credit. He was strong despite a lack of muscles. I preferred him much more that way. He seemed more human, more normal.

I caught a glimpse of the space before he laid me on the bed. It was pretty much all one big, open room separated into a bedroom and a sitting area only by the arrangement of furniture. It had to be his master suite, and despite the lack of light, I could tell it was quite homey by the greater number of accessories and apparent varying shades of gray indicating more colors than what I had seen in the guestroom. I longed to see it in daylight, to see the real Malcolm.

For now, moonlight shone in a window near the bed, and I stared at his silhouette as he stood over me. He carefully removed my bra and panties, then he slid under the covers next to me. I snuggled close, moaning softly as his hands caressed my arms. It wasn't until he moved to my side, to my legs that I realized he was massaging the places the rope had bound me.

I moaned, the high wearing off and a slight discomfort setting in.

"Shh." Malcolm kissed my forehead, his hand cupping my breast, his thumb grazing over my nipple.

Like that was going to make me shut up? I whimpered, wiggling my butt against his semi-hard erection.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright. A good girl gets a reward."

I sighed as his hand slid down my thigh and parted my legs. He pulled my knee up so my foot was propped on the bed. Then he buried his fingers in my pussy. I came hard, reaching back to grip his arm.

While I was still floating back down to my senses, he slid inside me from behind. I shuddered around him. His hand held my knee as he thrust gently at first then faster and harder until I was coming again.

As we lay in each other's arms, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, I asked him about the rooms downstairs. "Are they filled with weird contraptions and boxes of toys like whips and chains?"




Raw Ch. 03



He kissed the back of my shoulder, sweeping my braid aside so he could tease my neck with his lips and tongue. "No, darling. Just simple beds with sturdy headboards. Couples are required to bring their own props. I have my own stash for private use, but I don't keep them down there."

I tried to sit up, to look for a trunk or some other container in his room.

He pulled me back down with a chuckle. "We can play later. You need to wind down for now."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled against his forearm. I nipped the skin and licked at the shallow teeth marks.

"Are you disappointed? Expecting something like in those 'Fifty Shades' books? Racks for suspension and whipping?"

I giggled as his fingers stroked my waist, tickling slightly. "No, I'm actually relieved you are not trying to be Christian Gray. He seems so far-fetched. I would much rather have you any day."

"Do you mean it?" Malcolm rolled me onto my back. He cupped my cheek, his thumb pressing at my lips.

I licked his thumb. "Which part?"

"Having me any day."

"Yes, I am serious. Brian—that man—may have opened my eyes to this world of kinky experiences, but you've given me so much more. He broke my trust. Made me feel like being submissive wasn't a choice."

"It should be." He leaned down and kissed me.

I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck and he deepened the kiss. I ran my hand against the stubble on his check when we parted. "You? You've helped me believe I can trust again. I have some work to do to get it fully up and functioning, but I've got a great start now."

"Thank you. It's an honor, especially hearing that from you. Drake is a dear friend of mine, and he cares so much for you. I would do nothing to hurt you or ruin that friendship."

"I don't want to rush this, and I have some hard limits like keeping my job and my own place for now. But if you'll have me, I would gladly submit to you, Master Malcolm. To let you teach me more."

He kissed me again, his fingers playing with the wet folds between my legs. "That sounds like a very enjoyable proposition, Lady Becca. I accept."

"Good. Now move a little to the right. A little deeper."

His chuckle filled my head. "Now, now, darling. It looks like our next lesson will be correcting your need to top from the bottom."

"Oh, please, let it start tomorrow," I managed to gasp as his thumb brushed my clit.

"By all means." He finally acquiesced, his fingers delving deeper. "Now be a good girl and come for me."

~ H



Raw Ch. 04



I wanted to kill him, but first I would have to allow myself in his presence again.

Brian Hughes had turned my life upside down in the short span of three weeks. I had believed him when he'd said our botched sexual relationship wouldn't affect his exclusive interview with my nom de plume, Drake Alexander. That he'd already submitted his article before picking me up that pivotal Saturday afternoon. But printed words did not lie.

The problem? I hadn't read them yet. I didn't have the guts. I just assumed the worst.

"Becca, take a deep breath. And another..." Malcolm's voice was soft in my ear, but it was far from calm. He struggled to keep control, evidenced by the tightening of his hands on my shoulders as he attempted to relax me.

It seemed odd to me that Malcolm—someone I'd only met twenty-one days ago—would be as tense as I was about what had been published. I mean, this was about me, my life, not his. If Brian had gone back on his word—his non-disclosure agreement about revealing my identity or even the fact that Drake Alexander was female—Malcolm wouldn't be affected. I, on the other hand, risked a raid from the paparazzi and the sudden scrutiny of every critic within the city of Chicago, not to mention the rest of the country.

"Becca. Relax your shoulders, dammit."

"Malcolm, I don't think a massage is going to solve—"

"It will if you let it. Getting anxious about what you don't know is definitely not going to help. You need a clear head."

I tried to stand up, but he held me to the chair at the kitchen island. "Leave me alone, and give me the damn phone."

"No."

"I'm not calling him, I'm calling Sue. I can't read it. She can tell me the truth. At least if it's bad or good."

"The answer is still no."

"Take your hands off me, Malcolm!"

"No. You are not yourself. Sit. Relax."

"Dammit! I don't want to relax!" I tried once more to stand. This time, he let me, but I gasped as he gripped my hand and tugged me towards the stairs leading up to his room.

I closed my eyes. As much as I struggled to grasp how close we'd become in such a short time, I couldn't imagine myself without him. If it weren't for Malcolm's presence in my life right now, I probably would have thought I was having a bad dream. I had grabbed my mail from the office on Friday after work and headed to Malcolm's house in Wheaton for the weekend. We'd spent most of the time in the basement on the solitary ladder-backed chair practicing how not to top from the bottom, or up in the bedroom having sex—both in and out of scenes—breaking only for food and sleep every few hours.

It wasn't until Sunday morning when I'd figured out how to check my voicemail on my new iPhone—too much confusing technology in one little glass box if you asked me—that I'd discovered the disaster that plagued me now. Sue, my agent and editor, was having a panic attack by the sound of her unusually rushed and high-pitched voice:

"Have you read the article? Call me as soon as you get this. I mean it!"

I had proceeded to dump my duffle bag out on the kitchen table to sift through the contents for the rubber-banded stack of mail. The "Lit Wild" magazine was sealed in a clear, plastic bag between a flyer from Target and an ad from a writing school on how to become a successful writer. I'd snorted at the latter and ripped open the bag.

But I hadn't gotten any further than staring at the front cover. One of the promos was titled, "The truth about the enigmatic author behind the Dex Knightly Mysteries."

Malcolm had stood back, not asking any questions despite not knowing what was going on. I'd shoved the unopened magazine across the counter and slowly stood to stare out the window. My brain had rushed in a million different directions like a computer circuit board on full capacity. Did I want to read the article? What if it had my real name listed? No one had my new cell number yet, and no one knew my landline number or home address, but that wouldn't stop people from trying to find out...or camping out at the office. Should I set up a press conference to come out to my readers?

I guess he'd tried to talk to me for five minutes, but I kept brushing his hand away. I couldn't think straight when he was touching me. He was all I could think about; what he was doing with his hands, what I wanted him to do with other body parts. I didn't want him distracting me. But he'd been insistent and eventually led me back to my chair at the counter where he proceeded to massage my shoulders.

But now? Now we were upstairs and he was pulling my clothes off me faster than I'd ever seen. That was saying a lot since Friday night had left a trail of clothes from the front door all the way up the stairs in less than a minute. We'd been separated a week, and our hormone levels had spiked the moment we'd seen each other. This was all moving so fast, and yet it seemed so natural, too.

He remained clothed now, though. Without a word, he dragged me through the long shadowy room to the dresser and removed something from a drawer. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling me with him, and promptly laid me face-first across his left knee. His right leg closed over the back of my calves, and his left arm leaned on my upper back, both pinning me in place. I could feel his chest moving rapidly against my side as he breathed.

I wiggled, trying to get loose. It didn't work. "Malcolm?"

"Say the safe word when you can't take any more."

My body went rigid. I trusted him, but for a moment...

"Start counting."

"Why?"

Something hard that wasn't his hand smacked my left butt cheek. I screeched and flinched.

"Shit, Malcolm! Can't we talk about this?"

"You had your chance to talk before. Count, Lady Becca. No other words, unless you want me to stop."

Something had irked him. I had not seen this side of him, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. The title he'd chosen to call me told me he had moved into a scene. He was in his element. He was—

"I'm waiting, Lady Becca."

I gulped. "One."

After ten more smacks on both butt cheeks with what I figured must be the back of a hairbrush—and me cringing and counting after each one—he spoke again.

"I was not trying to be mean." His breathing was slower now. In time with his spanking. "You needed to calm down. To think rationally."

"Fifteen." My ass stung. My jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. I had to grip the sheets tighter and tighter with each new swat. I would hold out as long as I could. He'd spanked me one day last week. I'd only been able to take his hand, and I hadn't been able to sit for an hour afterwards. This time seemed different, though. As if it was a punishment.

"It was for your own good," he said. "You need to trust me on that, too. Not just in the bedroom or in a scene."

"Twenty." Tears streaked my cheeks now. "Twenty-one."

"I care for you, Lady Becca. More than just as a sexual, kinky partner. I hope you know that."

I let out a strangled cry as he laid another smack across my raw ass. I had hoped, but I hadn't wanted to assume he felt the same as I did. I tried to sit up to look at him, but I screamed as he hit me even harder.

He tightened his hold on me, ceasing my wiggling. "Keep counting."

"Um...twenty-two."

"I'm serious. I didn't have any expectations going into this."

"Twenty-three."

"Your brother asked me to help. He's a good, close friend. It was the least I could do. I was okay with us parting ways after that week of training. But after you'd left? I felt something was missing. And when Drake called me to say you needed backup for that meeting? That he trusted me enough to take his place? I didn't even hesitate. I know what it is now. You've gotten under my skin. In the best possible way, though. I want you. I need you. I have this unexplainable desire to protect you."

I buried my head in the sheet, our combined scent from our earlier lovemaking infiltrating my head. My chest felt tight. My ass burned from his attempt to relax and punish me at the same time. I could feel the fiery tingle. I didn't want to imagine what it looked like. I'd seen pictures online. The bruising some girls had as a result scared me a little.

"I know we rushed into this. I'm sorry if I'm pushing you too fast. It's just I've never felt like this before with a partner. It's all new for me. To want more than just to train you."

"Twenty-four." If I wasn't imagining it, he suddenly wasn't hitting as hard. "Twenty-five."

"I know you're confused, possibly mad at that man. I'm not sure I understand the situation, but I want you to explain it to me when you're ready."

"Twenty-eight." Oh! That was his hand now. It wasn't as firm, and it was warm.

"I need you to trust me, Lady Becca. Can you do that? Will you do that?"

"Thirty." It came out as a sob, because of his words and because his hand rested on my ass now after the last spank, gently rubbing.

"You can answer."

I gasped for breath as his hand slowly slid down and brushed against the inside of my thigh. On the outside of my thigh, I felt his arousal press against his jeans. "Yes, Sir Malcolm. I want to trust you."

"Am I moving too fast?" His fingers stroked up the crack of my ass, and for once, I did not flinch as he moved over the one area I forbade him to touch. Instead, I moaned.

"May I speak freely?"

"Of course." He stroked again, moving a little further down where I knew I was swollen and wet, and a shudder swept through my body as I stifled a moan against my arm.

He had accomplished his goal: he'd calmed me down. I was no longer as edgy, but a new frustration was setting in. And that would not do.

"I agree, we've moved quite quickly into this relationship. But I'm not complaining." I paused to swallow heavily. Then I heard some sort of sound that was a mix between a moan and a cry when his fingers played at my clit. Oh my! I was making that noise! "Except at the moment, Sir, you're not moving fast enough."

His hand stilled, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. I held my own breath, waiting for the smack of his hand or the hairbrush for being so bold.

Suddenly, he released me so I was laying flat on my stomach, my legs dangling off the side of the mattress. He gripped my hips, yanking me back and up so my knees were on the bed now. I resisted the urge to glance back as I heard the soft clank as he unbuckled his belt; the metallic scrape as he lowered his zipper; and the soft swish and plop as his jeans fell the floor.

His cock pressed at my entrance. He paused for just a moment before he penetrated in a hard thrust. I bit my lip to silence my scream and tasted blood. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, pulling my arms behind my back. He adjusted to hold both wrists in one large hand, and then he gripped my hair.

"Is that better, Lady Becca?" His voice was a deep growl in my ear.

"Oh, God, yes!" I cringed as he pumped his hips once against my ass. Then I screamed at the sudden jolt of pain as his belly rubbed against my overly-sensitized buttocks.

His cock jerked deep inside of me. It felt so good, and the pain receded as he stroked twice, slower, more gently. I moaned, long and deep, relaxing beneath him.

"Good girl."

He said no more, but he was far from silent. His groans combined with my cries. He sped up, hitting hard and deep, and despite the lingering uncomfortable feeling in my nether region, I was enjoying the moment. It was a much-needed respite from what had thrown our morning into a whirlwind.

I concentrated on breathing. On feeling him move inside of me. On his grip on my hands and hair, the latter which he pulled occasionally. I closed my eyes and rode the gentle waves of an orgasm, wishing for more but thankful I'd received something.

Eventually, he withdrew, and I felt the hot stream of his ejaculation on my lower back. He released my hands but not my hair, reached around with his free hand, and proceeded to stroke me—inside and out—with his fingers. I came hard, screaming his name.

I lay still for several minutes, my knees pulled up under me now, my face buried in my arms and the sheets. Malcolm disappeared but returned a moment later with a warm washcloth and cleaned my back. Then he turned me onto my side and climbed into bed behind me, pulling the covers over us.

"Sleep, Lady Becca." Malcolm's warm breath brushed my neck as he planted a kiss there. "We can talk more when you wake."

I mumbled something and snuggled back against him, flinching when his softening cock touched my tender ass. Then I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

###

"Read it to me."

I raised my eyebrows and stared at Malcolm over my glass of wine Sunday evening as we lounged in the Star Wars den. "Is that a question or a command?"

"Will you please read the article to me?"

I hesitated, merely because I didn't really want to ruin the tranquil mood that had set in since this morning's session.

I'd slept most of the afternoon, which had partly to do with my own exhaustion and partly because a thunderstorm had rolled in while he, Master Malcolm, was making me, Lady Becca, relax. The day had been useless outside of bed after that. Now, I had a full belly from take out Thai food, and I didn't want to think about my real life I had to go back to tomorrow. I needed to start cranking out a couple of chapters of my new book before Sue wrote me off as a has-been author. And bringing up the sore subject of the interview and the resulting article just reminded me of what was waiting for me outside this house. Not to mention the fact that I had yet to read said article.

But I obliged and went to retrieve the magazine that had been forgotten in the kitchen. When I returned and sat down again, I clutched it to my chest. "Are you sure about this?"

Malcolm stared at me, his eyes warm and his smile soft. Both were comforting, although they did little to ease the tension in my shoulders now. "I'm serious. Or don't you want me to read it? I can leave you alone to read it first, if you want."

"It's not that..."

"I want to be here for you. To support you. But I can't help you if you don't trust me."

"I do trust you. And I do want you here. But what if it's, you know, bad?"

"Becca, sweetie, surely you've had negative reviews before. You've been a best-selling author for over a decade. Not everyone is going to like your books. He's just a critic."

I frowned. "Not anymore."

"Just read it to me."

"Fine."

I checked the table of contents then flipped through the glossy pages of adult-themed advertisements and articles to page forty-two. I snorted softly. Apparently I wasn't that important or popular to be bestowed a location near the front of the magazine. Would there be a metaphorical knife buried just as deeply in my back from his words?

***** His words have the ability to create a mental picture of the epitome of Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome. To make you feel like you are there beside his characters, experiencing every word, every action. To have you reliving scenes in your head long after the last page has been turned.

Who is this magician who has invaded the cars, bedrooms, and locked bathrooms of women across the country without actually stepping foot inside? He is of course Drake Alexander, author of the seven best-selling novels in the "Dex Knightly Mysteries" series. While his stories aren't on the scale of the widely popular "Fifty Shades" trilogy that has infected the minds of more adult women than teenage girls who have swooned over Edward and Jacob in the "Twilight" saga, Mr. Alexander has carved his own niche into the world of erotic literature while still remaining on the safe side of mainstream writing.

Dex Knightly may be every woman's dream come true, but ladies, hold onto to your corsets, handcuffs, and whips: Drake Alexander is far from who you might imagine him to be.

He is most definitely not a superhuman savior for damsels in distress. Your Dashing Drake is anything but. In fact, I would say he is more...strikingly beautiful. Which, yes, is an odd choice to describe a man. But that is because is he no mere man. In fact, you may have passed him on the street, sat beside him in a restaurant, or stood behind him in line for coffee yesterday morning and never known it.

Some may say that's quite brash for me to say in a magazine such as this where we review and discuss every kinky book known to the underground and even to those vanilla wannabe folks above. Every fictional manuscript—whether a short story or a novel—is full of exaggerated characters and storylines. But what does one do when it is the author who is just as fictional as his hero is?

I have had the exclusive privilege of meeting and interviewing the author behind the illustrious "Dex Knightly Mysteries." If I had to describe him in one word? Enigmatic. As if he was ripped right out of the pages of one of Mr. Knightly's escapades. He is one of those clients with a private past who remains in the shadows for the duration of the novel, never quite revealing his identity and yet never drawing attention to himself.

Fluent in writing style and creative in thought process, Drake Alexander embodies what a successful author should be. He ceases to amaze his readers, as the best-seller lists continue to prove. But do we ever really know our favorite authors? Don't we just assume the picture on the jacket is the true representation of the genius mind cranking out pages upon pages of words that instill excitement, fear, hope, desperation, lust, and a hunger for more in each reader?

Just as covert as his protagonist—depicted as a faceless silhouette in a leather jacket, fedora, and sunglasses on the front cover—Drake Alexander fails to provide an actual picture of himself on the back of his books. Instead, we are treated to an equally elusive side-profile of a shadowy figure in a high-back chair by a blazing fire holding a book. A picture that —regardless of what he looks like—imparts the desire to, "Come sit with me. I'll tell you a story."

No, Drake Alexander does not actually exist. He is in fact, the alter ego of another widely known author. Whom that author is, I am not at liberty to say as I've been sworn to secrecy. But not knowing the truth can be just as arousing as that first experience with a new toy or the first step into the world of BDSM with a trusted partner. The lack of knowledge can be quite the aphrodisiac.

It is my pleasure to share with you my question and answer session with Drake Alexander. Quite possibly, it will only make you more curious about his identity. Hopefully, though, you will be enlightened and will thoroughly enjoy the brief but profound journey into the mind of a writer I can only be left in awe of and give my highest praise to. *****

I admit it; I got choked up a couple of times while reading. When I was done, I heard Malcolm let out a long, deep breath. Yeah. That had not been what I'd been expecting, either. I'd been prepared for Brian to have outted me to the public...and to have to call my lawyer to sue for breach of contract. 

I was pleasantly surprised. The fan mail would be flowing again soon, and I'd have to figure out if and how to answer it. I half wondered if Brian had contacted Sue to try to reach me for a comment.

"Becca?" Malcolm's hand on mine made me look up.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

I lowered the magazine and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the couch. "Yes."

"But?"

"There is no 'but.' I'm fine."

"Trust me. I may have only known you for three weeks, but I can tell when you're hesitating. I'm attuned to you. It's my nature as a Dom, but with you it's even stronger. I can't explain it. But I know there's something you're not saying."

I felt a shiver slither up my back. I had noticed the same thing the last few days, especially when we weren't in a scene. A little touch here, a simple word there. We clicked as I never had with another guy. 




Raw Ch. 04



He took the magazine out of my hands, and then he pulled me toward him, onto his lap. "You're thinking about him, aren't you? Wishing you'd stayed?"

My eyes flew open at that. "No! I do not want to go back to him."

When I tried to pull away, Malcolm tightened his embrace. I finally relented and stopped struggling.

"That's not what I asked."

I glared up at him. "I don't want him. I want you."

"But you were thinking about him?"

"Only that the man who wrote that article was not the man in the restaurant. Not the man in the bedroom."

Malcolm brushed my hair back from my forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I started to shake my head, but I leaned into his touch instead, sighing. "I told you before. He was cold, unemotional. I was in a never-ending scene. It's like he was able to shut himself off with a switch."

"Was he mean to you?"

I thought back to those several hours I'd spent in Brian's bedroom. "No. He was actually quite gentle, although very much in control. As if he had an agenda and wanted to show me everything he knew how to do. But I had no say in what we did except to tell him to stop."

Malcolm said nothing but continued to stroke my hair. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before from me. I felt like I was becoming a CD stuck on repeat.

"He had been polite and professional during the interview. But he didn't talk much during lunch or the time in the car. And when we reached his place, whatever he did say was in commands.

"Well, he is a Dominant."

I lightly punched Malcolm in the chest. "You know what I mean. He didn't ask me questions. Did I like this? Was that too rough? Did I want more? You know? To find out what I could tolerate. It was either take it like he dealt it, or end it and leave."

Malcolm had pressed his cheek to my head, and I felt him nod.

"Obviously he didn't turn me off to the idea of submission, but I just wanted more from him. The only way I can describe it is, I felt like he didn't care about what I thought or felt. He didn't really act like he wanted to get to know me. We had an interview for a few hours the night before, but that was more about my writing, not about me as a person. I don't know if he'd planned to take me back to his place when he first called the next day, but his overall lack of conversation just rubbed me the wrong way. It was a disconnection."

"You want a relationship, not just a fuck buddy. He apparently wanted the latter, disguised as a live-in slave."

I snorted. "As awful as that sounds, I think you hit it right on the head. Do you think I was just looking for a fling, though? A one-night stand? I mean, I barely knew him and I let him take me home and screw me senseless! What kind of person does that? Geesh. I really can't believe I did that."

"Becca, I don't think any less of you for going after something you desired. Maybe you didn't do it in the best way possible, but that's how you learn. Granted we kind of dove in head first ourselves. But we did get to know each other a bit beforehand. And we're backtracking, taking that effort now."

"Yeah." I snuggled against his chest. I felt content when I was with Malcolm. Never rushed, never forced. I sighed deeply, though, unable to shake a thought.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. Don't hide from me. Please. Tell me?"

"Now that I've read his article? To see he could write with such depth? To hint that although Drake Alexander was not all he claimed to be, not knowing the truth might be a good thing? It shows he did care, on some level. He didn't violate my privacy. He held true to our contract. It just bothers me that I didn't see that part of him at all during the time we were together."

"And if you had?"

I turned my head to look up at Malcolm. "It doesn't matter. Although he wrote a great article that will probably increase book sales and my fan base, I can see through him. It's just another façade he puts on to impress people. That's his game. And I want no part of it."

"Good answer." Malcolm pressed his lips to mine. He held my chin in place and stared into my eyes. "And a very wise answer, too."

I smiled and reached my hand up behind his neck to pull him back to me. Our lips touched briefly, then again with more intensity. I moaned and heard him echo my reaction.

We maneuvered so that we were laying side-by-side on the couch, our legs intertwined as we proceeded to make out like school kids. It was absolutely wonderful.

###

"What time is our reservation?" I tucked the end of my towel in above my breasts and tried to comb through my hair while keeping my phone wedge between my shoulder and ear.

"Six-thirty. We're almost to the city. What did you decide to wear?" Malcolm asked from the other end. 

"Not a chance. If I told you it would no longer be a surprise. And if you're driving, I don't want you to have an accident."

"Your brother is driving. And you are a tease."

"So you've told me before. I have to finish getting ready."

"See you soon. Bye."

I shook my head and set the phone down so I could dry my hair.

In the bathroom mirror, as the fog from the hot shower cleared, I could see my bed behind me and the outfit I'd laid on it. I could also see the door to my closet. What I had really wanted to wear was buried in the depths of the shadows: that little blue and black dress, my "just in case" outfit I'd thrown in when I'd stayed at the hotel over a month ago after my interview. I loved that dress. But...

It was also what I had worn for my lunch date with Brian. A date that had turned into something exciting but bizarre and had shaken my world like an earthquake that only I had felt. I hadn't worn stockings or a garter belt, either, since that meeting. Malcolm had asked me once to wear them for a scene, but it just reminded me too much of my time with Brian. I know that Malcolm had said he'd understood. And I loved him for that. I wanted to wear them again, I really did. I felt extra sexy when I dressed like that. I just wasn't ready yet.

I blew out my breath along with the thoughts of Brian. He was gone, out of my life. Sue had not received any more calls from him after I had abruptly ended our dinner. That seemed so long ago. Malcolm had saved the day and my sanity. We'd been together ever since. But this was the first time he was coming to hang out on my turf.

My brother, Drake, had suggested we get together in the city soon, but I kept making excuses. I had spent the last two weekends—along with several days during the week—at Malcolm's house. My work was slacking, and Sue was insistent on at least three chapters by the end of the summer. It was already September next week, and I barely had one chapter completed.

When Drake had called to go out tonight, I'd declined. But Drake wouldn't take no for an answer. He said he was bringing Daphne and Malcolm, and they would kidnap me if necessary.

So here I was, fretting over my clothes and my hair, worried yet excited about what they had planned for the evening. I tripped down the stairs while trying to walk and put on my shoes.

"You look good enough to eat," Malcolm said after I opened the door. He stepped into the foyer, slid a hand around my waist, and pulled me close to nuzzle my neck below my ear. "And smell like it, too."

I laughed and tried to push him away. "I don't think my brother could wait that long. Unless you think he'd be willing to change his plans?"

"No ma'am, sorry." Malcolm kissed my neck, nipping it lightly. "But I've got ideas for later."

"So you like?" I stepped back and twirled around once. My black, knee-length skirt flared out as I turned. I grinned as I saw Malcolm's eyes widen and his tongue dart out to lick his lips in the mirror above the entry table.

"Do that again, but faster."

I obeyed, and he let out a deep growl.

"I like how that skirt comes all the way up. And I love the black thong. You are a tease. I might have to punish you for that. But not right now, because your brother would throttle me for delaying any longer."

I felt the wetness gathering between my legs. "A spanking for wearing a thong?"

"Who said anything about a spanking? Punishment comes in many forms."

Oh my.

"Grab your purse and keys. Let's go." Malcolm turned away from me, but I could still see his reflection.

His eyes closed briefly, and his shoulders shook a little under his black sports jacket. I lowered my gaze to where the jacket hid his ass that I knew looked mighty fine in those dark jeans. My eyes rose up again to stare at the boat-neck of his gray and green graphic T-shirt just as he swallowed. I growled myself now as I saw his Adam's apple bob, and wished we had time to play.

I hid my smile and locked up the condo as we stepped out onto the front stoop. A cool breeze swept past, making my nipples harden against the cups of the dark-red boustier with spaghetti straps I chosen to wear. I was glad I'd thrown a black mini-cardigan over top. I would have been freezing without it. For late August in the city, the nights were getting cooler, reminding us that autumn was on the way.

I exchanged greetings with my brother and his girlfriend-slash-sub, Daphne, as I opened the backseat passenger-side door to Drake's car that was idling at the curb. Malcolm slid in beside me, and then we were off.

"So where are we going after we eat?" I sighed softly as Malcolm took my hand and caressed his fingers over my skin.

"It's a surprise. Not far." Drake winked at me in the rearview mirror and turned up the radio.

I stuck my tongue out at him and turned to smile at Malcolm. "I've missed you."

"Same, here. How's the story going?"

"It's a whole new genre for me. I'm not used to writing explicit sex scenes, or having my stories revolve around a sexual relationship. I've been writing mysteries for five years now. It's fun, just different."

"I think you'll do fine. Are you going to publish under your own name?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Any backlash from the article?" He said it slowly, his voice quieter.

I shook my head. "I don't want to think about that, tonight."

"I understand." He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay."

We arrived at the restaurant and let the valet park the car. Once we were seated inside, the guys mostly talked to each other, and Daphne talked to me about a vacation she and Drake were planning Labor Day weekend. I made a mental note to talk to Malcolm about doing something ourselves. If I could work non-stop for the next two weeks, I could crank out three rough chapters and then break for the long holiday as a reward. Yeah, it was doable.

Our meals came, and talking pretty much ceased as we ate. We had chosen to split a bottle of wine between the four of us, and I was feeling pretty good by the time the waitress cleared our empty plates. Drake insisted on picking up the check, so Daphne and I thought we'd hit the ladies' room before we moved on to the next part of the night.

I pushed my chair back to stand and dropped my napkin on the floor. As I was leaning down to pick it up, Malcolm touched my hand to stop me. I raised my eyes to his, not moving.

"I want you to remove the thong, Lady Becca," he whispered.

I gasped and flinched. He was going to do a scene? Right here? In public?

His grip tightened ever so slightly as I tried to sit up. "Do you trust me?"

I blinked. My heart was thumping in my ears. I was nervous. But suddenly, I was damn horny.

"Take a deep breath."

I just nodded.

"Lady Becca, take a deep breath." Malcolm's hot breath brushed my ear.

This time I breathed in deeply then let it out slowly.

"You'll be fine. Go to the restroom with Daphne, and bring me back your thong. Do not tell her what you are doing."

"Becca, did you change your mind?" Daphne said from my other side.

I swiped up my napkin as soon as Malcolm released my hand, and I turned back to her. "No, let's go."

I have no idea how I managed to walk and not run to the back of the restaurant. There was only one toilet, so we had to take turns. I went first, afraid I'd chicken out if I didn't. When I was done and had tucked my panties into my purse, I stood outside the door and waited for Daphne.

"Well, hello there Ms. Rockland. Or should I say, Drake Alexander?"

I froze and slowly turned from the poster of various pastas I had been reading on the wall. Of all the places to run into Brian...

He whistled low, and I pushed my shoulders back, standing up straighter.

"Ms. Rockland, or Becca, will do fine."

He nodded and his eyes did a very slow sweep from my feet up. Unlike the last time we had met, I felt nothing in the way of arousal as he checked me out...or as I glanced at him in his ever-present suit and tie. Maybe I was over him. That would be wonderful. My head could be at peace now whenever I did something with Malcolm that I had done with Brian. I could wear my favorite dress again. And stockings!

"Did you get your copy of the article?"

I let a soft smile escape. "Yes, I did. Thank you."

Brian gave a barely noticeable nod. "I take it you liked it?"

I shifted my clutch purse to under my left arm and suddenly remembered I had no panties on. I must have blushed, because he chuckled.

"You were surprised, weren't you?"

"I was." I couldn't think of anything else to say, especially since I realized Daphne was still in the restroom. Did Malcolm and Drake wonder why we hadn't returned yet?

"Have you had a lot of responses? Questioning fans? Irate ones that didn't know their hero, their fantastic mystery writer, didn't really exist?"

I frowned. "Yes, no thanks to you. But I've gotten quite a few letters from those who felt the same way as you do...that not knowing my true identity added onto the whole mystery. It's all part of being a writer. At the end of the day, the good outweighs the bad."

"Darling, just because I wrote something doesn't mean that's how I feel." He reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I had a job to do. And you limited me, so I spun it a different way. That's all."

I flinched and stepped back, right into the wall. "I figured as much. You were callous during the interview and especially after, then you write what could only be called a complimentary article. But I see the truth now. Under the surface of all that glamorous 'I promised not to tell' façade, you've intentionally planted doubt in my readers. You may be the most calculating man I have ever met. How I could have even thought—"

"Really? You've thought of me?" His rare grin widened.

For the first time, I saw an evilness lurking behind his eyes. I scoffed. "You look like a normal business man in an Armani suit. But you're really a diabolical monster who gets a thrill out of bringing innocent women to their knees with your false charms and amazing cock. Except when you don't get your way."

"Amazing cock? Wow. You know," he stepped toward me, making me press harder against the wall, "if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were sorry you left. You want me to take you home, Becca? To show you what it's really like to be chased?"

My hand clenched in a fist. And I started to raise it, but he stopped it with his own hand. His strong fingers wrapped around mine, but I refused to release my tension.

He clicked his tongue at me. "Now, now, Becca. You don't want to cause a scene."

"Let go of me." It came out as a growl. Partly because I couldn't understand what was taking Daphne so long.

"I think we could work on this animosity you have towards me. Maybe introduce you to a whip or a flogger. I mean, I could have outted you, but I was a gentleman. And this is how you repay me?"

"We have a contract. I would have sued you."

"That would have been fun in court. I have more money than God does, darling. You're not the first person who wanted an NDA. I have great lawyers. When you get right down to it, I'm a journalist. I just write for a prestigious, erotic magazine."

"You're an asshole!"

"Now there's something we haven't tried yet. I can rectify that. But first, I think I should write a follow-up piece for the September issue. Now that I've stirred up the pot a bit, I should tell them all about the true Drake Alexander. How she was just a has-been romance writer and had to change her name to sell her books. You can hide out at my place until the frenzy dies down, and we'll work on those things I told you about."

"You wouldn't—"

He kissed me suddenly, and I did the first thing I could think of. I kneed him in the groin.

Brian dropped my hand and let out a gurgle of a groan. As he stepped back and turned away, a fist came out of nowhere and punched him square in the jaw.

I looked up and saw Malcolm standing there, shaking his hand.

"The lady said to let her go."

My legs gave out, and Malcolm was there to catch me. A door opened beside me, and I blinked through the sudden tears in my eyes. Daphne started to crouch down next to me, but Malcolm shooed her off.

"Are you okay, Becca?" He helped me stand, then he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and dabbed it at my cheeks. "Hold it in until we get out of here, okay? You can cry in the car."

I nodded and sniffled once. "I'm fine. Just a little rattled."

We turned to exit the hallway only to find ourselves facing a police officer and the owner of the restaurant.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" The officer looked at me and then at Brian who was still on the floor but had managed to sit up and brace his back against the wall. "Is this the man who assaulted you?"

I started to shake my head; I didn't want to make an issue of this. But then I saw Daphne standing behind the officer, subtly waving her iPhone back and forth. I clamped my mouth shut, took a deep breath, and then nodded.

"Yes, Sir, I was waiting for my friend who was in the restroom when he grabbed my hand, shoved me against the wall and forced himself on me. When he kissed me, I kneed him."

"Do you know him?"

"Only in passing." I clamped my mouth shut before I let too much spill. Now was not the time or the place, if ever.

"Did you punch him?" The corner of the officer's mouth twitched. The restaurant owner's eyes widened.

"No, Sir. That was my boyfriend. He showed up right after."

"Would you like to press charges, ma'am?"

I hesitated only a second. Without even blinking—but forcing myself not to smile—I nodded.

Which is how the four of us found ourselves at the police station filing a complaint instead of going wherever the boys had planned after dinner. I knew Drake would never let me live this one down.

They divided us up to get our own versions of the altercation, and I was able to talk to a woman detective. When she asked me if I knew Brian and why he would have attacked me, I was resistant. But she eventually convinced me it was better to be upfront, so I told her everything. Who I was, who Drake Alexander was, and who Brian Hughes was. I didn't go into the kinky details, but now one more person knew my secret. She didn't show much of a reaction except the occasional sympathetic smile.

When we were done, she asked if I wanted to see a paramedic. I said no, the ice they had given me for my knee was fine. I also declined a restraining order. I waited in the lobby with Drake while the police talked to Malcolm and Daphne, and I finally got the other side of what had been happening while Brian accosted me.

"So Daphne was in the bathroom the whole time taping it?" I snorted and leaned my head on my brother's shoulder. "I thought maybe she had fallen in."

Drake chuckled. "She said she was opening the door to leave when she heard someone talking to you. She sent a text to me, saying you were talking about some article. I knew it had to be Brian. I told her to video tape it. We were thinking blackmail, you know?"




Raw Ch. 04



"She's a good sub, isn't she?" I smiled up at him, and he put his arm around me.

"She's the best, sis. And a whole lot more."

"How did the cop get involved?"

"One of the cooks heard the commotion and called the owner who was up front. The cop had gotten off duty and was picking up food to go. Just perfect timing."

I shook my head. "I'll say."

Malcolm and Daphne joined us fifteen minutes later. An officer took us back to the restaurant to get Drake's car. None of us said anything until we were back on the road. Suddenly, Daphne started laughing. Then Drake. Then Malcolm, who pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. Finally, I joined in.

"I'm so sorry guys. I know you had this whole night planned. Just what were we going to do?"

Drake pulled over into a rare parking spot and let the car idle as he turned to face us in the backseat. "It was a play party someone I know was hosting. You didn't have to participate, but we thought you'd like to see some other things that are out there in the world of kinkiness."

"That's so sweet. Thank you Drake. Is the party over already?"

"No, but they lock the doors after a certain time for privacy and the security of the participants."

"Well, damn."

"Do you want us to take you home, Becca?" Malcolm held my hand now, his thumb brushing back and forth over the top.

"I don't know—"

"We could go to a club," Daphne said. She turned in her seat as well. "I mean, we're all dressed up, and it's Friday night in the city."

"I'm up for that," I shrugged. "But I don't know where to go. I can think of only Excalibur, but—"

"Malcolm?" Drake said. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Malcolm glanced at me then nodded. "Do you remember how to get there?"

Drake just smiled and pulled the car back out into traffic.

"Where are we going?" I tried to look outside, but Malcolm grasped my chin and turned me back to him.

"It's a surprise." He kissed me softly.

Twenty minutes later, we were still in the city. Yet, like that first lunch date I'd had with Brian, it was a part of the city I had never been to before. It looked like the old meatpacking district on the south side. But in the darkness?

Drake parked in a lot with at least thirty other cars, and we crossed the street to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The front door was metal and squealed as he opened it. Once we were inside, we went down a dimly lit hallway just a couple of feet before we reached another door. Malcolm pressed a button on the wall, and a buzzing sound echoed in the narrow room. A moment later, a little window in the door opened.

"Can I help you?" A deep voice asked, but I could see no one there.

Malcolm held up his driver's license and another card to the window. The window closed suddenly. We were back in silence.

"Um, what is this place?" I shivered a little and moved closer to Malcolm. "And who was that?"

"Shh, it's okay." Malcolm rubbed his hand up and down my bare arm.

I turned to see Daphne casually leaning against Drake, as if she didn't have a care in the world except that she was with him. Okay, if they weren't concerned, I shouldn't be either, right?

Just when I figured we'd wasted our time, the door buzzed again and then opened.

"After you, Master Malcolm," Drake chuckled.

I tried to glance at my brother, but Malcolm led me through the door. A dark man sat at a small desk just inside. On the desk was a phone and a clipboard. The only light was a small lamp, and I could see the man's black hands playing a game on an iPhone. Malcolm ushered me past and down another dark corridor, this one lined with white rope lights in wavy designs on the walls.

My heels and Daphne's clicked on the cement floor. I let out a nervous giggle, thinking about what had transpired thus far tonight. What else would the night bring?

At the end of the hall was yet another door. Malcolm opened it, and loud music blared out. As we stepped through the doorway, I saw the place was lit up by throbbing and dancing neon lights, most of them situated over a stage at the far side of the room where it looked like a DJ was set up. The floor was covered with people dancing.

"Is it just a club?" I gripped Malcolm's hand, afraid we'd be separated.

"Sort of." Drake stepped up beside us, and I noticed Daphne was grinning and rocking on her feet.

"Okay, what am I missing?" I looked around again. It was just regular old dance club to me, albeit in an abandoned building and you needed a secret password or handshake to enter.

Daphne reached out and grabbed my hand. "It's a BDSM club, Becca. You can just dance and chat, or find an empty room and well, you know."

I spun around to stare at Malcolm. "Is she serious?"

Malcolm scratched his head. "Um, yeah. Are you too freaked out?"

I slowly glanced around the spacious room again. "No, it looks normal enough to me."

"How about we get a seat and some drinks?" Drake pointed to a wall of tables off to our right.

We got situated at a square table with a black tablecloth that seemed to melt right into the floor. Drake took our orders and walked off to a brightly lit bar near the stage.

"This is where I first met Drake. Malcolm, too," Daphne said. She kept looking around, bouncing a little in her chair. "God, I miss coming here."

"Really?" I smiled at Malcolm. This was his old stomping grounds? I felt privileged. "I didn't know you used to live in the city."

"It's been a long time. I lived in a different suburb. I used to go to munches all the time. Sometimes we'd come here afterwards to relax. First time I met your brother, it was at a munch in Downer's Grove. After about the third one, he came with us here. I introduced him to a couple of girls. He just didn't hit it off with anyone though."

Daphne giggled. "Not until you introduced him to me."

"How right you are." Malcolm gave her a smile and turned back to me. "We couldn't take you to the play party, so this is the next best thing. You can't watch anyone in a scene, but you can relax and enjoy the music. Dance if you like. Just be warned, this isn't for the faint of heart. People really bump and grind out there. It's a place where they can feel free to let loose of their inhibitions."

"Here we go," Drake said, setting a tray on the tabletop with two martini glasses of a neon blue liquid and two bottles of beer. There were also four glow-in-the-dark red circles on the tray.

"What are those for?" I picked up one circle and realized it was a rubber bracelet.

"Put it on." Malcolm grabbed one and put it on his left wrist. Daphne and Drake did the same. "It's an indicator that you are taken. Green means you are open for a partner or connection, and yellow means you are just visiting or looking. Helps people know in the dark if you're approachable or not."

"Oh, gotcha." I sipped my tropical-flavored martini—something Daphne had suggested but I couldn't remember the name—and sat back, letting the beat of the music invade my head.

"I want to dance," Daphne said, taking Drake's hand.

Drake took a swig of his beer and stood. "As you wish, my lady."

I laughed and waved as they headed to the dance floor.

Malcolm scooted his chair around the table so he was next to mine. From where we sat, we could see the stage, but a wall to my left blocked the entrance. The tables to the right of us were empty. Not that anyone could see anything it was so dark. The flashing lights were mostly centered on the dance floor, but occasionally they bounced our way. The only constant lighting near us were the dull glow from rope lights along the baseboard.

He took my left hand his hand, and his thumb caressed my skin. "Are you really okay with this?"

"Yes, I am." I took another drink. "I might even get up and dance with you."

"Might you now?"

I just grinned.

For the next half hour, we listened to the music or chatted with Daphne and Drake when they chose to join us again. I had never known my brother to be so into dancing. Then again, what guy wouldn't if he had Daphne beside him?

She'd worn a blue, sleeveless, corseted top that emphasized her eyes and white jeans and heels with a white denim jacket to finish it off. She'd ditched the latter as soon as we'd entered the club, but she was quite noticeable out on the dance floor, especially when the blacklights came on. Drake, on the other hand, blended in, but he was just as easy on eyes in his jeans and dark T-shirt with an open dress-shirt over top as a jacket. I'd never paid much attention to his style before. It was very much like Malcolm's, but still his own. If I hadn't thought so before, Drake and Daphne made an excellent couple.

Malcolm offered to get the next round of drinks. While he was gone, I got the dance bug as a modified version of a familiar tune thumped through the speakers somewhere above us. As soon as he put the tray of drinks down, I stood and removed my sweater. I rounded the table and walked backwards to the dance floor, curling my finger at him with a wink. He shucked off his jacket and met me, taking my hand and leading me the rest of the way.

We started on the edge of the crowd, just kind of swaying to the beat in our own way. But as the crowd moved, so did we. Soon, we found ourselves in the middle of the mass of bodies that pressed together in ways that made Baby's first glimpse of the worker's hangout in "Dirty Dancing" look like junior prom.

At first, I had seen a couple of yellow bracelets when we were on the outskirts of the dance area. But now, buried in the throng of dancers, it was like a Christmas tree. Hands were everywhere, rubbing and teasing—on asses and breasts and groins mixed with holding hair and hips and other hands—all accentuated by the swirling glow of red and green bracelets. I was entranced by the beauty of it all. The "I don't care who sees me" attitude by most everyone.

The song changed to something slower but still with a heavy beat. I got lost in the rhythm. When Malcolm wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him, I closed my eyes. His thigh slid between mine, and I moaned. With one arm around his neck, I slowly humped his leg.

He kissed me, his tongue teasing my lips before pressing for entrance. I opened to him, felt his tongue flick against mine. One hand pressed against my back, supporting me, while the other caressed my ass over my skirt.

The hand on my ass eventually slid up my side and cupped my breast. Through the material, I felt his thumb skim over my nipple. I cried out, arching away from him. But his body followed mine, arching into me, and he sucked on my lower lip, gently biting as if to keep hold of me.

When we weren't kissing, I was watching a couple over his shoulder. The woman had her back to her male partner and appeared to be grinding her ass against his crotch. One of his hands was down the front of her pants. She had her head flung back against his shoulder, and his head was bent forward, nuzzled against her neck. She gripped his arm that he had wrapped around her chest. Her other hand was occupied with her breast as she groped herself through her shirt.

Malcolm continued to tease and arouse me as the music pulsed on and the dancers pressed in around us. I continued to watch the couple. And as my boyfriend touched me in ways I would never have previously allowed in public, I experienced another breakthrough moment in the realm of kinkdom.

In the middle of a dance floor of a secret BDSM club in downtown Chicago, I had an orgasm. And no one could hear my screams of pleasure.

Malcolm held me close as I rode out the waves. It wasn't nearly as strong as skin-to-skin contact or having intercourse, but it left me shaking and my knees weak.

When I'd calmed down, he led me back to our table and pushed my drink towards me. The shadows and lights played across his features, and I suddenly envisioned him as Dex Knightly. Dark and debonair, yet not overly so. And I wanted to be one of his conquests like I'd dreamed up in the seven different plots I'd created for him.

No, wait. I wanted to be his only conquest. The ultimate one.

He sipped his beer and stared at me.

I giggled. "What?"

"Can I see your purse?"

I slowly lowered my glass, remembering what I had done at the restaurant. "Why?"

He tilted his head down, and I didn't need the lights to know he had raised an eyebrow. "Lady Becca?"

I gulped. Then I gave him my small clutch. I held my breath while he opened the snap closure and stuck his hand inside. Ever so slowly, he pulled out my black thong. The lights on the dance floor flashed away from our area, and all I could see was his red bracelet rising from the table up to his face. I moaned softly then. He was sniffing my panties.

"Very good, Lady Becca." His voice was low and rough when he leaned toward me.

An idea suddenly hit me. I don't know where it came from, and I didn't take the time to second-guess it. Not caring if anyone could see me, I quickly slid under the table, making sure the tablecloth covered my feet. I heard Malcolm call my name, but I didn't answer. I was too busy folding my sweater and placing it between my knees and the cement floor.

I put my hands on his thighs, and his hands met mine. Our fingers laced together for a brief moment. I skipped any preliminaries and quickly undid his belt and zipper. He adjusted his hips a little until I was able to pull his cock free.

I wrapped one hand around my boyfriend's—my Master's—cock and slid the crown into my mouth.

I squeezed my hand tight as I pumped, bobbing my head as I sucked, thankful that the table was tall and I didn't hit my head. I thought of Malcolm and how he had danced with me. How he'd brought me to climax out there amongst all those strangers.

I poured out my gratitude into worshipping his cock. Slowly caressing, sucking, and licking. Sometimes just part of his cock, sometimes as much of his thick shaft that I could fit into my mouth.

When he tried to grab my hair and guide me, I pushed his hands away. No, not this time. This time it was all me. He could punish me later for topping, but I owed him this. He needed to know what his presence made me want to do to him.

The more I pleasured him, the more aroused I became. The more I realized that this was a club for kinky people like me—like us. That yes, we had done some racy dancing, but this was different. This was borderline taboo. Granted I was hiding beneath a tablecloth, but we were still in public, and I was giving him a blowjob!

He knew it. I knew it. And God, it made me horny.

As I stroked, I watched my bracelet move in the darkness, pumping the air as I pumped Malcolm's glorious cock. I rested my arms on his thighs, felt the powerful muscles flexing as he tried not to take over and rock his hips into my face.

The music changed to a new song, and I paused as I heard Daphne and Drake talking. I smiled and returned to teasing the eye of Malcolm's cock with the tip of my tongue, licking up the precum. I heard them ask where I was, and Malcolm lied. I don't know how he did it with such an even tone. He said I had gone to the restroom. Daphne joked and wanted to know if she needed to go rescue me with her phone again. They all laughed, and then Drake and Daphne said they'd be back in a bit, for the two of us to have fun.

I had just slid his cock fully into my mouth again when Malcolm's hands gently pushed my face away from him. He grasped one of my hands and tugged. I groaned in disappointment as I watched him put his cock away. I wiped the back of my hand against my mouth and retrieved my sweater.

Malcolm was standing when I emerged from under the table. He gestured to my drink, and I downed it, unable to keep my eyes off his clenched jaw that the flashing lights kept highlighting. Without a word, he handed me my purse and took my hand.

I flinched. I was in trouble. For good or bad remained to be seen.

I gasped as he weaved his way through the dancers to a red-lit doorway on the far wall instead of toward the exit as I had expected. Red crystal-like beads hung down creating a curtain, and he roughly pushed them aside. They tinkled as they fell back into place behind us. There was a flight of stairs on the other side, and he ascended with me in tow.

I didn't try to speak. I was still a little in shock about what I had done; what we had done. And a little miffed that he hadn't let me bring him to release as he had for me. He must really be mad. This surely couldn't be all about his earlier promise to punish me for wearing the thong. Especially since said thong was no longer on my body. I hoped he hadn't left it at our table.

At the top of the winding stairs was a long corridor filled with more red-lit doorways. However, these had doors. Most were closed, and Malcolm proceeded down the hall until he came to an open one. With a grunt, he pulled me inside and closed the door, locking it.

The base of the music was a dull thump beneath our feet. The room looked gray until I heard a soft click and dim, yellow light lit up around the borders of the ceiling. I could see the outline of a bed at the far end of the room. The room itself was small but also held a couch and a long narrow table as well as a bench similar to what Brian had concocted. On the wall behind Malcolm, there was a rack with a variety of whips, floggers, and paddles.

"You do have my panties, right?" I asked, shuddering. I turned around to see him unbuttoning his pants.

"Yes. Now, shh, Lady Becca."

I moaned, not sure if he could hear me, or if that counted as 'not being quiet.' I started to unhook my boustier, but he slapped my hand away.

"No, leave it on."

I didn't have a chance to question him as he suddenly rushed me and slammed my back against the wall, knocking the breath out of me despite the thin padding I felt there. His teeth, lips, and tongue assaulted my mouth. It was delicious.

His hands yanked my skirt up, wrapped around my thighs, and lifted my body, spreading my legs wide.

I whimpered as cool air teased my bared sex.

"Mine," was all he said as he broke the kiss and lowered me hard and fast onto his cock.

I screamed and instantly came while trying to grip him with my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Somehow, I managed to ride out the wave and hold on for dear life as he fucked me against the wall.

When he was done, when we'd both come together, he carried me over to the bed, still joined. I curled into his body, shaking, and he massaged and caressed my back and shoulders as I crashed. I'd had scenes with him where I'd been worse than this, like the first time we'd had a scene at my place. But this was different. The whole thing at the restaurant and with the police. The dance with the resulting orgasm. Sucking his cock under the table. Being drug through dark halls and unceremoniously screwed in a public room.

I'd had surge after surge of adrenaline, and I was coming down. Fast.

I cried. He soothed. And when I could talk again, I asked him what had just happened.

"You." He kissed my jaw. "You obeyed and gave me the panties. You trusted me, even though I could see the fear in your eyes. You held your ground and fought back when it came to dealing with Brian. You let me dance with you. Really dance. And then you got under that table..."

"I'm sorry if I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to thank you. For rescuing me. Again. And for that dance. My brother couldn't see me, could he? They didn't know I was there, right?"

Malcolm shook his head.

"Oh, thank God."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He kissed me softly. "And I was thanking you."

I let out a tired laugh. "Oh, is that what that was?"

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," he said with a growl.

He kissed me a little deeper, and I felt his cock thicken against my thigh. His hand slid under my skirt and rubbed my clit. I mewled like a kitten. He swallowed my cry as he pressed his cock up into my waiting pussy. I felt a shudder as we connected fully once more, then I relaxed around him.




Raw Ch. 04



Slowly, gently, he made me come again and again until I said I understood what he had been telling me.

To be honest, I had heard him the first time. But he had called me a tease. I couldn't disappoint him now, could I?

~ H



Raw Ch. 05



I hadn't thrown a temper-tantrum in over thirty years. Yet one little word had sparked that rebellious nature I was sure I had outgrown.

"I'm sorry, Becca. It's just not possible. That's the last I'm going to say about this."

I opened my mouth but clamped it shut again when Malcolm tilted his head down and shook it once. I wanted to whine, "But why?" And he knew it. Damn him.

I returned to the yellow pad of paper on which I was trying to finish my rough draft of Chapter One. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about last night at the restaurant, at the private club, and about this morning. How he could lift me up so high, and with one word, "No," I could tumble so far.

My heart felt deflated. I pretended to write even though I was mulling over my disappointment. In my head, I had my arms crossed and my bottom lip stuck out as I glared at the "adult" in the room who had denied me what I wanted.

When I heard the rustle of the newspaper, I peeked up to see him carefully fold it and set it aside before he got up to refill his coffee mug. I was admiring his ass in his jeans while sticking my tongue out at his back when a stampede of elephants and monkeys came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen. Well, it sounded like one, even though it was just Drake chasing Daphne.

"Good morning," Daphne said breathlessly as she danced around one end of the island. Drake paced around the other: the lion hunting the gazelle. She squealed when he outsmarted her and grabbed her around the waist, nuzzling her neck.

"Get a room," I mumbled.

"Been there, done that," Drake grinned.

I tried to ignore them as I sipped my milk-and-sugar doctored cup of caffeine. But they continued to horse around and eventually bumped into my chair. I saved the legal pad before the hot liquid sloshed over the side of my cup and onto the table.

When Drake plopped down into the chair next to me, Daphne perched herself on his knee. "I wish it were Labor Day already. I can't wait two weeks. Can you imagine? Three whole days of being your slave?"

"The opportunities are endless," Drake said, adding a feisty growl.

I jabbed my pencil at the paper and broke the lead. "Oh, fuck it." With a grunt, I shoved my chair back and stomped to the foyer.

"What's with her?" I heard Drake ask. I didn't hear Malcolm's response.

Upstairs, I grabbed my laptop, notes, and my everyday-purse after transferring the essentials from the clutch I'd used last night. I paused when I pulled my thong out, feeling tears in my eyes. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tossed the barely-there panties aside. I was heading back down when I noticed Malcolm leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs.

"Going somewhere?" He stood up straighter, as if to block me if necessary.

"To my office, where it's quiet and free from distractions." I stopped two steps above him and adjusted the straps of my laptop bag and purse on my shoulder.

"Is this because I won't go away with you for the Labor Day Weekend?"

"See, you said 'wont,' not 'can't.' You don't really—"

"Stop it. You're acting childish. It's not becoming."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd like to take me across your knee right now."

He ascended one step so we were nose-to-nose. "Becca! I told you, school starts next Monday. I always use that long weekend to adjust my lesson plans after the first two weeks of classes. It's important. You're welcome down to come to my house, I just can't go out of town for that long."

"Understood." I pushed by him and retrieved my keys from the hall table. "Stay as long as you like. Drake knows how to lock up."

"Come on, Becca." Malcolm grabbed my wrist as I reached for the door handle. I froze, and he must've realized what he'd done—what that action meant to me—because he let go as if my skin were on fire. "I'm sorry. Please. Don't go."

"I have a deadline. I have work to do. I'm sure you can understand that."

He let me leave. But as the front door shut behind me, I felt a pang in my chest. I had never been mean to him before. I started to turn around and apologize, but I heard everyone laughing inside. I knew they weren't laughing at me, but I still was hurt. As if I were back on the outside of the group again...and whatever I had said or done to him mattered so little that he could move on that quickly to something humorous. I prayed he would open the door and come after me, but it remained closed.

All the way into the office, I wondered if the past few weeks had just been a crazy, kinky fling. Were we merely playing roles? And now, when reality—disguised as our jobs—came knocking, we went our separate ways?

Although my schedule as a writer was flexible, his as a teacher wasn't most of the year. He couldn't take off on a weekend getaway at will. He had priorities that trumped time with me.

I knew that. I understood. I just didn't like it.

Was I so selfish that I wouldn't allow myself to adapt? To compromise? To fully submit? And would my resistance be my own demise?

###

I was depressed. And when I was depressed, my characters were depressed.

They reflected my moods, and sometimes my own life. Which resulted in some interesting dialogue and scenes. Today, though, it wasn't for the good. And it was frustrating me.

After revising the same scene ten times and then deleting it, I wandered from my home office to my bedroom across the hall. I leaned against the doorjamb and took in the windows flanking the headboard where a cool, night breeze fluttered the curtains and made the Roman shades tap lightly against the frame. On my bed, the duvet was partially on the floor; the top sheet was balled in one corner; and the two feather pillows were piled in another.

I hadn't slept well last night. Or the night before. Truth be told, I hadn't slept well since our fight. 

The first time Malcolm had made love to me was on that bed. I'd been mortified that someone would be able to hear us with the windows open. Then I had thrown caution to the wind and embraced whatever he'd told me to do. 

I tried to remember the last time Malcolm and I had been in here.

I'd had sex with Brian in mid-July; met Malcolm two days later; and had sex with him for the first time the following weekend. He'd taken me to the private, kinky nightclub a couple of weeks before Labor Day. It had to have been eight weeks since he'd been to Chicago...since I'd digressed to be six instead of thirty-six.

School had started again for him in August. I had gone to visit him for a couple of weekends in September, but both times there had been a lot of tension between us. I just hadn't been into the scenes. I'd almost used the safeword just to end it the last time. We continued to talk on the phone, but every time he suggested getting together again, I had given him the same excuse: I was too busy writing to go visit.

While I had been busy—I'd gotten ten chapters written in those same eight weeks—it wasn't to the point that I couldn't have made time for him. I was still holding a grudge that we hadn't gone away for the extended Labor Day Weekend. I couldn't remember ever having been so...stubborn.

He was never able to come to see me. I had to go there if we wanted to get together. I wasn't really down for the idea of trying to fit in sex between lesson plans and grading papers. So I guess I'd made myself unavailable to spite him.

But as I stared at my bed—as I tried to imagine him lying there—my chest tightened. I longed to sleep beside him again. To wake up naked with his arms around me. To feel his hands, and lips, and cock on my skin.

I ached for him to be buried so deep within me I felt as if we were one. We hadn't talked in a week, and I hadn't seen him in three. I tried to remember his voice. His touch. His scent.

I slid to the floor, crying. I missed him. Terribly.

It had been all about me and not about him. I wasn't taking his life—his feelings—into consideration. I had expected him to drop everything for me. It's how I'd lived my life up until recently, and it had worked. Well, sort of.

But Malcolm? He wasn't my normal kind of guy to date. He wasn't my normal anything. And that's what made him so special. I had ruined it, though. Was there any way to repair what had been done?

The doorbell rang, and I scrambled to my feet, wiping my tears away. I almost fell down the stairs in my haste to get to the front door. When I finally grasped the handle, the door didn't budge. I cursed, turned the deadbolt, and tried the handle again.

"Malc—"

"Well, hello sunshine." Daphne's grin faltered for a moment as she pushed past me into the foyer.

"Uh, hi." I stepped outside and looked around.

"It's just me."

I blinked and came back inside, closing the door. I checked my watch. Six o'clock. "Not to seem inhospitable, but why? I mean, why are you are here?"

"Because you, my dear, need a break," Daphne said, dropping a bulging backpack on the floor and heading up the stairs. "Drake suggested we have a little impromptu vaca together. Just you and I."

"Where are we—I mean you—going?"

"To pack you a bag." She disappeared from my sight, but I heard her singsong voice floating from the direction of my bedroom. "You better come along or you won't have a choice about what you're going to wear."

"Shit." I tripped up the stairs and found her in my closet pushing hangers around. "Let me do that. Give me a clue where going?"

"You'll need pants. Maybe shorts. Definitely a sweater." She paused to turn around and look at my legs. "Have you shaved recently?"

I blushed as I glanced down and shook my head. I'd had no reason to shave. Not since September 21st.

I remembered that day clearly. I'd gotten up early, taken a long bath and shaved—everything—hoping that it would make me feel more sexy. I'd had high-hopes all the way to Wheaton. But a smooth pussy and legs hadn't helped because I was still carrying that grudge. I'd resisted every command he'd given me to the point that he had finally ended the scene prematurely...before either of us had climaxed. I'd left that night and driven back to the city feeling even more frustrated.

Now, looking back, I knew it was all my fault. Dammit. When would I learn?

"Jump in the shower, Becca. Trust me with your clothes."

I glanced between my closet and the bathroom. "But—"

"Go. Or I'm not packing any underwear."

"Geesh." I yanked off my shirt and finished stripping once I'd turned on the water.

Twenty minutes later, I actually felt better than I had in days. And I had smoother legs. I ran a comb through my hair to remove any tangles, then I braided it in one long plait down my back. It would dry faster that way, and it would make my hair nice and bouncy for later. Whatever and wherever 'later' was.

When I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Daphne was reclining in the oversized chair I kept in the corner by the window. The floor lamp behind the chair cast a yellow glow over her tanned skin. My no-bigger-than-a-large-purse duffel bag that I used when I went to the gym—which hadn't been in quite a long time—was seated at her feet.

"That's all I'm taking?" I bent to unzip it to see what she had packed, but she gently kicked her sandaled foot at my hand.

"Uh, uh." She swiped her finger across the screen of her iPhone, her eyes on the phone as well. "I laid an outfit for you on the bed. Bring me all of your toiletries then get dressed."

I raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were a submissive."

"Only in the bedroom, darling." She glanced up with a wink. "Well, usually only in the bedroom." 

I shook my head and obeyed, merely out of curiosity. I gathered hair products and cosmetics, tossed them on the bed, then snagged the articles she'd selected for me to wear. Five minutes later, I re-emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a blouse, thankfully with panties and bra underneath.

We were in a taxi on the way to O'Hare Airport when I ventured to inquire about our travels again. But her phone rang, cutting my attempt short. So I turned my attention out the window and watched the buildings and people zip by under the city lights while she listened to a mostly one-sided conversation.

She didn't shut off her phone until the taxi stopped to let us out.

I grabbed my bag and purse and slid out after Daphne. However, once I was on the curb, I refused to budge until I had more answers.

Daphne continued on, not realizing I wasn't behind her until she'd gone several feet inside the door. I watched her stop, look around, and then realize I was still outside. With a grimace, she huffed back through the automatic sliding door. I wondered if my brother would punish her if I told him she had basically kidnapped me. That made me grin.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Daphne said with a deep sigh once we were face-to-face again. "We're going to miss our flight."

"I'm not moving until I know where we're going."

"You know, you're horrible with surprises. Just trust me."

"Sorry, I only trust three people in my life right now. Sue, my agent and editor. Drake, my brother and confidant. And Malcolm, my boyfriend and lover."

I frowned after naming the last one. Just saying his name sent tiny shudders through my nether region. God, I missed Malcolm. I should be on my way to see him to apologize for my selfishness. But no, I was standing in an airport with a bag that could barely hold enough clothes for one night much less any extended stay that required an airplane to get me there.

"Becca? Just do it. You won't regret it."

I wanted to stomp my foot and pout. But her glare made me flinch, and I wondered if she ever switched with Drake. A woman topping my hard-headed, dominant brother? Now that would be interesting to see, even if we were related.

I sucked it up and followed her inside. When I started toward the ticket line, she grabbed my arm and tugged me in the other direction. "Don't we need our tickets?"

"I have our boarding passes printed already. We just have to get through security."

"Oh, okay. That's being efficient."

We were only in line for five minutes when I glanced at Daphne and noticed her grimacing again.

"What now? I'm doing what you told me to. I haven't asked where we're going. I'm trying to trust you—"

"I don't feel so good."

"Oh, God, no." I looked for the nearest restroom and started to leave the line.

"No, keep our place! I'll be right back." Daphne glanced at the woman behind us who nodded with a sympathetic smile as assurance that she would let Daphne jump back in line. "Take your boarding pass. Worst case, I'll meet you on the other side, okay?"

I bit my lower lip. It wasn't right to get separated, especially under these circumstances. "Daphne, really. I'll go with you."

"No!" Daphne's eyes widened and she shook her head. "I won't be long. I swear."

"Um, okay. You have my cell. If you're really sick, you call me, okay? We can cancel the trip."

"Just stay in line, okay?"

I nodded. "Call me?"

"Will do."

I watched with a heavy heart as she walked away. I prayed she'd be fine on her own.

The line moved quicker than I was used to seeing, or maybe that was just because I was nervous. I clutched my boarding pass and driver's license in one hand and my phone in the other. As the line grew shorter, I shuffled my duffle bag forward with my feet, glancing between the restrooms and the male security officers who were on my side of the metal detector gate and wore constant frowns.

I was getting worried when there were only five people ahead of me and Daphne still hadn't returned. I was still trying to decide if I should step out of line when I was up next.

"All belongings in the bin, ma'am," one of the officers said with his hand out.

I gave him my paperwork and ID, deposited my bag and phone in the black plastic bin, and stepped forward to go through the body scanner. Until I ran into his thick arm.

"Remove your shoes, ma'am."

I tried not to roll my eyes as I toed off my sandals and set them on the conveyer belt. While my shoes had been quite pricey, there wasn't that much material to them that would allow one to hide any weapons. But I would humor him.

Barefoot and feeling a bit sick to my own stomach now on the whereabouts of my traveling companion, I passed through the scanner without issue. It took only a minute to get my shoes back on and my duffle bag and purse slung over my shoulder.

The lady who had been behind me the whole time patted me on my shoulder as she grabbed her belongings. "Good luck. I hope your friend is okay."

I thanked her and stared at my blank phone. I almost got ran over by a family of four as I tried to get back to the bullet-proof glass partitions and conglomerate of electronic security machines separating the waiting passengers from those who had already passed the checkpoint. I could see the waiting line, and Daphne wasn't in it.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I mumbled after dialing her number.

It rang four times then went to voicemail. I cursed under my breath and dialed again. I'd never hated voicemail more than I did right now. I had just punched the button to end the call and start again when I looked up from the phone and saw Daphne running up to the partition on the other side. Her phone was in her raised hand and she was shaking her head. Great. Her phone had died. 

Before she could reach me, two male security officers waylaid her. If the situation wasn't so dire, I would have laughed. She was the farthest thing from a terrorist. Dressed in a tight T-shirt, even tighter jeans, and carrying a backpack, she was a kinky one at best...who would submit to your every wish. It brought a whole new meaning to 'put your hands on your head and spread your legs.'

It felt like I was in a dream. I couldn't reach Daphne, I couldn't talk to her, and I couldn't hear her. She was waving a piece of paper in the air while pointing at me with her other hand. The officers' backs were to me, so I couldn't read their expression, but the way Daphne kept pointing at me told me she wasn't giving up.

Whatever she was telling them seemed to finally sink in as one of the men turned and stared at me. He said something to her, nodded, and took something from her. As he walked in my direction, I could see Daphne behind him. She raised her hands in the air and flung her head back. International lingo for "Good grief!"

I forced myself not to cross my arms and tap my toe as I waited. Could he move any slower? He even managed to get in a little chit-chat with a female officer before he reached me.

He handed me a piece of paper. "That lady with the phone wanted me to give this to you."

I waited for him to say more, but he walked away. I looked at the paper.

"Phone died. Go to Terminal. Hold plane."

Seriously? I was supposed to make the plane wait if she wasn't there in time?

I had no idea when we were taking off, anyway. Daphne was still standing on the other side of the partition, but now she was waving her hand at me. The people in line on her side were staring between her and I. It wasn't until she lifted her other wrist and pointed to her watch that I realized she was wanting me to get going. So I went.

Five minutes later, I was standing still again, this time trying to figure out which hallway to go down. I didn't know what terminal our plane was departing from. Hell, I didn't even know where I was flying to. It probably would have helped to look at my boarding pass, but I'd been so worried about Daphne that I had completely forgotten to check it.

I stepped out of the flow of traffic and tried to decipher the codes sprinkled all over the printed sheet Daphne had handed me. Then I realized it was upside down. Right-side up now, I blinked as I saw the destination: Baltimore, Maryland.

That couldn't be right, but there was my name down at the bottom of the page. What the hell was in Baltimore? If I was going somewhere against my will, why couldn't it be Hawaii or another country?




Raw Ch. 05



I figured out which terminal I needed and headed in that direction. I had traveled quite a bit for book promotions, signings, and conferences earlier on in my career. But having kept my identity secret during the Dex Knightly Mysteries phase of writing, I had stayed close to home for the past five years.

Despite getting temporarily separated, I was glad Daphne had brought me on this adventure. I missed traveling. It didn't take long to relax and get my bearings again in the airport. I located the terminal without any issues and noticed that our flight didn't leave for another thirty minutes.

What had been the hurry? I shook my head and looked around. Up ahead was a little shop that sold souvenirs. I had decided to get a magazine or newspaper when I heard my name.

"Becca."

That voice. So quiet amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport, yet I'd heard it. So firm, yet it didn't command. It beckoned.

I spun around. My bag fell to the floor. I wanted to fall to my knees, but somehow, I stayed upright.

As our eyes met, my vision blurred with tears and I realized one truth: Daphne was not joining me on this trip. I wasn't sure if she really had been sick—if her phone had really died—or if it was all part of the charade to get me to the terminal. Whether it had been her idea, or Drake's, or even Malcolm's, I wanted to thank them all profusely. But first, I had something more important to do.

"I'm so sorry. I've been—"

"Shh," Malcolm said. He rubbed his thumb under my eye as a tear escaped. His hand lingered on my cheek, and I pressed into his palm. "It's okay, Becca."

Then he kissed me long and deep.

I choked back a sob and welcomed his embrace. When he let me up for air, I murmured against his ear, "She said I wouldn't regret going with her."

"Do you now?" He tilted my chin up and studied my face.

I bit my lip and shook my head. "I'm just in shock."

"Let's sit down. We should be boarding soon, but we have time for you to collect yourself."

I didn't know what to say, so we sat in silence, his hand holding mine as I leaned my head on his shoulder. I battled a dozen thoughts in my head trying to understand the reality that I was going on a surprise vacation with Malcolm. I wanted to ask him how and why, but something told me to just shut up and accept the gift I'd been given.

We were boarding fifteen minutes later. We found our seats, stowed our bags, and settled in for the two hour flight. Once the flight attendant went through the security and emergency procedures, I turned to Malcolm.

"I really am sorry for how I've been behaving. I have been unfair to you. You have a job that requires your undivided attention. Not that mine doesn't, but I wasn't considering the big picture. Or your feelings. And I've been stupid and childish for pouting. Please, Malcolm. Please forgive me."

"Of course. Apology accepted." He brushed his fingers down my cheek. "I have to admit, I was being a little selfish myself. I just assumed you'd understand. It wasn't until we were apart that I had the time to think things through. To realize that just because I was used to my schedule that I shouldn't expect you to be, too."

I met him halfway as he leaned toward me, and we sealed the figurative envelope of our first argument closed with another kiss.

"So, what's in Baltimore?"

"A rental car." Malcolm turned his gaze outside as the plane lifted off. It was dark now, so I wasn't sure what he was looking at.

I punched him lightly in the arm. "And where is the rental car taking us?"

"A surprise." He glanced at me again and raised an eyebrow. "You do like surprises, don't you?"

"Well, the last surprise I had from you, you tied me to a chair in my underwear while my brother, his girlfriend, and a handful of strangers watched."

"You, my dear, enjoyed that thoroughly. However, you are incorrect. The last surprise was the club downtown. The club where, if I remember correctly, you gave me a most delightful surprise of my own. How soon you forget?"

Heat filled my cheeks, and I looked at my hands in my lap. I most certainly had not forgotten.

I felt his breath against my cheek before I heard his deep voice in my ear.

"When the seatbelt light goes off, I want you to go to the restroom."

I sat up straight and swung my head to face him. "Why?"

He sighed. "Lady Becca? Stop questioning everything. Just do it."

A shiver ran down my back. Seriously? He was going to play on the plane?

I was still contemplating whether I was going to obey his command when I heard a loud dinging sound before the flight attendant announced over the intercom that we were free to remove our seatbelts if we needed to get out of our seats.

I unbuckled my belt and stood up. Malcolm gripped my hand. I leaned down and hissed, "I am not bringing you my panties."

His dark eyes stared up at me, his mouth a straight line. "I do not want your panties. I want you to stay there until you hear two knocks, then two more on the door."

"Fine." I yanked my hand away and maneuvered down the narrow aisle. We were near the front of the plane, and as I walked to the rear, I noticed that the rest of the seats were only half full for a Friday night flight. Still, I hoped I wouldn't be putting anyone out by hogging one of the two bathrooms.

My impatience with all this secrecy was starting to get to me. He didn't deserve my attitude again. Hell, we'd just made up after practically not seeing each other for three weeks. With each step, my newly found frustration melted away to curiosity. And a little bit of arousal.

Once inside the tiny chamber with the door locked, I made use of the facilities. Then I washed my hands, lowered the lid on the toilet, and sat down to wait. Knowing Malcolm, it could be a minute or it could be ten or more.

I was re-reading all of the notices on the walls and compartments when a knock on the door startled me. I reached for the handle, then realized it had been three rapid knocks. I heard it again before a female voice asked if I was alright.

"Yes, ma'am. Almost done."

Another minute later, I heard a rumbling outside—presumably the refreshments cart—a female voice apologizing to someone, and then two knocks followed by two more.

"It's about damn time." I unlocked the door and started to come out when Malcolm pushed his way into the bathroom, turning me around in the small space as he entered. My knees bumped against the toilet, and I let out a soft cry.

Without a word, he pressed his hand to my upper back. I put my arms out to brace myself against the wall as I fell forward. His hands played at my waist a moment, then my jeans went slack. His hand slid down the back of my thigh then lifted my leg up so my foot slid out of my pants and was propped on the ledge next to the toilet seat.

I heard him lower his zipper, and then I felt his fingers pulling my panties aside. In one hard thrust, he was inside me, and I bit my lip to silence my strangled cry of relief. God, it had been too long.

He was fast, gripping my hips and holding me still. I'd never been fucked on a plane before. It was almost as erotic as giving him a blowjob under the table at the club. Almost.

When he was done, he pulled me upright and held me against his chest, his cock still buried within me. His fingers slid down the front of my panties, and he proceeded to stroke my clit until I was shaking in his arms. I came quickly, moaning his name.

His hand found my breast and caressed it through my shirt while he licked and nuzzled my neck and my shuddering subsided. His breath was hot against my ear when he finally spoke.

"Straighten your clothes, then go back to your seat. I'll join you shortly."

I nodded, wiggling my ass against him for a moment, relishing the feel of him inside me. He slid out, and I instantly felt like part of me had been removed as well. I obeyed and made myself presentable again, then I slipped out of the restroom.

I sighed with relief that I had to hang back for a bit as the flight attendant was still delivering drinks to the seats several rows behind ours. I couldn't have gotten back to my seat if I'd wanted to. When she was at the row behind ours, I headed up the aisle.

As she passed our seats, I slid into mine and she thanked me for waiting. I just smiled.

Malcolm returned a few minutes later, and the flight attendant stopped by our seats to offer us something on her way back down the aisle.

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Malcolm placed his arm around my shoulder, and I curled up next to him for a short nap. He woke me when we landed in Baltimore.

Without any checked baggage, we were able to depart the plane and go straight to the car rental desk downstairs. However, he walked right past the desk toward a bench.

"Sit, Becca. Watch our bags. I'll be right back."

I watched him walk down the hall for several feet, then I lost track of him. I pulled out my cell phone and shot a message to Daphne telling her thanks for the adventure thus far...and she was going to pay when I returned. She responded right away saying she had already gotten deliciously paid by my brother who knew nothing about her and Malcolm's plan. He'd told her I hated surprises like that, but maybe just this once it would be okay.

I laughed and pocketed my phone. Malcolm returned a few minutes later. He was carrying a box the size of a DVD player with FedEx written on it.

"You did not just mail that today, did you?"

"You would be correct."

"So this wasn't a last minute hostage situation?"

"No, my dear, it was not. Are you ready to go?"

I stood and handed him his bag. "After you, Master."

He gave me a long, hard look that I'm sure promised retribution for me using that term outside of a scene and in public. I smirked, turning towards the doors. He stepped past me, and I saw him shaking his head. That only made me grin wider.

I didn't ask him where we were going or why we hadn't picked up our rental car. I'd learned that it only frustrated me because no one was giving me information before they were ready to tonight. We commandeered a taxi that took us to the airport hotel. Again, I asked no questions but merely waited patiently while he checked us in and then followed him to an elevator that took us up to the fourth floor and a corner room.

He flicked the switch on the table lamp just inside the door, turned the deadbolt, set his box on the table, and tossed his bag to the chair. He pointed to the other chair next to where I'd stopped, and I put my bag on it. Silently, slowly, he crossed to me.

I backed up into the darkness behind me. He kept advancing, and I kept retreating, until we were in the bedroom area and the lamp from the other room was just a dull glow. With the drapes open, the moonlight shone in behind me and danced across his hardened jaw and firm mouth.

When I ran into the air conditioner unit, I let out a gasp, and he finally stopped.

"Lady Becca, strip."

My knees suddenly shook, but I wasted no time in obeying. A moment later, I stood naked before him. I was glad we were up so high and no one could see me in the window. Or him as he stripped as well. I gulped as my eyes ran down his body and back up, lingering on his middle region and the glorious specimen of a cock that was at full salute now.

He pulled back the covers and stood on the far side of the bed. "Lie down."

I was tempted to disobey and crawl across the mattress—something inside me longed for him to spank me into submission—but I was just so happy to be with him again I did as he asked. I could be naughty later. Right now, I just need his hands on me; to feel his body against mine. I prayed that's what he had planned because that Mile High Club induction wasn't going to quell the hunger tonight.

I'd no sooner laid down on my back with my head on the pillow when he climbed onto the bed himself. He parted my legs and bent my knees so my feet rested flat on the bed. He was stroking his cock as he stared at me. Not at my eyes this time but at my body.

"I'm going to make love to you, Lady Becca. I'm probably going to fuck you, too. If you can't take it anymore, say the safeword."

I clamped my mouth shut before I let the words "bring it on" spill out. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice as he was licking his lips and staring at my bared pussy. I grinned as the moonlight revealed the twitch in his lips as he attempted to hide his own grin. He must have felt it on the airplane, but seeing a bare pussy was a whole different thing.

I don't know why I had chosen to shave that as well tonight. I guess I'd wanted to feel refreshed all over if Daphne was kidnapping me, hoping deep down we'd be going someplace exotic. An airport hotel wasn't what I had been imagining, but I was glad I'd taken the time.

"Hands on your breasts. You may play all you like. But don't come until I tell you to."

I raised my eyebrows but cupped my breasts and squeezed gently. My legs fell apart more as he kneeled between them. When his hands slid along my thighs, I brushed my thumbs over my nipples, stifling a whimper. It was going to be very hard to hold out.

For several long minutes, he did nothing but look at the space between my thighs. My inner muscles clenched, especially since I'd continued to caress my breasts. My eyes drifted closed. I flicked them open, expecting him to tell me to watch him. But again, he hadn't seemed to notice.

I watched his hand return to stroke his cock, his index finger and thumb creating a circle as they surrounded the crown. He stared and stroked as I watched him and caressed. It was intoxicating not knowing what he was going to do. I felt as if I were in a daze.

I had closed my eyes again when I felt his cock rubbing up and down my pussy. I tilted my hips up, trying to help him. He let me. I did it again, and he slid lower, resting at my entrance for a few seconds before sliding inside.

I groaned through his entire entrance, which he drew out as he stretched me wide. I held my breath, waiting for him to withdraw, but he surprised me. He remained sheathed and put his hands under my ass, lifting me up as he scooted forward. When he lowered me, my hips were still raised and my lower back rested on his thighs, my knees spread wide around his hips.

Finally, he looked up into my eyes. I squeezed my breasts, and my pussy clenched around his cock. He didn't emit a single sound except his even breathing. How the hell did he learn to stay so calm when in a scene?

My thoughts were distracted when he suddenly rubbed my clit. I gasped and pinched my nipples. Which made my pussy clench again. Damn, his rock-hard cock felt like the vibrator I sometimes used...power turned off but hard shaft inside me while I masturbated.

I heard the air conditioner kick on, and cool air brushed over my body making me shiver. My nipples hardened even more. I tried to rock my hips against Master Malcolm, but at the angle I was lying, I couldn't raise up much more. He'd probably intended it that way.

I tried to relax as he continued to just rub my clit in leisurely circles. Occasionally, his cock would throb within me. I pressed my legs tight against his sides, just trying to feel his body.

He pressed his other hand against my pelvic bone and used his fingers to spread my labia open. He stroked my clit harder and faster; back-and-forth, up-and-down.

I was unable to keep my eyes open any longer, and my hands eventually gave up trying to play with my breasts. My body took on a life of its own, undulating from his touch. My moans changed to whimpers as the pressure built. I tried to remember not to come.

I felt him shift his position, then he pumped his cock into me faster. I was biting my lip so hard I feared my teeth would cut right through. I squeezed my breasts, trying to hold off the impending orgasm that just wanted to be embraced.

When I thought I couldn't hold on any longer, I heard his deep voice, calling from what seemed so far away. "Come for me, Lady Becca."

I cried out his name as I came undone. I was still floating when he withdrew, flipped me onto my stomach, lifted my ass and plunged back into my pussy from behind. Another orgasm shivered through me, and I cried in the pillow with relief.

His fingers dug into my hips. He was no longer gentle. His grunts filled the silence as the air conditioner shut off. I heard the sharp smack before I felt the sting in my left ass cheek. He repeated it on the right side. The pillow silenced my shriek.

I lost track of how many times he spanked me. He didn't have to tell me why he did it; I knew this was punishment for my previous behavior, my pouting for over a month. He wasn't doing it to hurt me. He was doing it because he loved me. Because he cared. Because I'd deserved it. And part of me relished it.

By the time he'd decided he'd gotten his point across, my ass was numb, and I was sobbing into the pillow, mumbling a mantra of, "I'm sorry, Sir."

He found release then turned me to face him, holding me close. I curled my fingers and beat my fists against his chest. Why had it taken him so long to chase me? Why had I been so stupid? I'd almost lost something so good in my life out of my sheer desire to be in control. Had he not spent weeks trying to drill that out of me? To make me embrace the submissive desires inside me?

He kissed my head throughout, rocking me until I stopped fighting him. Until I stopped shaking.

Malcolm had been frustrated. I had been frustrated. We'd worked it out. And in the morning, I'd get more answers about why I had been tricked into this trip.

For now, I succumbed to my exhaustion and slept in his warm embrace.

###

In the morning, I did not have any more answers. In fact, I had more questions as we got our rental car and headed out of the city. Just what the hell were we doing on the East Coast?

Malcolm offered no explanations, so I drank my latte and nibbled on my scone while he maneuvered through traffic. He was using the onboard navigation, and apparently had plugged in our destination while I was inside the bakery getting our breakfast. So frigging tricky.

I watched the scenery zip by and change from metropolis buildings to trees and cement and eventually countryside. I glanced at the clock and noticed we'd been driving about thirty minutes.

"Can you at least tell me how long we're going to be gone? Do I need to call Sue and tell her not to expect me Monday? I did have a meeting with her about my progress on the new project."

"Already taken care of. That's all you need to know."

"Has my brother not told you how much I hate being kept in the dark?"

"You did just fine last night, my dear." He gave me a smirk, and I blushed. "Tell me about the trilogy. Did you meet your goal for September?"

For the next hour, I rambled on about the chapters I'd completed. I found a small pad of paper in the glovebox and extracted a pen from my purse so I could make notes as he gave me advice. When I'd exhausted that topic, he told me about the first few weeks of school. I got a little giddy as we neared the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. In all of my travels, I'd never been on it. But I knew where it led, and I finally had my first hint of where we were going. I counted to ten and then to ten again, just as Malcolm had taught me to relax when in a scene. I wanted to keep my cool and not ruin his surprise.

Almost three hours after we had departed Baltimore, we cruised into a seaside city called Rehobeth Beach. Malcolm pulled into a parking lot for a grocery store.

"Give me ten minutes, okay?" he said as he got out.

I didn't have a chance to respond. He had already closed the door and was jogging into the store. I smiled at the way his jeans hugged his ass. God, I'd missed that view.

I passed the time wondering what he was doing in there, what we were doing on the East Coast, and what had Daphne packed for me knowing that the trip with her was just a charade. Malcolm was walking back to the car with three plastic bags and a small box before I knew it. He deposited them in the trunk and then slid back into the driver's seat.




Raw Ch. 05



"You're awfully quiet." He gave me a sideways glance before backing the car out of its parking space.

I gave him a smirk, knowing full-well what that would do to him. "Someone told me to stop asking questions and to just trust them."

"Don't start getting cheeky now, Becca." There was a hint of a growl in his tone, and that turned me on.

"So what's in the bags?"

"A surprise."

"Do you not see how aggravating you are?" I shook my head and rolled down the window, letting the autumn breeze rustle my hair. "Either I'm asking too many questions or I'm not speaking enough. I lose either way."

"Maybe you're not asking the right questions."

"Seriously?" I tried to envision where were heading now. I inhaled deeply, wondering if that was the ocean I was smelling in the air. "Okay, how long are we here?"

"Until Monday night."

I turned back to him. "What about school?"

"Would you believe me if I said I called in a favor?"

"No. I don't envision you playing hooky."

He let out a deep sigh. "It's Columbus Day weekend, Becca. I'm off until Tuesday."

"Oh." I guess I'd never had a job where you got designated holidays off. Unless it was Christmas or Thanksgiving, I worked whenever I had the time or had a deadline. "What are we doing here?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, can you at least tell me why you had to make up this whole fake trip?"

"I had to get you to the airport somehow."

"You know how to pick up a phone, right?"

"Becca?" He caught my gaze for a moment then turned his eyes back to the road. "We haven't been very civil to each other lately. I didn't think a phone call would have convinced you."

"You're probably right. But kidnapping me?"

"I believe you went with Daphne willingly."

I crossed my arms. Why did he have to be right. Again?

"Relax, Becca. All will be revealed soon. Trust me."

For the next fifteen minutes, I pouted, during which time it occurred to me that he seemed very at-ease. Like knowing where a grocery store was...and that it wouldn't take long to get what he wanted. Or where we were going without referring to the on-board navigation that I now realized was no longer on.

I remained quiet and stared at the steady line of trees on either side of the road. They were broken by the occasional driveway branching off the main road, the only hint that that something else was on the other side. The salty smell in the air was stronger now. I wondered how close we were to the Atlantic Ocean.

Malcolm slowed down and turned off onto one of the side roads. As I presumed, there were houses hidden behind those trees. The cul-de-sac we were in had four, two-story houses, and two, three-story houses. The larger ones were at the back of the property.

My eye grew wide as he pulled our car into the drive of one of the three-story houses and shifted into park. I retrieved my meager bag and met him at the front of the car.

"Seriously? This is where we're staying?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Becca. Seriously. Come on."

"What about the groceries?"

"They'll be fine. I want to show you something first."

He took my hand, and I followed him up a set of flagstone steps to a black front door, which he unlocked...with a key on his keychain.

I let go of his hand and stayed on what I guess was the front landing as he opened the door and stepped inside. "Tell me one thing, okay?"

He didn't say anything, although he smiled at me.

"Is this your house? As in, do you own it?"

He nodded.

My knees were suddenly weak. I gripped the doorframe as he gently tugged my bag from my hands and set it on the floor.

He took my hand again. "Let me show you around."

My jaw ached by the time he walked me through just the first floor with its expansive kitchen fit for a professional chef that flowed into an equally large main living area like the waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashing on the beach that I could see through a wall of windows. There were a couple of small rooms to view—a library, a den, and a bathroom—and then he led me to an open staircase that seemed to float up to the second floor.

Upstairs, four bedrooms faced the ocean. And all of them had sliding glass doors as windows that led onto a continuous balcony that spanned the width of the house. Each room was decorated in a different color with a nautical or ocean theme. Two bathrooms sat at the back of the house on either end of an open sitting room with a vaulted ceiling. A spiral staircase in one corner led up a loft area overlooking the sitting room's arrangement of couches and chairs arranged around a fireplace.

Back at the main stairway, we went up another set of floating stairs. I wasn't sure if anything could be more extravagant than what he'd already showed me. I was wrong.

"The master suite," Malcolm said, squeezing my hand.

"Pinch me, please."

While the rest of the house was beachy in colors and décor, as one would expect, this room was the complete opposite. It was, in a word, Malcolm. And that made me smile.

The walls and ceiling were shades of gray, and the minimalist furniture—a bed, two nightstands, and a dresser with a mirror—were a dark cherry wood. A forest-green duvet and two light-gray throw pillows decorated the four-poster bed that faced the same view of the ocean as the bedrooms and living area below. Green curtains flanked the windows, and above the bed, a fabric panel of patterned greens and grays hung along the slope of the ceiling. The only other color was a mustard-yellow blanket draped across a low, leather bench at the end of the bed.

It was all masculine and yet sexy. Cozy, making me feel like I was miles away from the beach, although one glance outside proved I was less than five-hundred feet from the ocean.

He pulled me towards three doors at the far end of the room. Two were closed, but the third was open and led into a spacious master bath complete with Jacuzzi tub and a glass-walled shower. Daylight streamed in through the skylight overhead and warmed my face.

"So what's behind door number two?" I let go of his hand and reached for the nearest doorknob, but he opened the other door instead.

"Walk-in closet."

I glanced inside and noticed it was empty except for a stack of towels and linens on two of the shelves. "Looks like you're missing something."

"Yeah, I haven't been here in awhile." He took my hand again and squeezed it as he stared into my eyes. "I want you to know that I've never brought another woman here before. This was my parents' summer retreat, and they handed ownership over to me just before my mother passed away. I used to come out during the summers to get away from life, but it's been a couple of years."

"I think it's amazing. What's a place like this worth?"

He shrugged. "I think the appraisal we had six years ago put it at around two million-five."

I flinched and tried to pull away, but he held fast.

"Don't, Becca, please. I'm not trying to brag, so I apologize if it came off that way. I brought you here because you are special to me, and I have lots of good memories being here. I wanted to share them with you. If it comes down to choosing between the house and you, I'd sell it in a heartbeat."

"Thank you." I squeezed his hand back. "I hope you understand that I'm not the kind of woman who judges people by their possessions."

He cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my lips. "I know."

"But if it matters, don't sell the beach house anytime soon. I'm kind of keen on rubbing it in to Drake that my boyfriend owns a house on the Atlantic Ocean."

Malcolm chuckled. "Okay."

I lowered my voice to a whisper and pointed over his shoulder. "What are you hiding?"

"Promise you'll not overreact?"

"No promises, but I'm willing to give you the chance to explain whatever it is."

"Fair enough." He reached for the third door handle but didn't turn it. "This room? I don't know why I built it, but..."

I gave him a quick kiss. "Just show me, okay?"

He nodded. The door opened to darkness. He let me enter first, and I heard the soft snap of a switch before light flooded the smallish room. There appeared to be no windows, and the walls were painted black, like his basement back home. Small sconces interspersed on the wall with candle-like bulbs gave the room a soft, arousing glow.

I gasped as something deep inside me felt like a wildcat wanting to be unleashed. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to strap me to the Saint Andrew's Cross on one wall and flog my back and ass with that feathery-looking thing amongst the handcuffs, ropes, and paddles hanging on a rack just inside the door. Or maybe to be secured to that padded bench with the leather restraints while he fucked me mercilessly from behind. I could even envision myself kneeling on what appeared to be modified church kneeler, submitting to whatever it was he had intended the contraption to be used for.

His hands pressed down on my shoulders that I realized were shaking. "Relax."

I whimpered. "How can I when you've shown me this?"

"I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around me. "I knew it was too soon."

"What are you sorry for? I'm trying to figure out which of those things you're going to tie me down to first. God, I'm so fucking horny right now."

As soon as I said those words, I felt his own arousal pressing against my ass. Then I heard his deep growl in my ear as his hands slowly lowered, caressing me through my clothes.

"What I don't understand," I said turning around, "is you don't have a dungeon or kinky room back home but you have one out here on the East Coast where you rarely visit."

"Like I said, I don't know why I built and stocked this room. I've never even used it. Maybe I just had the dream that someday I would..."

I reached up and laid my hand on his cheek. "I feel honored that you've shown it to me."

He closed his eyes briefly and leaned into my touch. I felt my chest swell with pride that he felt this comfortable around me...that he could be honest and let his guard down, even if just a little.

I stood on my tiptoes and licked his bottom lip, gently tugging on it with my teeth. "When can we start playing?"

He growled and deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, we both moaned. "I have to bring in the groceries. Wait here, Lady Becca."

"Y-yes, Sir." My knees trembled as I watched him turn and walk out of the room.

I sat on the padded bench and I tried not to laugh as I heard his footsteps running down the stairs. For as controlled as he liked to appear, he was as anxious as I was to try out his contraptions.

A door slammed downstairs a moment later. I got brave and ventured to check out the accoutrements he'd gathered for his version of a kinky room. I wasn't too keen on the wooden cane, but the feathery flogger that had looked good from a distance was soft on my fingertips. Another one beside it had strips of suede. I was studying a ball gag when I heard a throat clear behind me.

I spun around and felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

"Come here, Lady Becca."

I stopped before him, my eyes downcast.

He tipped my chin up with his finger. "Eyes on me, my dear."

I had to bite my lip as he trailed a finger down my cheek then leisurely undressed me. His hot breath whispered over my nipples as he bared my breasts. His fingertips grazed my hips as he lowered my pants, and I swear his hands shook.

When I was naked before him, he guided me to the kneeler as if I were going to confess my sins. He left me staring at the wall for a moment, and when he returned, he was carrying the box he'd retrieved at the airport. He pulled a pocketknife from his jeans and cut through the official tape, then he opened the box to reveal an assortment of ropes, dildos, vibrators, and a metal chain with clips on it.

"Well, now I see why you didn't pack that with your luggage," I said, my laugh strained.

"Shh."

He tweaked each of my erect nipples before methodically wrapping a length of rope around my breasts and tying it off behind my back. Then he bound two shorter pieces of rope around each of my wrists. I thought he was done with my chest, but he pulled that metal chain out of the box.

"Let me know if you can't take it."

I watched his hands as he pinched the clips between his thumb and forefinger, opening the rubber-tipped ends. I wasn't prepared for the sharp pain as he clamped first one nipple then other in each of the clips, and I gritted my teeth to quell the cries rising up my throat. The chain hung between the two clamps, and when he gently tugged on it, I finally cried out.

"Are we okay, Lady Becca?"

I took a couple of deep breaths then nodded.

A gentle press at my shoulders had me on my knees. Another between my shoulder blades, and I leaned forward, my bound breasts resting on the padded top. It was the strangest feeling. My breasts had began to swell from arousal but were restricted from expanding, and my nipples throbbed from their own binding. I went to rest my arms on top as well, but Malcolm had different plans.

"If at any time you cannot go on, Lady Becca," he said as he placed each of my hands on either side of the elaborate ironwork that created the veridical supports and tied my left wrist in place, "just pull back. You will be unable to speak."

I raised an eyebrow, but he wasn't looking at my face at the moment. He was concentrating on securing my other wrist. When he appeared to be satisfied, he stood up and removed his shirt. I licked my lips as he undid his pants and lowered them to the floor as well, allowing his cock to spring free.

"As was the case last night, I am fucking you, Lady Becca. Do not attempt to give me a blowjob. And no teeth, unless I say so. Understood?"

I swallowed heavily. I started to nod, but I caught myself and instead said, "Yes, Sir."

"Very good. Open wide."

At my current height with my arms tied to the sides of the kneeler and with my bound breasts pressed against the top, I could barely move. I was completely at his mercy. Especially with him holding that chain in one hand.

He rubbed the tip of his cock, wet with precum, against my lips. Then ever so slowly, he slid inside. He was hot and thick, and he tasted divine.

I closed my eyes, moaning softly, but a yank on my hair made me stare straight up at him.

"Good girl. Eyes on me."

I gripped the iron and tried to breathe as he fucked my mouth.

He started out with long, gentle strokes, tugging on my hair when I accidentally licked him or sucked him or looked away. He held my head still as he sped up. I gagged a little, especially when he thrust deeper, and saliva dribbled out of my mouth. 

"I have an idea."

I whimpered as he withdrew and walked behind me. I heard him rummaging through his special box again, then the clink of metal. When he stood before me once more, a metal ring encircled the base of his cock with a short chain descending from it. He slid his cock into my mouth again, then he secured the chain to the one dangling between my nipples. 

I raised my eyes to his and started to pull back. This was not something we'd done before. I was suddenly scared.

"Shh. It's okay, Lady Becca. It's okay." He stroked my hair as he drew his cock back.

My eyes widened as the motion pulled on the chain and therefore my nipples and breasts. It was a dull pain, and it lessened as he slid back in. He repeated the movement a couple of times, and eventually I relaxed again.

I watched his soft brown eyes grow darker in the glow of the sconces. The firmness of his jaw as he tried to control me and control himself at the same time. The glean of sweat that gathered on his forehead and naked chest. The way the humidity in the room made his long hair curl away from his face.

All else ceased to exist when I was with him. He took me away to another world, a blessed respite from the daily hassles. So far, I'd not questioned anything he wanted to do to me. It occurred to me that I really loved this man. That I would do anything for him. That the vision I'd had in Brian's chambers so long ago was possible with Malcolm. And only with Malcolm.

His grip tightened on my braid, pulling me back to the moment. He withdrew and rubbed his cock against my lips and cheeks as I gasped for breath. I was a little dizzy as he unhooked his cock from my breasts, untied my wrists, and helped me over to the Saint Andrew's Cross. He positioned me face-first against the wall and secured my wrists above my head on each of the upper branches of the X-shaped device. Then he spread my legs and secured my ankles to the lower beams. He adjusted the chains that held the cuffs until I was spread eagle against the wall to his liking.

I was standing on the hardwood, but it was odd with my legs and feet turned out so they were flat against the wall as well. I leaned my forehead against the leather-padded wall, and took several deep breaths. What was he going to do to me now?

"Feather, leather, or suede, Lady Becca?"

I found my senses enough to mutter, "Feather."

Then, just as I had imagined, he was stroking my back with the feather flogger. Each sweeping pass sent shivers racing up and down my spine, and I mewled like a kitten. When he brushed the soft ends along my ass and then the insides of my legs and up against my pussy, I pulled on my restraints, trying to arch away. But there was nowhere to go. I loved it.

After awhile, he suggested switching to the suede flogger. I mumbled my consent. As before, he stroked the soft ends from my wrists down to my ankles. I had my eyes closed, feeling very relaxed and a little sleepy when suddenly, a slap against my ass jolted me awake.

The feeling came again, and I choked on my cry, realizing he was swatting me now with the flogger. He alternated between my right ass cheek and my left, then the backs of my thighs. It wasn't painful, but it was no longer relaxing. In fact, the more he did it, the more aroused I became.

I gripped at the air, rising up the few allowable inches on my toes as I tried to arch my back unsuccessfully. I bit my lip to silence my cries and prevent the word on my tongue from spilling out. I don't know where it came from. It wasn't like me. Yet, it was there all the same. And it wanted to be released, much like the orgasm that had been building ever since we'd entered the room.

He kept up this sweet torture for several long minutes. I cried out each time now, and it grew more difficult to keep the word inside. To stay silent. I squeaked at one point, and finally, he spoke.

"Lady Becca, do you want to tell me something? "

"Yes, Sir." I was panting now, clenching my eyes closed.

"Speak freely."

"Harder." I gulped. "Please."

He tucked my braid over my shoulder and kissed me between my shoulder blades. "How delightful, my dear. As you wish."

The next swat was across my right ass cheek. I shrieked as he struck again, but he did it with more force. Soon, the room was filled with the repetitive slapping sounds of the flogger connecting with my skin alternated with my muffled cries.

I so wanted to collapse, but the way I was positioned on the cross, I was stretched wide open and unable to even let my knees bend. I tried to relax and let myself hang by my wrists instead. It helped, but only a little. I was wound tight, and my bound breasts and nipples throbbed as they pressed into the wall.

The swats eventually returned to gentle glides against my skin from top to bottom. Then they ceased entirely. I had just managed to get a deep breath in when Malcolm's hands stroked the insides of my thighs. I let out a deep moan, which turned into a strangled gasp as I felt his hot breath against my ass.

Before I could rationalize how that was possible, something pointy pressed against my ass and something flat and soft pressed against my wet pussy. I realized it was his nose...his tongue... when his moan vibrated against my skin. The shudders started low and rose quickly.




Raw Ch. 05



I screamed and thrashed against the wall as I came. Hard.

As he continued to lick me—sometimes flicking my clit—a new sensation began to build, especially when he held my ass cheeks apart to give him more access to my pussy from behind. The feeling scared me. I wasn't supposed to want him to touch me there. Yet, the more his nose rubbed there, the more curious I became.

I guess I was mumbling again because he gave me a moment of respite with his tongue, although his hands continued to squeeze and massage my ass.

"Tell me what you want, Lady Becca."

"Please...touch me."

"I am touching you."

"No. My...my..."

"Yes, Lady Becca?""

I had never felt so embarrassed before. What if he didn't want—

"Tell me. Do not be afraid."

"Would you touch my...um...asshole? But only if you want to." I thought I was going to die. I couldn't believe I'd said that.

His hands slid up my body as he stood. He stepped into my line of sight and ran his finger down my cheek. "Are you sure, Lady Becca? I know that's one of your hard limits."

I closed my eyes for a moment and slowly exhaled. When I opened them again, he was watching me carefully, and he was no longer touching me. "Yes. I want to feel you there. Just...no...cock."

A light flickered in his eyes as he smiled. I had finally granted him authority to do something he'd been wanting to do. But he wasn't arrogant about it. It was more an acknowledgement of respect. That he knew I'd reached the place where I was willing to step into previously forbidden territory with him.

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Becca."

I heard the floor creak slightly as he walked across the room. I didn't have to wonder long what he was doing. When he returned, he held a thin, silver vibrator before my eyes.

"It's small enough for anal use. I will use your natural fluids as well as some additional lube. It may feel strange at first. Unwanted. Use the safeword if you are in pain, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

I closed my eyes and tried to relax as he stroked a finger over my asshole in small circles. It got to the point that I tried to circle my hips in time with his caresses. That is, until I felt his fingers gliding against my pussy. I moaned long and loud as he caressed me there. Then his fingers were sliding back, rubbing between my cheeks.

His hand disappeared, I heard a soft click of a plastic lid, then something cool and wet covered my asshole. The hardness of the vibrator replaced his fingers, first sliding against my pussy and then back to circle my asshole.

I resisted at first when he pressed for entry. I couldn't help it. It was supposed to be an exit-only space.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, Sir."

"Relax," he whispered in my ear. "Don't think about it so much. Just feel. Or think of something else."

I nodded and concentrated on the image in my head of his naked body that I could see even with my eyes closed and facing away from him. How strong he was. How warm his body was when we were close. How glorious it was to hold, suck, and ride that well-defined cock.

When he tried again, he was successful. Still, I cried out.

"Shh. It's okay." He let me get used to the feel of the vibrator, then he began to twist it and move it in and out in an excruciatingly slow thrusting motion.

I knew that a cock would feel completely different—wider, longer—and had no desire to even try that. But I was somehow okay with the vibrator. It felt good, although the fullness inside my ass was strange.

He stroked a few more times then stopped. "Would you like me to turn it on?"

I considered that and finally decided, what the hell? "Yes, Sir."

He stroked a few more times. I heard the soft buzzing before I felt it. And when it registered in my muddled brain what he was doing, I flung my head back. "Oh, fuck!"

Malcolm chuckled. "Well, that's one way of putting it."

"It feels so strange but so good."

"Lady Becca, you are amazing. I'm so proud of you for stepping outside of your comfort zone."

I cussed again as he released my ass cheeks and they wrapped around the vibrator as well. I tried to rock my ass against it, but he put his hand on my lower back and held me to the wall.

"Gentle. For now, let me control it."

My focus was on the vibrator in my ass, so I screamed when I felt his teeth gnawing at my left ass cheek and then his tongue licking me there.

"Do you want me to stop, Lady Becca?"

"No." It came out as a sob. "Please, Sir. More."

He answered by biting my right ass cheek.

A short while later while he was stroking that vibrator faster in my ass with one arm pressed against my lower back and he rubbed my clit with his other hand, I came again. I flung my head back with a silent scream, the chains above me rattling as my body convulsed.

I was still shaking when he cleaned my backside, released my shackles, and lifted me into his arms. He carried me to his bed in the master suite and laid me on the cool sheets.

"This may hurt a little."

I moaned and then cried out as he released the nipple clamps. First his palms and then his lips soothed the sharp ache. Slowly, he unwound the rope from my breasts as well, massaging them in turn. Then he climbed on top of me, his chest pressing against mine.

I gasped from the sudden pressure against my still-sensitive chest, but I thought no more of the pain as he finally slid that amazing cock between my parted thighs and made me scream his name.

###

I spent the rest of the morning wrapped in a blanket on a beach chair. Despite the chill in the air, I wasn't going to pass up spending time on the sand. I'd browsed the first-floor library and snagged a romance paperback that must have belonged to Malcolm's mother, but I was having trouble concentrating on the plot. I kept envisioning the mid-century couple engaging in kinky affairs.

Something else was nagging at the back of my head, too. I'd tried not to think about it much lately, but when one's livelihood was at stake, there were some things that refused to be ignored completely. I just wasn't sure how to approach it and solve the problem.

While the sun warmed my face, I rolled over some possibilities. I even texted Sue with the most probable option, but she hadn't responded back by the time I went inside to have lunch.

"Are you sore?" Malcolm asked as we sat on the back porch eating freshly boiled crab while the tide rolled in mere feet away.

"Just a little. Nothing a soak in that tub won't cure."

"Something's troubling you. You've got a distant look, and your forehead keeps creasing. Do you want to talk about it?"

I broke off a crab leg, dipped the end in the little dish of hot butter, and then sucked the meat out and into my mouth. I washed down the bite with a sip of wine. I wasn't ready to talk about the issue I'd been contemplating this morning. It was a touchy subject to begin with, so I shrugged and picked a more logical one. "I'm still trying to process the whole anal play. I mean, it's just so...taboo."

"But?" He laughed and waved his hand as if to brush away that bad joke.

I cringed. "I liked it."

"Do you know what I love about you?"

I shook my head and reached for another crab leg.

"Your honesty. Drake said you're usually an introvert. You only open up in your books. But I think with me, you're more at ease."

"You make me feel comfortable. Like I don't have anything to prove."

"You don't. And I don't want you to change. I want you just the way you are." He leaned forward and pushed aside the plate of discarded shells. "I mean it."

"Oh, God. Don't tell me you're proposing. We've only know each other—"

He took my hand and smiled although he was shaking his head. "No, I'm not proposing. But I am asking you to give us a chance. A real chance. I've never met anyone like you before. You're a mystery and I struggle with this need to crack you open and see how you tick...why you tick. And even that makes me love you more. I have been going crazy the last few weeks not being able to see you."

Heat filled my cheeks, and before I could stop it, I said, "Chewbacca!"

Malcolm flinched, his eyes wide. "Now you say it?"

"I'm so sorry!" I slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Becca?" His smile faltered. "I thought that bringing you here this weekend..."

I gripped his hand with both of mine. "You don't understand. I get embarrassed easily when you say things like that. Compliments and such. I'm not used to it. I'm used to being in control...especially of my emotions. But when I'm with you, I guess I just relax. And apparently say things that are in my head at the wrong moment. I want this, too. I do."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. He didn't pull away, either, so I took that as a good sign.

"I love you, too, Malcolm." I stood, pulling my sweater up over my head as I walked around to his side of the square table. "I'm glad you fake kidnapped me to your mansion on the beach."

His eyes darkened as I unhooked my bra and let it drop.

"I'm glad you're helping me find my kinky side."

He nodded as I shimmied my jeans down.

"But most of all?"

He leaned forward and licked his lips.

"I'm glad you're being so patient with me and haven't given up on me already."

He growled long and low as I stood naked before him.

I was thankful that it was still unsually in the high sixties. Otherwise, I would have looked like a fool, shivering my ass off as I tried to be sexy. "So no, I'm not running away from us. I'm willing to put everything I can into this. Including setting aside my selfish ways to adapt to yours."

"That's good." His voice sounded gravelly.

"But first, I'm going skinny dipping in the Atlantic Ocean." Before he could react, I sauntered down the steps and over a little bridge that spanned a sand dune.

The sand was gritty under my bare feet. In less than a minute, I was wading into the ocean. And suddenly wished I hadn't. Despite the unseasonably warm weather we'd been having, the ocean was absolutely freezing. But I clamped my mouth shut at the shriek that rose up as the cold water covered my toes then my ankles and crashed against my shins. I walked deeper into the water, smelling and tasting the saltiness as the breeze misted against my face.

When my ass was covered, I turned around. I stumbled back a few steps as I saw Malcolm standing on the porch, just as naked as I. He looked like a model from the cover of a Harlequin novel with the breeze blowing his hair around his head as he stroked his cock.

I couldn't help it. My right hand slid down between the water level, my fingers parting my pussy so I could rub my clit. I captured my breast in my left hand and whimpered at the sensitivity I still felt after having had my breasts bound for almost an hour. I cold still see the marks, and my already erect nipples tightened painfully at the thought of how good it had felt to be restrained.

The whole morning had seemed surreal. And now, here I was, masturbating in the Atlantic Ocean with the waves crashing at my back while my boyfriend masturbated on his back porch.

The waves inside me rose and then gently spilled over, making me topple to my knees. A wave crashed over my head, soaking me. When it receded, the water lapped at my breasts, and I whimpered at the mixture of exhaustion, frustration that I had gotten more wet than I had intended, and the need for more release.

From a glossy distance, I saw Malcolm go inside, but he reappeared a moment later with a towel. Somehow, I managed to get to my feet, stumble up the beach, and cross over the bridge again. My teeth were chattering when he met me and wrapped the towel around my shoulders.

"I-I'm f-f-fucking c-c-cold."

"But it was such a lovely show." He chuckled and led me inside and up to the third floor.

I mumbled that I was leaving wet, sandy footprints behind on the hardwood.

"You just walked naked down the beach and played with yourself in full-view of several houses, but you're worried about sand on my floor?" He shook his head. "You sure have your priorities straight."

He deposited me on the closed toilet lid in the master bath while he ran hot water in the tub. Then he searched for something in a cupboard and finally removed a purple bottle and a loofah sponge.

"Come here, my kinky little mermaid." He removed the towel I had drawn tight around me, and he helped me into the tub.

I let out the loudest sigh of relief as I sank into heavenly bliss. Then I giggled as he climbed in and knelt in front of me, his cock bobbing on the surface.

"Are you laughing at me?" He was smiling, but it was a devilish one if I'd ever seen one.

"No, of course not." Another giggle slipped out.

"And here I was going to clean you up then make love to you."

I sobered quickly and shook my head. "I was not laughing at you."

"I could swear you were."

"No, Sir." I loved how his eyes darkened at those two simple words. "Please, Sir, make love to me. In the bathtub."

"That's better, Lady Becca." He snapped open the purple bottle and squeezed some of the thick liquid onto the sponge. "Turn around and get on your knees."

I obeyed without thinking twice, even though my top half was no longer submerged in the hot water. He brushed my damp, matted hair over my shoulder. When he pressed the sponge to my shoulders, I inhaled deeply at the smell of lavender.

I sank down to sit on my heels as he washed my back and arms. Then he had me sit up and lean forward, my hands braced on the wall. The rough sponge scraped against my ass as he washed each cheek and in between.

"Turn around so I can wash your breasts."

It took a little effort to not splash the water over the sides as the two of us together had made the level rise quite high. When I faced him again, he cupped my right breast. Very gently and methodically, he rubbed the lavender body wash over my skin. He finished and cupped my left breast, starting the process over again. My nipples perked up, and I moaned.

"Feels good?"

"Yes, Sir."

Satisfied that my breasts were clean enough, he moved on to washing my chest and belly. When they were complete, he had me sit on the edge of the tub so he could wash each of my legs. The loofah tickled my feet as he cleaned them as well.

Overall, the whole process was very relaxing. It was also a little erotic. Especially when he parted my legs and rubbed the sponge against my pussy. I leaned my head against the tile wall and stared out the window at the ocean as he washed my most intimate place.

"Are you ready for me to make love to you, Lady Becca?"

I blinked and turned my attention back to him. "Yes, Sir. Please."

He put his hand under water, and I wondered what he was doing until the water level went down a couple of inches. Then he took my hand, and as he sat on the little seat under the water at the other end of the spa tub, he pulled me down. I straddled his hips, and his cock pressed against my pussy.

"You are in control, Lady Becca. Show me what you want. Tell me."

I nodded, gasping as his cock twitched. I rose up, and he helped guide his cock into me. I sank down slowly onto him, shuddering a little. When I was fully seated, kneeling on the seat on either side of his legs, his hands rested on my hips.

For a long moment, I just sat there, relishing the feel of him inside me, of the warm water around us. Then I began a gentle rise-and-fall motion, sending waves splashing against my back. He didn't move at all; he just held onto me as I set the rhythm.

"Please, Sir, put your hands on my breasts."

His hands slid up my sides and cupped both breasts. He squeezed and caressed as I rode him and told him what to do. He licked his lips, and I nodded. Then I growled as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the peak. He switched to my other breast, and I wrapped my hand around his head, holding him in place.

I was gasping for breath, loving the way the water moved between us, wondering how this could get any better in this position. Then it hit me.

"Please, Sir, could you play with my ass?"

This time, Malcolm growled. He continued to nuzzle his face against my breasts, but he moved one hand behind my back to hold me. His other hand squeezed my ass. I felt a finger rubbing between my cheeks, then further up against my pussy. 

I arched back and stilled as he pressed his middle finger into my ass. I let him adjust his hand so he was cupping my ass—his one finger inside—then I rocked back and forth. The alternated feeling of cock and finger sliding in and out of my two holes was amazing. I was staring at the ceiling now, my jaw slack as I embraced all these sensations flooding my body at one time.

I gripped Malcolm's shoulders, holding on for dear life. His hand on my back moved up so his arm could support me there while his fingers buried in my hair. Then he was kissing me, our tongues playing, our hot breath mingling.

"Come for me, Lady Becca."

I whimpered and rocked harder, my breasts bouncing on the water now, causing more waves. I came just as he bit my lower lip and tugged on it. He released it as I screamed, letting me ride out the rest of my orgasm on his lap at my own pace. But as soon as I was done shaking, he lifted me off of him, helping me stand.

"Hands on the wall, Lady Becca."

He moved behind me, quickly sliding inside. He stroked hard and fast for several minutes, then withdrew and came across my back.

"Stay still." A moment later, he was washing my back again. "Okay, sit down."

He got out, dried off, then came back for me. I wrapped the towel around my body under my arms and tried to untangle my hair the best I could. Behind me, I could hear the gurgle of water as he pulled released the plug on the drain.

We retired to the bed where we snuggled and took a leisurely nap. I wasn't sure about him, but I was completely drained...and finally sated. At least for now.

This had been the best damn impromptu vacation I'd ever had.

###

That evening, he took me to a restaurant called Seacrets on the west side of the penninsula leading to Ocean City. It was situated on Isle of Wight Bay, and we sat in the part of the dining area where there was only a thatch roof above our table. The floor beneath our feet was a layer of sand. Before us was the open bay and the setting sun. It was the most spectacular thing I'd ever seen with the orange rays lighting up the water as if it were on fire. When we drove back to the house, I wanted to go lay on the beach with him. He said he had a better idea.

"I don't know what could possibly be better than watching the stars from the beach, Malcolm," I playfully pouted as he unlocked the front door.

"Will you just trust me?"

"I do. I do."

"Then why do you always question me?"

I grinned. "Because I love that look on your face. Like you want to roll your eyes at me, but your dominant side takes over and you resist. A fire lights in your eyes, and I always wonder if you're going to jump into a scene. You love the mystery about me. I love the suspense when I'm with you."

He pulled me into a kiss, his tongue teasing mine. "Nice save...Becca."

I snorted, and he gave me a warning glare.

"I should swat you for that."

I ran ahead of him into the house and toward the kitchen where I put my leftover dinner in the fridge. Then I headed out to the front porch.

"I don't know where you're going, but the surprise is upstairs." He opened the fridge, removed the bottle of wine from lunch, and then grabbed two glasses before heading toward the stairs.

I sighed and turned around. I lost him on the second floor. "Where did you go?"

"Up here."

I wandered into the large sitting room and looked up to the loft area. As I ascended the stairs to meet him, I saw he was pulling on a chain that was attached to the ceiling at the far end of the small room. Suddenly, the ceiling gave way, revealing a hidden ladder.




Raw Ch. 05



"After you, Becca."

I climbed up slowly. As my head emerged above, I gasped and had to grip the ladder to stop myself from falling down it. "Malcolm, it's breathtaking."

"Yes, your ass is quite amazing. Keep moving."

I laughed and climbed the rest of the way up. With both feet flat on the ground, I turned around and around. He joined me shortly and set the wine and glasses on a table besides two padded lounge chairs.

"You like?"

"No, I wish were still on the beach." I smacked his arm and looked up again.

We were in small room with a glass wall and glass ceiling. On the other side was the night sky filled with stars and a big round moon. I heard the whir of a motor, then the ceiling slid away. Or rather, the glass panels slid apart. The night breeze drifted in to kiss my skin.

"You most definitely cannot sell this house now." 

"See, I knew you wanted me for my money." He chuckled and poured each of us a glass of wine.

We settled into the chairs and drank our wine in the silence while we stargazed.

When the wine was gone, I twisted onto my side, facing his chair. "I want to talk to you about something."

"Sure." He sat up and turned to face me, his hands between his knees. "Would you be more comfortable if we went downstairs to the sitting room?"

"No, this is fine." I took a moment to gather my nerves. "You know that whole ordeal with Brian and the magazine article?"

In the moonlight, I saw Malcolm rake his fingers through his hair. "How can I forget? I punched him for what he said to you. What he threatened. Then the cops arrested him for sexual harassment. Do you think that will stop him?"

"I don't really know. Part of me hopes so, but then the other half says his calculating personality would still do it. I don't think he'd be afraid of a lawsuit as long as he got the credit for breaking the story."

"Becca, can I just say I am so glad you got out of that relationship before it even got started? He's nothing but trouble." Malcolm scooted his chair closer and squeezed my arm.

I smiled. His touch was warm and very comforting. "What if I did it first?"

"What? Sue him? But doesn't he have to breach your non-disclosure agreement first?"

"No." I sat up and grabbed both of his hands. "Not sue him. Come out."

"I'm not following."

"He threatened to reveal to the public that I was Drake Alexander. What if I reveal the secret before he can? If I spin it my way, I can try to lessen the negative response."

"Have I ever told you how amazing you are, Becca?" Malcolm leaned over and brushed my lips with his.

"No, never," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"So do you have a plan to go about making the big reveal?"

"Yes, I was thinking about it this afternoon as I was lying on the beach."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

My plan spilled out. Malcolm had to tell me to repeat a couple of things I was speaking so fast. When I was done, he stood and pulled me into his arms.

"That, my dear, is not only very creative, it's a brilliant idea."

"Is it now?" I leaned my head back and smiled up at him.

"Yes." He kissed me again, his hand wrapping around my waist and tugging me closer. "I have an even better one, though, right now."

"You don't say." I rubbed against him, literally feeling the point he was trying to make.

"How about I make sweet love to you under the starlight?"

"These aren't the most comfortable chairs. Unless you want to throw a blanket down on the floor."

"Not here." He closed up the ceiling in the observation room, and we descended down to the sitting room before backtracking to the main staircase. Up in the master suite, he pressed a button on the wall.

I stood in awe as the fabric panel above the bed rolled away like a movie screen closing, revealing a large, glass window through which we had a clear view of the night sky.

"You like?" Malcolm asked, his front to my back, his hand sliding up to cup my breast through my top.

I ground my ass against his erection and laid my head back on his shoulder. "I love."

"Good." He nuzzled my shoulder, licking and nipping his way up until he got to my ear. "I can't wait to get you out of those clothes and to slide into your warmth. You are wet, aren't you?"

I gasped as he undid my pants and his hand slid beneath my panties. My moan turned into a coo as his fingers searched.

"Oh, yes, Becca. You are quite wet. I love how you can be so ready for me with just the suggestion of sex. It makes me so hard." He pressed against me again to prove it, and my ass arched up to him. "But tonight, it's all about you."

I whimpered as he undressed me from behind. When I was naked, his hands skated over every inch of skin they could find. Shivers raced after his touch, and my body did a little wave against his body. I gasped as I felt his skin against my back.

"I want you to crawl onto the bed, Becca. Nice and slow. Let me see that body."

I grinned over my shoulder and sauntered to the end of the bed. I had to get on my tiptoes to climb up it was so high off the ground, but it was to my advantage as I was able to flash my pussy at him.

I heard his growl as I lifted one leg, kneeled on the bed, and then grabbed the duvet to pull myself up the rest of the way. I exaggerated the crawling effect so my back arched and my legs stretched out behind me, my ass rising and falling as I crossed the length of the mattress.

When I reached the headboard, I gazed back over my shoulder at him. I expected him to still be standing where he'd left him, possibly stroking his cock. Instead, he'd followed me to the bed and was climbing up himself.

"You look good enough to eat."

I grinned. "Be my guest."

He matched my grin and rolled over onto his back, lying down between my legs. I was still on my knees, and I used the pillows to cushion my chest. He gripped my thighs and spread them wider. When I sank down, his tongue slid against my pussy.

"Please, don't stop!" I rocked a little over his face, feeling his nose rub against my clit.

He wrapped his arms around my legs and held me apart. My deep breaths turned to heavy panting as he licked me faster and faster. Right before I came, he stopped and rolled me onto my back.

"Dammit! I was right there."

"No, I want you to feel you come around my cock."

I could only nod. A soft cry escaped when he wedged his hips between my knees, his cock bobbing against my pelvis.

"Do you want it hard and fast, Becca, or slow and gentle?"

I couldn't make up my mind. I was going to come soon either way, so I decided to tease him. "Both."

"God, I love you." When he leaned down to kiss me, his cock fell into place. He arched his hips, and with the slightest movement, he was fully seated within me. Then, just like a knight pulling his sword from its sheath for the first time to admire it, he slowly withdrew.

"Oh, fuck, that feels so good." I clenched my eyes, resisting the desire to follow him with my hips.

As I requested, he alternated between thrusts and glides, making me delirious. I got lost in the feel of him on me and in me as I watched the stars above us before they exploded inside my head three different times. He joined me on the final climax, moaning my name in my ear.

I was crying and shaking when his arms and legs enveloped me like a warm blanket. He smelled like the ocean and the woods mixed with that tangy scent of sex. I nuzzled closer, took a long, deep breath, and then drifted off to sleep.

###

I called Sue the next morning after breakfast. She tried to discourage me from going public about being the author of the Dex Knightly Mysteries. She was certain that Brian Hughes was just bluffing; she said she'd met his type before. In the end, though, she agreed to set my plan into motion.

Malcolm and I played Frisbee on the beach until my stomach growled, signaling we should have lunch. Our timing was perfect as the sky had become overcast.

"I think we should eat indoors." 

He scooped the last freshly grilled Maryland Blue Crabcake off the grill and onto the plate I held out. "We'll be fine. There's a roof over the porch. It's just a light rain."

"I'm impressed that you know how to make fresh crab and fresh crabcakes." I followed him out to the porch, wishing I had brought a jacket. The temperature had dropped considerably with the sun behind the clouds.

"Do you doubt my cooking skills?"

"No, not at all." Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky was darker now, the waves choppy down on the beach. "However, I do doubt your decision for an outdoor picnic. Can we please go inside?"

"You were right, it's not looking very nice out here now."

"It's okay." I gave him a kiss on the cheek as I stepped past him and pushed the sliding door open. He managed to get everything inside in one trip, which was good because as soon as I closed the door, the wind picked up and sent sprays of rain against windows.

We ate lunch quickly and were cleaning up the dishes when lightning cracked overhead.

"Do you have flashlights or candles in case the power goes out?"

"Check the closet next to the fridge. There should be at least one flashlight. You'll need to put some batteries in it. There's a package of new ones on the counter. I bought them just in case."

"Good thinking."

I sifted through the three deep shelves of what appeared to be a storage closet. I found one flashlight and three candles in jars plus a box of matches. I readied our emergency lighting kit while Malcolm wiped down the counters.

"I don't suppose this place has cable?"

"No, sorry. I only keep the electricity and water on, and that's only from April to November. But there are some DVDs in the cabinet under the TV."

So we laid on the oversized couch in the living room, cuddled in each other's arms as the storm raged on outside and a classic movie from the 80s played on inside. It was wonderful. Natural. And surprisingly, we didn't make out like horny teenagers.

When the lights flickered and the power eventually went out, we decided to go upstairs and take an afternoon nap. I guess we were exhausted, because when I woke up, it was dark out and the stars were shining down through the skylight above us.

I rolled over and watched Malcolm sleep. He still had his T-shirt on, and his hand was resting on his chest as he lay on his back. He looked so peaceful, his face and his body relaxed. I risked waking him and ran my fingers through his hair. His head rolled toward my touch, his lips slightly parting. I kissed the pads of two of my fingers and pressed them to his lips, then I snuggled up to him and adjusted the covers.

###

I was the first to wake Monday morning. I dressed in jeans and the heavy sweater Daphne had been so kind to pack, then headed downstairs to make some coffee. The only socks I had with me were lightweight, so I donned a blanket from the living room and got cozy on the back porch as the sun rose.

An hour later, I heard the screen door open and close. I felt the heat of Malcolm's body as he stood behind my chair. He didn't say anything, and I assumed he was watching the ocean as well. I waited several minutes before reaching up and squeezing his hand that I found resting on the back of the chair.

"Good morning."

"Good morning. Am I disturbing you if I join you?"

I smiled up at him. "Nope. In fact, I'm glad you're up. Do you want to take a walk along the beach? I don't know when our plane leaves, and I'd like to do that with you before we have to go."

He set his cup aside, removed his socks, and rolled up his jeans to his calves. "Ready when you are."

I copied him, though I finished my coffee first.

We walked up the beach hand-in-hand. I found a couple of shells and stuffed them in my pockets after brushing most of the sand off. On our way back down the beach, Malcolm wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him, my arm around his waist.

I sighed, watching a seagull hop around on the sand chasing a tiny crab. This was such a different life than what I was used to. I could get used to it. "I can't believe our impromptu vacation is almost over. I don't want it to end."

"From what Daphne was relating to me while you were going through security, you didn't even want it to start."

I tried to punch him playfully, but he stopped and hugged my arms to my sides.

"I'm glad you went with her, Becca. We needed this." He bent down and pressed his lips to mine.

I let the kiss linger a moment before I pulled back. "Do you want to know why I resisted?"

"You already told me. Because you don't like surprises."

"Well, yes, but there's more. I was kicking my own ass for being so mean to you. I wanted to get in my car and drive to see you. To apologize. When my doorbell rang, I thought it was you. And when it wasn't, I didn't want to be rude to Daphne, but I wanted to tell her to get lost so I could come after you."

"And how would you have felt when you showed up at my house and I wasn't there?"

"I don't know." I laid my head on his chest, and he adjusted his embrace so one hand smoothed over my back while the other brushed my hair from my face. "I would probably have wished I'd called first. Or started wondering if you were out with another woman."

Malcolm tipped my chin up. "There is no other woman, Becca. Just you."

"Good."

"But I'm glad you would have worried about that. Lets me know you don't want to share me."

"Trust me, I don't want to be shared, either. Besides, I'm the jealous type when it comes to relationships. If I even catch you thinking of looking at another woman—"

"Oh, I won't." He grinned down at me. "I've see what can happen when a guy is not on your side."

I laughed. We continued down the beach, sticking to the wetter areas where the sand was softer. The air was much cooler today, finally feeling like autumn after the Indian summer we'd been having in Chicago. I wondered if the coming storm had left the change of seasons back home on its way out East.

"Becca?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say I'm very, very proud of you. Your gung-ho attitude on entering this lifestyle takes my breath away. Not to mention your stubbornness to stick with it while trying to hold your own ground and keep your identity. You are unlike any sub I've met before, and I mean that in a good way."

I shivered from his words. I understood exactly what he was saying. And I felt blessed to have been introduced to him, to be his sub now. To be so much more.

Ahead of us, I could see the faint outline of Ocean City. It seemed so far away, yet if I reached out, I could imagine touching it with my finger. Much like this summer.

My life had been a complete whirlwind the past two months. I'd been reckless with Brian. I guess I'd thought I was invincible, knowing I'd held this secret for so long about my nom deplume and no one could take it from me. But being with Brian—although it had been an awakening experience—had shown me just how vulnerable I really was.

The best decision I'd ever made was to go running to Drake. He'd been the ever-supportive brother. His brilliant mind had thought to introduce me to Malcolm. And I'd almost messed it up. Fate, however, had given me a second chance.

Was I making a big mistake with this plan to beat Brian at his own game? What did I have to lose if it all blew up in my face? My reputation? How much did that matter to me anymore?

A tinge of nostalgia swept over me as a wave rolled in over our feet. I could see myself writing my books here at the beach house and falling asleep under the stars with him. Leaving behind the big city and all the frustrations there. Not to mention exploring his attic room more. "Do we really have to leave?"

"Yes, unfortunately we have to fly back tonight. But we can return for the summer or other vacations. I've never been here around Christmas. We could bring Drake and Daphne."

"I like that idea." I moaned as he stopped and kissed me again, this time slipping his tongue into my mouth. When he let me up for air, I smiled. "I have a suggestion."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What, pray tell, is that?"

"Can you build a kinky dungeon at your place? At least a Saint Andrew's Cross?"

"You liked that, huh?"

Heat filled my cheeks, and my pelvic muscles clenched just thinking about it. "Oh yeah."

"You know I can do a multitude of things with you facing me, too?"

"That, I would like to see."

"Watch what you wish for."

I smirked at him. "Bring it on."

His eyes darkened. "Oh, Lady Becca. You are such a tease."

I screeched as he reached for me. I ducked, and he chased me back to the house. I was in such big trouble now.

###

Three weeks later, I paced a large storage room stacked with boxes and shelves of books.

"It's not going to work. I'm sorry I brought you all into this."

"Becca, stop. Take a deep breath." Malcolm massaged my shoulders. "You know we'd back you in any decision you make."

"Even when my life as I know it may be over in a matter of," I checked my watch, "twenty minutes?"

"You are so dramatic. Maybe that's why you're such a good writer," Drake said from the metal folding chair he'd confiscated. The only chair in the room. As if I'd be able to sit down right now, anyway.

"Funny, Drake. Very funny." I turned and laid my head on Malcolm's shoulder. "What was I thinking?"

The door opened then closed again, and I jumped.

Malcolm hugged me tighter and kissed my forehead. "It's just Sue."

"How are we all doing?" Sue's bubbly voice sang behind me. She clapped her hands, and I could imagine her bouncing on her toes.

"Horrible," I said.

"Great," Malcolm said at the same time.

I glared at him.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Behave, Lady Becca."

I stiffened. Surely he wouldn't...

"Just a little case of the nerves," Malcolm said, squeezing my hand. "Can you two give us a few minutes?"

Drake and Sue left the storage room. The former had a grin on his face, while the latter was checking a clipboard and humming to herself. As soon as the door closed, Malcolm tugged me behind a row of shelves, turned me around, and put my hands up on the wall.

"Don't, move," he growled in my ear. "And don't say a word."

I bit my lip as he reached around and lowered my pants. My eyes closed as his fingers slid down between my panties and skin. As they pressed between my thighs and stroked languidly. As his other hand undid a couple of buttons on my top and caressed my breast through my bra.

"Relax, Lady Becca." His hot breath tickled my neck, then his tongue licked at my skin.

I arched away from him with the intent to rock into his hand, to move it where I felt that special itch that suddenly needed scratching. It was a natural instinct.

He bit my shoulder and pinched my nipple. "I said don't move."

The scream rising in my throat morphed into a strange sigh as he slid two fingers up inside me, stroking fast. I flung my head back against his shoulder, and I stared up at the bright fluorescent lights as he brought me to release. Just before I came, he let go of my breast and roughly turned my head to the side where he smashed his mouth to mine, cutting off my cry.

"Suck, Lady Becca."

I was still panting as he held me against him and pressed his fingers into my mouth. I moaned, gliding my tongue around them.

"Very good. Now, I'm going to get you dressed again. And you're going to go out there and prove to your readers that no matter what your name is, you are a brilliant writer."

I gulped. "Yes, Sir."

He kissed me lightly. "Good girl."

Ten minutes later, I was presentable again and getting into position. I took several deep breaths. As I licked my lips, I tasted my lingering sweetness. I smiled and settled into the wingback chair. I could do this. I would do this.

"If I may have your attention, could everyone please take your seats?" Sue said behind me.




Raw Ch. 05



The din of chatter settled. No turning back now.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this special book signing. It has been a long time coming, and I'm sure you're all anxious to get to the highlight of the evening." Sue paused, and I could hear a smattering of whispers under the click of cameras. The resulting flashes reflected off the dark faux wall that had been set up. "Let me tell you a story, first. I promise, it will be short."

I tuned out her voice as she relayed how she had met this wonderful person fifteen years ago and had known that writer was a genius in the making. I counted to ten, remembering all my training with Malcolm. I wondered where he was now. How many people were sitting in the bookstore; if it was standing-room only. I tried not to think about their reaction.

"If you are a faithful reader of the Dex Knightly Mysteries—as many of you must be since you are here—you will recognize the scene behind me." Sue paused again, which was my cue to raise the book I held in my right hand, as well as the cue for the hired assistant to turn a spotlight on behind me.

The circle of yellow light started small on the black wall, then it slowly grew until it revealed a cardboard fireplace with an equally fake, painted-on fire. I had to admit it looked pretty cheesy, and I struggled to not laugh. The light panned over to where I was sitting. My arm and the book I held were now bathed in the warm glow; the rest of me remained hidden from their view.

"I present to you the infamous photo from all of Drake Alexander's books and dust jackets: the elusive writer reading a novel—perhaps a self-penned one—by the firelight. Cozy. Mysterious. And yet, not entirely unknown."

The murmurs grew louder, and Sue waited until they quieted again.

"Each one of you has grown to love Dex Knightly over the years. Yet, you've never met him. He is, after all, a character in a fiction novel. But that doesn't make him any less real to you. He lives in your creative minds. You daydream about him. You envision him rescuing you from a harrowing situation, or at the very least, shaking up your mundane life."

My arm was getting tired. Maybe I shouldn't have made Sue draw out the suspense. Maybe just coming out with the truth in a press release would have been better. Maybe—

"Before I reveal the true identity of your beloved writer, I have one question to present to you. Will knowing who Drake Alexander is change how you feel about Dex Knightly? About the stories?"

The crowd was getting restless by the increased sounds of chatter, coughing, and shifting of chairs. I felt their pain. As much as I loved Sue, she could get a little dramatic sometimes. I'd caught at least three times where she'd strayed from the script we'd practiced. Although, this last one with her "final question" was pretty good.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the real Drake Alexander."

There was an audible intake of breath from the waiting fans. I echoed their reaction, prayed I wouldn't throw up, and closed the book. It felt like slow-motion as I stood. I think the world stopped turning for the moment it took me to face the crowd and step fully into the spotlight.

Whatever I had been expecting to hear, it hadn't been this: dead silence. My heart crashed to my feet. I swallowed my cry of surprise and was turning to run off the stage—to hell with being the macho, popular writer who was afraid of nothing except not pleasing her partner in bed, and apparently ending the lie to those devoted to her—when the cheers and applause reached my ears.

I stumbled back into the chair. I righted myself as Sue stepped to the side of the microphone and small podium that had been set up. The camera flashes blinded me. When I could see again, Sue had her hand out, motioning me forward.

"May I present to you, Rebecca Rockland." Sue smiled at me as she clapped along with the majority of my fans. I could see that some were still in shock by the way they just sat there with slack jaws and deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

I swallowed my fears and stepped up to the microphone. "Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight. I appreciate your patience, but most of all, I appreciate your loyalty. You see, while I had hoped for a positive outcome of releasing this news, I had not expected it to come true. In all truth, I had never intended for the series to take off. It was an experiment that, well, was successful. More successful than I could have ever imagined. And yet, I've had to enjoy that success from afar, hiding in the shadows as Dex got all of the applause and adoration. But that's something I knew would happen if I started down this path. And I was okay with that. I'd had my time in the sun, now it was time to let someone else step up and have a turn, even if he was fictional."

I accepted the bottle of water Sue handed me and took a drink. I spent the next few minutes explaining why I had chosen to write under a man's name, to write from a man's point of view.

The longer I talked, the calmer I became. The more I settled into my element. I was no longer frightened of what these people would think of me. I was the confident writer who—albeit, still hated being in the limelight—knew these people were here because they loved my stories. They were my fans. Regardless of the name on the cover of my books.

"In a short while, I will be signing books. I see most of you have brought copies of the 'Dex Knightly Mysteries.' We also have available for this night only, copies of my previous books, including the out-of-print editions. But first, as a special treat, I will be reading an excerpt from my new series, 'Triple Tease.' So if you will indulge me for a few more minutes of your time, please sit back and enjoy."

I opened a manila folder on the podium. Just seeing my words in print made my stomach flutter. The first book still had a long way to go, and Sue worried that it was too soon to share the details yet. But I had, once again, convinced her that my idea was the right one. I'd just thrown my readers for a loop. I needed to coax any naysayers back to my side. What better way than to give them what they really wanted: a new story? It wouldn't matter that the book wouldn't be out until next year. They would be craving it in the meantime.

When I lifted my eyes, I searched the back of the crowd. There, standing against a bookshelf wearing the biggest smile, was my boyfriend. My gaze locked directly onto Malcolm's. Then it moved to Drake's, Daphne's, and finally Sue's. They were all smiling, and the guys were giving me a thumbs-up. It was my time to shine...again.

"The word 'vanilla' had always brought to mind ice cream, hand lotion, and candles until Tess MacMillion met Brady Douglas. Now, it made her think of sex. The kind her parents and grandparents and ancient relatives had always had. Plain, old, boring missionary-position sex. It was the last thing she wanted, especially when Brady called her 'kitten' and asked her to kneel before him in his bedroom while he slapped the black riding crop across his open palm in time with the slow beat of the music playing in the background. The same hypnotic music every time, like one would hear in a nightclub. No words, just sounds that filled her head and took her to another place. She couldn't believe how sex before Brady had ever been satisfying. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops—or at least post it on her Facebook page—that her eyes had been opened to a whole new world. But how would she ever explain to her two closest friends about this new lifestyle Brady had introduced her to? They would never understand. What she did with him? It wasn't what good girls did..."

Two hours later, my hand was cramping up from signing my name and my jaw ached from smiling. The store had quickly sold-out of my Dex Knightly series, but that hadn't stopped the readers from becoming fans of my earlier books.

I looked up as the next person laid a copy of my very first book on the table and I asked what their name was. Then I froze.

Brian Hughes smirked down at me. "Well played, Ms. Rockland. Well played."

I had never even thought about him showing up. It made perfect sense. But was he here to stir up trouble? I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced more bravery into my smile, although this time it was not genuine.

"Mr. Hughes. What a pleasure. " I opened the front cover of the book he'd given me and poised my pen over the title page. "Would you rather Brian or Mr. Hughes?"

His leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. "I was thinking, 'To the one who helped me see who I really am, my first Sir.' How's that sound?"

I swear I almost broke the pen I was gripping it so hard. I probably would have if I hadn't felt strong hands suddenly resting my shoulders. 

"How's it going, Becca? Do you need to take a break?" Malcolm's voice was smooth and calm, but the way his fingers dug into my muscles told me he was struggling to keep control. Had he heard Brian? Or was it just Brian's mere presence that had him so rattled, much like me?

I smiled up at my boyfriend and slowly blinked. "I'm good. I could use another bottle of water."

"Sure thing." Malcolm called for Drake over his shoulder and relayed the message.

He removed his hands, but he remained behind me as I turned back to the book. Oh, he'd heard alright. And bless him for not leaving me alone. If not for the table between us and the very public spectacle he'd make, I was certain Malcolm would throttle Brian again. Quite possibly, I would join him.

But I simply signed my name, closed the book, and handed it back to Brian who had straightened his posture with his hands clasped in front of him. I smirked at him now, seeing that he was wearing his usual suit and tie. Always the professional. At least on the outside. "Thank you for being a loyal reader."

For a moment, we both held onto his book. I waited until he locked eyes with me—quite possibly the first time we'd done that since our interview—and then I let go. His tipped his chin to me and stepped out of line. After I signed the next fan's book, I glanced around and saw him chatting up a pretty blonde by the refreshment table. Six books later, they were leaving the bookstore together, her arm draped through his.

I felt absolutely nothing for Brian. No nostalgia. No desire to be that woman on his arm. In fact, I felt sad for her. She was leaving with an empty shell of a man. And no matter how hard she tried—no matter how good the sex with him would be—she'd never fill up that vessel. And he'd never reciprocate any emotion she sent his way.

As the last book was signed, I turned to find Malcolm watching me with a sappy grin on his face. It was relaxed. It was warm. It promised me encouragement, and loyalty, and ultimately safety. It was everything I'd ever needed or wanted. He was my rock. My Sir. My Dex Knightly come to life.

No, he hadn't proposed to me at lunch that day at the beach house. But if we gave each other enough time, I was certain he eventually would. And I knew I would say yes when he did.

For now, though, I could accept what we had. I was content to let it grow on its own. To teach me more how to embrace my kinky side. To submit to him and to allow him to dominate me. But only in the bedroom. Well, mostly only in the bedroom.

~ H



Raw Ch. 06



PROLOGUE

The wall was white. In the middle was a small circle that was darker than the rest of the paint. An old nail hole probably. I wondered what had hung there. Why it had been removed. Why the hole had not been repaired.

A warm breeze blew against my neck, tousling my hair about my shoulders and across my face. I stared through the strands at the wall. It appeared to be covered in an array of cracks now.

I let out a ragged breath. The visual of the plaster resembled my life as of late. Shattered. Damaged. Like an Easter egg that had been dropped after just having been found. One where the dye had bled through and left a permanent stain underneath the shell. When I was a child, I'd made my mom scrape off any colored parts that had blemished the perfect egg white.

I wish someone could do that for me now. To cut out the bad parts of my life so it was enjoyable again.

###

SIX WEEKS EARLIER

The last year-and-a half had been a blur. My first book in the new series, "Triple Tease," had gone to print and become a best-seller practically overnight. Despite my fears of being ostracized due to announcing that I had written the "Dex Knightly Mysteries" series under the pseudonym Drake Alexander for seven years, the stores had struggled to keep my new book in stock. It made my heart swell that my readers had proven and continued to be loyal.

The paparazzi had finally discovered my grandfather's condo. For several months, they had taken to camping outside as if I were the newest member of royalty. While I could stay inside without much disruption, leaving and returning had become a bit of a circus trying not to run over a photographer or journalist. I wondered how much trouble I would be in if I were to 'accidentally' hit one. I mean, where did the public property end and my private domain begin on these narrow streets of Chicago?

I was spending more time at Malcolm's as a result of my renewed popularity because I found that the paparazzi didn't follow me outside of the city. It was a blessing to have a place to escape to. I'd become the proverbial city-girl/country-girl in a sense. And both lifestyles fit me. For now.

I was eternally grateful to my eldest brother for insisting I purchase a cell phone as my landline number had to be shut off to stop the incessant calls. Apparently, someone had found out my number and put it online. I swear, I had never had this problem with my original books. Then again, the technology age was just sprouting its wings at that time. Now, everyone knew what you were doing and when. Sometimes before you did it, it seemed.

Malcolm was always happy to see me, no matter the time or for how long. Even if it was a late night, last minute call to say I was on the way. We played. We just held each other like a normal, vanilla couple. And there were times when he let me act as if I was alone in my own home, though he was always just a few steps away if I needed him.

Even when the popularity died down, I kept to my new routine. In fact, I was visiting Malcolm more often. Which was the reason I was pacing his bedroom at six o'clock in the morning instead of drifting in dreamland beneath the rumpled sheets.

I'd just returned from a week-long book signing tour the day before. Tonight, Sue Warner—my agent and editor—was throwing me a party for the release of the final Dex Knightly book being published in Spanish. It was a small affair of only five of us, and we were just meeting at a local bar for the evening. But I couldn't even think about that right now. I had something more important to do first.

"God, you look so sexy wearing one of my dress shirts," Malcolm said behind me.

I turned to look at him, giving him a small smile as I crossed my arms. The new stance pushed up my breasts, and I saw his eyes grow wider as he copied me and leaned against the bathroom doorway. The light behind him glistened off the water droplets clinging to his combed-back hair. He'd decided to cut it just a few weeks ago, and I was still getting used to it. While it had plenty of body, he was no longer able to pull it back into his distinctive ponytail, which I missed. But then again, the style looked more like Matthew McConaughey's now, so he had that going for him. Not that he wasn't hot enough on his own.

"You know, I almost like it better than the lingerie I bought you for Valentine's Day," he said. The towel hugging his hips suddenly shifted forward. It was the slightest movement, but my eyes just happened to be focused there, so I saw it. And I tried not to smirk at the reason why.

I shook my head and tried to form the words I'd been going over in my head ever since I had watched his naked ass scoot out of bed and walk across the room to take a shower thirty minutes earlier. I couldn't look at him. Not with him barely naked. So I turned to look out the window as I opened my mouth.

"We need to talk."

There was a soft click, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw he'd turned on the beside lamp.

"Really?" His voice sounded closer.

I gulped. "Yes."

"You expect me to talk with you dressed like that?"

I closed my eyes. "Try."

"I can't make any promises." He was right behind me now, his breath hot against the back of my neck as he brushed my hair to the side and planted a kiss on my spinal column.

"I'm serious." I would turn to give him an intense stare, but I feared I would lose control.

"So am I." His hand cupped my hip and pulled my ass back against him, erasing any doubts I might have had about what he was hiding beneath his towel.

"You're not making this any easier."

"You think I'm making it," he slowly ground his hips against my rear a little more, "...harder?"

I gulped again, my knees shaking this time. Dammit.

"Are you wearing anything underneath my shirt?" He didn't wait for me to answer but cinched up the hem on my left side until I felt his fingers caressing my skin, searching for the strap of my panties. Panties I knew he wouldn't find.

Before he could discover the truth, I slapped at his hand and stepped away. "I'm serious, Malcolm. We need to talk."

"You know, Becca, I haven't been in many relationships. But I do know those are four words that no man ever wants to hear. And I've heard them twice in the last two minutes."

The words spilled out before I could stop them. "You must be getting tired of me encroaching on your life. I'm smothering you. It wasn't my intention at all. I'm just so grateful that you've opened your house for me. I just feel like maybe it's too much. We're going to regret this relationship. I should back off."

Dammit. That did not come out as eloquently as I'd expected. In fact, it was nothing like the words I'd rehearsed.

There was a moment of dead silence, then he said, "Do you want to move in together?"

I finally turned back around, slack-jawed, to see a wide-eyed, Cheshire-grin look on his face. "Huh?"

He stepped toward me and raised both hands. He repeated himself. But with each word he slowly enunciated, he undid a button on the shirt I was wearing. "Do you want to move in together?" He paused after the last word—the last button—to tuck his fingers under my chin, tilting it up, and he added, "Lady Becca?"

I stifled a groan, but I couldn't stop my tongue from darting out to lick my lips. And I couldn't look away from his eyes that only moments before were bright and playful. Now, they were dark and serious. Just like that. Saying those two words had flipped the switch in him, even if he had been joking about his proposal. He was joking, right?

"I'm waiting."

My knees shook. And my response came out as a squeak. "Yes, Sir?"

"No, Lady Becca. I want an answer. Not another question."

His grip had tightened on my chin, which gave me a jolt of confidence. I straightened my spine, gulped, and said, "Yes, Sir."

"Very good. We'll talk about that later. But right now..." He parted the shirt to reveal my bare body from my breasts down to my pelvis. He growled as he stepped back, his grip and eyes dropping from my face.

I tried not to shiver or whimper as his gaze roamed over me. To not be embarrassed by any flaws I thought I had. I was his, and he was allowed to behold me at his leisure in whatever means he deemed suitable. He had told me that I should never be ashamed of my body. That we all had flaws, and we should embrace how they make us unique instead of focusing on why we aren't like other people in those aspects.

For several minutes, he just stared at me. I felt the heat creep up from between my thighs until it reached my breasts that became heavy with desire. My nipples puckered from the coolness of the room and the memories that rushed into my head of all the things he'd done to them. To me.

Then his towel fell to the floor. I heard the soft swish then plop and dared to dart my gaze down to verify that I had heard correctly. I don't know if he had released it, or if it had just come undone on its own. I was betting on the latter because my eyes caught his rigid member bobbing gently between his thick legs.

Oh. My. God. What a beautiful specimen!

"Don't move."

No two words had ever been so hard to follow.

He slid his hands under the fabric on my shoulders and pushed the shirt back. It slipped down my arms but caught on my wrists. He left it that way as he cupped one breast and lifted it to his mouth.

I stared at the top of his head, forcing my eyes to stay open as he teased my nipple with first his lips then his tongue and eventually his teeth. I had to bite my lower lip to tamper the whimpers when he abandoned the nipple and just caressed the swollen flesh. Then he moved to my other breast and repeated the process.

When he'd tortured them to his liking, he slid both hands down my sides while his tongue licked a trail between my breasts to my navel where he teased some more. He tugged on the shirt, using it to bring my body closer to him so he could he rub his nose against my pubic bone.

"Spread your legs, Lady Becca." His voice rough as he said my name. Someone was losing his composure.

I did as he asked with a little difficulty myself, then I felt his tongue wandering. I knew he'd reached my clit by the tingling sensation that sparked inside. He licked the same spot languidly, tugging the shirt free from my arms and gripping my hips instead. Eventually, he moved lower, and his hot breath swept against my inner thighs as his tongue slid into my heat and wetness. It took everything in me to stand upright, not to mention be still.

Just when I didn't think I could take much more, he stopped. He walked behind me, and I could hear him open a drawer. There was a scuffling sound as he moved things around. The drawer scraped closed again. Then he gripped my hand.

"Follow me."

He led me to the bed where he had me kneel on the mattress, facing away from him. First, he tied one end of a rope around my right wrist. Then he pulled my right arm behind my back, bent it, and did the same with my left arm so that it felt like I was crossing my arms behind my back instead of in front of me like I had been doing just minutes before. He secured my bound wrist to my left elbow and wrapped the rope around both forearms until he could secure my left wrist to my right elbow. Finally, he laced rope around my upper arms and across my back several times. The technique left only my hands free.

"Too tight?"

It was snug but not uncomfortable. "No, Sir."

Gently, he leaned me forward and situated my head on a pillow so I wouldn't suffocate. My nipples had stiffened to an aching peak during the process, and the pressure of my breasts against the mattress helped ease the pain as he arranged my lower extremities. My hair chose that moment to fall in front of my face. Although I could still breathe, I could no longer see. Joy.

When he seemed satisfied with his bondage work and my position, he repeatedly stroked his hands across my lower back, shoulders, and neck. Instead of arousing me, it relaxed my muscles, as was probably his intent. Occasionally, our sessions had become a little more—what was the word? hardcore?—both in activity and in time spent in our roles. If I wasn't relaxed, he said I could get injured. I knew I'd be in for a deep session whenever he massaged me beforehand ever since.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Was he just staring at me, my arms tied up and my ass raised in the air? I imagined how sexy he must look, standing there in his serious, naked dominance. Especially one particular part. That thought made my pelvic muscles contract.

It was probably six-thirty by now, if not almost seven. Neither one of us had to go to work today, but I did want to get back to the city to change prior to the party. That wasn't for several more hours, though. He could drag this out as long as he damned well pleased. But I did wonder how long we would be at it this time. Not that I minded, but I had a darling, sleeveless dress to wear tonight, and I really didn't want to have rope marks tattooing my arms.

I wasn't sure what he had planned. Was he going to spank me? Flog me? I liked the feather flogger. God, that was so kinky and arousing. Especially when he ran the feathers over my bared pussy.

Was he going to tease me with his tongue some more? Maybe use his fingers? Or would he use his cock? Would he fuck me or make love to me? Would he do all of the above? What kind of mood was he in this morning?

He made no sound, but I felt the bed shift under me. His hands rested low on my ass, fondling while his thumbs stroked my butt cheeks near where they curved down and inward toward my exposed pussy. The touch made me undulate a little.

He slapped my ass—a signal to be still—and continued. I concentrated on slow inhales and exhales. Once I'd relaxed again, the inside of his leg pressed against my right hip as he rubbed the tip of his cock against me several times before he pressed once and slid inside with ease.

I moaned long and low as he entered me. Shudders racked my body even after he'd bottomed out, his balls pressing against my mons. Then I shrieked as he smacked my ass again.

"Shh, Lady Becca. Bite the pillow, but don't make another sound unless it's to say the safe word. Wiggle your right hand if you understand."

I obeyed, and he slowly withdrew. My hands fisted as he penetrated again. He took his time, and I felt tears in my eyes by the time he'd worked up a rhythm. He stopped after several minutes and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. Then he stood still, gripping my hips as he brought my ass back against him faster and faster. The sound of our panting was drowned out by the slapping of skin against skin.

I lost count of my orgasms after number five. Then I lost all sense of time. I could only feel. And feel I did. Whether it was him tugging on the ropes binding my arms like a horse's reins. Gripping my thighs as he took a break to cover my pussy with his mouth and lick me until I was shaking. Or fondling my breasts with his hands as he slowly pumped his hips against mine. It was glorious.

By the time he was done and had grunted his release across my ass, I had almost shredded the pillow with my teeth. I think I even had a couple of goose-down feathers in my mouth. I was sweaty, all of my appendages were numb, and my pussy felt like it had taken a beating.

He kissed my forehead. "Good girl, Becca."

I just moaned.

He cleaned me up, being very gentle on my overly-sensitized areas. When he finally released my arms, he massaged each one and laid me on my side. I mumbled contented sighs as he curled his body around mine under the covers to hold me as I came down from sub space.

He let me sleep until lunch, then we took a shower together before I headed back to the city to get ready. I had a party to attend! It wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized we had not actually discussed me moving in with him.

###

I smiled at my brother, Drake, and his fiancée, Daphne, who sat across from me that evening. I'd never seen my brother look so happy. He'd found the woman who could complete him in all manners, especially in the bedroom as his submissive. It was noisy in the bar, so I didn't hear what he said, but whatever it was, it made Daphne's eyes light up as she laughed.

Was that how I looked when Malcolm talked to me? Oh, how I loved being with him. Even when we weren't in a scene, I just wanted to please him all the time.

"You look like you're in sub space," a deep voice said in my ear as fingers caressed my bare arm.

I blinked and smiled at the topic of my thoughts where he sat on the stool beside me. "Only you would know that look."

"All too well." He turned my chin so I faced him, then he pressed his mouth to mine. His tongue darted out to lick at my lips as we parted.

I groaned in regret that the moment hadn't lasted longer, but he was talking to Drake now. It was better this way, anyway. I wouldn't have wanted to stop with a kiss. Not after the scene we'd shared that morning. I wanted a hell of a lot more of it.

Instead, I rested my chin on my fist, just drinking in the image of my boyfriend and Dominant partner as I twirled the tiny straw in my glass. He was so dreamy. And he was all mine. At least for as long as he'd have me.

Trust me, I wasn't the only female acting like a school girl with a crush that tonight. Even one of the bartenders had taken a shot at flirting with him, and she could have been my mother. But Malcolm made it clear he wasn't interested by putting his arm around my shoulders each time a new girl went out of their way to pass our table.

When Sue excused herself to visit the ladies' room, I told her I'd join her. We weaved our way through the crowd and waited in a line of noisy girls who didn't look old enough to be here. Either I was getting old, or the establishment was breaking the law. I imagine it was a little of both.

I finished first and stopped at the bar for a refill. I had placed my order and had just turned to check if Sue was still in the restroom when a tall, redheaded woman approached me. She was dressed in the minimalist of garments like most of the females tonight, but on her the style was tasteful. Her hair and makeup looked professionally done but not over the top. And the skirt and blouse, while tight and shimmery, hung on her body emphasizing all the right curves but not revealing too much.

The longer I stared at her, the more I thought she looked familiar. But I just couldn't place where I'd seen her before. In my line of work, faces tended to blend into one another unless you were around them every day.

"You're her, aren't you?" the redhead said as she fingered a gold necklace at her throat.

"Excuse me?" I dropped a five-dollar bill on the bar and turned back to the woman.

"Drake Alexander...er, Rebecca Rockingham." She glanced at her feet and then back up at me with a tilt of her head. "Right?"

I did a brief glance over her. I didn't see a camera. She probably wasn't paparazzi since she had to ask who I was, but I could never be too sure these days. "Why do you ask?"

"I was at your book signing. The one when you revealed who wrote the Dex Knightly books."

Ah. That narrowed the field down a little. Still, that was over a year ago, and there had been quite a turnout for the event. "Are you press or a fan?"

She shook her head then nodded. "I have all your books. Except the new one."

I laughed as I took a sip of my drink. "Have you read them, too?"

"What? Oh, yes! You're an excellent writer. I love how you keep the reader full of suspense. It's like I'm right there with the characters. Especially Dex."

"Would you like an autograph?" I set my drink down and grabbed a cocktail napkin out of a nearby holder. When I mimicked writing to the nearest bartender, he handed me a pen. I tore the napkin in two, signed one side of one half, and handed the pen and both pieces to the woman. "Sorry, this is all I have on me. But if you give me your name and address, I'll send you a signed copy of 'Triple Tease.' "




Raw Ch. 06



Her eyes lit up as she held the shreds of paper like I'd handed her a hundred dollar bill. "Really? I wasn't expecting that. Thank you so much!"

She hadn't wanted an autograph after approaching a personally-esteemed author in a bar? What had she wanted? I shook off the thought and smiled politely, motioning to the pen again.

She scribbled out the information on the blank half of the napkin and handed it back with a shaky hand. Then she disappeared into the sea of bar patrons as quickly as she'd appeared.

That was weird.

I returned the pen and was walking away when the same bartender called out, "Your drink, ma'am."

Geesh. I retrieved my cocktail and left a dollar tip. When I turned to leave again, Sue was walking my way. Suddenly, someone ran into my arm, making me drop the glass. It shattered at my feet. I jumped back in surprise only to collide with the edge of the counter. I groaned and tried to catch my breath.

"Are you okay, Becca?" Sue squatted down as if to pick up the broken shards, but I grabbed her arm to pull her upright.

"I'm fine. Let them clean that up." I turned back to the male bartender for the third time, held up one finger, and then pointed to my table. I saw him nod before Sue guided me back through the crowd.

"Why the glum look?" Malcolm asked as I sat down.

"My feet are covered in Malibu Rum and pineapple juice because someone knocked my glass out of my hand. I fell into the bar, so my back is killing me. Oh, and I'm out four dollars." I kissed him. "But I made a fan happy by signing a napkin."

He laughed and returned the kiss. "As long as the fans are happy."

"Looks like you're going to be happy, too," Sue said.

I looked up to see a tall, very handsome man approach our table carrying a glass filled with a yellow-colored liquid.

His dark complexion appeared to be sculpted over his high cheekbones and forehead that were framed by cropped, even darker hair. His blue eyes sparkled as he leaned down to place the glass before me on the table. He wore a fitted dark suit and tie with a shirt that matched his eyes. Everything about him said sophistication. He could have been a model with that face and body.

"S'il vous plaît accepter mes excuses tout renverser votre boisson," he said.

Something inside me sighed at the sound of his thick, French accent.

"He is apologizing," Malcolm whispered in my ear. "About your spilled drink."

I just blinked up at the stranger.

"Pour la gêne occasionnée." He then set down four one-dollar bills. "For the inconvenience, mademoiselle."

"She says, merci," Malcolm said, elbowing me. He lowered his voice and added, "Close your mouth."

"Huh? Oh, yes! Thank you!"

"Bonsoir." The stranger tipped his chin toward me with a brief smile and was gone.

"Hubba, hubba," Sue said, waving at his departing back. "You can spill my drink any day, honey."

"That was very nice of him," Drake said. "And you got your money back as well."

"Yes, yes. Very nice." My hand shook as I lifted the glass to my lips. It was my regular Malibu and pineapple, heavy emphasis on the Malibu. I wasn't going to complain, though.

"You can stop staring now." Malcolm nipped then licked my neck right behind my ear, which made me shiver and turn to look at him.

"Sorry." I gestured to where my benefactor had stood, as if that explained everything.

Malcolm just chuckled and took a swig of his beer.

I shook my head, breaking the brief daze that had settled upon me. I went to set my drink on the nearby napkin but realized it had the woman's address on it. I slid the shred of paper to Sue instead. "Mail her a copy of 'Triple Tease,' please. Send her a signed one."

Sue studied it a moment before she put it in her purse. "Now enough business talk. We're celebrating."

"What took you so long in the restroom? You were right behind me."

Sue winked at me. "Covert operations."

I raised an eyebrow and took another long sip of my complimentary drink.

"Your man is all the talk, Ms. Rockland," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

"Should I be worried?"

She nodded and stirred the red-tinted liquid in her martini glass. "The teeny-boppers are planning to take you out and kidnap him. I could have heard wrong, though. It was loud in there."

I rolled my eyes and watched the far area of the room where a DJ was set up for the evening. Girls with more skin revealed than clothing covering them pressed against guys who seemed to have their hands too low on the girls' backs as they danced to music that was starting to hurt my head with the repetitive, thumping base.

Minus the headache, it reminded me of the secret BDSM club the guys had taken me to last year. We hadn't been back since, and I missed that experience. How Malcolm had danced with me in the sea of exhibitionists and made me orgasm. How I'd given him a blowjob under the table. And how he'd absconded with me to the private room and had his way with me until I was putty in his hands.

Now that I was back home and had time to unwind, I should suggest we hit up that club again. Or even a different one they might know of. Until then, I would just have to daydream.

Half an hour later, I couldn't hear myself think. I'd had several cocktails thus far, including another after my free one. I'd even allowed the girls to drag me out for a couple of dances, so I was feeling pretty good. But now I was really sleepy and ready to go home.

"How about another round?" Drake asked, pointing to each of our empty glasses or bottles. Although Sue and Daphne nodded, I waved my hand when he looked at me.

"Sorry, I'm exhausted." I didn't mention that the bouncing colors of lights made my brother look blurry. I'd definitely had too much to drink.

"I'm done, too," Malcolm said. He kissed my cheek. "I'll take you home and help you relax."

I smiled weakly at him. "Relax? Wouldn't bet on it." Was I slurring my words?

He winked at me. "You might be right. But you will have other guests crashing tonight, so we need to keep it toned down."

"It hasn't stopped him yet," Drake laughed.

I tilted my head toward my grinning brother. "Hello Pot. Meet Kettle. You're not exactly the quietest houseguests, you know."

Drake's eyes and mouth went wide with mock horror as he put his hand on his chest. Then he smiled again. "Get on out of here before someone steals your arm candy."

"I need to make a pit stop first," Malcolm said.

I leaned toward him. "I'll wait outside."

He caught my arm as I stood, to which I was thankful because the floor was spinning. I leaned into him, mostly to use him as support as I tried to keep my balance. His voice seemed far off even though he spoke in my ear. "I'm serious about getting you relaxed."

My heart was beating so loud in my head I couldn't think of what to say, so I just nodded.

"I'll meet you out front, okay?"

I nodded again.

It was much cooler on the other side of the dirty glass windows lit up with neon beer signs. The door opened onto a tiny triangle of sidewalk. Another couple came out, both of them lighting up cigarettes before they crossed the threshold so I was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. I chose to step around the corner to get out of their way instead of into the street. It had rained since we'd arrived, and it was just my luck that I stepped into a puddle. Like my feet weren't already wet. At least there was a streetlamp post I could lean on.

I heard the couple's footsteps fading on the wet cement as they walked in the other direction, their chatter waning with it. When it was quiet again, I sighed long and deep. Ah, a little peace. And fresh air. But my arms and shoulders were chilled by the latter. I was considering if I should go back inside when I heard footsteps right behind me.

The person bumped into me before I could get out of the way. I turned to yell at the culprit because that was twice in one night, but my feet didn't get the message and I stumbled forward. Arms wrapped around me, steadying me against a hard chest. I gasped in surprise before I considered that maybe Malcolm had gone out the back door.

"Be careful, Ms. Rockland," the masculine owner of the arms said. 

The thoughts in my head may have been jumbled, but I knew he was definitely not Malcolm. He spoke perfect English, but with a foreign accent. I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew my name just as he stepped out of the shadows. What actually came out was, "Whoa, baby!"

It was the same man who had bought me a drink. The light winked off his eyes as he looked around. "Maybe you should sit down."

I slurred, "I'll be fine." 

"I insist." His arm was still around my shoulders as he pried my fingers from the post.

"No, thanks," I said, but I couldn't of think why I should refuse his help. He was only trying to be nice.

Suddenly, his large hand covered my mouth. Something inside me said to bite, but my teeth scraped leather instead of skin. My hands clawed at the air as the strange but handsome man led me away in the opposite direction of the bar. The traitors, my legs carried me with him, no longer responding to my instructions to stop.

We walked up the street for several blocks. Each time I attempted to struggle in his firm grip, he held me tighter against his body. By the time we turned a corner and stopped next to a dark car, he was practically carrying me.

The backseat door on the passenger side opened. The man removed his hand from my mouth to push down on the back of my head. I told myself to fight him while he guided me forward, but the only result was a weak whimper as my limbs gave out and I tumbled into the obscurity of the backseat.

The door slammed shut behind me. I screamed, but another gloved-hand clamped over my mouth and I was pulled once more against a hard body. My fingers fumbled over the panel to find the handle as my continued cries were muffled. I heard the locks click a moment before I found success. Still, I yanked, but nothing happened. I heard the whir of a window being lowered, then a cool breeze brushed my face.

"A little extra for any trouble," the masculine voice of the body behind me said. His body pressed mine forward against the door as he reached around me, his citrusy-but-spicy-scented cologne drifting up my nose as I inhaled.

I blinked rapidly as an envelope was passed through the opening to a waiting black glove. Or were there three gloves? I closed my eyes for a moment hoping to clear my vision.

"His usual, along with the requested package," said the French man outside.

I opened my eyes to see his face appear in the space of the open window. Handsome be damned, he was not trying to help me.

He looked from me to somewhere behind me. "Remind him that a little goes a long way."

A small, black bag was held at the opening. Whomever was holding me in the car took the bag. The window went up, and the car moved forward. The weight on my back was released, but the arm remained around me as well as the hand over my mouth.

I was so tired, but I told myself, "Don't give up." I pressed my forehead to the cool glass and closed my eyes again to concentrate. I kept hearing the clacking sound of the handle being released until I could no longer grip the metal bar.

###

I had vague memories of being helped out of the car. Of walking up a set of stairs with the aid of two people. Of being led to a mostly dark room where I was stripped of my clothes. After I was laid down on a bed, sheets and a blanket were tucked around me. I moaned then. At least I think it was me.

A voice whispered something in my ear. I didn't understand it. Then there was nothing for awhile.

I swallowed several times when I came to again. I attempted to lick my tongue across my dried lips, but my mouth felt like I had been sucking on a cotton ball. I opened my eyes yet saw nothing. I heard heavy breathing. Was it me?

When I tried to roll onto my side, my body would not cooperate. It took a few tries to realize my arms were stretched above my head. I could move my legs, but my ankles appeared to be secured somehow. I was trying to rationalize how and why when a door opened on my right.

Pain shot up my neck as I turned my head too quickly.

A dark silhouette appeared against a backdrop of golden light. The door closed again, casting the room in darkness again. Then a husky voice said, "Hello, Becca. I hope you're well rested. We have a lot of catching up to do."

I screamed so hard and long that my throat was raw. My wrists and ankles were no likely bruised from yanking on my restraints. But I was fighting a losing battle. I was still secured to a bed with Brian Hughes standing nearby. We weren't in his bachelor-themed bedroom, but I guessed we weren't far from his sadistic lair disguised as a normal Chicago brownstone.

"Are you quite finished?" he said as he fiddled with some switches on the wall until he seemed satisfied with the ambient light flooding the room. Then he perched on a stool opposite the foot of the bed where I lay while he sipped a glass of red wine. He wore his obligatory dark suit sans tie, and his white dress shirt was untucked with several buttons undone.

I just glared at him, realizing my head was tilted up with pillows so that I was forced to stare at him directly. What an arrogant asshole.

"You really should reserve your energy. You're going to need it."

I rattled the chains once more to show him I would fight him. However long I'd been resting had been enough for me to sober up. Surprisingly, I did not have a headache, which I usually did get when I was hungover. "Fuck you!"

He set the glass aside and stood. I had forgotten he was at least a head taller than me. From my prone position, he appeared quite menacing, and I shrunk back a little. He removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. "We'll get to that, Becca."

"Go to hell," I rasped, my eyes darting to the narrow table he was walking towards near the door.

A little black bag sat on top next to a tall, white bottle and a rectangular box that was about the size of the one my tampons came in. From this distance and with the low lighting, I could not read the words on the latter two items. But I'd seen that bag. Hadn't I?

He squatted down. "As I recall, you were in heaven last time."

I spat at him.

He just continued with unzipping something beneath the table. A moment later, he turned around fully and approached the bed with two short, narrow chains and something I couldn't determine in his hand.

My heart raced as he dropped the chains on the bed, rested one knee beside my head, and reached over me. Not knowing what his intent was, but knowing it couldn't be good, I fought as best as I could by rolling my head back and forth as I yelled, "Get off me!"

He ignored me. As he lifted the mysterious object, I paused my thrashing long enough to see that it was made up of a red ball with a black band connected to either side. He took advantage of my sudden stillness to tug my jaw down until he could wedge the ball into my mouth. Then he secured the band around the back of my head, tightening it so that it was snug. "Relax your jaw or you'll hurt yourself."

I tried to speak, but the rubber ball—although flexible between my teeth—was hard enough that I could only mumble against it. And I slobbered while doing so. I resorted to breathing through my nose, but that made me sound a bit like a mad bull as I comprehended that he had just gagged me.

He flung back the bedclothes with a flourish. His only response was a guttural grown. Mine was a stifled shriek and an unsuccessful attempt to pull back as shivers jolted through my limbs.

I was still wearing my stockings. They were a luxury I had not indulged in since my first and last sexual encounter with Brian—because of said encounter—but nothing else. Or rather, nothing else that belonged to me.

Strapped to each thigh was a black, leather band that looked like a short belt with grommet holes and a buckle. I flinched again as Brian caressed my left breast and slowly slid his hand down my side. I watched him with morbid curiosity, repulsed by his hand touching me but unable to stop him.

He didn't speak as he retrieved one of the smaller chains he'd laid on the bed and secured it to a metal ring on the underside of the thigh band. His fingers trailed down my leg to my ankle. He squatted again, and I heard a metal clanking before my leg went slack.

I yanked my leg away. The now-loose chain whipped out. It caught him on the bare part of his forearm just below his rolled-up sleeve. A red welt immediately appeared.

Brian reacted exactly as I had expected: he did nothing. No cuss words, no striking me anywhere on my body. Instead, he continued in his controlled demeanor and moved my leg up so my knee was in the air. He secured the shorter chain on my thigh to the cuff on my ankle so that my leg stayed bent, and then he hooked the longer chain on my ankle to a new position on the side of the bed. Only then did he pause to wipe at the light trail of blood that trickled down his skin.

He didn't look at me as he walked around the bed. He didn't touch my body the way he had on the left side. He merely repeated the re-chaining process—keeping hold of my right leg and the loose chain this time. When he was done, I was left with my feet flat on the bed, my legs pried open.

"You're a fan of Enigma, correct?" Brian was back at his mysterious bag and pulled out an iPad. He tapped the device's screen a few times. Suddenly, the familiar sounds of one of my favorite artists streamed through the speakers. It almost drowned out his words as he shed his shirt, his back to me. "I have a little treat for you, but I think I want to wait to show it to you. Strange as it may seem, I only have so much self-control. And you've kept me waiting a good, long time. First things first."

I thought I would choke as he lowered his pants and turned to face the bed. His cock was long and proud against his pelvis. I felt bile rising up my throat at the thought that I once had been in awe of this man, of his manhood, as brief as it had been. I swallowed now with some difficulty.

Still facing me, he pulled a shiny strip of material out of the rectangular box, clearing up the mystery of the contents within. He tore a square off and ripped open the package with his teeth. With a slow finesse, he rolled on the condom as he said, "I really don't like to use these. But for my protection, it will have to do until we can make permanent arrangements for you." 

I screamed and struggled, but both were in vain. Oh how I wish I had my legs free. Especially to kick him and make him the one who would become sterile. I had never been so thankful that I'd had an IUD implanted when Malcolm and I had become regular lovers. But if Brian had had many other lovers since me, I was only protected so much.

He retrieved the white bottle and climbed up on the bed, kneeling between my legs. Then he finally looked up at me. There was nothing in eyes. Just a dark void. No remorse for what he had already done or what he was about to do.

How long had he planned this? Since the book signing? The altercation at the restaurant? The moment I'd said the safe word? This was payback for leaving. Of course, he'd call it training or some other term, but it was the farthest thing from it. Not when his intent was to make me do something I did not consent to. And I knew he would break me if I let him. So I couldn't let him.

He must have read the understanding in my own eyes as his lips curved up ever so slightly, but not enough to be considered a grin. The man never smiled. He tilted his head to the side and paused for a moment. "You know, you have good taste. I can see why you like this music. It's very arousing."

I wanted to close my eyes. To convince myself that I was just having a horrible nightmare and I could wake up any second. But I was more afraid of what would happen when I couldn't see him again. Not that I could stop him, but knowing where he was provided a tiny comfort in my brain.




Raw Ch. 06



He hummed along to the music as he roughly pulled the pillows out from behind my head and shoved them under my lower back and ass. It was a tight fit due to the already strained chains, but it still raised my bared pussy up enough so that my body was tilted back towards my head. I could still see him, but only from the waist up.

He palmed the white bottle and then overturned it. I could see his hand moving up and down. Probably stroking his cock over the condom. He repeated this a couple of times before he overturned the bottle again and set it aside.

When his fingers pressed inside me several times, I realized he was applying lubricant. Tears filled my eyes as he grabbed my knees and scooted himself forward. This was not a dream. Not even a nightmare. Oh, God, help me!

He suddenly sat back on his heels. "I almost forgot. The safe word."

Yes! My heart leapt for joy, and I raised my head as best as I could to hear the way out. It didn't occur to me that he wouldn't understand me if I tried to speak it.

"There isn't one. Of course, you can say it if it makes you feel better, but it won't make a difference."

And all of my hopes were dashed as if I were a glass of his wine that he'd intentionally dropped on the hardwood floor.

"You're my slave now. You'll have to earn the right to have a safe word again."

Without preamble, he gripped my hips and thrust into me with one long stroke. I screamed, but the muffled sounds only reached my own ears. Despite the lube, my pussy resisted the intense intrusion, and the thickness of his cock stretched me painfully.

He took his time raping me. I was awake for every excruciating moment. I stared at the ceiling or the bared-brick wall behind the bed and tried to block out the encounter—to think of a happier place, a happier time—but every little nerve in my body reminded of what was happening to me.

When he was done, he came on my breasts. My face was a mess from my hot tears, my now-runny nose, and the slobber that had run out the sides of my mouth as I tried to breathe and cry and scream at the same time. I could smell him on me—feel him in me—even as he got off the bed and disappeared through the only door in the room.

While he was gone, I relaxed as much as I could in my position. Eventually, my lower extremities became numb. I forced myself not to give into the exhaustion by counting the bricks on the wall.

He eventually returned, but he merely retrieved his empty wine glass and left the room again. Before the door closed, he flicked off the light so I was cast into music-filled darkness. Now, it was impossible to not give into my emotions. I had to close my eyes. And it didn't take long for the sensual tones of one of my favorite artists to lull me towards slumber.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke, the room was still dark. And I was no longer alone. I couldn't see him, but I could feel Brian watching me. Probably from the stool with another glass of wine in his hand. The man sure loved to imbibe.

The ball-gag had been removed, and I struggled to keep my breathing slow. But my heart didn't want to listen as the thumping in my ears increased. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't just my heartbeat I was hearing. The music was still on—or back on—but had changed to a rhythmic drumbeat that kept repeating itself. It was hypnotic.

Instinctively, I tried to stretch. I discovered that my legs had been straightened, but they were chained somewhere near the footboard again. I wiggled my toes to make sure the blood was flowing properly and took a deep breath. Now what?

We played the silent game for quite awhile. The song kept repeating itself, or maybe it was just really long. I stared into the darkness to where I knew he sat contemplating who knows what.

I had just closed my eyes and convinced myself that he wasn't really there when he spoke.

"I almost gave up on you."

My eyelids shot open, and I stared at where the ceiling would be, my heartbeat racing once more. I considered remaining quiet, but the rebel in me refused to shut down. "Why didn't you?"

"I tried to replace you." There was the sound of bare feet slapping against the wood floor as the song finally stopped. The footsteps continued but did not get closer. He was pacing. "You've gotten under my skin, Becca. A rare find. I couldn't ignore the desire to uncover the diamond in the rough that you are."

"Surely there are other women who enjoy your little control games."

He hummed his agreement. "There have been others, but none like you. Before or since. I knew I had to finish what I'd started with you. For both of us."

If he said some bullshit like, "You complete me," I was going to throw up. Thankfully, he did not.

The footsteps finally drew closer, and my muscles tensed. The bed shifted as he sat down on my right side. I tried to scoot away but only managed a couple of inches. He fumbled a little with the lack of light as he strapped on the gag, and I moved my head around as best as I could when I realized what he was doing. But in the end, he was successful.

"You see, it's very hard for me to concede defeat, Becca." He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. "It's always been a strength of mine."

I snorted softly, not sure why I found him amusing when I was in this predicament. But I kept envisioning him as a child, one who didn't necessarily get into fights but found other ways for revenge when he didn't get his way. Creative ways. Conniving, evil ways, even. And he prided himself on this ability...and probably at never having been caught.

He stood. The room was cast into blinding light that made me close my eyes. Thankfully, he turned the intensity almost all of the way down. When I could see again, he was standing beside the bed with the black bag from the table. It was no bigger than his fist. I'd had one just like it when I was a kid for holding mixed gems and stones from a museum. My brothers each had one for the ball and jacks game. I doubted Brian's little bag contained either of those trinkets.

"I am very good at my job, both professionally and personally." He pulled out a tiny, clear vial no bigger than a couple of inches tall that was mostly full with a white substance. When he set the bag on the single nightstand, there was a clinking sound of glass hitting glass, as if there were more vials inside. "I'm a businessman even when I'm not in the office. It's almost impossible for me to shut off that role. It carries into the rest of my life. Into my bedroom, as you've experienced firsthand."

I tried to ask him what the white stuff was, but my mumbling reminded me that I couldn't speak well with the ball-gag in my mouth. Part of me didn't want to know, and the other half already had a good inkling. I was probably going to find out more sooner than later, much to my dismay.

"Shh," he said, pressing two fingers against the ball and barely brushing my lips.

My continued whimpers and attempts to move away from him—however futile—were apparently not part of his plan. Like he thought I'd give into this willingly?

With a sigh, he straddled me with his knees on either side of my head. His shins pressed down on my shoulders and arms, and his thighs held my head still so I was looking up at him.

I tried to suck in my breath through my mouth, but I feared I'd swallow the ball-gag. So I inhaled through my nose, and I swear, he smiled at last.

He unscrewed the black cap on the vial and pulled forth an attached silver stick with a miniature spoon on the end. He dipped the spoon in the white powder and set the bottle on the nightstand beside the bag. "Now keep breathing just like that. It's perfect."

Oh. My. God. Seriously?

When I didn't comply and forced myself to exhale through my mouth, causing saliva bubbles and drool to trickle down my cheeks, he used his free hand to tip my chin up and hold it in place. I managed as deep of an inhale as possible before his thumb and forefingers pinched my lips against the ball, sealing off any air passage. Then he held the spoon beneath my left nostril. "I want you to be relaxed while we start your training. You're way too tense."

I held my breath as long as I could. I knew what would happen if I tried to inhale through my nose. When I was young, I'd read a fiction story about a girl who had killed the boy who liked her by forcing him to snort bad cocaine. He was trying to entrap her into a confession by allowing her to tie him up for apparently kinky sex, and she had taken advantage of his position to put duct tape on his mouth so he had to inhale. And the stupid part was, she'd only killed her crush because she'd found out he knew she had killed some of their classmates for some stupid reason, so his plan was foiled and he died.

I couldn't figure out why that story kept running through my head right now. Maybe because I worried that whatever Brian had on that spoon might kill me, too? In the instance of the book, the boy had rigged his camera to take time-photographs to catch his time with his chick...which meant he knew she might try to kill him. I'd had no perceptions that Brian would kidnap me and force me to have sex with him. I doubt he'd try to kill me with an overdose, but...

I exhaled and inhaled. Something rushed up my nostril and punched my brain.

Whoa! I thrashed against the restraints which didn't do much with Brian's weight on my chest. After a minute, I settled down but was still breathing like a mad bull.

"Good girl." He must have loaded up another spoonful because the other half of my nose felt like something had been shoved up it and then went numb.

I tried to swallow when he let go of my mouth, and I grimaced at the bitterness I tasted there. He climbed off me and sat on his fucking stool as he sipped his glass of wine. I guess he was waiting for the drug to take effect.

I was more awake now. I was pissed. Yet every muscle in my body seemed to slowly relax against my will. And then I forgot what my will was. My breathing evened out, and I stared at two of the can lights in the ceiling until they merged into one.

He must have been satisfied at my progress because he sat beside me on the bed. The ball-gag went slack, and he wiped my mouth with the sheet. "Don't want you to choke on me, dear, Becca."

A whimper escaped as I felt the heat of his hand cover my breast. As his fingers caressed. I fought against enjoying his touch. A voice inside kept telling me this wasn't right. He'd just drugged me. He'd probably had that guy drug me somehow at the bar, too. This wasn't how a relationship was supposed to be. How BDSM was supposed to be. Yet another voice rose above the first and said to just feel.

"So I had to think of a way to get you back here," Brian's voice competed with the others in my brain now. "To show you what you've missed being by my side. I've been patient. More so than I normally would have been."

I tried to bite my lip to suppress a moan as his hand lightly stroked down my belly. I think I bit my tongue instead, but I felt no pain.

"You're a hard woman to keep track of. Especially when you're off gallivanting around the globe with your book signings. I almost put my plan into action several times in the past few months, but the timing was never right. What luck it was to be at the same bar you were at tonight. Katia and I were just having a drink for old-time's sake. A couple of phone calls later, and here you are."

His hand was between my legs now, his fingers dancing just over my mons. Impulsively, my hips arched up at the sensation. The small voice in my head yelled to stop. The bigger one moaned aloud. Damn it.

"You were with that man again. Do you know what it does to me, seeing how he won't keep his hands off you? He needs to learn not to touch other people's property."

I jumped as his fingers brushed my clit. No! No! But what came out was, "Ah! Ah!"

"I took a huge risk. Gerard would have fought him off if he had come outside with you. But luck put you in the perfect position."

He slid his hand lower and pressed up into me now.

I gasped, writhing against his hand. Oh, yes!

He stroked long and deep, his thumb rubbing my clit. "You need someone who will protect you. Who's always by your side."

Tears leaked out the corners of my eyes as his fingers thrust faster.

"Stop fighting it, Becca." His hot breath caressed my ear. Then his mouth suddenly covered my nipple and he bit down.

I screamed. And despite all of my efforts, I came.

He proceeded to perform oral sex on me while I floated on a bed of clouds. I hated myself for liking it. When he'd made me come another couple of times, he finally relented. I tasted the tanginess of my release on his lips as he kissed me. Then he whispered in my ear, "Welcome back, Becca."

###

It was later that day during our first session of how to suck his cock that I saw him take a couple of hits of cocaine. This was of course after he used his hand on my mouth to force me to inhale it. He seemed accustomed to the process and the effects enough himself to convince me that it wasn't his first time.

He also introduced me to a collar and leash, tools he said all proper Masters used with their slaves. He led me around the room by the leash while he waited for the drugs to kick in, yanking the chain when I didn't immediately obey. When he tired of that, he secured the collar to the far brick wall using chains and heavy-duty eyehooks that had been embedded into the grout lines in various spots. Then he applied a pair of nipple clamps to my breasts, "to heighten the pleasure," or so he said. All of this while Beethoven played in the background. Not usually my cup of tea, and yet I found the music sexually arousing that day.

As my muddled head tried to focus on being angry with him now, he shed his business suit so that he was standing naked in front of me. His cock was not fully erect yet, and he stroked it languidly a couple of times.

I wondered if he had been at work. If he'd had a bad day. Is that only when he snorted? He hadn't acted high when we were together before. Maybe it was a newer habit, like stalking me.

"Be a good girl and don't bite." He lifted my chin up and glared down at me. "You'll regret it."

He held his cock to my lips. I didn't comply with his unspoken request—mostly because my brain wasn't working—and I tried to push him away. He smacked my cheek, but he stopped.

It was only momentarily, though, as he retrieved the wrist cuffs and secured my arms to the wall above my head. When he stepped forward again, he reached down and tugged on the small chain between my two nipples. As I cried out, he shoved his cock into my mouth.

"That's it, Becca. Open wide."

I gagged and tried to pull away, forgetting I had nowhere to go.

I prayed Malcolm would come find me. Just the thought of his name brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to believe that this would end any minute, that I could go home. But something deep down told me that was merely wishful thinking. No one knew where I was. And Brian wasn't about to let me go free willingly any time soon.

As he forced me to suck his cock, Brian went on a diatribe about Master/slave roles as they pertained to us. I think it was mostly due to the coke. He had never talked so much in my presence. The drug made me horny. It made him a chatterbox. Who would've thunk?

"The first step to being a good slave is learning the role of the submissive. You have to give into that inner desire to want to be controlled. You and I both know it's in you. But you're suppressing it. You're fighting it. You need a good teacher, a proper Master, to show you how to release it. And how to discipline you when you need it."

My eyelids drifted closed as my mouth encased his cock. As the stimulant took hold of my senses, and I tasted the saltiness of his precum. Smelled the natural, masculine musk of his groin. Heard the classical music under the deep tenor of Brian's voice that lulled me to a sleepy state.

There was a sharp sting at my nipples. My cry came out as a gurgle, and saliva dribbled out the corners of my lips that were still wrapped around his stiffening flesh. I must have bit down because he smacked my face as he jerked back. But in his own drug-induced state, there wasn't a lot of power in his swing. Or at least I didn't feel the pain when his palm connected with my cheek.

"Eyes on me. I didn't give you permission to close them. And no teeth!" He put one hand on top of my head and tilted it back slightly, which opened my jaw wider. He pushed deeper into my mouth than before and held himself there while I gagged. "That's the second step. Follow your Master's orders, for He knows what is best for you."

Tears filled my eyes as he finally withdrew. I knew that eventually, I was either going to pass out or throw up all over him. I was leaning more toward the latter, but I didn't know if my muscles would cooperate. Maybe I'd asphyxiate, and this would all be over sooner than I thought.

"Relax. Your reflexes will adapt." He suddenly withdrew completely again, which left me choking. "Take deep breaths, Becca."

As soon as I wasn't seeing stars, he started again. Although, there were three cocks waving in front of my face now.

I tried to concentrate on breathing through my nose as he continued his speech about how good submissives know their place. That in time, they embrace the slave role they ultimately desire. That some subs take longer than others, but he had patience for me. He knew how to draw it out of me, and I was at the perfect stage to be molded to his type of sub as long as I let him.

Problem was, he was conveniently forgetting that this "slave" was being force to "embrace the role" completely against her will with an unwanted partner.

He repeated what he considered appropriate training for proper blow jobs several times. Eventually, he showed me how he liked his balls licked and sucked. How to lick his shaft properly. How to suck or just be still as he controlled the speed and depth as he fucked my mouth. He even unhooked one of my hands to stroke his cock at one point.

When I was on verge of delirium because I wasn't sure if I wanted to suck him raw or bite off his dick, he pulled out, gripped my chin with one hand and stroked his cock with his other. A moment later, he came on my tongue. Before I could think twice, he clamped my mouth shut and tilted my head back as far as it would go. "Swallow, Becca."

My gag reflexes kicked in this time, but the angle of my head proved gravity was stronger. Under the burning sensation of bile, I tasted the bitterness of the cocaine mixed with the thick, milkiness of his semen. He stroked my throat with the backs of his fingers until I swallowed three times. Only then did he release his hold on me.

Brian rearranged the chains so only the leash was attached to the wall, then he stumbled out of the room. He left behind his clothes and even forgot to shut the door.

I did throw up then. Then I crawled as far away as possible from the mess and laid down on the cold floor. I cried as I came down from my high. I was shaking. My jaw and my breasts hurt. I lost sense of time as I wavered in and out of consciousness.

When Brian finally returned, he led me by the leash to one side of the bed and bent me forward over the mattress. Then he flung the leash across the bed and secured the chain to the other side so I couldn't get up. Like I was in any shape to move on my own? I felt like a marionette being guided around while my strings kept getting tangled.

Unfamiliar music filled the room, but I still heard the sounds of him preparing a condom. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me back until the leash was taught. Then he fucked me from behind. With nothing in my mouth, I could still attempt to scream. But all that came out was a cacophony of whimpers and moans.




Raw Ch. 06



He never said a word about the vomit as he cleaned it up.

Three more times that day, he returned to "practice" my oral sex techniques. Thankfully, he did not make me swallow his cum after the first time, but that was because he immediately chained me to the bed to fuck me afterwards. He came across my front or back when he was done. And he always left me with his semen drying on my skin. By the fourth time, the layers had caked on top of each other so that I couldn't take a breath without smelling him. I threw up again, this time in a bucket he had placed on the floor directly below my head. How considerate.

Apparently, the drugs gave him stamina as well. I wished he would have a heart attack and die.

###

I sunk into a depressed sort of haze after that. Every part of my body hurt now. The pain was dulled by the cocaine, but only temporarily. Unless I was sucking his dick, eating, or sleeping, he made me wear the ball-gag. To begin each session, he made me snort a tiny spoonful and led me around by the leash.

He'd direct me to lay down, sit down, or kneel down while he had me perform various sex acts. If I didn't obey to his liking, he chained me face-first to the wall and whipped or flogged the back of my legs. Then we'd start over.

I'd begun to form welts, some that split and bled. Due to my stubbornness to not give into his desires, the punishments kept coming. And the chosen device to inflict said punishment would tear the healing wounds open again. He would always treat them after he was done with our session, but it did no good because I'd be forced to lay on my back on the bed so the sheet stuck to my legs.

I fought to not give up. To not give in to his madness. Part of me acknowledged that he had changed. He wasn't the same man I'd met in our interview. In my first real kinky situation. I did not believe he'd been doing drugs back then. But he must have been snorting long enough since then that it was affecting his rationale now, what little of it was left. Did he even go to work each day? How did he manage to keep a job? To keep this part of himself hidden? To keep me hidden?

Although Brian's words rang true that I had a submissive side, he was wrong about those feelings still being suppressed. I had already begun to embrace them. Just not with him. And deep down, I think he knew it, too. Which is why I think he had embarked on this scheme: to create a world where he could have me, at least in his mind.

As my time in captivity ensued, he seemed to give me more hits to be compliant. I was crashing harder as a result. I was no longer able to discern if it was because I'd lost my high or if my body was coming out of the sub space it had grown accustomed to entering when I was in a session. A session with Malcolm. Problem was, my body was also no longer able to tell the difference between who was controlling me at that time of pseudo elation because I couldn't think rationally due to the drugs in my system.

Oh, Malcolm. He occupied my mind during those times where I just wanted to curl up and die. I thought of how much I enjoyed being with him. Wanted him to remain in my life. I told myself to keep believing. He wouldn't give up on finding me. He and Drake would not just let me disappear without a fight.

Unconsciousness came slowly but surely every time. I'd rarely been able to just sleep. And I never knew if it was night or day. Or how long our sessions lasted. They just seemed to bleed one into another.

Sometimes, as I lay waiting for the darkness to take over me, I wondered how I would survive if I ever escaped. Could I? Or would it just be easier to let go and succumb to the horror that had been created around me?

###

"The pretty little author has become quite the celebrity," Brian's deep voice growled in my ear. I had heard him take six snorts of cocaine when he first walked in the room. Two more hits than usual. That and his already apparent bad attitude did not bode well for me. 

I was standing beside the bed, ball-gag in my mouth, my hands bound behind my back as I leaned forward with my ass in the air. He'd already stuffed a pillow under my belly and cuffed a spreader bar to my ankles. He was in the process of securing the leash of the collar to the other side of the bed. 

"You were the top story this morning on the local news. 'Missing mystery writer. Who dunit?' Very original." He made three ticking sounds with his tongue. "The skeptics think you disappeared intentionally due to all the paparazzi. I saw your little boyfriend. He looked so pathetic, barely able to speak when it was his turn. Two other men did most off the talking. Your brothers, Drake and Alexander, I presume? I see where you get your good looks."

They hadn't forgotten me! I was trying to grin when Brian tugged the leash, making it taught. I did a face plant into the sheet. It was an effort to turn my head so I could breathe. My line of vision was now limited to the headboard and the bare bricks of the wall visible through the wooden slats.

He'd told me at one point that we were still in his brownstone. He had converted part of the master suite into a walk-in closet and an additional storage room when he'd moved in years ago. The latter was only accessible through the closet. That explained the third, mysterious door I'd seen on my first visit. Just a couple of months ago, he had remodeled again, creating the special room for me out of the storage room.

When I was alone in the room, he kept the lights off and me chained to the bed or the wall. He brought me food several times a day. I was never allowed the use of any utensils, and usually he fed me. Though, there were times he let me do it myself, but that was always from a plate on the floor. I'd tried to keep track of the pattern of meals to determine if it was morning or night to count the days. He made it difficult, though, by varying the types of food, the frequency, and the quantity he brought. 

If he started a session with obedience training, he would wait until the end to rape me. Those were always the longest sessions because my stubbornness prevented me from just giving into his will, so he usually had to discipline me as well. Twice, he just came in and got right to it without the assistance of cocaine or any extra restraints besides the basic bindings holding my limbs. He'd left without a word when he was done as if he had other pressing matters to attend to. And there were times where he just sat on the stool drinking his wine with me kneeling beside him, his hand forcing my head to rest on his knee while he pet my hair.

The first time he allowed me to use his bathroom, I'd reconsidered that he had no dignity left. But even that remaining shred was eliminated when he led me there by the leash...and remained to watch me. On the two occasions he allowed me in the shower, he was with me and forced me to suck his cock while he bathed instead. I'd been returned to my dark room with wet hair and damp skin, shivering under the thin sheets and blanket.

He had talked about getting me a submissive-appropriate wardrobe—whatever that was—when he deemed me worthy to wear clothes again. Eventually, I would be allowed out of my room so I could share his bed and eat with him, too. Wasn't I special?

Yet I still considered what meager things he'd allowed me a luxury. I'd read stories of slaves in BDSM relationships being deprived of a real bed or linens...and they said they relished that humbling part of their role. I doubted Drake and Daphne's relationship stooped that low. It was inhumane in my eyes, even if both partners consented.

As messed up as Brian was when I first met him, this was not the same man. He had been...refined. Like that man in the bar. He wouldn't have resorted to kidnapping a woman to have sex with him. While he'd had dreams of me living with him while retaining my own quarters and writing career, I would not have imagined him treating me like a dog if I'd consented. I had to believe it was the drugs that had done this to him. Granted he hadn't taken no for an answer easily, but something must have finally snapped. The man was absolutely insane to think that this was all acceptable.

"But soon they will give up the fruitless search," Brian's voice broke into my thoughts. "It's already been a week."

My mind boggled with that news. Seven days? Was that it? It had seemed like a month.

"We'll continue to use the time wisely to fine-tune your training. And after the media has died down, after I think you're ready to go back in public, we'll let them know the skeptics were right. You were hiding from the limelight. Maybe I'll bring you a laptop and you can write a new novel to show them what you were doing with your time in seclusion. "

A tear ran down my cheek. How long did he think he could keep me here? Did he really think that I'd cave in to his desires and go along with this maniacal plot without chemical persuasion? Was I fooling myself to think that I wouldn't?

"I have something special for you today."

I heard the snap of the lubricant bottle being opened. My muscles tensed, waiting for him to proceed. But nothing happened. I wished I could see more. Like what the hell he was doing. Not that it would change the circumstances, but sometimes knowing something was going to happen first lessens the shock of the event. Or sometimes not.

I sighed so heavily through my nose that I felt my own breath on my naked shoulder. I shuddered. What I wouldn't give for one of Malcolm's massages right now. I started to smile and inhaled when my nose felt funny. 

Well, fuck. I blinked as I saw Brian's hand moving right in front of my eyes. And that damn little vial with the tiny spoon attached to the lid moved right with it. I was cussing up a storm in my head when I inhaled again and a puff of powder went up my other nostril, punching my brain awake.

I was concentrating on the ringing in my ears as the drug took effect and not on the buzzing of Brian's voice as he spoke. But when I saw his hand reappear in my line of sight with a clear object that resembled a large teardrop at one end and a small doorknob at the other, everything in my head came to a screeching halt.

As futile as my numbing brain knew it would be, I screamed into the gag and jerked against the restraints.

"Settle down." His other hand rested on my back. "I take it you know what this is? Blink twice."

I blinked a million times so fucking fast my eyelashes would have lifted me off if I wasn't chained to the damn bed.

"So you know you need to relax."

My skin crawled as his touch moved lower down my spine. I tried to wiggle my ass to shake him off, but he continued until he reached my wrists. Then he slapped my ass so hard it stung.

"Be still or it will hurt more."

I sobbed, my nose running now, as his fingers rubbed liquid down between my ass cheeks. As his thumb tested the pliancy of my asshole with the aid of the lubricatn. He was gentle, which belied his intentions. Most likely, he did not want to break his favorite toy. Yet.

My whole body ached from the confined position he'd put me in. Gradually, the tension eased from my taught muscles as the drug spread. I was still crying but unable to resist by the time he removed his thumb and replaced it with the rounded, narrowest end of the anal plug. Despite the drug's effects on me, I screamed as he put pressure and the smooth glass eased inside me with the aid of the lube.

Unlike the few times Malcolm and I had engaged in anal play, Brian did not let me adjust to the girth of the device. Quite possibly, he thought I'd be relaxed enough that my body would not involuntarily reject the intrusion. Most probably, though, he didn't care.

Regardless of the reason, the pressure grew stronger until my rectal muscles expanded enough for the largest part of the teardrop to pass. He tugged on it and must have been satisfied as the pressure ceased. Then there was just a sense of fullness. Instinctively, my muscles clenched and released around the object.

"Do not push it out," he said, massaging my ass cheeks as they closed around the doorknob-shaped handle that protruded outside of my body. "I will not be so kind if you do."

I had never been so humiliated in my life. Especially as I grew adjusted to the plug. I tried to tell myself that I didn't like it. But that would be a lie. Malcolm and I had discussing trying one, but I'd been too scared so we stuck to just a tiny vibrator. Now that it had been inserted...

"Oh how I love this view," Brian's said.

His Beethoven started, then his cock pressed into my pussy, making me cry out. Of course he couldn't hear me with the gag in my mouth. But I wasn't out of my mind enough to not react to the unsolicited sex.

Damn him. Damn my submissive side. Damn the drugs.

I came so hard my body shook, rattling the chains keeping me in place.

"Oh, Becca. How well your body gives you away."

When he was done, he withdrew and released my wrists and ankles. He left me on my stomach, the anal plug still in place and the leash chained to the underside of the bed. He patted my ass, and I heard the door open and close between the song break.

I was lying there, staring at the wall, when two facts pushed through the cobwebs that the cocaine had spun between my ears. One, in his own delirium from his apparent super high, he'd left me unrestrained except for the leash. And two, although the collar had a tiny padlock on the buckle and the leash was also padlocked to the collar, he never padlocked the chain to the bed during a session for faster access to change my position.

My breathing grew rapid as I forced my brain to function. To hope. The first thing I did was squeeze that fucking plug out. Then my hands responded—though sluggishly—and yanked the ball-gag over my head. Drool ran down my chin as I gripped the sheets, pulling my body up onto the bed enough so that I could reach under the mattress. I almost yelled as my fist wrapped around the carabiner clip he'd used to secure the other end of the leash to an eye-hook. As I pulled my hand away, it brushed more eye-hooks imbedded into a wood frame where the box-spring normally would be. He'd custom-made the damn bed as a torture device. Oh, Lord, help me.

I wrapped the blanket around me as I scrambled off the bed. I almost fell flat on my face in my haste, both from the lingering drug and because I stepped on something hard and round. It took me a moment to realize that it was the metal spreader bar. I grabbed it and continued to the door.

To my surprise, the handle turned when I tried it. The room on the other side was dark except for the open door straight ahead. I passed rows of dark suits and white dress shirts as I hurried through Brian's closet. When I peeked into his bedroom, he was naked on his back on the bed.

The bedroom door to the hallway looked so far away. Yet it was right there. If I hurried...

No. I had to think, as hard as it was in my addled state. I gathered the blanket tighter around me and crept up to the bed. I don't know how many minutes it had been since he'd released himself on my ass, but his cock was still stiff as it rested on his thigh. Good lord. Was it the coke?

The spreader bar felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as I raised it. His eyes flickered open. He just stared up at me for a moment. Then his eyes and his mouth widened just before I brought my arm down. I heard the crack as the metal hit his forehead. I saw blood trickling down his face as the light left his eyes.

I didn't take the time to find out if I'd killed him or just knocked him out. I was out the bedroom door and halfway down the stairs to the main floor when I realized I was still gripping the rod. I went to drop it but it got caught up in the blanket as I yanked it higher away from my feet so I could run.

It took three tries to yank the front door open. The first time, I realized the deadbolt had been locked. The second, I had looked back to see if Brian was following me and my hand slipped off the handle. I left the door open behind me as I ran out into the sunshine, screaming at the top of my lungs.

I stumbled down the sidewalk and into the street. A woman walking her dog ran over to me. I saw her mouth moving, but I didn't hear what she said. She followed me as I staggered forward, the blanket falling from my grip. I tripped on it and fell to the pavement, the metal spreader bar clattering just before I landed on it.

I don't know how long I sat crying in the road, wearing nothing but a blanket and a dog collar and leash. The woman didn't leave my side, and her I heard her talking to someone as her dog sniffed at me and licked my hand. 

I was wavering between wanting to lie down or get up and run because we were too close to Brian's house. He was going to come get me, but I was so tired. I tried to tell the lady that several times, but I didn't hear any words come out of my mouth. She just kept nodding her head and glancing at me as she held her phone to her ear.

When I heard the sirens, I finally gave into my exhaustion. The ground felt so hot under me. Then there were soft voices in my ear telling me I was safe. Asking me if I was hurt.

I was moved onto something softer. Raised up. I tried to curl onto my side, but they'd strapped me down. I screamed again, struggling against the new restraints. Something pricked my arm, and I felt like I was floating. My arms and legs went slack, and my screams turned to sobs.

###

I didn't really remember the ride in the ambulance. Or the doctors surrounding me at the hospital. Just that there were too many hands checking me over for injuries. Too many questions I couldn't answer at that time.

A nurse had just cut the collar off my neck when I heard one voice rise above the drone. And another. And another. Voices I thought I'd never hear again.

"Oh, my sweet daughter!" My mother covered my cheeks in kisses.

"You gave us quite a scare," I heard my youngest brother, Alexander, say.

Two of Drake's faces wavered in front of my blurry eyes. I reached out and gripped his arm as he hugged me and whispered in my ear, "Thank, God, you're okay!"

"Becca!" Malcolm's gruff voice made me push my brother away and scramble upright on the gurney.

Despite a woman's repeated pleas to wait for the doctors to finish, Malcolm pulled me into his arms. I clung on for dear life, tasting the salt in my tears as they drenched my cheeks. Never in my life had I been so glad to see him. To hear him. To feel him.

###

SIX WEEKS LATER

"Becca, you have to eat something, darling."

I tucked my hair behind my ears and briefly glanced at Malcolm whose head peaked through the opening in the floor that led back down to the second floor of his beach house. Then I returned to stare at my wall.

There had been no trial. I had been willing to testify, but Brian's ego had been his own undoing. After he'd recovered from the concussion I'd given him, he claimed it was a consensual arrangement between the two of us. The room was just where we'd had our kinky sex but I slept in his room. His proof was that there was no lock on the door, so how could he keep me in there? And he said I was free to leave at any time but chose not to. My agitated state when the dog lady found me was due to the recreational drugs we'd used to enhance the sex. He had an answer for everything.

However, the police had confiscated his iPad along with everything else they'd found in the secret room when they arrested him. There were at least a dozen videos of our sessions, each one more damning than the previous one. Most showed him forcing me to snort cocaine. The most compelling one for my case of kidnapping and rape was the last session where he'd admitted on camera about seeing the news conference and how he planned to explain my disappearance. Apparently, he'd set up the camera to film the double-penetration session and had pressed record too early. I'd never been so thankful he'd gotten so high that day.




Raw Ch. 06



He had caved after that. We'd sat in horror as the police told us about Brian's elaborate plans once he had confirmed I was there with my group. To hire the French man who paid the lady—who was unknowingly a fan—to distract me so he could make me spill my drink only get me a doctored one. To take a taxi home and hire another man to drive me to the brownstone so Brian would have an alibi. It was luck that I had goten split up with Malcolm. But I think the French man would have had a plan for that, as well. Such malicious premeditation on Brian's part.

Malcolm had brought me to the East Coast as soon as the hospital released me from their detox program and the police had given the okay to leave the state. He'd arranged to go on sabbatical for at least the first semester to give me undivided time to recuperate. Once we'd arrived in Maryland, I'd taken refuge in the beach house's observatory room when I wasn't attending counseling.

Half of my day was spent staring at my wall. The other, I stared at the floor or my hands while the female psychiatrist waited patiently for me to open up. Mostly, I struggled with how to tell a complete stranger that I liked being tied up for sexual gratification. And yet, my kinky predilections did not mean I'd consented to the torture that Brian had inflicted upon me.

I knew the doctor had private sessions with Malcolm, as well. Although I'd given permission for him to view what footage there was of my rape, I feared what had been discussed behind closed doors. I had refused to see it myself, even though it was highly recommended as part of my own therapy. I had been held captive nine days, not seven. I didn't need to relive the torture in Technicolor. I could recall enough to haunt me for a lifetime.

In addition to my anxiety of what I had experienced, I felt guilty about how my boyfriend had perceived my obedience to another man in sexual situations. And while I didn't know what all was included in the videos—or remembered all of the details of what wasn't taped—I was fully aware that my reactions at times would have given the impression that I enjoyed the sex. I felt I'd betrayed Malcolm in some regard. And that crushed my heart.

"Sweetie?" Malcolm dragged the other chair over to sit by me. "I promised not to push you to talk. And I promised not to touch you until you're ready. But you have to take care of yourself. You need to sleep and eat better. Can you at least do that for me?"

When I'd gotten home today and escaped to my hideout, I'd lowered the retractable window despite the overcast weather. I'd spent the hours since just smelling the salty, ocean breeze mixed with the sweet hints of a storm on the way.

I shrugged now and crossed my arms. I had no appetite despite what the detox center had predicted. And I had no energy. When I slept, it was in this room with the trapdoor open and no one else was allowed near me. But I still had nightmares of being chained. And when I was awake, I only wanted to sleep. The only time I was undressed was when I took a shower, which was pretty infrequent.

Drake and Daphne had visited for a weekend to try to cheer me up, but I had ignored them as well. I just couldn't pull out of this funk that had settled on me since I'd been discharged. I knew I needed relief. And I had an inkling of how to get it, but I was scared. Scared that it would do more harm than good. So I kept my mouth closed and shut down as I usually did.

"You'll flood the house when the storm hits."

I watched him close the window and secure the locks. And my insides grew taut. Suddenly, I felt like any control I had was stripped away. I was being sealed in. I couldn't escape. I couldn't breathe.

"Becca!"

I heard him behind me as I struggled to get down the ladder. I had to run. I needed air.

"Slow down! Wait!"

I missed the last two steps and fell to the floor in a loud thump.

"Becca!" Malcolm was there beside me gathering me into his arms. His hand felt my knee, my ankle, my arms. "Are you okay?"

"Don't!" I hit his arms with my fists.

"I'm sorry! I know you don't want me to touch you, but I can't take this anymore."

"No! Let me go!" I screamed at him.

He ignored me, scooping me up in his arms. I fought him all the way to his bedroom. As he yanked back the covers and crawled underneath them with me. As he curled his body to my back, tucked the bedclothes around us, and pressed his face to my hair.

When I tried to move, to pull away, he tightened his grip. Slowly, I fought off the demons inside and he pulled me back from the edge. I cried until I was all dried up. Through it all, he said nothing. And for the first time in over a month, I slept peacefully.

### 

Despite my fears, I'd broken my silence today. It had been two days since my breakdown. Or rather my breakthrough. I hadn't told Malcolm, yet. We hadn't talked much since he found me at the hospital. Any conversations that we had were one-sided with the occasional grunt or gesture from me accepting or rejecting a suggestion on his part.

Amazingly, I had felt freed—not judged—by the psychiatrist after shoving the burden off my shoulders. I had relayed what I could remember of my capture. Of how I wanted the man dead, although being incarcerated was a good start. Of my own sexual tendencies and how I feared my admittance thereof would make onlookers think I deserved what I had gotten. And finally, of my concerns about my relationship with Malcolm. The doctor had smiled at that one. She told me I had to talk to Malcolm about my feelings. I might be surprised.

Usually after our sessions, we retired to the beach house although we stayed in our own spaces. But today, Malcolm said he needed to run some errands and dropped me off at the front door. I pretended not to care as he drove off even though my chest hurt to see him leave. I knew he'd return—and I knew he probably wasn't distancing himself because he was mad at me—but I still felt a slight sense of abandonment. Yet, it was good because I needed time to think about what had happened today. To build up my courage.

I wandered through the different rooms and levels of the house. Reflected on the days we had spent here when I'd been kidnapped the only proper way in what seemed so long ago. The pang in my chest grew stronger. I so wanted those days back again.

I ended up in the bedroom, staring out the large window at the ocean. The waves were kicking up, and the gray sky was pregnant with clouds. I retrieved a sweater from the chair, but it didn't help the chill that had settled within my bones. I decided to take a hot shower instead.

Afterwards, I was no longer shivering. I felt refreshed, as well. My hands were automatically turning my shirt right-side out to pull it back on when I noticed the T-shirt hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Malcolm's. I abandoned my own clothes and sighed as the soft cloth of his shirt brushed my still damp skin, as his scent enveloped me. I didn't care that he'd last worn it to go running on the beach that morning or that it had holes where the dryer had burnt the material over the years. It was...familiar.

I pulled my hair into a braid, donned a clean pair of panties, and went in search of my sweats in the closet. That's when I noticed the door at the end of the hall was ajar. My feet hesitated at first, but I told myself that it was okay to follow my gut instinct. I was safe in this house.

The lush carpet wrapped around my bare toes as I crossed the short distance between the bathroom and the desired destination. I held my breath and tapped the door lightly with my fingers. It swung open a little further.

I felt for the switch and heard the click as the lights came on, then I pressed onward. I wasn't sure what I was expecting my reaction to be. Fear? Disgust? But as I took in the black walls interspersed with candle-like sconces, it was lust that settled in the pit of my stomach. Longing. The submissive inside me was awakening again. And she didn't need any drugs to feel that way. It was a wonderful feeling that made me feel slightly giddy.

The memories flooded back as my eyes danced around the room. The first thought in my head was how much I had enjoyed being strapped to the Saint Andrews Cross. How much I had missed it.

Words and visions flickered in my head of my time in captivity. Voices that said I couldn't move on. It would be easier to back down. To hide. But I stomped down the thoughts and walked slowly around the room. Each item I put my hand on, I forced myself to remember how Malcolm had used it on me. To help me see who I really was.

The journey through my past was heart-wrenching. I cried a couple of times. Especially at the cross. I'd let down my guard there the most when I'd allowed myself to entertain anal play. I don't know what I would have done if Brian had successfully crossed that threshold against my will. I didn't want to think about that. It hadn't happened. I had been rescued.

Now, I was at the modified kneeler. I genuflected on the lowest padded bar, gripping the top bar as if my nerves were perched there, as if I were confessing my sins. I closed my eyes. This was the place where I had learned the difference between giving a blowjob and allowing someone to fuck my mouth.

I moaned softly, licking my lips. Faintly recalling the feel and taste of—

The soft gasp made me freeze. It took everything in me to turn around.

Malcolm stood in the doorway. I didn't understand the expression on his face. Why was he frowning? Had I done something wrong?

"I-I'm sorry." I rushed forward, intent on making a beeline to the observatory room despite my improvements that morning. But Malcolm's hand on my arm stopped me.

"Please wait, Becca." Both of his hands cupped my shoulders. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I glanced down, mostly to hide the fresh tears in my eyes. "I shouldn't have come in here. Not without your permission."

"Nonsense. It's ours." His breathing was ragged, as if he were struggling to control his emotions as well. He tipped up my chin. "But since you're in here without me—and dressed like that—can I ask why? I was going to dismantle the room. I didn't think you would ever want to come in here again."

I glanced at the empty boxes stacked outside the door. At the plastic bags from a home improvement store. Then I gestured to the accoutrements on one wall. To the devices he'd created. "I was trying to remember better times, I guess."

He hummed and then was silent for several moments. Long enough for my knees to start trembling. Finally, he said, "Did it help?"

My cheeks suddenly felt hot, and I lowered my gaze even though his hand still held my chin.

"Becca? Look at me. Answer the question."

I took a deep breath. His eyes were shadowed. It made my breath hitch, but I was able to say, "Yes, Sir."

Just like that, the darkness completely overtook his eyes, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

I stepped back, my knees shaking. His hand fell away, and I choked back a sob at the loss of the warmth of his skin on mine.

"I won't touch you unless you ask me to, Becca. Not in that way. No matter what. Do you understand?"

My insides felt like they were turning to liquid from his stare. His jaw twitched. I could tell he so wanted to switch into his Master role. And deep down, I wanted to let him. But I wasn't quite there yet.

"Yes, I understand." My voice cracked as I said the words. "I have one request first."

His eyes flickered with the desire he was holding back. "Anything."

I licked my lips and held out my hand. "I need to Top you. I need to know that I'm safe."

His Adam's apple bobbed slowly as he swallowed. Then his hand gripped mine. "Tell me. Show me."

The words took a moment to implant in my brain. He was okay with this? He was okay with this! I glanced around and realized that it couldn't happen in here. This was his domain. It always would be.

With his hand in mine, I led him to the bedroom. To the foot of the bed where I stopped him, facing me. For the longest time, we just stood there. I drank in the sight of him. His hair had grown longer during our stay and curled in the humidity so that it looked like a mane framing his clean-cut face. His piercing eyes, in return, watched me intently.

I ran my hands over his shoulders now. Down his arms to where our fingers laced together. His heaving chest matched mine. I could feel the tension in his arms. If I said the word, he would take me. He'd been waiting to do just that for the longest time.

Oh, how I loved him. I let go of one hand to brush a finger over his mouth. His lips parted, and I pressed my finger into the heated cavern until his tongue met my digit and licked lightly. Moaning, I returned my thoughts to getting him out of his clothes.

I worked quickly to pull his shirt off. To lower his jeans and briefs. With a gentle push against his now bared chest, Malcolm sat down and scooted backwards so his head was on the pillows. I stared at his glorious cock, which was well on its way to being fully erect. I almost tripped as I removed my panties. I heard his gasp when I tugged his T-shirt over my head, revealing my breasts to him.

A feeling of dread came over me then as I stared at his naked body. It had been so long since we had been like this together. Since I had allowed myself to be undressed before a man. I fought the urge to cross my arms, to reach for the T-shirt and cover myself again.

I had to keep reminding myself that Malcolm would not harm me. That I could stop at any point. I was in control right now.

"Becca, are you okay?" Malcolm sat up and knelt before me on the foot of the bed. He took my hands in his. "Becca, honey?"

I jerked and tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

"Would it help if you were lying down? Tell me what to do?"

I nodded and then whispered, "Maybe." But I still didn't move.

"Okay." He got up and let go of one of my hands. "When you're ready."

I took a deep breath and let him help me trade places. Once I was lying down, I had to admit I felt slightly better. And yet, my muscles tensed as he started to crawl onto the bed at my feet.

"No, sit beside me."

He did as I asked and laid his hands in his lap, waiting for the next direction. The problem was, I wasn't really sure how to proceed. For several minutes, I just lay there, my chest heaving and my head racing, while he kept his eyes on mine.

I gulped and figured I should just dive right in. So I spread my legs but kept them straight. "Hand?"

Malcolm held his hand out, and I guided it so his palm rested on my mons. The direction of his hand caused his fingers to cover my pussy.

The touch triggered my fight or flight mechanism, and my legs clamped around his wrist. I let out a noise that started as a cry but morphed into something that was part giggle and part shaky sigh at the relief that I could actually close my legs when a man touched me if I wanted to. We stayed like that for another few minutes.

A voice in my head told me it was okay to move on. Baby steps. So I said, "Press your middle finger through my labia."

When he did it, he did it so slowly I forgot to breathe.

"Again." I gulped and shut my eyes. "Keep doing that."

After several excruciatingly gradual sweeps, my legs relaxed and fell open. Then my hips were arching into his touch, although his hand never lost contact with my body.

"Rub my clit." The words came out as a gasp. Then I cried out as he obeyed. God, that felt so good!

We proceeded in this way—me speaking, him doing—so that eventually, his thumb was rubbing my clit while his fingers stroked inside me. When I adjusted my legs so that my knees were bent and my feet were flat on the mattress to offer him more access and a deeper penetration, I gripped his wrist to make him pause.

I struggled as the memories of this position pushed to the front of my brain. I had to tamper the urge to close my legs. To roll away. To end this and run away to my safe haven. I needed to press on. I had to face my fears.

"Okay." I released my hold and caressed his skin instead. He continued, and my moans began again. As I relaxed, the arousal grew. Yes, maybe this would work.

His heavy breathing beside me reminded me that he was being left out. I knew what he liked to do after making me wet like this. I told myself I was ready to move on to the next step.

My voice cracked as I caressed his hand again and said, "Crawl between my legs. Lick me."

He adjusted his position and let out a groan as his face lowered between my thighs. Then I heard him inhale deeply, his breath warm against my already-sensitive skin with his equally long exhale through his mouth. It made me shudder.

When his tongue touched my labia, I moaned. The cry deepened as he licked the length of me, not penetrating but just covering the surface over and over again.

He looked up at me after his tongue pressed harder and accidentally slipped between the wet and swollen folds.

I choked at the intensity in his eyes. I think he was watching me to make sure I was okay. I nodded, unable to speak but hoping he received my silent message to do it again.

Malcolm knew me so well. His tongue completed another sweep downward, then it pressed in on the upward stroke.

I gripped the sheet and arched my hips up to him as I cooed.

He adjusted once more so that his arms were wrapped under my thighs, his eyes on mine again.

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

His eyes closed as he used his fingers to pry my labia open. His nose bumped my clit as his tongue delved deeper in long back-and-forth motions. His grip on my legs tightened as he pressed harder and his tongue dipped into me. His moans vibrated through my pelvis.

I reached up and took hold of the mission-style headboard for leverage. When the memory of being bound with my arms above my head like that hit me, I pulled my hands free. But the fact that I could do so set into my brain quickly, and I gripped two of the wooden, vertical slats again.

I closed my eyes and listened to our combined heavy breathing. The wet sloshing sounds as he licked at the evidence of my arousal. His moans as he inhaled my scent. My gasps as his tongue brushed a super-sensitive spot.

It all felt so damn wonderful. But I craved more, and I didn't want to come yet. "Stop, Malcolm."

He obeyed, but his downcast mouth as he drew back said I was ruining a good time for him as well.

"Lie down." I patted the spot next to me in case he didn't understand where. We switched places once more, and I knelt at his feet. "Don't touch."

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The corner of his mouth twitched as he put his hands behind his head on the pillow. Then he let out a long sigh.

My heart was thumping in my head as I crawled between his legs now. I stopped at his groin and dipped my head, wrapping first my hands then my lips around that perfect specimen that did wonderful things to me. Things I needed to be reminded of.

I gave him all the passion that had eluded me for so long. I stroked, I caressed, I suckled his cock. He lowered one of his arms but stopped himself before he touched my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand clench in a fist on the sheet, restraining himself. Oh, he was struggling so hard not to take control. As much as we both liked vanilla sex, this was out of his normal realm. I smirked at the thought that maybe this was good for both of us.

When I grew restless—and knew I couldn't torture him much longer—I crept further up his body to straddle his waist. I wanted him. I needed him.

My body shivered as I held myself over his cock. I told myself that it was okay. I could still stop at any time. Then his tip brushed against my mons. I almost fell on top of him I was shaking so much. It took several deep breaths before I could press on. I wrapped my hand around his hardened shaft and guided it into place.




Raw Ch. 06



As his cock entered me, I cried tears of joy. My hands pressed against his chest now, supporting my body over his. I rocked back and forth in such a slow motion it was excruciating. I relished it. The feeling of his hips between my knees. My ass rubbing along the tops of this thighs. His cock pulsing inside me.

"Breasts," I panted.

"With pleasure," Malcolm growled.

I cried more as his warm hands circled and massaged my globes. As his fingers rolled my nipples and sent little jolts of electricity down to where we were joined. I arched so far forward into his touch that he slipped out of me. I whimpered while I positioned him again and slid back down his shaft.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on moving my hips so he pressed the right spots. Leaning forward so my clit rubbed against his cock as my pussy unsheathed him. Gripping the pillow on either side of his head for better support.

"Touch." I could speak no other words I was in such a natural state of euphoria. But he knew and needed no other direction.

His hands caressed my sides. His tongue on my nipple made me gasp. He licked and kissed and nipped at one and then the other. He moved to stroke my back as I leaned forward, pressing my breasts to his chest. Our lips met, tentatively at first and then with increased pressure as we tried to sate the hunger inside both of us.

I could not get over the pleasure of his cock stroking in and out of me. Stretching me. Filling me. Pushing me toward the edge where I longed to reach once again.

I gasped as his hands gripped my ass and held me still, his hips arching up into me as his self-control slipped a little. I didn't care. I struggled to understand how one man could make me feel like there was nothing else in this life but him. Regardless of whether or not we were having sex. His mere presence surrounded me, filled me.

"Becca," Malcolm kept whispering.

The precipice was calling to me. I knew it was calling to him. I had accomplished what I'd desired. It would take time to feel completely safe, but I could withstand a man touching me. Inside me. And not just any man. My man.

"Make love to me," I whimpered.

Strong arms wrapped around me, rolled me onto my back. He swallowed my cries as his cock slid home time and time again. His fingers buried in my hair. His chest rubbed against mine. Then his arm hooked under my right knee and he pressed even deeper inside me until our guttural sounds mixed into a beautiful chorus only the two of us knew.

I screamed his name. He continued on.

Our bodies were slick with sweat, and I gripped his shoulders as I felt him shake above me. Another orgasm racked my body as he came, his face buried against my neck, muffling the sounds of my name.

We lay as a mass of tangled limbs gasping for breath. His body weighted mine down, but I did not panic. I inhaled the familiar scent of him, his sweat and lingering sandalwood cologne. I cooed as he placed soft caresses all over my body.

A tear trickled down my cheek as I realized I'd done it. Trivial as some think it may be, I'd faced a huge fear head-on and come out victorious. I really could do this.

###

It was mid-day, and we had not moved from the bed. We had not made love again, but he had pleasured me with his fingers while he kissed me languidly. I'd tried to stroke him again, but he would have none of that. So I lay there on my back with his fingers buried between my legs. Occasionally, he'd rub his thumb against my clit, and my body would buck with aftershocks.

My head lolled against his shoulder. I pressed my lips against his warm skin, tasting the saltiness of the lingering sweat as a result of our coitus. I could not think of a happier time in my life than this.

His hand had stilled, giving me some respite. We were both quiet for awhile. I rolled into his body and curled up against him, thinking he had fallen asleep. But his lips brushed my forehead.

"Malcolm, what took you so long at the bar?" I tilted my head back to see him watching me.

He pulled the sheets tighter around us and kissed my forehead again. "Does it matter now?"

I bit my lower lip and nodded before I changed my mind. I needed to know how I got my happy ending.

He pressed his cheek to my head and sighed. "It was stupid."

"How so?"

"I ran into someone I used to know. He wanted some information. When I got outside, you were gone. I thought maybe you had changed your mind and come back in for the bathroom. Sue checked, but you weren't there, either. Drake and Daphne went to your house in case you had caught a cab. Damn the police, but they said they couldn't start an investigation until you'd been missing for forty-eight hours."

I ran my fingers over his shoulder, feeling the muscles flex there. I heard his voice catch, as if he were holding back tears. As hard as this all was on me, I had forgotten that I wasn't the only one affected. Which made me tear up, too. How could I have been so selfish?

"I couldn't eat or sleep for those first two days. Were you hurt? Dead? We didn't know who would take you. A crazy fan? A random psycho? Then after the police got involved, it was harder to function because they didn't move fast enough." His arms tightened around me as tremors shook his body. "God, you gave us all such a scare. I've never felt so helpless in my life. I don't ever want to feel like that again."

I kissed his chest. "Me, either."

"All that time, you were..."

I shuddered.

He rolled me onto my stomach before my mind wandered to where I didn't want it to go. I cooed as his cock nestled into my folds instead. He adjusted my legs so I was kneeling, then he gently rocked back and forth while he continued.

"We had already tried to track your phone with the Mobile Locate app. Drake said he'd insisted you download it. But we lost the signal before they could pinpoint the exact location. Your battery must have died. We tried to get a deeper investigation going, but the police told us they did not have the manpower to follow that lead at the time because they were preparing for The Taste."

Malcolm's hand danced across my hip, my side, and finally to my breast. I clutched the sheet, trying to keep myself grounded so I could hear him over my moans.

"So we held a press conference, and a reporter asked if we would sue the city. That got the mayor's attention. We were trying to convince the police to do a canvas around where your phone last pinged a tower when we got the call that you were at the hospital."

I shivered. I wanted to be mad at the police for not stepping up sooner. But would they have even found me in that room? If Brian hadn't been so high, he wouldn't have removed the restraints. And I would haven't been able to get free from the house.

I cried out as Malcolm hit my G-spot.

"Enough about that. Back to you, my dear. You're safe now. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He placed soft kisses along my back. He continued stroking until I bucked against him and rode out my orgasm. I was so focused on his words, I hadn't even thought about the position I'd been in.

He lay behind me afterwards, breathing hard as I told him what I had told the psychiatrist. What I could recall about my abduction and imprisonment and torture. What my fears were about our relationship. It helped that I wasn't looking at his face. I don't think I would have been able to get all of the words out if I'd seen his expression.

When I was done, he rolled me to face him and held my chin so he was staring into my eyes, his own eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Becca, honey, I do not think any lesser of you because of what happened. I am proud of you for fighting. Please do not think that this situation has diminished my feelings for you in any way. If anything, it has made them stronger. I love you so much."

"I love you, too." The last word came out as a sob as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

We held each other's shaking body. We cried. We kissed away each other's tears. And I chalked it up to yet another small victory in this battle to heal myself.

###

It took another month before I was comfortable enough to relinquish complete control to Malcolm. To go beyond vanilla sex again. The next time he tried doggy-style, I did tense up and told him to stop. I knew it was coming. But he talked me through it until I was comfortable enough to try again.

I wanted to overcome that fear, especially as it was one of his favorite positions. I've heard it's a favorite position of most men. I'd rather see his face and feel his cock rubbing against my clit in missionary style. But we were both flexible.

When we'd escalated to having kinky sex, I'd insisted on no restraints. For now. I won't deny that I said the safe word more than a few times. And I wasn't ashamed that I ended up in a ball of tears even more afterwards. I'd never met someone so patient.

We had spent the last week visiting his special room. He just stood behind me rubbing my shoulders as he told me what he had done—what he would do—with each contraption or tool. It was similar to the day he'd found me in here wearing just panties and his T-Shirt, except it was his voice and not my own in my head. That seemed so long ago. As aroused as I would get, all we did was look in that room so far.

He'd also introduced me to a new song called "Madness" by Muse. He knew how much music was an aphrodisiac to me, but we'd agreed to hold off on using Enigma for awhile. I couldn't relax when I heard their music, as much as I still loved them. The rhythm and melody of the new song helped, and the lyrics seemed fitting to our relationship. In fact, it became routine to start each session with it.

I was usually the first one to get up in the morning. He said that he waited for me so I'd never feel alone or afraid when I woke. The nightmares had finally ceased. Yet he continued the routine. I think he enjoyed watching me sleep.

But this morning, his side of the bed was empty. And cold. As if he'd been up quite a long time.

I sat up, looking around as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. The clock said it was past ten. I threw back the covers and sat up, chastising myself because I'd be late for my therapy appointment in thirty minutes. Why hadn't Malcolm woken me?

I was brushing my teeth when I picked up the encouraging day-by-day calendar we kept by the sink. He'd bought it to help me, and it had become my normal routine to read it each morning. I spit out the toothpaste and slammed the toothbrush on the counter. Well, shit. It was Saturday. I was already up. I should probably try to locate my boyfriend.

I didn't notice the box at first. It was perched on the leather bench at the end of the bed, and the color blended in with the mustardy-yellow blanket that was folded beneath it. It was the shiny, silver ribbon that caught my eye.

Sitting back in bed, I pulled the bedclothes around my waist and set the box on my lap. I fingered the ribbon, my heartbeat steadily increasing. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Right?

My breathing was rapid as I finally tugged at the ends of the bow and lifted the lid. I parted the sheets of black tissue paper. And then it was really hard to breathe as I took in the contents.

A black-and-red bustier made of leather and lace stared up at me. With matching black, silk panties trimmed in red lace. And a black garter belt with stockings. Tucked in around the lingerie was a pair of black heels.

I almost missed the envelope I was so busy trying to calm myself. Inside was a card that read:

'Sir Malcolm requests the pleasure of Lady Becca's company in the Black Room at her leisure.'

I gulped several times, glancing around the bedroom again. We'd stuck to his bed while easing back into our roles. My fingers twitched as I ran them over the various textures I'd spread out around me. Was I ready for this? He thought I was. I had to trust him. It was the next step forward.

Then another thought stole my breath. How long had the box been sitting there?

I quickly stripped from his T-shirt I'd worn to bed the night before. I'd been tired, and we had just lain in each others arms. That shirt had become a comfort to me. A security blanket of sorts. I hated it when he insisted on washing it. But now, I flung it aside without care and changed into the lingerie.

It seemed to take too long to pull my hair back into a single braid. But soon enough, I was standing outside the closed door to the special room. The Black Room as we'd recently dubbed it. My heart beat out a cadence in my head, and my hand shook as I reached for the handle.

"Welcome, Lady Becca," Malcolm said as the door swung open.

My legs didn't seem to want to move. I kept telling myself that I was safe. Finally, my brain connected with my feet, and I entered his domain. I kept my eyes forward, but I heard his growl of approval. The click of the door as it closed again. His heavy breathing behind me.

He stepped to my side. His fingers trailed down my cheek, gently turning my chin so I was facing him. His thumb rubbed my lips until I parted them. I felt the digit tremble as he pressed it into my mouth. I suppressed the desire to lick it, to moan at what such a simple touch could do to me.

Then his touch was gone. I wobbled on my feet, thankful when his hand took mine. Yet my stomach fluttered as he led me to the modified kneeler. I glanced at him, confused, when he stopped me on the side where he usually stood. But then I understood as he leaned me forward so the top padded bar pressed against my belly.

"Use the safe word if you are uncomfortable at any time," his voice whispered in my ear as he squatted beside me.

I nodded, unable to speak as I watched him secure my wrists to the sides of the metal, upright portion of the kneeler. To my legs, he affixed a spreader bar between my ankles. His hands massaged my back as he stepped behind me again.

I wasn't sure what to be prepared for. This was a new trick, and something inside of me tensed at the unknown. But his touch calmed me, and I repeated a mantra in my head to relax, to enjoy. And I would hold out as long as possible despite my fears.

Something soft trailed up the back of my legs. Goosebumps prickled the exposed skin between the edge of my stockings and my pantyline. Suddenly, I clenched my fists. The welts Brian had caused had long healed save for a single scar on the back of my right thigh. But the touch on that precise area made my resolve waver.

"Are you okay, Lady Becca?"

I started to nod but remembered to say, "Yes, Sir Malcolm."

"Good."

I couldn't stop the shriek when something slapped my bare skin on my left leg.

"Shh."

Shit. I reminded myself that he was Malcolm, not Brian. He was not going to hurt me. I bit my lip and was prepared when the object connected with my other leg.

Eventually, I relaxed as he created a rhythm of stroke, stroke, slap, slap. He must have been alternating between the feather and leather floggers. The tension in me turned to arousal. Then as suddenly as it had started, the flogging stopped.

There was no sound except my heavy breathing for the longest time. Then our song started. I closed my eyes and let the music seduce me. I gasped as fingers played over the fabric between my legs before they tugged my panties to the side.

"I need to mention something, Lady Becca," Malcolm growled, his fingers wrapping around my braid. He nipped at my neck. "One little topic where there will be no discussion."

I gulped, the safe word on my tongue as he tapped his cock against first one butt cheek and then the other. As he rubbed the tip against my bared pussy and slid it all the way back through the folds. After what I'd been through? How dare he! I wasn't ready! I didn't think I'd ever be ready for—

"There will be no more talk about spending too much time together. When we get back to Illinois, you're moving in with me. That is final." He tugged on my braid. "Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Sir Malcolm!" I almost passed out with relief as he thrust hard into my pussy.

"Good. Now be a good girl and don't come until I tell you."

~ H



Raw Ch. 07



I was a strong, independent woman.

Malcolm had been the first to tell me that. Now I said it every time I started to think I'd never get back to being the person I had been six months ago. Before my life was flipped upside down. Before when everything was going great. And yet, it was that same life I resisted returning to.

I wanted to stay at the beach house with him, isolated from the rest of the world. I'd write in my study overlooking the ocean while listening to the waves crash just yards away. He' teach math to preppy high-school kids who went up to the Hamptons on the weekend. And in our free time, we would lay on the beach or perfect the art of kink in the Black Room.

It wasn't going to happen, but it didn't stop me from dreaming about it. While I could write anywhere, I wouldn't make him give up his job and move out here permanently. I'd probably try to talk him out of it if he even suggested it.

As much as I did not want to return to Chicago, we had to go back. My big brother, Drake, was getting married in just over a month, and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I was honored when Daphne had asked me to be a bridesmaid. I had been to many weddings before, I had just never been in one. I think I might have been a bit more excited than they were.

But the moment the car door closed, I wanted to cry. I stared out the passenger window at the three-and-a-half story building that had served as my refuge for the past four months. Like a child moving away, I turned and watched out the back window as Malcolm pulled the car out of the cul-de-sac. The house grew smaller and smaller until I could just see the top of the observation room peeking above the archway of trees as we drove under it. Then any trace of the house disappeared from sight as we turned onto the highway. So long, my friend.

We arrived in Chicago from Baltimore after ten o'clock. It was dark, and we were both exhausted. Yet as tired as I was, sleep did not come easily. I probably kicked Malcolm at least a dozen times while I tossed and turned. Bless his heart that he didn't move to the guest room...or force me to.

The sun was shining through the bedroom window when I opened my eyes. It took me a moment to realize where I was. I took a deep breath and smiled as I snuggled deeper into the pillow, pulling the sheet and blanket tighter around myself.

This was home. Familiar. Comforting. And I had missed it.

When I inhaled again, I smelled bacon and moaned.

Before Malcolm, I had never been the type of person to wake up before there were double digits on the left side of the colon of the alarm clock. Now, I was more apt to if the reason was morning sex. Or someone making breakfast.

With some effort, I crawled out of the cozy cocoon I'd created. I scrounged up a pair of sweats to go with Malcolm's confiscated T-shirt that I wore regularly to bed now, pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and followed my nose downstairs. He'd better have made enough for two.

I found my boyfriend at the stove with a spatula in one hand and the handle of the frying pan in the other. He had on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, the latter pulled taut over his broad shoulders. My smile widened as I thought of how lucky I was to have such a handsome man as my lover and best friend. And a cook, to boot!

I kissed the middle of his back between his shoulderblades and ran my hair through his thick hair. I'd convinced him to get a trim before we came back, but it still was long enough to get a little messy from sleeping. It just added to his charm.

"You'll make a morning person of me yet. I could get used to waking up to this." I peaked around his shoulder to see that he was making scrambled eggs.

He twisted in my embrace long enough to kiss my lips. "Trust me, you're not the only one."

I pressed my face against his backside and sighed. Then I frowned. There were some newly-added contents to my modern kitchen: a pile of boxes stacked against the wall by the fridge. They were severely out of place and did nothing for the décor.

"You didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Your brother dropped them off last week. But since they are here, and he was free today, Drake is going to be by later with a trailer. The opportunity presented itself. Why delay the inevitable?"

I ran one hand down the front of his chest, rubbing my breasts against his back now. "Because I can think of something better to do with our time right now. Why rush it? Especially since you're on sabbatical until January."

He pushed my hand away just before I could slide it lower. "Can you set the table, please?"

I stuck out my lower lip but obeyed. When I was done, I sat at in one of the chairs—one leg bent under me and my other foot perched on the edge of the seat—and stared out the window. Two birds flitted around the oak tree that was a brilliant combination of orange and yellow. I would miss that view every morning. I would miss making breakfast—even though that was usually just a bagel with cream cheese if I even ate at all—in my own kitchen.

And then I realized I would be missing a whole hell of a lot more than this room. Waking up in my own bed. Taking a shower in my own bathroom. Writing in my own office. Cuddling up by the fire in my own living room during the winter. Walking to the farmer's market for fresh veggies and fruit. Being so close to wherever I wanted to go in the city. Whenever I wanted to go.

A shudder ran through me, and my sigh came out shaky. No. I would not cry. I sucked up what little courage hadn't drained out of me in the last few minutes and sat up straighter. "I just don't understand why we have to do it today."

Malcolm kept his back to me while he dished up our plates. He didn't speak until he had sat down across from me and took my hand in his. "You are a strong—"

"Cut the bullshit!" I yanked my hand away and stabbed at my breakfast. With a plastic fork. What the hell? Of course, it pierced the paper plate and got stuck.

"Becca!"

"I'm not procrastinating or having commitment issues or anything like that. I was merely making a comment that I don't see the need to rush into making this change. We just got back."

I wanted my real plates and silverware. I wanted to relax this morning after being away so long. I wanted normalcy. I almost swiped the plate—food and all—to the floor, but I resisted. Barely.

"I thought it would be easier for you to not have to be reminded—"

"He didn't fucking rape me in my condo!" The fork squeaked as I pulled it free.

"I know!" He inhaled deeply and let out a loud, slow breath.

Without even lifting my eyes to his face, I knew his eyes were closed. It was his way of trying to stay calm. I imagined he was counting in his head. Imagining what he was doing while counting, I couldn't be one-hundred percent sure, but it was probably spanking me.

After a couple of more loud exhales, he said, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, apology accepted," I mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

"I'm going to help you. You're not in this alone. We're not taking it all, anyway. It'll still be here for you."

The longer I stared at the stack of cardboard, the more I thought of it like dirty dishes or laundry. It was something I loathed to do. Okay, maybe I was procrastinating. I really did want to be with Malcolm. But I just didn't want to give up who I was, either.

As much time as I'd been spending with him the past two years, moving in with him was a huge shift out of my comfort zone. Because deep down, I knew I wasn't doing this because I had chosen to. I had been told—no, instructed—to do this. My heart skipped a beat when he usurped control like that. I craved it. But that strong, independent woman he kept reminding me I was? That person also knew that going forward with this meant I was relinquishing a little bit of those very same characteristics by even being in this relationship.

How much would I have to let go of who I was in order to be who he wanted me to be?

"Eat your breakfast, then we'll get started."

I frowned but obeyed. Again. Because I knew he was right. At least this time.

We were both quiet while we ate, but I could feel his eyes on me. Boring into my head like a watchful parent. And for some reason, I felt guilty. As if he could read my thoughts and knew I was having reservations. Damn him and his ability to know me so well.

True to his word, after he'd cleaned up the frying pan and disposable dishes, Malcolm helped me pack up what I deemed were the priority necessities. Clothes and personal items. Office supplies and research material for my writing. Special pieces of furniture and knickknacks that would make his place feel more familiar and cozy for me. I should have been grateful that he hadn't demanded I just pack a single, overnight bag and leave everything else behind.

Drake showed up around noon with his truck and the U-Haul trailer attached. He helped us load the boxes and larger, harder-to-pack items. We made plans to meet up with him and Daphne later to get some dinner, and then he took off for Wheaton.

When I'd inherited the condo, I had moved in little-by-little over the course of a few months without any help. It was surreal, this time, watching my brother drive away with my things. In the end, I had chosen to leave most of it behind. I wasn't ready to sell, and it made more sense to keep the place furnished for when I was in the city. An easy place to crash.

Malcolm had been right: I wasn't losing my place completely. But it still tugged at my heartstrings that things were changing. I had yet to accept that it was all for good.

Sue was sad to know I was leaving the city so soon, but she said she understood when I rang her after Drake left. I promised to call or E-mail regularly, and I'd visit at least once a month if not more so we could have lunch together and discuss progress on my chapters in person. I reminded myself that while I'd wanted to stay at the beach house and could write from there, this made a hell of a lot more sense. Plus, we could always visit the coast during the summers when Malcolm wasn't teaching.

I stood in my kitchen that looked exactly the same as it had that morning—and every morning before—with the exception of the missing cardboard boxes. This was probably the one room that I hadn't taken anything out of. Just for the hell of it, I grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard and put it by my purse on the counter, even though I never drank coffee. I could use it for hot chocolate or something.

"I'm proud of you." Malcolm's hand was warm on my left shoulder.

"Thanks." I smiled out the window at my lovely autumn tree, silently saying goodbye. My hands splayed out on the round tabletop as I leaned forward to watch two squirrels race across the branches. They knocked several leaves loose in their wake that fluttered in a rainbow swirl to the ground.

"How about one last hurrah?"

I tilted my head back. "Huh?"

He spun me around to face him, his hands at my waist. "I think you deserve a little playtime, Lady Becca. A little reward."

Goosebumps prickled my arms. I gulped back my breath as the shorts I'd changed into to pack were suddenly tugged to my ankles. My panties were not far behind.

"Now, what shall it be?"

I lost contact with his face as he tugged my sweaty T-shirt over my head and it got caught on my chin. He left it covering my face and pinning my arms up in the air above my head as his hands wrapped around my bared hips and lifted me onto the tabletop. Then he was unhooking my bra. Finally, he removed my shirt the rest of the way and slipped the bra's straps down my arms.

"I think we'll start with an Australian kiss."

"A what?" The last syllable came out as a squeal as he'd tugged my hips closer to the edge and I fell backwards, my head bumping the table.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of one."

I couldn't tell if that was mock horror in his voice or if he was serious. I tried to sit up, but he gently pushed on my shoulder. I was left to stare at him over the swell of my breasts.

"You see, it goes like this. You push her thighs apart," he said as his hands moved between my legs. "Press your mouth against her lips. And use a lot of tongue."

My giggle morphed into a moan, my back arching off the table as he acted out his instructions. Holy cow! He'd gone down on me many times, but something about this angle where he was slightly below me really made his tongue delve in deeper.

My head lolled back and forth, and my hands gripped my breasts now. Just under the encouraging sounds that spilled from my mouth, I could hear the slurping sounds he made as he kept it up. His nose bumped my clit as he moved his head around, his hair brushing the insides of my thighs.

Soon enough, I was delirious. But there was an itch deep inside, and no matter how he thrusted his tongue into me, it just wasn't enough. My hands moved to lace in in his hair. I tugged gently, hoping he'd get the picture. He ignored me.

I almost regretted wanting him to stop as I took in the image of his head between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs. But when my clit tingled as he nipped at it with his teeth, I growled and tugged on his hair one more time. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet mine.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Darkness completely filled his eyes. His tongue had stopped licking, but his breath still heated my pussy in sharp gasps. I held my own breath as I propped myself up on one elbow, trying to read in his mostly blank expression what he was thinking.

His tongue swept up my pussy one more time. Then he was standing. Shoving down his pants. Pulling my hips even closer, making me lie flat again.

He thrust into me so hard my whole body rose up as I cried out. His hands slid behind my back and held me in that partially-sitting position while he plunged his cock into me over and over again. I came, screaming his name. My fingers clutched at his arms, trying to pull him deeper inside me.

It was over too soon. Had it even happened? I was panting, my back flush with the table again. His head was between my legs, lapping at my pussy in a leisurely manner as if he had never stopped.

When I could speak again, I mumbled, "What the hell was that?"

"I told you. An Australian kiss."

"Damn."

I shrieked as he suddenly stood up and flipped me onto my stomach. As soon as my toes touched the ground, his cock sunk into me until my ass connected with his pelvis.

"It's like a French kiss, but down under," he said between grunts.

"Huh." I rested my forehead on my folded arms. 

"See? We have plenty of time to play now that the work is all done."

I moaned as his cock bumped my G-spot. I turned my head and laughed as I stared out the window and saw the two squirrels staring back. I let out a sharp squeal as Malcolm smacked my ass. The squirrels scampered off, and I laughed again.

"Is something funny, Lady Becca? Do you want me to stop so you can tell me all about it?"

I gulped. "No, Sir."

"Good girl." He thrust harder, his fingers digging into my hips.

After I came again, he gathered me into his arms and carried me upstairs. In the shower, I knelt before him and sucked his cock. His hands fisted in my wet hair, guiding my head until he let go and groaned his release across my breasts while the hot streams of water rained down on us.

Later, while he drove my car to Wheaton, I nodded off, a smile plastered to my face. Of all the things that amazed me about Malcolm, his stamina during sex was always near the top. It prolonged the pleasure for both of us. I never got tired of it. And he didn't even need drugs to feel that way.

I did it for him. And he for me. What an awesome, natural high.

###

I spent the next week getting acclimated to living fulltime in Malcolm's house. I'd absconded a large guestroom on the first floor with a view of the backyard as my new office. After painting the walls, I brought in an oversized chair that unfolded to a single bed. I'd had it in my den back home, and the bed had rarely been used. Hopefully, it would come in handy now for late nights of writing.

Malcolm found a colorful rug in one of the private play rooms from the basement that was just the right size to cover enough of the hardwood floor to make the room feel cozier. I arranged the hide-a-bed with my favorite end table and reading lamp in a corner. A desk unit that had just happened to mysteriously be waiting for me had replaced the room's previous occupants, a double bed and dresser. I wondered if it had been Drake's doing. I would have to thank him for selecting a layout that provided enough room for my laptop, printer, and workspace.

Overall, I really hadn't brought that much with me, unless you counted my clothes and personal hygiene items. I don't know what I'd been so upset about. Thankfully, he had ample closet space, and I found a place for everything in his—no, our—bedroom and bathroom. I was still having a hard time calling it that despite having spent so much time staying here the past two years. Malcolm kept telling me that everything was ours now, but I knew it would be a long while before I believed that.

We had gotten into the routine out East of having a small breakfast together and then going our own ways for the morning. His was to take a run on the beach like he used to do back home. Mine was to work on my book. We both agreed to try to keep that up once we were in Illinois again. I hoped we could continue that schedule once he went back to work in two months for the spring semester, too, because it gave me a little bit of stability in my still-chaotic world. Which I was blaming partially on my big brother.

It was the week of Thanksgiving, and we were running around helping Drake and Daphne with last minute preparations for their wedding on Saturday. Who the hell got married on Thanksgiving weekend anyway? What was the rush?

Maybe it was her long-term training in submission, but Daphne was the calmest bride I'd ever encountered. She had all of her ducks in a row, and she hadn't even used a wedding planner. Not for the first time, I envied her.

We celebrated Thanksgiving at Drake's house, and my mother and other brother, Alexander, joined us with his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Cameron. I cherished these times we could spend together as a family. They were too few and far between now that us kids were all grown up.

The conversation during and after dinner was primarily about last minute details for the ceremony and reception. It was all happening too soon. Hell, I'd barely had time to find and get a dress fitted! But I was glad we'd come back to the Midwest in time to be a part of it all.

The entire celebration—not to mention the happy couple—was absolutely beautiful. Elegant, much like Daphne was, yet formal like my brother. They couldn't have wished for a better day. Although I would have preferred it to be warmer. I was still freezing despite the harvest-gold colored shawl we'd found to wear over my burgundy, floor-length gown. With my ample cleavage from the dress's V-cut neckline and my bouquet of autumn flowers, I felt a little like a cornucopia on display.

For several hours, I talked with family and friends at the reception. I ate too much, and I didn't think I'd be able to walk for a few days, especially after having eaten Thanksgiving dinner two days earlier and a big rehearsal dinner last night. But I was happy for my brother and his new wife.

By the time we got home, I was so exhausted that I fell face-first into bed still wearing my dress.

"They looked so amazing today. I think it was perfect for them." Malcolm's voice came from all directions, as if he was walking around the room.

"Mmm," was all I could say. This bed had never felt so soft before. Then I moaned long and loud as he removed my shoes.




Raw Ch. 07



Malcolm chuckled. "Is that all I have to do to get you to sound like that?"

My own laugh was muffled by the pillow. And it morphed into another moan as he sat on the bed and massaged my feet one by one.

When he was done, he undressed me and joined me under the covers. His body was warm next to mine, and I wanted to snuggle up closer, but I couldn't move. I sighed as he began to massage my back. When his hands began to roam to my sides and breasts, my insides began spiraling with arousal.

I whimpered. "I'd love to, but I think I'm too tired. I can barely blink."

"Shh, you don't have to do anything but lay there."

"Perfect." I was oozing romance. I knew it.

His hands played at the sides of my breasts for another moment before they grazed my sides, over my hips, and stroked my thighs. Then he slid them all of the way up my back and then down again so that he now cupped my cheeks. "You have such a beautiful body."

"Thank you." I smiled into the pillow.

He moved lower to my thighs. His thumbs slid back and forth, going deeper between them. Suddenly, he sat up and threw back the covers.

I shivered. But I didn't have time to think about being cold as he parted my legs and rested one hand on my ass. The other slid down over my pussy, his fingers gently rubbing back and forth. He avoided my clit, and as weary as I was, I tried pressing my groin against the mattress to get some pressure there.

His fingers dipped in and spread my wetness around. Teased but did not enter me. It was maddening. Then the bed shifted.

I flung my head back with a cry as I felt his cock press for entrance and then glide into me in one, long motion. In my state of being half-asleep, I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not. But I didn't care as he slowly stroked in and out of me in this prone position. The pleasure wrapped around me, filling my head. My arms reached out, and I grasped the sheets.

"Taking you like this," he grunted as his knees straddled my legs, his fingers gripping my hips and his thumbs pressing into my lower back, "you're so tight. It feels so damn good."

Short cries came out of my mouth in gasps each time he entered fully and pulled back. I wanted to reach beneath me and rub my clit, but I was afraid to move. Afraid I'd wake up and break the spell. So I clenched my eyes shut and fell deeper into the dreamlike state where I could feel his cock filling me.

At one point, he paused, and I whimpered, calling his name. He shushed me as he adjusted his position. No longer resting on my legs, I felt his hands near my breasts, his thumbs barely grazing the sensitive sides. And then he began thrusting again.

In my muddled mind, I imagined him doing push ups over me, as with each inward movement with his cock, I felt the heat of his body against my back, ass, and calves. On his withdrawal, the sensation disappeared. After awhile, he shifted again and sat on the back of my thighs.

As he stroked now, he massaged my ass. His thumbs pulled and pushed my cheeks apart and then together. Over and over again.

He fell out once. I bit the pillow when he rubbed the tip of his cock back and forth against the length of my pussy, grazing over my clit twice, and then he drove back into me.

I don't know how long it went on, but eventually I came. Not as hard as I had hoped, which made me think I truly had been dreaming. But I felt the warmth of his body as he laid down over me and wrapped me in his arms and the covers. My last conscious thought was wondering if he had found release or just intense pleasure like I had.

I awoke the next day feeling like I should remember something important. Malcolm had left a note that he'd gone out early for his jog and wanted to let me sleep in. So I wandered the house, walking from room to room, looking for answers.

The tears started falling the moment I picked up a photo of Malcolm, myself, Drake, and Daphne at my party earlier this summer. The same party where I'd disappeared for almost two weeks. Sue had taken the picture right after I had opened a little plaque she'd had made for me commemorating the minor milestone in my writing career. She'd made me wear a tiny sombrero, and we were all laughing. I wondered where that little hat had gone.

Malcolm found me curled up on the oversized chair in my office, still sniffling from my crying spell.

"Becca?" He pried the frame from my hands and gathered me onto his lap. "Talk to me."

"I really don't know what to say." I ran the back of my hand under my nose and pressed my cheek to his chest. "I can't stop crying. What is wrong with me?"

"You don't remember?"

"That?" I pointed behind him, indicating the picture wherever he'd set it. "Of course I remember."

"No, sweetie. I think you were in shock yesterday. We'd had such a wonderful day. When you heard the news...well, I'm surprised you took it so well."

"What news?" I pushed away from him. "Am I pregnant? How would I have forgotten that? Much less that I took a test or went to the doctor?"

"God, no!"

My face must have reflected my unspoken horror to that kind of response because his own face was suddenly devoid of color.

He shook his head as he tried to backpedal. "Not that I wouldn't be happy to hear that news. I just don't think we're ready for that yet."

I made a mental note that we needed to revisit that topic. Soon. But for now... "Then what? What could possibly have happened that I would be in too much shock to remember?"

He took my hands and held them tight. "Becca, last night at the reception, Drake told you that he and Daphne were moving out of state."

I stared at him and blinked several times. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie." He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand remaining there to cup the side of my head as his thumb caressed my cheek. "He is leaving."

"You're wrong." I shook my head and pressed my fists to his chest, pushing as he pulled me to him again. "He can't leave me. I need him."

"I know. I know." Malcolm kissed my head and rocked me until I felt like all of my strength had drained away along with my tears.

I couldn't imagine my life without my brother. I knew he wasn't dead or dying, but it felt the same. Sure, Alexander was still only a couple of hours away, but we didn't have the bond that I had with Drake. Especially these last two years since I'd embraced a similar lifestyle as he did.

Who would I lean on? Who would I talk to? And if Drake was leaving, Daphne was as well, which meant I'd be losing my new sister. My support when it came to questions on submission.

As if reading my thoughts, Malcolm said, "You still have me."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled my head under his chin. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He let out a deep sigh. "This is how I expected you to react. Not all jumping up and down, clapping and smiling and hugging everyone, wishing them the best."

I leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? I did that?"

"You'd had quite a bit to drink," he laughed and nodded. "You're not a cold-hearted person. But hearing news like that? We expected...well, tears and begging. When you didn't do that, we were all very concerned. Your brother made me promise to make sure you were okay."

"I will be. Eventually."

"I know you will. You're a strong, independent woman."

"Oh, shut up," I mumbled against his shoulder.

He kissed me on the lips and helped me stand up. "Now, how about we get some lunch? I think we should both get some nourishment before I take you upstairs and ravage you senseless."

I screeched as he chased me out of the room, his hands groping my ass.

###

I had my calendar marked for when Drake and Daphne were leaving. I cried every time I put another red X on a square. We had just this weekend, and then they'd be gone on Monday. We'd thrown them a going-away party last Sunday after they'd returned from their weeklong honeymoon in Hawaii. I couldn't believe another week had almost passed.

When Malcolm had said "out of state," he really meant it. They were going all the way to California. Drake had been offered a promotion at his advertising agency, but he had to relocate to accept it. The move was actually good for Daphne, too, as she'd have opportunities to pursue more lucrative modeling jobs on the West Coast. All in all, I was happy for them.

But as I'd helped them pack during the past four days, a deep depression set in like I'd never experienced. I knew I would see him again. He promised to return for Christmas—which was less than two weeks away—and they'd extended an invitation for Malcolm and I to fly out to spend New Year's with them. Yet I felt a part of me was being ripped out and couldn't be replaced.

I lay awake in bed Friday morning. Alone. Although I'd weaned Malcolm from staying with me until I woke up now that it had been seven months from my kidnapping ordeal, I'd wished he'd stayed with me today. I was losing my big, kinky brother, and I wanted all of the emotional support I could get as I wallowed in self-pity. I only felt slightly pathetic.

I found a note that Malcolm was running errands and would bring back lunch. I wanted to keep to my routine, so I found myself at my desk. But I just stared at my laptop. For the life of me, my mind was as blank as the page before me. I tried doing some proofreading, but none of the words on the page made sense, so I shut down the program without saving any changes. I was contemplating going upstairs to just crawl back into bed when my cell phone buzzed that I had a new text.

Daphne's name appeared with the message, "You're not busy tonight, are you?"

I choked back a sob. I was going to miss these impromptu requests to go out with my new sister. My bestie, if adults could have those. I texted back, "He hasn't said if we have plans. And I'm bored as hell right now."

"Good!"

"Good that I'm bored or good that I have no social life since I moved here?" I added, "Especially since you're moving across the country," but I deleted the addendum before tapping the button to send the message. It wasn't her fault they were moving, and she'd said several times these last few days about how horrible she felt for them leaving me.

There was a swooshing sound as her answer came through. "LOL Stop it. It's good that you're free tonight. I'll be at your house in 30."

I shook my head and pressed the main button to put the phone to sleep.

"Your house." My house. Our house. I let out a big sigh.

Daphne arrived half-an-hour later, and by the way her eyes sparkled when I opened the front door, she had some big news. I prayed that they had changed their minds about leaving, but I knew I couldn't be that lucky. And if she was pregnant...

I closed the door and turned to watch her as she went into the open kitchen, retrieved a mug, removed a box of tea from a cupboard, and then set a kettle to boil on the stove. I didn't even know Malcolm owned a kettle. Why didn't I feel that comfortable in this house yet?

"So when are you going to tell me why you're so chipper?"

She leaned on the lunch counter. "We're having my bachelorette party tonight."

I laughed and took a seat across from her. I shook off the feeling of déjà vu—her at home in this kitchen, me the newbie getting advice. "I could be wrong, but didn't you already get married? You're not longer a bachelorette. And you said you didn't want one, so I didn't throw you one."

She waved her hand in the air. "I changed my mind. I'm a woman. I can do what I want."

"Don't let my brother hear you say that!"

Her eyes widened for the briefest moments as she froze, then she smiled and said, "Well, consider it my last night of freedom."

I laughed. I could play along. "So what do you have planned on such short notice?"

"A little road trip into the city. We'll take my car." She reached out and grasped one of my hands between hers. "But the rest is a surprise."

"Now you have me intrigued. And possibly a little scared."

"Don't be scared. You'll enjoy it."

"I thought this was your bachelorette party? I'm not the one who's engaged."

"Not yet," she said with a wink.

"Whatever." I tried not to think about that topic too much. I was afraid it would jinx my relationship with Malcolm, and I was happy with our current circumstances. For now.

She finished doctoring her cup of tea and then started across the living room. When I didn't follow, she glanced back over her shoulder. "Aren't you coming?"

"Where?"

"To pick out what you're going to wear."

Sometimes, my head hurt from trying to figure her out. Today was one of those days. The fact that it would probably be the last one for a long time popped to the front of my thoughts. I shook my head and joined her as she went upstairs to my new bedroom.

We spent at least an hour trying on different combinations of tops and bottoms. Or rather I was the one trying on the clothes. When we were done, there were two piles on the bed: one huge and full of discards, the other small with possibilities. Literally. There were only two options for a top and one for a bottom. I hated to find out what her opinion would be if I let her choose my underwear for tonight.

"Are you telling me you don't like my style?" I fingered the tight, black pants she'd laid out beside me. "Out of my entire wardrobe, this is all you think is suitable for tonight?"

"Not at all. You've expanded your closet quite well since you started dating Malcolm."

"But?"

"No butts." She picked up one of the top options, if you could even call it that. "It's a special occasion. I want you to feel comfortable but also sexy."

"And you think that that top gives off the impression that the wearer is comfortable? It practically screams prostitute! I don't think it's even been out of the closet. See, the tags are still on it."

"What better time to break it in than tonight?" She held up the black material by the barely-there straps. It was mostly just a front panel with a halter strap around the neck and two strings that tied around the mid-section. The light glimmered off the silver flower decals surrounding two Chinese letters. "Put it on. I want to see."

I rolled my eyes but took the scrap of fabric from her. She would see in a second why I'd never worn it. Hell, I couldn't even remember why I'd bought it!

I popped into the bathroom, yanked off my T-shirt and bra, and managed to put the "top" on without dying of laughter. Then I strutted back into the bedroom with my hands out, a stupid grin on my face, and said, "Ta da!"

Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hands. "It's perfect!"

"Oh, shit." I mumbled and put my hands on my hips when she circled her finger in the air. I turned around and let out a deep sigh.

The thing I was wearing revealed my entire backside and was supposed to stop just above my bellybutton in the front. But with my ample chest—which the fabric barely covered—the bottom hem landed much higher up, making the top look more like half of a tube top.

Daphne laid back, supporting herself with her forearms. "What do the symbols mean?"

I shrugged. "Probably 'fuck me.' It would be my luck."

Our eyes met, and we both laughed so hard tears were running down our faces in a matter of seconds.

When I could speak again, I asked, "Can I at least try the other one on?"

"Yes, I was just kidding anyway. I would never have let you out of the house in that." She tossed me the second top along with a big grin, and I returned to the bathroom to change, shaking my head.

I felt much more comfortable in the navy, baby-doll shirt. And I felt sexy. It had spaghetti-straps and a plunging neckline that showed off my girls. In fact, the bustier part of the top was overlaid with navy lace. The Lycra skirt of the top hung down just past my pelvis in the front and my ass in the back. If I hadn't found it in the regular clothes section of the store, I would have thought it was lingerie.

When I came out of the bathroom this time, Daphne started crying again. She had her hands pressed to her cheeks.

"Don't tell me you don't like it." I did a slow turn, trying to catch a glimpse in the dresser mirror of how it looked in the back.

"No, I love it." She stood and gave me a hug. "You look amazing."

"Uh, thanks." I hugged her back. We really did need this one last hurrah. "Do you think I could wear something else with this, though? It is December."

She wiped away her tears and nodded. "Fine, but you have to wear the black leather jacket with the silver grommets. Oh, and your black boots."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Daphne disappeared into my closet, assumedly to search out the two items.

I'd texted Malcolm to bring back enough lunch for three. Daphne and I took off to the city after we put away the rest of my wardrobe and ate. We made a pit stop at my condo to get ready where I allowed her to curl my hair and do my makeup after she had insisted. I felt like a Barbie doll, and here she was the model. But she wasn't looking too bad herself in a red, mini-skirt dress with a corseted top, and thigh-high black boots, her hair in a low ponytail. Very sleek and runway ready.

Once I'd passed her inspection, we took a cab downtown to a popular bar where we had a couple of drinks. It was a little odd, this unexpected after-the-wedding bachelorette party. But she seemed to be enjoying herself as she swayed in her seat to the heavy base from a DJ, her eyes closed and a smile turning up the corners of her dainty mouth.

I had just finished my cocktail and was going to order another round when she tugged on my hand.

"We gotta go!"

"Already?" I tried to check my watch, but she was already at the door. We were in the backseat of a cab before I could take a deep breath. "What was that all about?"

"Don't want to be late. We have a schedule to keep." Daphne rattled off an address to the driver and then sat back with a heavy sigh. The window beside her went down a couple of inches, and she turned to me with a smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question? It's your party." I cocked an eyebrow at her, and she laughed as we passed under a streetlight.

"You look so serious."

"Mostly curious."

She grinned. "Just relax."

The traffic thinned out as we headed north of the city and into a more residential area. I laid my head back and stared out my own window, shivering a little from the winter breeze drifting in from her side of the car. Relax? I'd try to. But this whole day was just so confusing.

I was lost in my thoughts and hadn't realized we'd stopped until Daphne was nudging me to slide out of the car. She paid the driver and scooted out after me. I followed her up a short sidewalk to a Victorian-style house all lit up against the night sky. The rest of the street was mostly dark with only a few cars in sight. A sense of dread slid up my back as the cab pulled away, leaving us standing there alone in a strange neighborhood.

"Where are we?" I resisted the urge to grab her hand.

"A surprise."

I rolled my eyes and rubbed my hands up and down my arms to stay warm.

We ascended the steps to the porch, and the front door to the house opened a minute after Daphne rang the doorbell. She gave a man our names, and he said something about going straight to the last door on the right.

The light from inside was bright, and I blinked several times as my eyes tried to acclimate to the change. When I didn't move, Daphne took my elbow and guided me through the house to wherever God knew we were going. I think we passed through a living room and a kitchen. By the time I could see clearly again, we were descending to a lower level.

We'd barely hit the last step when I heard it. The repetitive taps of the closed hi-hat between the snicks of the snare drum under the Gregorian chants. They all wrapped around my head and crept through my veins like ice.




Raw Ch. 07



My hand gripped the railing tighter. This wasn't the cold I'd felt outside. This was worse.

I couldn't breathe. My chest hurt. I was afraid to close my eyes to try to block the familiar music lest it enhance the feeling that I was immobilized and somewhere else, not freely standing in a stranger's basement. I tried to tell myself to calm down. It didn't work.

"Becca?"

Daphne's face swam before my vision. Her frown and searching eyes indicated that she was worried. Just as soon as it had appeared, the brief feeling of paralysis was gone.

"Are you okay?"

"That song." My voice was hoarse. "I know it may sound irrational..."

Daphne squeezed my hand as we weaved through small groups of three-to-four people. "It's okay, you don't need to explain. Rest assured that he's not here. You'll stop automatically associating bad memories with things you enjoy. It'll just take time."

I nodded and tried to tune out what had been one of my favorite songs, "Sadeness" by what had been my one of my favorite artists, Enigma. Thankfully, my nemesis had only ruined that artist for me and not music entirely during sex. Malcolm had been more than happy to research and introduced me to new songs for our scenes.

When Daphne gave advice, I listened. I wasn't privy to all of the details of her past, but I did know she'd been in an abusive relationship before. A kinky one. And she'd willingly stayed until he'd decided one day he was moving on. Thankfully, she'd formed some friendships with other women "in the scene"—as they sometimes called living in the lifestyle—and they'd introduced her to the private club I'd been taken to two years ago now. The same club where she'd met Drake. If she said I'd get over my fears, I knew I would. Eventually.

We had approached the other side of the basement by now. Daphne pointed out two seats with her name on them in the first of three rows of twelve chairs set up in a semi-circular fashion. Although she chose to sit down, I used the ruse of discarding my jacket and putting it on the back of my chair to scope out the room.

The arranged chairs faced an inset into the wall the size of my new office at Malcolm's, which was about twelve feet wide by ten feet deep. Also like my office, it had probably been a small bedroom at one time. Take out a wall, and it was now what appeared to be a stage.

A single step led up to a platform about a foot from ground level. The floor looked like it had wooden boards that had been painted black, and the room itself had black walls. A table with a long, narrow box on top sat against one wall. Both were black, of course. I assumed that the ceiling was the same color, but I couldn't be sure since it was hidden by a soffit. In black. The whole thing looked like a permanent backdrop from a dismal play, complete with matching curtains framing the set.

At the center of the stage was a dulled-metal contraption with a rectangular base, a thick vertical pipe at the back, and a rectangular grid up above. The entire device reminded me of the picture we used to draw on the chalkboard at school to play the hangman game. The one difference in this case was the variety of hooks that dangled from the top grid instead of a rope noose.

Hangman 2.0. Adult Version. I stifled my giggle.

The rest of the basement was the typical man-cave. Bookshelves with sports memorabilia lined the wall by the staircase. Framed movie posters decorated the one farthest away where a couple of couches and a flatscreen TV flanked a fireplace. The wall on my left housed a bar with mirrored shelves of glasses and colorful bottles of alcohol. Just like at Malcolm's house, this would have looked like a normal lower-level when the curtains were drawn over the stage area.

Several men were imbibing at the bar. One of them glanced away from the group, the light shining off his bald head. He smiled at me when our gazes met, and I gave him a polite smile in return.

"Daphne, is this a dungeon party?"

"Yes. Put this on."

I finally sat down and noticed my friend was holding out a red, rubber bracelet. I put it on my left wrist. She pulled another one out of her purse and put it on her own wrist. They were just like the glowing ones we'd worn at the private club. Red meant we were taken.

I was going to ask her if it was really necessary, but I had glanced back at the bar again just in time to see the baldheaded man approaching. I nervously ran my hand through my hair and smiled at him again. Suddenly, he stopped, gave me a brief nod, and went back to his buddies.

The bracelet caught my eye as I lowered my hand and I groaned. "Good grief, does this thing ward off vampires and werewolves, too?"

Daphne grinned. "Only if they're kinky and a Dom."

"Of course." I shook my head and checked my watch. It showed we'd been here for a good ten minutes. "So give me the scoop on this party. Do we have to watch them have sex?"

She rested her arm on the back of her chair as she turned to face me. "I don't know about the sex. It depends on what the host has planned. I don't think it's usually advertised what the topic will be on. And speaking of our host, his name is Jesse. Malcolm trained under him for several years in Europe."

"Ah! The French connection." My interest had been piqued when Malcolm had understood the Frenchman at the bar that I'd been kidnapped from earlier this year. Malcolm had later filled me in that he'd once lived over in France for awhile. He had never gone into what he'd done over there, though. Now, I had a little more insight...and an opening to needle him on the topic.

"Yes. Drake has met him a couple of times, too. Malcolm and Jesse are still really good friends from what I've been told, but Jesse has been living abroad until recently. When Malcolm found out that he was back, he procured us invites since you missed that dungeon party."

That had been the same night we'd gone to the private club...because we'd missed the party due to having to go to the police station to press charges against Brian after I'd slugged him for molesting me in a restaurant's bathroom hallway. I only wished he'd gotten the picture then. "Well I'm glad you wanted to share your special night with me in this way."

"My pleasure." Daphne patted my knee. "While he had hoped to be with you at your first party—which is long overdue, in my opinion—Malcolm knew you'd be comfortable with me. Plus, we needed a girls' night out."

Yes, we did. I didn't want to think about the fact that it would probably be the last one for a very long time now. The lights flickered at that moment, and the din of chatter grew softer. I could hear the rustling of clothes and soft squeaking of the metal folding chairs as the rest of the guests sat down.

The bald-headed man who had chosen to avoid me stepped up onto the platform. He drew the curtains across the stage and turned to face us. "Thank you all for coming to our little soiree tonight. It's been a long time for most of you. Let me just say I'm glad we're all back here again. I do see a few new faces in the crowd. Don't be nervous. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

The main lights went off completely a moment later, making it very dark. I glanced down to see that my bracelet was glowing. I tucked my wrist under the edge of my shirt and leaned toward Daphne as I heard other voices whispering around us.

"Was that Jesse?"

"No. There's usually a spokesperson for these parties so the performers can get prepared both physically and mentally. But we'll see him soon. Drake said Jesse will find us afterwards to make introductions."

"That's very nice of him."

The curtains suddenly parted. Whatever lighting that was hidden by the soffit was focused on the contraption. Which was now accompanied by a woman. The man who had opened the curtains joined her. I hadn't seen or heard them sneak past us.

This had to be Jesse. He had dark, buzzed hair and was dressed all in black. His military-esque upper body stretched his T-Shirt, and tattoos peeked out from the shirtsleeves on both biceps. The lights made his tanned skin glow. His eyes sparkled. His mouth settled into a polite smile as he stared out at us. He was standing beside the contraption, and had to be only a few inches shorter than the top grid.

I gulped and slid down a little in my chair.

Less than ten feet away, everything about the man exuded dominance. His presence alone commanded attention. I wouldn't necessarily call him handsome. And I wasn't really into the overly-defined muscles of the body-builder type. Yet, something about Jesse's physicality made him attractive. 

I leaned toward Daphne. "I wonder what it's like to be under his control?"

She pinched my arm. "No matter what happens tonight, remember this: you belong to Malcolm."

I sat up straighter. Her choice of words irked me a little. I wasn't an object. Something to be owned.

Drake and Daphne were married now. Did she consider herself not just his wife but also belonging to my brother as a result? His possession? And was that her natural concept of marriage, or was it onset by being in this lifestyle?

I wasn't wearing a ring, so in my mind, Malcolm laid no permanent claim to me, vanilla or otherwise. Did he feel the same? Not for the first time—although, I'd done well to suppress my thoughts and feelings on the subject of marriage—I wondered when it would be my turn. Did he think about taking that step with me? Did it include more than what we currently had besides an official license of the state?

I was still rolling those thoughts over in my head while I studied the woman beside Jesse. She was shorter than he was but only just barely. Her blonde hair was in a thick braid that almost reached her ass, and she wore a short, silky-red robe with nothing on her feet.

She had stepped up onto the base of the contraption. Our host had bound each of her wrists with a leather cuff. He was currently removing her robe, and revealed that she was wearing a nude-colored bra and thong underneath.

My first thought was that she looked like she belonged on an X-rated Victoria's Secret commercial, all tanned, curvy skin with just enough coverage to still leave a little to the imagination. Albeit very little. I heard more than a few moans, presumably from the men in the audience.

Jesse pulled a blindfold out of his back pocket and placed it over the woman's eyes. He attached a chain to each of the cuffs on her wrists and secured each chain to a hook on the grid above. Then he left her while he unpacked the box on the tabletop.

She just stood there, as if she were a trophy on display. Her face was relaxed. She didn't even fidget. So I moved my gaze to see what Jesse was doing. He set what looked like a red, taper candle on the table and chose a flogger with red and black strips from the options he had laid before him.

"Lady Juliet, are you ready to begin?" His voice was deep, gravelly. I imagined he smoked, which made him less attractive in my eyes. Which was good, because it helped ebb the building lust in my head.

"Oui, Master Jesse." Her accent made me think she was French. She sounded like a vampire—her s's pronounced as z's—and his name came out as 'Mazta Yehzee.'

"Today's safe word is red. Please repeat the safe word out loud, Lady Juliet."

"Zee zafe word eez reed, Mazta Yehzee."

I pressed a fist to my mouth and nose to stifle a snort as I thought, "Zees waz going to be an eenteresting evening."

"Very good," Jesse said. "We shall begin."

A song with a gentle beat filled the air. I held my breath, expecting him to flog her right off the bat. To my surprise, he slowly dragged the strands up the front her left leg from her toes to her hip. I got goosebumps just from watching it.

The lyrics and rhythm of the song entranced me as Jesse trailed a path up the back of her leg and then repeated the motions on the front and back of her right leg.

"This is my word. This is my way. Show me a sign. Sweep me away. This is my word. Heartbreaker. Gatekeeper. I'm feeling far away. I'm feeling right there."

I was falling in love with this song. I managed to get my iPhone out of my jacket pocket without taking my eyes off the couple. Keeping the screen as close to my shirt as possible to avoid the light disrupting anyone else, I opened the Shazam app. The words "Smoke and Mirrors, Imagine Dragons" appeared on the screen after a few seconds. I was tucking the phone back into my jacket pocket when Daphne elbowed me. So much for being discreet.

On stage, Jesse had moved to stroke the flogger across Juliet's abdomen. Her breasts. Her arms.

I saw Juliet's mouth part in what I assumed was a gasp, but that was her only evident reaction.

Throughout the entire song, Jesse just glided the strips over her skin. Slowly. Methodically.

So. Fucking. Erotic.

I licked my dry lips and fidgeted a little in my chair. Deep inside, something clenched, and my breathing grew more shallow. I could feel my heart beating faster.

Jesse switched to a riding crop as the music changed to something instrumental. I struggled not to hyperventilate as the familiar strands of another Enigma song met my ears. When Daphne's fingers curled around mine as I searched for her hand, I almost cried. I bit my lip instead, concentrating on the scene as Jesse stroked the end of the crop across Juliet's skin.

No matter what he did, her body remained stoic. Was she not affected? Or was her restraint that good?

Despite the song, I found myself imagining that crop moving over my own body. And damn it all, Jesse was the one doing it to me. It was easier to picture that when he wasn't talking.

I wondered if I could have been on stage with all of these people watching me, even blindfolded and wearing just underwear. Hell, I'd done it the one time in Malcolm's basement for the rope-bondage demonstration—and in front of my brother no less. But this? Evidently, I was into voyeurism. Not so sure about exhibitionism.

Jesse paused to retrieve something else off the table. He unhooked Juliet's bra, releasing her breasts that bounced only slightly as they settled into round orbs with quarter-sized, rose-colored areolas and stiff nipples the size of pencil erasers. Good Lord, even her breasts were perfect.

He raised the straps up her extended arms and unhooked each chain from the grid just long enough to remove the bra. When she was standing in only her thong, Jesse secured a small clamp on her left nipple. She merely pressed her lips together. Even as he looped the long chain attached to the clamp around her neck, which pulled her nipple up, raising the weight of her whole breast in the process. The other clamp was attached to her right nipple, and he adjusted the chain so that her breasts hung evenly.

My own nipples hardened. Painfully. I crossed my arms and hoped it wasn't obvious that I was rubbing them against my breasts.

When he smacked Juliet's breast with the flat, leather end of the riding crop, I jolted upright. I thought I heard a cry, but Juliet's mouth was closed. He repeated striking the underside of her breasts at least a dozen more times each. He gave her a moment of respite while he walked behind her. The song ended. When another one did not begin, it felt like the room was holding a collective breath.

I was expecting it, but I still jumped when Jesse struck the back of Juliet's legs. I could hear gasps echoing around me. The whooshing sound and resulting sharp thwack as he landed each blow.

Her knees were bent now, although she was still supporting herself with her legs. I expected that by the end of this session, she'd be hanging by her arms. I wondered how long she could last like that. Would she even get that far without saying the safe word? I knew I probably wouldn't.

At one point, Jesse turned Juliet around so that she was facing the post, her backside to us. There were pinkish marks up and down her legs. He switched to the flogger with leather strips again and alternated between stroking and whipping.

I crossed my legs and hugged my arms tighter to my chest as I watched the pink areas turned red. It was arousing. And yet a little disturbing.

"Lady Juliet, would you like to come?"

"Oui, Mazta Yehzee."

He continued to flog her for another minute. Suddenly, he yelled, "Come!"

Juliet's cry broke through the otherwise stillness of the room as she flung her head back. While she was still shaking, he turned her around again. Her legs went a little more slack as she rested her ass against the post. Her hands clenched and unclenched several times in their restraints.

When Jesse unhooked the chains from the grid, I was a little disappointed but also glad that it was all done. The scene had affected me in ways I hadn't dreamed of. It wasn't like a porno movie. They weren't acting. Hell, there hadn't even been any sex. But it still left me with the feeling like I had just witnessed that firsthand. And I couldn't find quick release being that I was in a room full of other people.

I took several shuddering deep breaths and glanced at Daphne. She was still watching Jesse and Juliet, the corner of her mouth turned up and her head tilted to the side. She looked enraptured.

A rattling sound returned my attention back to the stage. The chains had been reattached further back on the grid. Juliet, herself, had backed up to the pole on the contraption.

I sat up and crossed my legs the other way. Act II. Bring it on.

Jesse suddenly removed the clamps. Juliet's nipples looked red and swollen. She rose up on her tiptoes. Her lips parted, but she did not make an audible sound.

I wondered, if I were closer, would I be able to hear her labored breathing? I know that's what my reaction always was when Malcolm released the clamps he used on me. I tended to cry and moan, too, especially when my throbbing nipples were soothed by his hands or lips. I could be such a wuss when it came to pain.

Jesse? He did nothing to comfort his partner. In fact, he turned his back on her and toyed around with the objects on the table.

My pelvic muscles clenched again as I watched him pour a clear liquid into his hands and then rub it over her abdomen. I inhaled sharply when he covered her breasts with the liquid as well. He didn't even do it in a sensuous manner, yet I would have been writhing from finally being touched by human hands.

Juliet? She was still. Silent. Although she could not see, was she privy to what was coming next? Or was her partner just choosing what to do on a whim and she was at his mercy?

Fittingly, the sounds of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm On Fire" met my ears as Jesse picked up the red, taper candle and lit it.

I had heard of playing with candle wax, but we had never attempted it ourselves. And I had never seen it done except in videos online. I stared transfixed as the candle tipped. Sucked in my breath as the wax spilled out in slow motion.

Juliet hissed as the red liquid touched her right nipple, and the chains rattled above her as her arms belied the strength she was trying to convey. I saw her bite her lower lip as Jesse dripped wax on the swell of her breast. I swallowed with effort, trying to imagine what she must be feeling, both the pleasure and the pain. Which was greater? Which did she desire more? Or were they the same to her?

Wax was applied to her left nipple and breast in the same fashion. Down the valley between her breasts. Some of it dribbled in a tear-shape to her bellybutton before it hardened. He dotted the flat part of her chest between her neck and the top of her breasts. Then he trailed lines along the sensitive juncture of her pelvic region where it met her legs on either side of the meager fabric swatch covering her. He had to light the candle again to give her legs a similar treatment.

When he was done, her upper body looked like a tan painter's canvas with red paint splattered on it.




Raw Ch. 07



"Lady Juliet, would you like to come again?"

"Oui, Mazta Yehzee." Her voice was barely audible.

"Come!"

She shook so hard I thought she might break the chains. Her mouth gaped in a silent cry. Some of the dried wax cracked as she convulsed, flaking off and falling to the floor. She hung now by her arms, her legs bent and no longer supporting her body. And Jesse stood there watching her. He had not put his hands on her in any intimate way except to rub what smelled like baby oil on her body, and she'd achieved orgasm not only once but twice.

I had been expecting full-on, hardcore sex from a dungeon party. What I got instead was an awakening to a whole new world. One that I couldn't wait to experiment in. With Malcolm, of course.

###

"Becca, close your mouth. You're drooling."

I swiped the back of my hand across my lips and looked around. The lights were coming up in the main room, and the curtains were closed again.

Mr. Baldhead had stepped up on stage. "I hope you all enjoyed tonight's show."

There was a loud round of applause and a few whistles.

"There are refreshments upstairs. For those of you who are going to stick around, please see me for your room assignments. A reminder for those of you leaving us, please ensure that you have all of your belongings as we will be closing the doors in an hour at promptly ten o'clock. They will not be opened again until nine tomorrow morning." With a wink, he added, "Thank you, for coming. Goodnight!"

I could hear the people around us laughing and talking. Daphne's voice joined theirs. My hands lay limply in my lap. I felt like I'd been elevated to the peak and left wanting. I hadn't been touched physically, yet my body was reacting as if I had been.

It was almost as if I were in a dream. Images of the scene kept flashing through my head. I'd wanted so badly to have Jesse just take Juliet after all he'd put her through. Give her some relief. But Malcolm had talked to me extensively during our hiatus on the East Coast about not always expecting the norm in the scene. Not everyone found fulfillment the same way. Therefore, I shouldn't be so disappointed when things didn't go the way I thought they should and just enjoy the moment for what it was.

My thoughts turned to Juliet and her tolerance. I'd had plenty of training in resilience these past two years since meeting Malcolm. I was able to resist my own impulses much better now. And I was able to withhold release for the most part until allowed. But to actually orgasm on command when Malcolm hadn't touched me with some part of his body? I don't know if I would be able to do that. And I still struggled with tampering down the noises that I'd adapted to using when I wasn't supposed to speak in a scene.

"Are you okay, Becca?" Daphne's voice brought me out of my haze.

"Hmm?" I shook my head and smiled. "That was...amazing."

"I'm glad you liked it." She handed me my jacket as she checked her watch. "We only have about thirty minutes to meet Jesse and get out of here before they lock us in for the rest of the night."

I noticed everyone else had departed to go upstairs. Before we could head that way, the curtains rustled. Jesse and Juliet—now clean and in a red, sheath dress—emerged. They were talking to each other but stopped when they saw us.

"I'm sorry, we were just leaving," I said, pointing blindly towards the stairs.

"No apologies needed." Jesse' s smile was pure white and radiant.

Okay, maybe I'd been wrong about him smoking. His charm went back up a notch on my mental meter. My legs felt wobbly, and it was suddenly hot in the room.

He glanced between the two of us for a moment. "You must be Lady Daphne?"

"Yes," my friend said, taking his outstretched hand. I heard her sigh, which made me giggle. Did he have this affect on every woman he came into contact with?

"So you would be Lady Becca." His eyes trained on me as his warm hand enveloped mine. "I have heard a lot about you."

I'm sure my smile looked cheesy. "I hope nothing bad."

"Oh, not at all. Welcome to my home." He turned and put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "May I introduce Lady Juliet?"

"Eet eez a pleazure," Julie said in her vampiric-French accent.

I just smiled and gave her a brief nod since she did not offer her hand. "Likewise."

Her eyes dipped and then returned to mine. As her mouth curved into a smirk, I wished I could read her mind. Whatever impression she'd just read of me, she seemed to be amused. I was not.

"You have such restraint," Daphne said, breaking the awkward silence. She waved her hand between Jesse and Juliet. "The show was wonderful. Thank you very much for the invitations."

"Did you enjoy it?" Jesse asked, his eyes focused on me.

I nodded. "Yes, very much so."

"I believe Malcolm said this was your first party? I am honored."

"Yes, it was. We feel privileged to be here. Thank you."

"Veuillez consulter nos autres invités," Jesse said to Juliet.

She gave a slight nod. "Bien sûr, Monsieur."

Jesse kissed both of her cheeks and turned back to us as she departed. "I apologize. Lady Juliet is more comfortable in her native French. She is going to see to our guests."

"I need to excuse myself, as well, to find the ladies' room." Daphne squeezed my hand.

"Let us go somewhere a little more comfortable," Jesse said as soon as Daphne was out of earshot. He gestured to the stage area.

I raised one eyebrow and laughed. "As enjoyable as your show was, that didn't look like the most comfortable position for a conversation."

"And as intriguing as the image is in my head right now, it will have to wait for another time." He flashed me that lightning-white smile, and my heart skipped a beat.

I was hesitant to follow, but he had piqued my curiosity. Especially when he pushed the curtain aside and walked up to the wall. My jaw dropped as a pocket door slid open, he reached inside the doorway, and a hidden room lit up. So that's how they got on stage in the dark without us seeing or hearing them!

"Ladies first."

The new space was fairly large and had been divided by a large, Oriental-themed screen. On one side was a walk-in shower, pedestal sink, and a toilet. The other half held a couch, a dressing table, and a rolling clothes rack with Juliet's red robe. There was another door next to the rack.

"Let me guess. Your house used to be an old speakeasy?"

"You have found out my secret." Jesse chuckled and pointed to the far end of the couch as he sat down. "To be honest, it is just another access to my personal rooms."

"Plural? Interesting." I wondered what his tastes encompassed to require multiple rooms to hold them as I sat facing him and pulled my inside leg up under me. "I take it that you are a very private man to have hidden away your hobbies as you have."

He studied me for a moment and then said, "You are very observant."

I shrugged. "A casualty of being a writer for so long."

"A very good writer, from what I am told. Alas, I have yet to you read your work. I shall rectify that soon." He stroked his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "Observance is also a good quality for a submissive to have, Lady Becca. It helps in knowing what her Dominant wants or needs."

Goosebumps prickled my arms. "Shouldn't you just call me Becca? I understood titles are used only in scenes or during parties."

"What are we at, if not a party? The main attraction may be over, but the show does not officially end until the morning." His grin suddenly looked less honorable and more lascivious as he tilted his head to the open door and the room beyond where three dozen people had sat until only a few minutes ago. "Besides, one in my position does not always adhere to traditions if they do not support common courtesy. I refer to all of my guests—and especially partners—with their proper title regardless of whether or not we are in a scene. It is a term of respect in my home."

My eyes narrowed. "All of your—"

"Yes, I have many partners under my tutelage, however not always at the same time. Most relate to the role of a slave, which I prefer. But it is not for everyone. Some—like yourself—are unwilling to give completely of themselves and therefore remain at the submissive or bottom level. While they find the role pleasurable, they are barely skimming the surface of what they could be enjoying. Being a slave delves below the surface, down into the abyss. Harvesting what is found there. It requires complete commitment and is much more rigorous and consuming in regards to training. But the end result is so much more rewarding. Then there are the switches, who are a whole other dynamic."

I was going to object to his opinion that I—or anyone else—who related to being a submissive was basically just being stubborn, but his last comment distracted me. "Switches?"

"The men and women who enjoy alternating being the one in control and the one being controlled in a scene. I have trained a few myself."

"Do you define yourself as a switch then?"

"No, I am a Master. Although I have allowed others to dominate me, it has only been in training. It is understood that I am not relinquishing control but controlling the situation by allowing one to think they are controlling me. It is a fine line."

A fine line named Ego.

"Tell me, Lady Becca, how long have you been in the lifestyle?"

"About three years."

"With just the one partner?"

"No, two." My cheeks burned. I didn't want to go down that road and prayed that he didn't want me to elaborate any further.

"You are nubile. Give it time. Put yourself out there. Attend parties such as mine." He shifted his eyes to where my left arm rested on the back of the couch. The arm with the red bracelet still encircling my wrist. "It is important to be approachable. Do not be afraid to accept leadership. Be open to learning all that you can. Not all Dominants are the same. With time, you will combine and use your experiences to grow and be more responsive with each passing partner."

"That's merely a matter of opinion. I prefer to stay monogamous and see where it goes." It was impossible to ignore the smirk that curled one corner of his lips, as if my comment only proved his theory that I was hard-headed with antiquated beliefs. He probably thought one couldn't just have a single partner and truly be in this lifestyle. Instead of rattling me, his reaction stoked the fire under my already smoldering soapbox. "Are you against having a relationship? Besides it not being safe having multiple partners, don't you want more than just sex?"

"Being in this lifestyle requires mental maturity. Understanding that this is not a dating pool for casual flings but a world of adults who want to nurture that innate desire to either control or be controlled. And those desires are met mostly through having sex in some form or another. I make it clear from the onset what the partnership entails. Including using the utmost protection possible if my partners request it, although I have permanently seen fit to ensure there are no surprises on my end."

I blinked at him. He'd had a vasectomy to prevent knocking up his girls? While he may have thought it a noble gesture to consider his partners in that aspect, in all truth, it was conscientious of him to the rest of society to assure that no egotistical mini-Master Jesse's roamed the earth. And that still left STDs.

"While emotions cannot be avoided," Jesse continued, "it is important not to let them get in the way of the goal: to achieve the ultimate satisfaction possible through whatever means the scene entails. Usually, it is just for the Dominant partner. A subordinate should never assume they will always receive pleasure from a scene, as it is not about them but about pleasing their Dominant. The subordinate will experience release and pleasure only if the Dominant desires and allows it."

Good grief, he was another Christian Grey wannabe. Or Brian Hughes for that matter. And that made me shiver. Was the whole world so obsessed with those books—and now the movie—that even the most hardcore practitioners of the BDSM trade were taking after a fictitious character? I bet that Jesse required an NDA as well with his plethora of partners.

Still, I was curious. "So no relationships. Not even with Juliet?"

"Lady Juliet is special." His smile softened to something more wistful for a long moment. Then he shook his head slightly, as if remembering I was still there. "The sex has been good, yes? Amazing, even?"

Way to flip the focus onto me. Thanks. But I smiled politely. "I would be lying if I said no."

He nodded slowly, his smile now grim, as if he had shifted completely from camaraderie mode into teacher-student mode. "Subordinate partners tend to see their obedience as an end to get to that means. If I obey him, he will fuck me. But as I said, sex and pleasure should not be an expectation every time. It is unfortunate for all parties involved that one cannot or will not obey just because they want to, even if they get nothing in return. Continual resistance of a subordinate reflects poorly on their partner's skills as a Dominant. If one cannot get his subordinate in line, how effective of a Dominant is he? How truly invested is the subordinate?"

I opened my mouth to object, but he held up a finger.

"To the Dominant, the sex is highly enjoyable. But it is the control that is the most important. It demands respect from the subordinate, who learns that respect is earned once it is given. But it is not just about being able to tell the subordinate partner what to do. It is also about knowing you were able to help them open up and understand their true, inner self. To balance them on that careful precipice with complete trust. "

I waited for him to add, 'To catch them when they fall,' but he did not. It was such a shame. I simply said, "I see."

By the way his lips pursed and his brow creased, he probably thought I was mocking him. But I didn't really care anymore. I would wager he'd claim there was no way I could understand what he was talking about because I wasn't a Master. And of course, I'd never feel the way he thought a woman should feel because I didn't embrace the life of a sex slave.

That made me angry. Very angry. Because if Jesse really thought that way about me without knowing me, then he definitely didn't think very highly of Malcolm, the same man who had trained under him for several years and apparently still considered Jesse to be an important friend.

I crossed my arms and sat up straighter. "I think you have the wrong impression of me and other submissives entirely. We are not any lesser of a partner just because we do not identify with a specific level or have the same predilections as you or any other Dominant partner would prefer. Everyone has their own opinions and preferences. Liking something different to a different degree doesn't make them wrong or inferior, just different. And this lifestyle means a hell of a lot more to me than just sex. I—"

"You are more lovely than Malcolm led me to believe." Jesse leaned toward me suddenly and caressed my cheek ever so lightly with the back of his fingers. "I do not mean just physically. Intelligence has its own exquisiteness. Even more so with a desirable body."

My mouth went dry. My skin tingled. I tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go with the arm of the couch already pressing into my back.

"He has impeccable taste. You are a rare beauty. Where ever did he find you?"

I clenched my jaw lest I offend him more by opening my mouth again. It would only support his belief that one such as I was not up to par with his preferable type of woman. Not that I had any intention of joining his harem. Then again, maybe I needed to make that clear.

"I am sorry if I have troubled you, Lady Becca. It was not my intent." He lowered his hand. "Please accept my apology."

I gave him a single, stiff nod. I hoped it was sufficient because that was all he was getting. Respect begat respect, eh? So far, none had been shown to me, and I wasn't about to freely give it to one who thought so lowly of me as a person based merely on my sexual preferences. And yet, he was apparently attracted to me. Talk about an enigma.

"Tell me. What did you really think of the show?"

Now that he was no longer touching me, I relaxed. But only a little. "It was...different. Good. But not what I was expecting."

"Like sex?" He chuckled and did not wait for me to respond in the affirmative. As if I would have admitted my expectations aloud based on the conversation we'd had thus far even if he'd allowed me the chance. "Most parties do not involve any form of penetration. In my opinion, they are not intended to be peep shows. Rather, they should focus on a specific art form. Like flogging, or spanking, or needle play. It should be both tutorial as well as stimulating entertainment rolled into one."

I lowered my gaze. I had no reason to be embarrassed, but he was so easy on the eyes... I had to remember I was mad at him. What were we talking about anyway? Oh, yes. We were both adults, and there was no reason to deny that the show had been arousing. He had accomplished his goal. Bravo. Another point scored for Jesse's ego.

"Sensation play is one of my favorite hobbies."

"Excuse me?" My eyes jumped up to his again to see him smiling at me. I wished he would stop being so good looking. It did not match his personality at all. It was distracting. Deceiving.

"Sensation play. Building the partner up to release by plying the senses. It can vary from light or moderate levels like tonight, to more hardcore ones with S&M when direct pain is intentionally inflicted. The results also vary depending on the time and the intensity involved. It is mostly done with touch, but I like to incorporate sound as well with the music. Combined... well ,you saw what they can do."

He was absolutely right. Just talking about it was making me lick my lips as memories flashed in my head again. Even after he'd offended me. Damn him.

"I'm sure that Malcolm would entertain any desires you have. Although you are his submissive, you should feel free to tell him what you like. What you would like to learn. That does not mean you are being insubordinate, or that he has to agree to your every wish. But you should never be afraid to speak up and offer new ideas."

I was so confused with his mood swings. First, he implied that Malcolm was an ineffectual Dominant partner because I was resistant to completely giving up my will since I related to being a submissive, not a sex slave. But now, he was encouraging me to speak my mind, which meant I could still have a will. I could only imagine that his own partners grew frustrated with him over time. Maybe that's why he'd had so many.

He took up my hand suddenly, his thumb caressing my skin. The gentle motion made my insides swirl, slowly gathering momentum the longer he did it. It wasn't an entirely uncomfortable feeling.

"Tell me, Lady Becca, do you have self-control? Has he taught you that yet?"

Little jolts of electricity seemed to race up my arm. I struggled to swallow. My hand looked so tiny, engulfed in his. I was too stunned to pull away. Or to speak.

"You do not need a cock inside you, or hands on your breasts to find release. You can achieve the same results with just a simple touch on your arm or a thought. Release is all in your head, anyway. But it takes practice."

I opened my mouth to once again object to him assuming I was some mindless bimbo reliant on sex.

"Shh." He placed his finger over my lips. "I could show you how, Lady Becca."

I shook my head as I added 'dangerous' to the words I could use to describe him. He was a triple-D threat. But I kept imagining how Juliet had looked. How I'd wanted to be in her place.

"Close your eyes." He moved his hand to caress my cheek. "Just feel. Let it build up until you are wound so tight that you hang over the abyss, anticipating for that magic word that will break you free."




Raw Ch. 07



For some God-forsaken reason, I obeyed.

The couch springs squeaked as Jesse adjusted his position. I felt the heat of his body as he leaned closer. Smelled the warm scent of butterscotch on his breath as his lips brushed my jawline. I loved butterscotch. God help me, I wanted him to kiss me so I could taste him.

"It is all about giving up your will," he whispered against my ear. "Letting go so that even the lightest touch brings the greatest response."

I gasped as he brushed a strand of meticulously-curled hair off my shoulder. It felt like a slow current was being pumped through my veins. When his fingers moved further back behind my neck, I tilted my head away, sighing. 

"Yes, just like that. Do not fight it."

His hand was on my right thigh now. Skimming over the material of my pants. Pulling my leg up to his hip. His touch made my nipples harden for what seemed like the dozenth time that night. Or maybe it had just been one long, ongoing nipple-perking session since I'd stepped foot in this house.

My breathing grew more shallow. I shivered. Then a moan escaped as his fingers danced under the curve of my knee, his thumb stroking the side.

"Mmm. That is a beautiful sound."

I arched my back, conforming to the arm of the couch, as his chest brushed mine.

"The next step is feeling but not instinctively reacting."

No shit. But every minute I'd had with Malcolm about not reacting had gone down the drain with just one touch from this man. Maybe I was getting soft. Complacent. No man could be that good to make someone forget two years of teachings. Right?

"Becca?" Daphne called.

Her voice broke the spell Jesse had put over me. My leg dropped suddenly, and my eyes flew open. I was sitting by myself on the couch. Jesse was standing at the open doorway to the stage, his eyes trained in my direction but definitely not on my face.

"It is time to go."

I wanted to scream. To hit him. But my heart was beating so fast and loud in my head that I couldn't form the words to spew at him. Ultimately, I wanted to crawl into a hole for falling for his seduction.

Somehow, I managed to get up and make it to the door. I flinched as he put his hand on the small of my back and gently ushered me through to the stage. My top was so thin, I could feel the heat of his touch straight through to my skin. And it was no longer welcome.

I tried to be casual about putting my jacket on, but my arm got stuck and he had to help me. Then I couldn't find the opening in the curtain. When he finally showed me the way, I hurried through ahead of him, a fake smile pasted to my face.

"There you are. I was getting worried," Daphne said, glancing between us.

"I was just giving Lady Becca a tour of the aftercare room," Jesse said. "I am sorry you had to miss it. Perhaps another time."

His voice was calm and sickeningly sweet. As if nothing had just happened between us. What an ass.

I managed a brief "goodnight" and started upstairs. I barely heard him as he thanked Daphne and I for visiting. The first floor was empty except for a couple of stragglers, the rest of the guests gone or retired to their assigned rooms for private play and eventual sleep.

As soon as we were standing outside, a tear slipped down my cheek. Then another. And another.

"Becca?"

"Take me home."

I heard her call for a ride on her phone. I shrugged away when she tried to hug me. I didn't want anyone to touch me right now. I could still feel his hands on me. His lips. Hear his voice. My insides curled in disgust. I'd been such a fool.

Once the cab arrived, I stared blindly out the window. Despite the constant pressure in my chest and head, I refused to break down here. I told myself to hang on until I was alone. When I could escape to my bedroom and give into the pain that was setting in. The confusion. The guilt.

But the scenery didn't look right once we reached the city. We were heading downtown when I lived uptown. Or where the condo was, at least, because I had to remind myself that I didn't live here anymore. I turned to yell at Daphne for forcing me to continue with her party when the cab stopped and my door opened.

I let out a sob when Malcolm's face appeared. I grabbed his outstretched hand and practically fell out of the car into his arms.

"What's wrong?"

My thoughts swirled around in my head like a tornado. I couldn't put them into words. Although his arm circled my shoulders, it did little to calm me down. Then I noticed where we were. I hissed through clenched teeth, "I need you. Now. Please."

His embrace tightened for only a moment before he took just my hand. He whispered something to Daphne, then we were moving. Entering the non-descript building. Hurrying down the dark hallway. Pausing only to show his identity card.

The sounds and lights inside were a muffled blur as he ushered me past dancing couples and flashes of red, green, and yellow neon bracelets. I roughly pushed the beaded curtain aside when we reached the hall that led to the stairway to the private rooms. Unfortunately, we had to go up another flight to the third floor to find an empty one. Everyone must have had sex on the brain tonight.

My pants were off before he'd locked the door.

"Becca?"

"Fuck first. Talk later." I caught myself and added softly, "Please, Sir?"

He didn't speak but pulled his shirt over his head. I gulped and froze, staring at his toned abs. The V that defined his hips and revealed where it pointed as his pants lowered. I bit my lower lip as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs. Then he lifted his eyes to me, and the spell broke.

I started to lift my top.

"Leave it on," he growled.

I shoved my thong down instead and walked backwards toward the bed, licking my lips as I watched him stroke his thickening cock as he followed me.

"Get on the bed. On your knees."

I crawled up and faced away from him. I tucked my arms under my chest and had just taken a shuddering breath as my tears dispersed when he slammed into me. I choked and shook from the impact. It only took a couple of strokes before I came, screaming his name.

He did not relent, and I relished the forcefulness he took with me. He eventually flipped me over onto my back. I rubbed my clit as he changed angles, his hands holding my thighs up and apart. My other hand kneaded one breast through my top, easing the ache there.

By the time that Malcolm found release, I'd had two more orgasms. My top had found its way to the floor when it got in the way of him grabbing my breasts. I preferred us this way, skin to skin.

As I lay panting in his arms, his lips nuzzling my neck, I was reminded that I wasn't just a partner for Malcolm. I was his girlfriend. We had a relationship that went beyond just fuck buddies in a scene. I knew he wasn't going to set me aside on a whim to be with another submissive to do some other kinky trick I wasn't into. Or neglect my needs to meet his own.

Regardless of what Jesse thought of submissives—of me, or my Dominant partner for that matter—Malcolm and I were not merely skimming the surface. He wasn't in it just for the control, and I didn't obey just to get sex or pleasure. Our feelings went down to the core for us. Part of me was saddened that no matter how many partners Jesse or Juliet had, they would never find what Malcolm and I shared. That I was certain.

###

"So are you ready to talk?"

I battled with wanting to turn to face Malcolm or staying where I was, his naked body still curved around mine. We'd rested for only a few minutes. I felt like I could just fall asleep for hours despite the fact that the bed was just a covered mattress with no sheets and no pillows. But sleep would allow me to escape, though I knew it was just temporary relief. Fleeting. Like those feelings tonight after—

"It was the show." His voice was quiet. Knowing.

I nodded against his arm under my head.

"I should have gone with you." His free hand caressed my hip, which made me wiggle against him. "I should have at least warned you."

His cock pressed against my ass cheeks, and I moaned. My hand covered his, sliding it inward and further south. His fingers danced over nerves so sensitive I gasped and flung my head back against his shoulder. He turned my chin so that our lips could meet as his fingers pressed between my thighs. Then he paused.

"Tell me."

I groaned, rolling backwards just enough that I could part my legs. "About what?"

"The show. What did he do?"

As long as I spoke, he slowly stroked one finger against my clit. If I stopped to catch my breath, he stopped as well. By the time I'd relayed what I could remember of the show, I had been on the brink at least half a dozen times without falling over. It was maddening.

"Did you come?"

"Not yet," I panted.

He removed his hand, and I clutched at air trying to put it back.

"Did you come at the show?" His growl was so deep I barely heard the words.

I whimpered.

"Lady Becca, it's a simple question. Did you or didn't you—"

"No!"

His hand returned, delving deeper and thrusting upwards. My thighs clamped around his wrist, my hands clinging to his arm as his fingers moved inside me. I shook so hard, my screams were silent. All I could hear was the thumping base from the music of the club beneath us. Or maybe that was my blood pumping through my head.

"Good girl." He kissed my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me as the shudders waned. "Did you enjoy the show?"

I nodded weakly.

"They can be so arousing that the people in the audience have the same reactions as those on stage."

After what I'd experienced tonight, I was sure that was entirely possible.

He got up and pulled on his boxer briefs. "We need to go. Drake and Daphne will wonder what's become of us. I don't want to worry them any more than they already are."

"I'm sorry."

Malcolm squatted down beside the bed. His eyes were still dark and glossy from our session, but the seriousness in them made my breath catch. "Don't be sorry. You have done nothing wrong. It's only natural to have the unbridled desire built up like that and feel frustrated when it's not released."

"Okay." I pressed my cheek into his palm when he rested his hand there.

"And don't ever apologize for wanting me." He stood again and tossed me my shirt. "You can have me wherever and whenever you want. I hope you know that."

"But not at school." God, where did that come from?

He growled. "Oh, honey, I'd find a way."

I stared at him, my shirt pressed to my sweaty breasts, as he pulled on the rest of his clothes and walked to the door.

"Get dressed and meet me downstairs. You have ten minutes."

It took almost half of the time he gave me to get my pants back on. Unfortunately, there was no mirror in the room—it was intended for sex, not for primping—so I had to resort to using a compact mirror in my purse as I ran my fingers through my hair. Men had it so easy. They could just fuck and go.

I glanced at my watch and saw that I had two minutes to spare. Hoping I looked somewhat presentable but not overly concerned since it was dark downstairs, I took a deep breath and opened the door. Despite my emotional rollercoaster during the past hour, I was getting a second wind. I was ready for some drinking and dancing. Time to get this belated bachelorette party going for real.

But something seemed off. I didn't realize what it was until I had descended to the main level: it was quiet. So quiet I could actually hear talking further down the hall. As I got closer, I could see the silhouettes of three people under the red glow of the overhead lights.

"She's going to hate us," one of them said with a soft sob. Daphne.

"So be it. My decision is final." That was Drake. "Please respect that."

"Is this how you want to leave? She won't understand. Not after—"

"I'll explain it to her," I heard Malcolm say.

I was still a couple of feet away from the group when I said, "You'll explain what?"

"Oh, Becca!" Daphne cried, running towards me.

"Stop!" Drake barked.

Both Daphne and I froze in our tracks. I stared at my brother. Never had I heard him so...demanding.

"I'm so sorry, Becca." Daphne put her hand over her heart. "I never meant to deceive you."

"What do you mean?" I crossed my arms. "What is going on?"

"Come, Daphne," Drake said. "We must get ready. We've delayed long enough."

His voice was hard. Cold. Not at all like the brother I knew.

Daphne dipped her head and turned around. She took my brother's hand and followed him down the hallway towards the main club area. The echo of her heels clicking on the cement floor sounded so forlorn. The red beaded-barrier that separated the private rooms from the rest of the club tinkled into place as they pushed through. Then it was silent again.

Before I could speak, Malcolm guided me back down the hall. Once we were in the stairwell, he gripped my chin. His other hand was still on my upper-arm.

"Don't say a word until I am done." He stared into my eyes as he added, "Nod if you understand."

I obeyed, which was a little difficult with him holding my chin like he was.

"Drake and Daphne are preparing for a collaring ceremony."

I gasped, trying to pull free. A mantra of "No! No! No!" ran through my head as he pressed my back against the wall. I whimpered but stopped struggling. I lost my grip on my jacket and purse. I knew my whole body would follow them to the floor if he and the wall weren't holding me upright.

"I know this is difficult for you with what happened this summer. I didn't agree with letting you know. They should have done it after they had moved. I told them their timing sucks, too. You're still dealing with them leaving."

I closed my eyes. It was the only way I could retreat at the moment.

"But Drake wanted you here. You are his sister. You are the only family he has that knows of his involvement in this lifestyle. He wanted you to share in this celebration. Because that's what this is, even though you may not agree with the concept."

The coppery taste of blood touched my tongue as I bit my lip too hard. A hot tear trickled down my cheek. Was the rest of the evening just a ploy to get me here? Is that what Daphne had meant?

"Do you understand?"

I managed a weak nod.

"We will discuss this later between the two of us. You can pout. You can be angry. You can take it out on me even though it's not my decision. But right now, you are going to put a smile on your face and walk out there with me."

He pulled me into his arms, kissed my lips, and held my head to his shoulder. When he finally released me, I faltered. My hand managed to find the railing of the stairs, which helped, but my legs were still wobbly. I flinched as his fingers grazed my cheek while he arranged my hair over my shoulders. When I was apparently suitable, he picked up my jacket, offered me his other arm, and led me down the hall.

The once bouncing, multi-colored main room was dark. People were seated in folding chairs on the dance floor, facing the stage where the DJ was usually set up. An arrangement of candles lit up said stage instead. And standing amongst them was my brother, Drake, dressed in a loose black shirt and black pants.

Malcolm deposited my jacket and purse on an empty chair and guided me up the aisle between the two groupings of guests. Once we had reached a set of stairs leading up to the stage, he assisted me to two empty chairs situated just within the edge of the candlelight's reach.

I let out a soft whimper as he gestured for me to sit.

He squeezed my hand and waited until I had taken a seat before descending the stairs again.

I tried to glare at Drake, but his eye contact was focused out into the crowd. My heart was beating so fast and loud I was sure everyone there could hear it. I clenched my jaw and wrung my hands in my lap.

Why was he doing this? Wasn't his marriage enough? Was this what I had to look forward to with Malcolm if I stayed with him?

Slow, instrumental music with a heavy base filled the room suddenly. It was difficult to see with the lights so low, but I heard the audience stand up en masse. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to as well, but I caught the slight nod from my brother who had finally looked at me. I stood reluctantly.

After a very awkward moment—during which I regretted having come into the city at all—I saw my boyfriend walking my brother's wife down the aisle as if they were at a wedding.

Daphne had changed into a white strapless, flowing, knee-length dress and matching flats. As she got closer, I saw that she had pulled her hair up into a braided bun, revealing her neck, and her smile was wider than usual. In her right hand, she clutched something black to her chest like a bride carrying a bouquet, but I could not tell what the object was.

Malcolm escorted Daphne up the stairs to the stage and brought her to my brother's side. Drake bowed to Malcolm, and Malcom bowed to Drake. Malcolm put Daphne's free hand in Drake's, then he retrieved me and brought me to the middle of the stage where we faced the crowd.

"We would like to thank everyone for providing your support to Master Drake and Lady Daphne. For joining myself, Master Malcolm, and my partner and Master Drake's sister, Lady Becca, as witnesses to this collaring ceremony."

It took every ounce of strength to not cross my arms or scowl.

"Drake first met Daphne here at this club over two years ago during a munch when he was a guest of mine. They officially became a D/s couple a month later, and have only grown fuller within their relationship and the scene since then. Therefore, it is only fitting that they take the next step together here as well."

I swallowed the desire to object—could I even do that?—and concentrated instead on not doing anything like fainting or throwing up that would embarrass not only myself, but also my brother, as much as I despised him right now.

Malcolm continued to speak—relaying how he had met both Drake and Daphne, and his understanding of their commitments in regards to BDSM—but I didn't catch all of his words. My mind was still reeling from my knowledge of what being collared meant. My brother was proclaiming he would now own Daphne. That she would be his slave. She definitely 'belonged' to him now.

What had happened to "submission is mostly in the bedroom for us," as she had insisted all those times we'd talked? To most D/s couples, being a slave meant full-time obedience, both in and out of the bedroom as well as the house. Doing whatever the Dominant partner said without question. No longer having a matter of opinion. It was Jesse's world. Definitely not mine. And not my big brother's. Or so I had thought.

I blinked as Malcolm tugged on my arm so I would follow him to sit down. He grasped my hand in his once we were seated and held our intertwined fingers in his lap. My mouth was dry. My ears were ringing. It was surreal as I dragged my eyes back up to see that Daphne had removed her shoes, and my brother had helped her kneel before him on a white pillow.

After what must have been the kinky version of vows based on the few words they said that had slipped through the haze in my head, Drake retrieved an item from a small table. He held it up, facing Daphne. The candlelight glinted off the polished silver of the choker and attached ring.

"I present this collar to you, Lady Daphne. It symbolizes your willingness to accept a lifetime of complete submission and servitude to me."

A sudden wave of nausea crept up my throat as my brother bent down and fastened the collar around Daphne's neck.

She gave the object in her right hand to Drake, who held it up with both hands.

Malcolm stroked his thumb over the back of my hand, but it did nothing to quell the memories that flooded in. Of being chained to a wall. Led around like a dog. Tethered to a bed for hours so some sadistic man could dope me up and fuck me at his will.




Raw Ch. 08



"Tell me the truth, did you propose because my brother left town and you felt sorry for me?"

I was lying on my stomach, barely able to move from the three hours of sex we'd just had. I could see the red digits on the alarm clock as they revealed we had entered a new year ten minutes ago. Not much else was functioning in my brain. Except a little paranoia.

Malcolm smacked my ass so hard I squealed. "No, I did not."

"Good."

"If you must know," he said as he slid two fingers into my mouth, and I licked them, "I had to get our dinner tickets several months in advance."

I whimpered as those same two fingers pressed into my pussy from behind. He'd been very methodical with his lovemaking tonight. Not at all rough or quick. It had been exactly what I had needed. But while I wasn't necessarily sore, I was overly sensitive. In some areas more than others. The lightest touch seemed to make my whole body tremble.

His fingers pressed in further, this thumb grazing over my clit. "I've had the ring since early summer." 

I cringed but still lifted my ass to give him more room. To feel his touch. I would never get tired of that.

"I was just waiting for the perfect moment."

"Uh huh," I mumbled against the pillow. His hand stopped moving, and I whimpered.

"You know, speaking of 'uh huh,' I never heard a proper answer to my question. You were adamant that I do it properly. I think it's only fair that I require the same. Therefore, I shall take my ring back."

I almost died when I felt his hand withdrawing. My lips were so dry, as was my mouth. It was a struggle to swallow, but I succeeded. "Yes!"

His hand withdrew a little more. "Yes, what?"

"Yes! I'll marry you!"

"Wonderful!" He slowly slid his fingers slid back in. "Now, where was I?"

After that, I was babbling like a baby.

###

With the new year came new changes. Malcolm went back to work teaching. So I was home alone after we had our breakfast. Alone for the first time in six months. It wasn't an easy routine to get used to.

I had every intention of working on my chapters as soon as he left that first morning. I just wanted to tidy up the kitchen first. But when I couldn't find a clean towel, I went upstairs to get one from the laundry room. Which is where I found a full hamper and decided to do a load of laundry. Then I figured I should check the bedroom first for any stray dirty clothes.

Not surprisingly, my clothes from New Year's Eve were still in a pile beside the bed. I had squatted to retrieve a shoe that was peeking out from under the bed when my hand bumped into something else. Down on my hands and knees, I fished the item out of the dust bunnies. As soon as I saw it, I lost my breath and fell to my ass.

I held the picture of my brother and I that used to be on the dresser. I remembered tossing it in the garbage the week before Christmas. I guess I missed and one of us had knocked it under the bed in the weeks since.

I started out just sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at my oldest brother. But as the tears formed in my eyes, I laid down. And pulled the covers over me, tucking them under my chin.

I didn't fall asleep but pondered what my life had been like three years ago. Back when I was just a seasoned writer who had taken a five-year hiatus to write under a pseudonym just for the heck of it. When being dominated in the bedroom was merely a fleeting thought as I wrote soft-porn sex scenes. There were too many nights where I'd stayed awake contemplating that my characters got laid more than I did.

I'd never imagined I'd be where I was today. What I would experience. What I would conquer.

I fought between being proud of my accomplishments and being depressed that my life was no longer normal. I wondered what the past years would have been like if I'd said no to lunch with Brian Hughes. If I'd just stayed in my shell of that hotel room, pampering myself like a good girl. A vanilla girl.

Would I have continued to write under the name Drake Alexander? Developed a new set of books? Embraced my inner desires? Or ever discovered the truth about my brother?

I tried not to think about the negative connotations of Drake's name now. That was a different time in my life. A good time. And I would not let his recent decisions triumph over my success.

Yet, he was part of the problem. Despite what he'd done, Drake was still my brother. He'd always been in my life. I'd never imagined him not being around. And then suddenly he was. It felt like someone had ripped out a part of me.

As I lay there, I thought about the times in the past weeks where I had just wanted to call him up and say hello or bounce an idea off him. Then I'd remember why he wasn't here, and I'd cursed him under my breath. Mostly, though, I'd wished he would see the error of his ways and apologized to me. I think I would have handled the whole thing a lot better if he'd just said he was sorry.

Some time later, I managed to get up and do the laundry. And clean the kitchen as well as tidy up the rest of the house. But I was sluggish and no longer felt compelled to work on my chapters. There was always tomorrow.

I tossed and turned that night during some weird dream that I really couldn't remember other than I was falling before I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep afterwards. Come morning, I was too tired to get up and I told Malcolm to eat breakfast without me. He kissed me goodbye, then I rolled over to snuggle back under the covers.

On the third day of school, I did get up but I couldn't concentrate on writing. I sat staring out the window of my office instead. After an hour, I went back to bed and cried my eyes out. What was wrong with me?

After still feeling depressed on the fourth day, I approached Malcolm when he came home. We both agreed it might help if I sought out some local counseling. It had worked out on the East Coast, why not here in the heart of the Midwest? Malcolm made a couple of calls and was able to get me an appointment the following Monday.

I was extremely nervous at first, but Dr. Pritchard, a female head-doctor, encouraged me to not fear being honest. We couldn't start working on how to fix the problem until she knew what the problem was. She seemed friendly enough, and I felt more comfortable by the end of the session. We set up a time to meet every day for the next two weeks and we'd see where it went from there.

Day two was my breakthrough day. I shared that I liked to be submissive—and sometimes bound—while having sex. That an ex-lover had kidnapped me and repeatedly raped me using those same techniques. And that the closer of my two brothers had turned out to be a stranger in an even stranger world in which I'd only just begun to skim the surface.

That night, I slept better than I had in weeks. My head had never felt so clear. Malcolm even mentioned that I seemed more chipper.

I was leaving the appointment on the third day when Dr. Pritchard handed me a folded sheet of paper.

"Rebecca," she said with one hand on my shoulder, the other on the closed door, "based on what you've told me of your experiences and your preferences in the bedroom, I think you need this."

I don't know what my facial expression was, but there was nothing but worry in my head. Mostly because she'd rarely spoken during our sessions except to say hello and ask me how I was doing that day. She would nod and take several notes; then she would wish me well until our next meeting. I had begun to consider the fact that she thought I was a loon and she was recommending I get a different kind of help. Especially after what she said next.

"Please don't open it. Give it to Malcolm. Let him decide."

I nodded, stuffing the letter in my purse. I battled the desire within to read it in the elevator. But I worried that there might be cameras, and I didn't want her to find out I'd disobeyed her. So I resolved to read it as soon as I got to the car.

This was my life we were talking about here. Anything she had to tell Malcolm, she could tell me. She should tell me. I didn't know all the ins and outs of doctor-patient confidentiality, but I knew it wasn't legal for her to talk to someone who wasn't my spouse about something related to my mental health without my consent. At least I thought I had that right.

But the card didn't work out either as my cell phone rang just as I slid into the driver's seat. 

"Becca! How have you been?" Sue's voice trilled from the other end.

"Just fine. And you?" I rolled my eyes as I secured my seatbelt. We'd just talked yesterday.

"Good. Good. Listen, I wanted to ask you something about chapter six."

"I'm in the car, hold on a second." I found the Bluetooth earpiece Malcolm had gotten me for Christmas and waited for the device to pick up the line—a technology I don't think I was ever going to get used to. "Okay, go ahead."

I only half-listened to her ramble as I drove home. It had snowed the last couple of days, and although the roads were mostly clear, I was leery of the other drivers. I kind of missed being in the city and relying on public transportation if I wanted to go out and didn't want to face the elements myself.

"So what do you think about that change?" Sue said as I pulled into the garage.

"Tell you what, I'll think it over." Honestly, I couldn't even begin to say what it was she'd suggested. "Why don't you shoot me an E-mail with all of the details, and I'll get back to you after this weekend."

"Perfect!" I could practically hear her clapping her hands. "That's all I ask is to consider it. I'll let you go so you don't get into an accident."

I just shook my head as we both hung up.

Inside the house, Malcolm entered from the living room as I removed my coat and set my purse on the kitchen counter.

"How was your appointment?"

"Fine." I think. I kissed him and perched myself up on a stool on the other side of the counter. I eyed my purse, wondering when I'd have a chance to read the note privately because I'd forgotten to do it in the garage. But my purse chose that moment to fall over, and the note fell out of the front pocket, fluttering to the floor.

Malcolm stooped to pick up the folded sheet. "What's this?"

I gulped. Okay, Plan B: obey the doctor's orders. "It's actually for you."

"Really?" He opened the note and read it silently. His only visual response was his eyes widening slightly. Then he said, "Where did you get this?"

"Dr. Pritchard." My mouth was suddenly dry when I tried to swallow. I could use a glass of water. But when I glanced at the fridge, it seemed so far away.

"Have you read it?"

I shook my head. "She said not to."

"Did you want to?"

My nod was hesitant.

"Do you want to now?"

I shook my head even slower. I was such a liar. After a deep breath, I said, "I'd better not. She said for you to decide."

"Hmm. Okay. Stay here."

I watched him disappear down the hall. With the note.

By now, I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. I held no secrets from him. He knew what I had discussed with the psychiatrist. And she knew he was into the kinky sex just as much as I was. Still, I worried that maybe she thought I had made it all up. That something was wrong with me mentally. I mean, who really had the experiences I'd had?

When he had been gone ten minutes, I managed to pry myself from my seat and get that glass of water. But it did little to dispel my concerns. I paced the kitchen. I wrung my hands. More than once, I eyed my keys on the countertop and considered making a break for it. I couldn't be committed if no one could find me.

I had just decided to leave when I heard his footsteps on stairs to the second floor. He reappeared with a suitcase. My suitcase.

I'd been right. I cursed myself for not leaving when I'd had the chance. I'd sealed my own fate by going to that damned doctor. And now I had to lie in the grave I'd dug with my own two hands.

"Are you comfortable in those clothes?"

I nodded without really hearing his question. He said something else, but I must have given him a blank look because he sighed and repeated himself.

"Put your coat on. Please."

Although I slipped each arm into the proper sleeve and wrapped my scarf around my neck, it felt like someone else was doing the actions. I picked up my purse with numb fingers. My feet dragged as I followed him out to the garage.

Tears filled my eyes, and I turned my head to stare blurrily out the passenger window as he backed out of the driveway. I didn't want him to see me cry. I felt betrayed. I'd trusted that doctor. I'd trusted Malcolm. I still did. But I hadn't imagined he'd want to comply with the doctor's wishes and put me away. Now I knew the truth.

He squeezed my hand. I wanted to pull away but resisted. Deep down, I knew it was better not to fight. Not this time. Maybe I really needed this kind of help.

After several minutes, I rationalized that we weren't going to the local hospital. I noticed the signs for Interstate 88. Maybe they put the crazier ones in a bigger facility. In a bigger city.

I wanted to curl against the door. To press my forehead to the cold glass of the window. But I sucked up what resolve I had left and just gripped my hands in my lap.

Malcolm, too, was silent. He hadn't even turned on the stereo. It might have helped to distract my mind.

The loudest thought of all told me I'd made many mistakes over my life, but staying with him may have been the biggest one.

This wasn't something that had just happened to me. I had chosen this life. He was my Dominant partner. After the events of the past several months, I'd decided to relinquish as much control as possible to him. It was more of a test of my own will, or rather a desire to give up that will. To see if I could even do it. Especially, since he'd proposed. What if I couldn't cut it as a submissive wife?

I hadn't been too successful with my experiment since my brother left because I always second-guessed Malcolm or tried to take the upper hand, even though I knew he had my best interests at heart. Today had been my most significant step forward...and I was quickly regretting it. But I was intent on seeing it through. To live with the consequences of my actions.

Hot tears finally trickled down my cheeks until my scarf was damp against my chin. Suddenly, I wanted to rewind and still be that mysterious writer. To keep my secrets locked inside my head with the occasional one-night-stand that left me wanting for more but knowing I was safe with the brief satisfaction of release that hadn't come by my own hand or an adult toy.

When the car finally stopped inside a parking deck forty-five minutes later, I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes and sat up straighter. I tried not to fidget as I waited for Malcolm to come around and open the door for me as he usually did. I would miss his chivalry.

How long would they lock me up? Was there a minimum period, like a jail sentence? Who or what determined when I could leave? I'd convinced myself that I shouldn't implicate my fiancé, although he was just as guilty as I was in this. They'd never believe me. Not with an accredited doctor's recommendation. Or my lack of dissent.

I'd do whatever they wanted me to so I could go home. My real home in Chicago. I'd leave all of this behind me—including Malcolm if I had to, as hard as that thought was to swallow—and try to become normal again. But had I ever been normal?

As we walked from the parking deck, I realized we were at O'Hare airport. My heart sunk deeper into my stomach. Was he that ashamed of me that he had to fly me out of the state?

I stood beside him—my hands in my pockets and my eyes at my feet—separated by the lone suitcase that seemed more like a brick wall. We shuffled forward through the queue towards the ticket counter, not speaking. I hoped I didn't look like the unwilling traveler that I felt like inside.

When it was finally our turn, I showed my driver's license when requested. I only paid half attention as Malcolm put our passports on the counter. As he handed over the single piece of luggage to be tagged. But when I heard the ticket agent say we would have a short layover in New York to catch our connecting flight to Canada? I wanted to curl into a ball and cry like a baby.

"Good grief, why are you being so glum?" Malcolm said as we headed toward the security checkpoint.

"Who wouldn't when they were being sent out of the country to be committed?"

He stopped and grunted as someone bumped into him. He apologized to them and yanked on my arm to pull me off to the side of the hallway.

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You're sending me to some mental hospital in Canada because I'm crazy!" I tried not to glare at the people who seemed to glance at us as they hurried past.

"Becca! We're going to Canada for a bondage convention and art exhibit."

I had been speechless many times in my life, but never like this.

He checked his watch and glanced at the short line of travelers waiting to go through the scanners.

My eyes welled up again. When the words finally came out, my voice sounded like a boy hitting puberty. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"You said you didn't want to know what the note said!" He ran his hand over his face and then back through his hair.

"I was trying to be more submissive! Dr. Pritchard said she thought I needed this."

"And you immediately thought she wanted me to put you in an institution?"

I threw my hands in the air. "I don't know! She hasn't said more than ten words to me all week. I've let all the skeletons out of my closet. Then she gave me that note, and I guess—"

"You thought the worst."

I couldn't answer with the tears clogging my throat. Then I couldn't breathe because Malcolm had pulled me against his chest. I felt the rumble of his chuckle before I heard it. I pushed against him with my fists. Thankfully, he kept his arms around me, because I felt like I was going to collapse with a combination of relief and frustration.

"Oh, Becca."

"It's not funny."

"Honey, it kind of is." His hand rubbed the back of my head, and I felt his lips against my forehead.

I regained my composure, and we made it through security without issue. We found our gate with a few minutes to spare before they began the boarding call. As we took our seats, it occurred to me that Malcolm had thrown all of this together at the last minute. How hard had it been for him to keep our destination a secret? The reason?

The fight was uneventful. Once we landed in New York and found out we had an almost two-hour layover, we grabbed a bite to eat at a tavern in the airport's restaurant section. Nestled side-by-side at a corner table away from the rest of the patrons, we finally had a chance to talk privately.

I sighed as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I jumped to conclusions like that. It's not even a rational one. And it's not like me. I'm not sure why I've been so paranoid lately."

"I'm confident that Dr. Pritchard can help you understand that." He kissed my lips when I tilted my head back. "In the meantime, apology accepted."

I smiled and linked my fingers through his, leaning into his one-armed embrace. This was nice. A little quiet time together. It wasn't every day you went to Canada on a whim. I was going to ask him about our return to the states when he spoke.

"I don't what kind of man you think I am, but I would never have you committed. Especially against your will," he whispered against my hair.

I bit my lower lip. He was right. Why had I'd assumed the worst from him? Was this something I'd learned from my captivity with Brian? Would I be able to get over it? I made a mental note to talk to Dr. Pritchard about it.

Malcolm lifted my chin. "You do understand that, don't you?"




Raw Ch. 08



I nodded.

"I want to hear you say it out loud."

"Yes, Sir."

His eyes grew dark for just a moment. But he blinked, and they were back to normal. He handed me the doctor's note from his pocket. "I think you should read this now."

I sat up and unfolded the small sheet of paper. In an elegant handwriting not expected from a doctor were the words 'Velvet Rope Exhibition,' a Canadian address, and an international phone number. Under that was a personal message: "Hope you can make it on such short notice, Sir Malcolm. From what Lady Becca has told me, she would enjoy it. --ML."

"ML?"

"Mistress Lydia."

"Are you shitting me?" Somehow, I managed to keep my voice at a whisper. Albeit a very loud whisper.

He shook his head.

"Wait...My shrink is a dominatrix?"

"Yes."

"And you knew it?"

He just smiled.

I loved his smile. His lips. His mouth. Especially when he... I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "So after our discussion last week, you what? Called in a favor?"

He looked to the ceiling and mimicked whistling. He didn't have to admit it aloud. I knew. How clever—and compassionate—of him to have a kinky friend in the profession assist me. He knew I'd be comfortable opening up to her.

Suddenly, I narrowed my eyes at him. "And you know her name in that context because?"

He cleared his throat. "Well..."

I sat upright, and his arm fell from my shoulders. "Yes?"

"I hardly think this is the time or the place—"

"Oh, it's the perfect time and place." I downed the last of my beer and glanced around. We were the only ones left in the room, and the clock on the wall showed we still had plenty of time before we needed to head to our gate. "I tell you what. You answer my questions, and I won't object to a single thing you want to do this weekend."

His eyes lit up, and he leaned closer to me. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

I pursed my lips for a moment. "I'd rather call it seducing."

"That's a dangerous wager. Are you sure you're willing to hold to your end of the bargain?"

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask you."

"The lady has a point. I'm going to need some liquid courage."

I tried to take slow, deep breaths as he went to get us another round of drinks. As much as I loved this man—and as much as we'd shared about our own lives with each other—there was still a shadow in his past that I yearned to know about. Now that I'd agreed to marry him and knew I wasn't going to be committed, I could no longer put off the inevitable.

When he returned, Malcolm sat across from me so that his back was to the rest of the narrow but long room. He put a glass of beer in front of me and took a long drink from his own. Then he cracked his knuckles and let out a sigh.

"Lay it on me."

I arched one eyebrow at him. My glass was cold as I wrapped my hands around it. It felt good in the otherwise warm room. Or maybe I was just warm because I was nervous. I wasn't sure if this was a need-to-know or want-to-know situation. Problem was I wouldn't know that answer until I'd already opened Pandora's Box.

"Tell me about France."

"That," he said, pausing to take another sip of beer, "is not a question."

I almost teased him, but the lack of a smile on his face told me I'd touched a nerve. I slouched a little in my chair. It was too late to turn back now. "Can you please tell me about your time in France?"

He leaned his arms on the table and ran one finger through the condensation on his glass. His eyes were trained on the table now, but I could see the light had suddenly had gone from them. "It's a part of my past I don't like to dwell on."

I opened my mouth to say that it still mattered to me. He held up one hand as if he knew I would object. I clamped my mouth shut and waited. After a long couple of minutes where he just sipped his beer, I worried that he wasn't going to answer my question. Well, it had been worth a try.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat. "I will tell you about France because you deserve to know. We're going to be married. There should be no secrets between us. But first, I need to backup."

"Okay." My voice was so soft I don't think he even heard me. And he was only a dozen inches away.

He took another drink. For courage?

"I was young when I was introduced to the lifestyle. Second year of college at UIC, struggling to get by on Ramen noodles and a part time job at the campus bookstore. My dad was out of the picture. My mom worked two jobs to pay the mortgage and my tuition. When a classmate asked if I wanted to make a little extra money, I jumped at the chance without asking any questions. Isn't that crazy?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it.

"We were bouncers at a strip club on Friday through Sunday nights. I pocketed over three hundred in cash that first weekend. After a month, I had over a grand saved."

He took a pause for a long drink of beer. I wanted to reach out and grasp his hand, to give him some encouragement. But I didn't want to break his train of thought, either.

"My job was to stand in the lobby with my buddy and check IDs. Sometimes there were special events like Ladies' Night or Chip 'N Dales that they asked us to work during the week where we took cover charges. I'd been there a couple of months when they asked me to work a private party one Friday night. The club was mostly just a big room with a stage and a stripper pole surrounded by tables and chairs. But the private parties were down a hall separated by a red door. One guy stood on the club side of the door and handed out special passes. My new job was to stand on the other side and take the pass back as the guest left."

I was leaning on the table myself now, sipping my beer. I studied a couple who entered the tavern. They started toward us, but the woman pointed to the bar. Thankfully, they sat at the far end by door, and I returned my focus to Malcolm.

"From the few times I had been in the main showroom and had seen men go through the red door, I had assumed the private rooms were for lap dances. But now that I was on the far side, I could hear everything in the first two rooms. Men begging someone to spank them. Whipped. To have more pain inflicted. I'd never experienced anything like it. And these were businessmen. In suits. A couple even wore wedding rings. I was too chicken to ask the other bouncer what was going on. So I set my mind to telling the boss I preferred to do main-door duty."

"I'm guessing there's a 'but'?"

Malcolm nodded. Then he shrugged. "I was paid five-hundred dollars that night. That was more than I'd made in two months at the bookstore. When they asked me to do the same job the following week, I couldn't refuse. I needed the money."

I barely stopped myself from quipping that that was the same excuse people used for why they became strippers, prostitutes, or drug dealers. As lucrative as they were, they weren't jobs you wrote home to mom about. Yet, I didn't hold his decision against him.

"I had so many questions, but I knew I couldn't ask anyone there at the club. Especially when I was warned that I should keep my mouth shut if I saw anyone I knew as these gentlemen were paying a high price to keep their indulgences private."

Part of me wanted to hurry him along, but I knew he had to tell his story at his own pace. And he seemed to think this backstory was important to his travels in Europe. Though I did keep an eye on the clock over his shoulder so we didn't miss our flight.

"My classmate never asked what was going on in those rooms, and I didn't question if he knew. I did a little research online instead, although it was a little difficult at that time. The Internet wasn't as vast with information as it is today, especially with things as hush-hush as women beating men for pleasure. But I got the gist of what was going on. After my third time bouncing the private hall, the ladies befriended me when the club closed for the night. They looked like your normal, everyday strippers, although they pranced around mostly in leather rather than lingerie. They showed me some of their tools. Explained what they did."

He took a swig of his beer and ran his hand back through his hair. His brow was creased, his eyebrows pinched together. He was concentrating or worrying about something. I prayed I hadn't made a mistake by insisting he open up to me.

"One of them took me under her wing. Gave me a personal introduction into the role of a Dominatrix without being on the receiving end of the flogger. She had broken English and called me 'mon chéri,' or 'my darling.' She was always inviting me up to her studio where she held private sessions. I accepted once and was able to watch while a blindfolded, grown man crawled around on his hands and knees in only his underwear. She led him by a dog leash and smacked his ass with a riding crop. All while he called her Mistress and begged for more, and she called him 'bon garçon' or 'good boy.' I'd never seen anything like it."

I sat up straight and took a deep breath. I didn't like where this was going. Should I stop him?

"I found no pleasure in this." He wasn't looking at me, and I wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure me or just state a fact. "She had become a friend on the inside, though. I felt comfortable asking her questions without worrying that they would fire me. I hung out with her and some of her friends—both male and female—when I wasn't studying or working two part time jobs. As the semester was ending, she asked if I wanted to spend the summer with her and the girls in France. I considered my options and figured a chance like that didn't come up too often. I mean, I had the money now."

"Sir?"

Both Malcolm and I jumped, noticing the bartender standing next to our table.

"Can I get you a refill?"

We both looked at our mostly-empty glasses and pushed them toward him with a 'thank you.' Once we'd received full glasses in return, I waited for Malcolm to pick up where he'd left off.

"It was surreal. There I was in a foreign country, not knowing a lick of the language, and only knowing the members of my traveling party through a stripclub that was a disguise for a dominatrix lair on the weekends. We stayed in a rented place of a friend-of-a-friend and ate at a local bistro on a regular basis. By day, they took me sightseeing. At night, we hit up the club scene. This was their normal routine every summer. My lady friend, she was originally from Paris, so she was my official tourguide."

I felt the jealousy creeping in. I wished I'd known him then. To have experienced France with him.

"Mostly, I sat in a booth and drank beer while they danced and found conquests to take home for the night. I could hear them in their respective rooms, spanking and whipping their newly found partners or just having sex if they hadn't secured a willing stranger to dominate. It grew tiresome. I realized I wanted nothing of that lifestyle."

Well, he definitely wasn't a switch.

"One night, I faked being sick to stay home alone. Everyone else had gone out already, so I was lying in bed naked, just staring out the window at the stars that I could see over the rooftop of the buildings nearby. I wondered what my classmates were doing back home in Chicago. What I would be doing if I were home. My friend scared the shit out of me when she came in, flung back the sheet, and grabbed my cock as she sat down. When I yelled at her, she climbed on top of me and tried to convince me that I was hiding my inner desire for her to dominate me. Why else had I come on this trip if not to indulge my fantasies with her?"

I had to bite my lower lip to suppress a giggle. Malcolm rolled his eyes at me. I was just glad no one else was around to hear this mostly one-sided conversation. So much for me asking questions.

"Needless to say, she did not get what she wanted that night. And I was livid. Not to mention a little horny since she'd been stroking me the whole time. Once she'd given up on me and left to find her friends, I got dressed and went out on my own. I had gotten to know the area well from our afternoon jaunts, and I'd remembered a club that she'd pointed out numerous times but we'd never visited. I figured I'd be safe going there on my own."

We both took long swigs of our beer as if we'd both been talking. I tried to imagine him wandering the streets at night. A young, good-looking, horny American boy let loose in Paris. I leaned on the table with my arms crossed, curious as to where he was leading me next.

"The place I was heading to was in the opposite direction of where we'd gone the past couple of weeks. It was a straight shot up the street and had a red door. My confidence waivered, though, when I realized many clubs surrounded the place we'd rented. Clubs that only opened when the sun went down. And at night, even a red door looked black. After I realized I'd been walking too long and must have missed the club, I decided to pop into the nearest place and at least grab a drink."

I gave him a smile, which he returned before he stared back into his beer. Good for him for not giving up and running back home. I'm sure that was the last place he wanted to be anyway.

"I remember sitting at a table by myself just watching all of the people drinking and talking and dancing, picking up only a couple of words here and there. A tall man approached me and asked if I was alone. He said it in English, but he had a bit of an accent. If I'd had to guess, I would have said Russian. When I pretended I hadn't understood him, fearing that he was trying to pick me up, he sat down in the empty chair next to mine, leaned in real close, and said, 'Do not worry, I am straight.' Then he laughed and shook his head. I'll never forget what he said next. 'You, my fellow American boy, stick out like a tennis ball in a bucket of golf balls sitting here by yourself. I am Jesse. Welcome to the dark side of France.'"

My mouth went dry. I think my heart stopped for a moment, too. I should have seen that one coming.

"He told me he had immigrated to America to attend college, but now that he'd graduated, he was traveling the world. He didn't say where he'd come from originally. At first, we just drank and talked of life back in the states. He'd been abroad for a year now, and he kept bringing up all of the foods he missed. I would forget that he wasn't American, but then he would speak fluent French when the waitress came to fill our drinks or other women stopped by to say hello."

I remembered Jesse being very formal when speaking to me. It made a lot of sense now. As if he had studied so hard to make sure he spoke the language correctly that he'd overdone it. Even to the point of pronouncing each word instead of using contractions.

"I quickly learned he was a regular to this club and was quite well-known, including well-liked. After I'd had a few shots with him, he asked me what I was doing here by myself. I figured I'd probably never see him again, so what the hell. I spilled my story over another beer."

"Do you regret that now?"

Malcolm just tilted his head to the side in reflection. "I told him I wasn't into a female dominating me, and he asked if I was more into dominating a female. I couldn't really answer, as I had never looked at sex that way. It was just two people having sex for pleasure. Jesse produced a business-type card at that point and said to come to the address printed on it the next night at five o'clock. Alone. Then he left me to ponder what had just happened as he wrapped his arm around a woman's shoulders and led her down a dark hallway next to the bar. I finished my drink and left the club."

I knew I didn't need to ask if he went to the next night. I had already imagined how the pieces fit together now. But I still wanted to hear him tell the rest of his story.

"The girls were all mopey the next day. I don't know if my friend had told them what had happened between us, or if they hadn't scored at the club. Or maybe it was just the rainy weather making them act moody. I stayed in my own room and out of their way until the evening when I caught a cab and went to the address Jesse had given me. It was in a more residential area. It looked like your brownstone. He answered the door and invited me in like an old friend. He didn't try to hide what was going on. He said that he was hosting a dungeon party and he just wanted me to be open-minded."

I pressed my lips together. Where had I heard those words before?

"I remember entering what we'd consider a living room and being seated among other men and women on couches while a couple stood in the middle with a single chair. Over the course of the next couple of hours, the man used various implements to sexually arouse and pleasure the woman to the point that she achieved orgasm multiple times, including through intercourse. I'd never experienced someone else having sex right in front of me, with the exception of watching a porno. When it was over, I was highly aroused myself. As if knowing how the voyeuristic show would affect me, Jesse approached with a brunette woman and showed us to a room down the hall. Before leaving us, he told her I was new to this and to be gentle with me."

"Was she a switch?" I was getting a little uncomfortable now, especially hearing that this Jesse character had set up my fiancé with another woman just to have sex. Not that he was my fiancé at the time. But what I knew of the man now, it sounded like Jesse had always been a bit of a player, just shy of sleazy.

Malcolm nodded. "I wasn't familiar with the term at the time, though. I won't go into the details, but that was my first experience being a dominant. I spent the rest of the summer hanging out with Jesse—much to the chagrin of my traveling partners. When I went back to school in the fall, I took a class to learn French even though I'd accomplished my foreign language requirements for studying to be a teacher. I continued to work at the club bouncing with my classmate, though I noticed my French lady friend was no longer there for the weekend specials. I drove past her studio once and saw her talking to someone out front, so I knew she'd stayed in town. I didn't know if she'd gone strictly private to avoid me or for other reasons."

I didn't say it aloud, but I thought, "All the better to get her out of your life. She sounded like a bad influence. Good riddance."

"I went back to France the next two summers and stayed with Jesse. I'd gotten good at speaking and understanding the language by the second summer, and he instructed me in the methods of BDSM. He introduced me to many seasoned veterans of the scene, and we hung out at their favorite clubs. We went to conferences. Dungeon parties. I ran into the ladies once, but they acted as if they'd never known me."

"When was it your mother passed away?"

"During my senior year. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer that third summer while I was gone. She started chemo so she could make it to my graduation, but the cancer had reached stage four. She died shortly after Christmas. She was my last living relative since I had no idea where my father was and they were both only children, or at least that's what she told me of my father. I never knew my grandparents on his side, and both of her parents had passed when I was young."

"I'm sorry." I finally reached out and took his hand. He squeezed mine and gave me a sad smile.

"After I graduated, I returned to Paris and got a job teaching English as a second language. It wasn't what I had gone to school for, but it was a way to make an easy living and continue honing my role in the bedroom. I abstained from the sex part and concentrated on the mental and physical aspects. But I found it difficult to hold down a permanent job and party on the weekends. It wasn't like the first three extended visits where I could recuperate all day. I lasted two years like that before I was so exhausted I just wanted to come back home. Jesse, too, admitted he missed American living. It turned out that he still had a place in Chicago, so he offered to rent me a room."




Raw Ch. 08



"The same house where I went for the dungeon party?"

"Yes. We had private parties on the weekends, which I didn't always participate in because I had returned to bouncing at the club. It helped make ends meet, but it was no longer enough. I was in my late twenties, and I wanted to settle down. I needed a change. So I found a job at a high school teaching math and moved to Wheaton.

"I had wanted to stay fresh in the scene, but that was hard outside of the city not knowing anyone. I had been going with Jesse to the private club in Chicago where we took you. I hadn't been in awhile, but I got a letter from Jesse that he was going back to France, and I was free to crash at his place if I was ever in the city. I took him up on that offer many times just so I could visit my old stomping grounds."

"That was very nice of him." And that was very hard for me to say sincerely. 'Nice' and 'Jesse' were two words I wouldn't normally use in the same sentence. But I couldn't tell Malcolm that. And I cringed internally at that thought. I guess there was a secret I was keeping from him.

"I met a lady there, at the club, and she had been looking for a dominant partner. It was platonic at first, and she'd said she wanted it that way. Nurturing each other in our own roles. But eventually, nature took its own course. I wanted it to be more than just in the scene. I wanted to see her more, to develop a relationship outside of the club or Jesse's basement. To see if we could be more than just a kinky couple going through the motions. That's when she said was engaged to be married."

Ouch! I imagined my grimace reflected Malcolm's as he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. And I thought men could be indifferent to women's feelings.

"He was out of the country on business, and she was basically using me to keep in shape—her words not mine—for when he returned since he was also a Dom. I ended it and never saw her again. By that time, I'd met your brother. I refused to find another partner for myself. Instead, I took Drake under my wing. This worked out wonderfully when he hooked up with Daphne, whom I'd already known. Drake needed someone to care for, and Daphne needed special care.

"I had known her previous partner, a real ass and a sad example of a dominant male. From those I knew within his circle in the scene, her ex moved out to California. He lost his temper on the set for a kinky porno film and broke a woman's arm and jaw. While he was serving his time, a couple of inmates found out and beat him up. They broke his arm and jaw, too. Karma."

I stared into my empty glass, shocked that I'd drunk it all without realizing it. But I was even more surprised that Malcolm had opened up like a window on the first day of spring. I'd imagined he'd spent one summer abroad and picked up the desire to be a Dom online like I had. How wrong I'd been.

Malcolm glanced at his watch and chugged the rest of his beer. "We should get going."

I felt a little weary with all of the information he'd unloaded onto me. But I'd asked for it. And I was glad that I knew now. Granted, I had no idea the price I'd have to pay for it—both on this trip and in the future—but it was better this way. No more secrets. Except having to tell him about my experience with Jesse. But there was no need to burden him with that this weekend.

I gathered my coat, scarf, and purse and followed him out of the tavern, waving my thanks to the bartender who seemed happy to have had some patrons this late at night.

We were walking up the ramp to the plane when I remembered a question I had thought of during Malcolm's storytelling.

"Your lady friend, the one who took you to France? What was her name?"

He stopped at the door to the plane and let me enter first. "Her name? It was Juliet."

~ H



Raw Ch. 09



I had become a seasoned traveler over the course of my writing career.

I'd experienced turbulence to the extreme that I swore we were going to fall out of the sky. Witnessed a first-class business man who'd had too much champagne get handcuffed to his seat after he kept groping the female flight attendant every time she passed by. Gripped the arms of my seat until my knuckles were white as another man wielded his plastic knife from dinner after they'd denied him a second helping. An air marshal happened to be on the flight and threatened him with a gun until he could handcuff the troublesome guest to his seat. Then there was the woman who tried sneaking a cigarette in the bathroom and there was so much smoke, we thought the plane was on fire.

Yet I had never been as shaken as I was on that flight from New York to Ontario, and it had nothing to do with the plane.

I struggled with wanting to tell Malcolm about my own experience with Juliet. I gathered that he did not know of her current partnership with Jesse. The fact that Jesse had dropped Malcolm's name in front of Juliet at the party—and the way she had given me the once-over—told me that it was no secret between them about her previous involvement with my fiancé.

What irked me was that Jesse had not seen it necessary to tell his buddy he was now shacking up with the former dominatrix. Or maybe she was a switch now, since Jesse had said she was his slave. Did one so easily give up their former life completely? Malcolm had said his lady friend had stopped working at the strip club. Maybe she'd changed her role as well.

However, the flight did not allow for a conversation of that magnitude. And I did not want to cause a rift between us after we'd already repaired the fences once today. It wasn't important that I share that news immediately or even this weekend. However, I had another pressing question to ask.

"So, how did you manage to arrange this trip?" I leaned against his shoulder as he laid his arm around mine. "You've been on sabbatical. They couldn't have let you take a day off already."

"No school Monday. Martin Luther King's birthday."

"But it's Thursday."

"I called the school and said it was a family emergency. It will be a non-productive day tomorrow anyway. The day before a three-day weekend? The kids' brains are all mush. They'll be thrilled to have a substitute who will show them a movie."

"You're such a liar. You don't have any family, remember?"

He tilted my chin up and kissed my lips. "I have you."

"I am not an emergency."

"I have a doctor's note that says otherwise."

"That you do." I yawned. "I was going to suggest we put another notch on our Mile High Club membership card, Canadian-style, but—"

"Sleep, Becca. You've had a long day. There will be plenty of time for play this weekend."

I dozed as instructed and woke only when touched down on the other side of the border. We retrieved our single piece of luggage and procured a cab to the hotel where the conference and exhibition were being held. I asked how he'd been able to get a room at such late notice, and he just said he had connections. Of course he did.

There were several people milling about the lobby of the hotel despite the late hour. Ordinary people. What had I expected? A bunch of half-naked men with floggers in their back pockets and women in leather corsets and garter belts twirling riding crops? I tried not to snort as I stifled my laugh while Malcolm checked us in.

The lady at the front desk said that the hotel was completely full with several events this weekend, so there may be some delay if we called housekeeping or room service. She asked us for our patience when using the restaurant, pool, and gym facilities, as well. Her eyes lit up when she added that the most popular event seemed to be the Velvet Curtain or something glamorous like that. They'd reserved four whole floors in the south wing in addition to the main ballroom. She wondered aloud if it was like Comic Con but for Hollywood movies instead. We just smiled politely and thanked her for the advice, but we let out a good laugh in the elevator.

Our room was on the twentieth floor, right above the hall where our conference was to begin in the morning according to a handwritten directory by the elevator bays. We had to go down two halls before we got to the one where our room was located. Every room we passed had a do-not-disturb sign hung on the door, indicating that we were one of the last to arrive.

Malcolm opened the door and flipped on the lights before he let me enter.

"That is a Jacuzzi," I said, pointing as I flung my winter coat on the foot of the king-sized bed.

"You're very observant, my dear." He hung up his coat and proceeded to do the same with mine.

"There is no way in hell that you just happened to get a room with a hot tub at the last minute." I poked my finger against his chest. "Or got tickets to a sold-out convention in a no-vacancy hotel."

He raised my finger to his lips where he kissed the tip. "There is if you know a good friend who was willing to give up their room and tickets."

I just blinked at him.

"Why do you still have such little faith in me after all of this time?"

I opened my mouth to object, but he dropped my hand to press his finger to my lips, shushing me.

"Becca, you will learn that a whole other world exists inside the one you know. A world where people do not act or say things like you would expect. Even after a short time, they can be a greater friend than someone you've known your entire life out in the vanilla world. What you have experienced so far? It has been but a glimpse of that world. This weekend will open your eyes. But you need to remember that success there relies upon one thing. The most important thing. Absolute trust."

I don't know why, but I took a step away from him.

"I know you have very valid reasons to not trust someone completely. I don't say this to scare you. I say this to prepare you."

I think I nodded. I know I took another step back, and this time he followed.

"There is so much I want to show you."

Another step, and now I was breathing harder.

"So much I want you to see."

I gulped as I saw his eyes darken.

"Do not be afraid."

"I'm not." The words came out as a breathy whisper. I don't even know if he had heard me. Or if they had merely been in my head.

"Stop, Lady Becca."

I suddenly froze, my inhale cut short.

I felt him pulling my sweater up, my arms rising as he lifted the material past my face and over my head. My arms fell back to my sides like weights. My bra went slack. It fell to my feet. My jeans grew looser around the waist and then dropped to my ankles. My panties followed shortly thereafter. I remained unmoving throughout.

I stared straight across the room at the large mirror on the wall. The glass reflected my naked body. It also showed Malcolm's fully clothed one as he stepped around me and filled the hot tub.

In the looking glass, he turned to face my back, his position behind me but to the side so that I could see him full-on. His eyes met mine in our reflection. My gaze lingered but shifted to his body as I saw his hands rise in my peripheral vision.

I watched him unbutton his shirt and shrug it off his shoulders. Unbuckle his belt and lower his zipper. Slide his jeans down and step out of them. Repeat the motions as he removed his boxer briefs. His cock sprang to attention, the head shiny with his precum. My knees wobbled but did not give out on me, but I wasn't so strong to hold back a whimper.

For the longest moment, he stood as naked as I did; the only sound my ragged breathing and the rush of the water filling the tub. My fingers twitched, but I resisted the urge to cup my heavy breasts. To caress my nipples. To slide my fingers further south and ease the ache that seemed to have begun the minute we'd stepped off the plane.

He turned to shut off the tap, treating me to the wonderful backside view of my fiancé. Such a glorious ass. I licked and then bit my lip. How had I gotten so lucky?

Our eyes met again in the mirror, and he lifted his hand, palm up. I turned and took it, allowing him to assist me over the edge of the tub. I moaned as my feet and then my calves sunk into the heat. The water sloshed around my legs as he joined me.

Malcolm sat down on the little seat at one end. My hand still in his, I made my way toward him. When I was standing between his parted legs, he released his grip and dipped both of his hands into the water. The wet heat trickled down my thighs as he drew his hands up across my skin. They stopped at my waist, his thumbs caressing the skin over my hipbones for a moment before he tugged me closer.

I stared down at him through the valley of my breasts as he leaned his forehead against my body. Should—or rather could—I put my hands on his shoulders? On his head? But my thoughts escaped me as I felt his tongue licking my belly. His hot breath competed with the water lapping around and through my legs now. Every few seconds it splashed up against my pussy like a fairy's teasing kiss.

His hands slid around and cupped my ass. Massaged there. I gripped his shoulders out of instinct as I almost lost my balance. His head tilted back, and his dark eyes met mine. I was no longer startled when they were that deep. I did trust him implicitly. He would not hurt me. He wanted to bring me pleasure.

Rather than a lack of trust, an abundance of awe made me question his abilities. The longer I was with him, the more he revealed his true self. And it was in no way the shock or disappointment I'd felt when the same had happened with my brother. But now was not the time to think of Drake.

I wanted so badly to lean down and kiss Malcolm, my other half. But I refrained. Instead, I cradled his head in my hands, my fingers lacing through his damp hair. His pressure on my hips indicated I should step back. When he opened his knees, I straddled his legs. I felt one hand slide between my thighs under the water and rub my pussy a couple of times. Then his cock was rubbing there.

His head still in my hands, our eyes still locked together, I gasped as he guided me down with one hand while his other hand helped his cock slid into me. Now I was feeling the heat within, too. A thick heat that slowly filled me up.

I broke our lovers' gaze and closed my eyes. My hands gripped his shoulders as he guided my hips up and down. Hot waves splashed against my lower back as I rode him. His mouth latched onto my nipple, and I cried out as his teeth nipped.

After I had achieved a ripple of small orgasms, he had me turn around. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, and I leaned against him, my neck nestled against his arm so I was staring at the ceiling. My feet found purchase on the side of the seat, and our joined pelvises rose and fell above the water as we rocked back and forth. The coolness of the air-conditioning competed with the bursts of wet heat that our movements sent up against my belly and between my back and his chest.

His hand caressed my upper body while he kissed me. Our tongues twirled together in their own seductive dance. My ass rubbed against his pelvis as his cock withdrew and re-sheathed itself. I was begging for more in my head but only letting soft whimpers escape for him to hear.

As if knowing I was on the precipice, he abandoned my breast and focused on rubbing my clit. I clenched my eyes and arched my body, trying to get his cock to slide deeper into me. My gasps became more audible as the web within spun tighter and tighter.

"Look at me, Lady Becca." His growl made me open my eyes and roll my head towards his. "Do not come until I tell you to."

Somehow, I was able to whisper, "Yes, Sir."

He kept fucking me so long I swore the water was going to grow cold. But just when I thought it would never end—that I would lose the edge—I heard him say those four blessed words.

"Come for me, now."

And I did.

I screamed. I thrashed. He continued to thrust into me from beneath me until I felt his rumble of a cry as he found release as well. We slipped off the seat and sunk deeper into the water. His arms surrounded me, holding me against him as the warmth of the water enveloped my chilled body.

It wasn't until we were climbing out that I saw the water all over the tile wall and floor. "We'll have to sacrifice a precious towel to clean that up."

"It was for a worthy cause." He grinned at me as he dried me off while I combed my fingers through my already-drying strands of hair. I would need a shower in the morning to untangle the mess.

"That it was." I yawned and smiled sleepily up at him as I sank into the softest bed I'd ever laid in at a hotel. As stressful as the day had been, I hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. A very long time.

###

For about the tenth time since we'd left our room, Malcolm reminded me not to leave his side and that I was about to see some things I'd probably never even imagined existed. He asked that I observe with an open mind and let him know if anything sparked my interest. I promised him I could do that. However, he might regret also having given me the option to ask questions.

I thought it was adorable that he was practically flipping out to make sure I wouldn't flip out.

"The convention did start today, right?"

The hall and the elevator were as empty as they'd been when we'd arrived last night. I'd have wondered if we had the right hotel if not for the directional signs to the ballroom at the elevator bay. I looked out the glass back of the elevator car, relieved to see the atrium of the hotel was bustling with breakfast patrons as well as arriving and departing guests.

"Yes. Everyone is probably already down there. We are running a little later than I had planned, but you needed the rest."

"Thank you. I did sleep quite well." Thanks to that wonderful round of hot tub sex. I smiled wider when he took my hand in his and squeezed it. Before the doors slid open, he moved my hand to his elbow.

"In general, there is no required time to be there. It's come-and-go as you please. However, there are demonstrations, which are insightful, and they are on a set schedule."

Malcolm stopped by a table draped in black outside of what I assumed was the ballroom. Two identical women in white blouses and dark, fitted business jackets saw behind the table. The only thing that set them apart from appearing like they were checking us into a class reunion were the streaks of matching bright-red and bright-blue in their jet-black hair that had been pulled back into buns so that the streaks created a colorful swirl.

"Malcolm McClaren and guest," he said to the first woman. Her badge said her name was Jade. She flipped through a clipboard a couple of times before Malcolm added, "I'm sorry. It should be under Jesse Pratt. He transferred his registration to me at the last minute yesterday. I believe he called someone?"

"Ah, yes, I see the note." Jade slid two half sheets of paper in front of us as well as two pens. "Please sign these consent forms."

Although I took up a pen, I stared dumbfounded at the table. Jesse? He was the one who had given up his tickets and hotel room?

"Sign, Becca," Malcolm said, tapping my paper with the end of his pen.

I blinked away my surprise and obeyed. I hadn't had even read what I'd agreed to before the paper was pulled away and I was handed a lanyard with a plastic sleeve at the end that held a card with our names handwritten on it. Or rather, Malcolm's name "and guest" on both of them.

We were then directed to continue down the table where Jade's twin, Ebony, gave us a map. She pointed out where the various vendors were located, and then she traced a path with her finger to show where to go for the art exhibit that would open that evening. They were discussing the schedule of the various demonstrations when I tuned them out. 

There was a laminated half-sheet of paper next to the stack of maps. The line at the top in bold, red print stated that it was the Rules of Etiquette. Which was hilarious because there was only one rule. It said to not wear any item or exhibit any behavior of kink outside of the ballroom and conference areas or the guests' private rooms. The italicized line below it made it clear that failure to follow the single rule would ban the attendee from any further activity with the current event. Two infractions would result in a permanent ban from any future event hosted by the company.

Malcolm finished his conversation and led me to a set of double-doors. "Becca, are you ready?"

I took a deep breath and nodded, but inside, my body was shaking. It was partly fear but mostly excitement. I think.

To my surprise, we walked into a curtained area lit by a small lamp on a table next to where yet another woman sat. She, too, was dressed in a dark pantsuit. Her blonde hair lacked any vibrant additions, although it too was in a bun. She stood as we approached and checked the cards on our lanyards before she pulled aside a curtain.

"What, no colored bracelets," I mumbled as we passed through into the Land of Kink.

"Those are only for places where play is invited," Malcolm whispered in my ear.

I nodded although my brain was trying to scope out the room as we entered the hall at last. I wanted to stop and process it all, but my feet kept moving since my hand was holding the curve of Malcolm's arm again and he continued walking. He seemed intent on his path. I realized my jaw had dropped along the way, so I closed my mouth and tried to take in everything all at once without getting a migraine. If I had information overload, was there a safe word, or did I need to find the Wizard of Kink to get out of here?

I had been to book and writing conventions. And I'd seen technology and Comic Con conventions on TV and in movies from an aerial view. I'd expected a sea of people milling about a seemingly unending maze of booths, especially with a cacophony of voices trying to talk over each other. My expectations were right on point for once. However, I had not imagined the massive amounts of ropes, chains, leather, and other materials one would use for bondage. Nor the fact that everyone was dressed normal. Besides the products on display, the only thing out of the ordinary was that the room could be confused for a Gothic convention with all the black everyone was wearing.

We stopped at the first booth along the farthest wall. I anticipated that we were going to walk the perimeter and then wind our way into the center of the displays. Or maybe we would weave our way up and down. I really did feel like a mouse set free in a maze with bits of cheese along the way, not just at the exit. It actually gave me a slight headache.

"Why are there so many booths just for ropes?"

"A lot of people make their own, and they use textiles with specific fibers. So one vendor may have hemp rope while another prefers jute, cotton, or nylon. Different vendors charge different prices depending on their product. Most just have samples here, and they'll ship your order home so you don't have to worry about security or customs at the airports."

I studied at least two dozen, foot-long sections of rope hanging from a rod suspended across the front of the booth. They looked like candy canes with two colors combined in a spiral. The samples varied in thickness as well as color and texture.

Malcolm was running his hand over a strand of red and black.

"Does the color make a difference?" I said.

"It's more for artistic bondage. Shibari is probably the most common. You'll see a lot of it in the art exhibit. Any good rope will do for just binding someone. But the colored ropes—especially the bi-colored ones—are used to make designs on the body or make it look more interesting."




Raw Ch. 09



I nodded and picked up a thin rope sample on the tabletop. I lightly wrapped my fist around the strand and ran it back and forth. It felt rough with little prickly fibers like hairs that stuck out all over it. It reminded me of when we used to play tug-of-war in grade school. How my hands used to burn afterwards. If it tied too tightly, I imagined this rope might seriously chafe the skin. Then again, that may have been its purpose.

"See something you like?" The man behind the table asked. He wore a tight, black T-shirt and black jeans. With his dark hair, he reminded me too much of Jesse.

Malcolm glanced at me and I shook my head. I laid the sample back down as he told the vendor, "No, thank you. We're just looking."

We continued down the aisle, briefly stopping at vendors on either side. There were only a couple of more rope vendors, and no two vendors were next to each other that sold the same kind of items. Some of them had magazines and flyers to give away, while others had a laptop set up to show video demonstrations using their products.

As we turned the corner to head down the row against the back wall of the ballroom, I stopped dead in my tracks and buried my face against Malcolm's arm.

"Becca? What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak I was trying so hard not to laugh.

"What? What is it?"

"I was hoping you could tell me!" I closed my eyes and giggled. The black item was hanging on the side of a vendor's booth, and it had two arms and two legs with an attached hood. The hood had no face. Instead, it had a white circular opening in the middle of it.

After a few moments—during which I assumed he was trying to pinpoint what I had been staring at—he finally let out a chuckle of his own. "That would be a rubber body suit."

"People actually wear that? It looks like an alien being. And a claustrophobic one at that."

He chuckled again. "Not all of them have the hooded mask. But rubber bondage has quite a huge following. I hear it's very erotic trying to put it on."

"I can only imagine. How the hell do you get into it?"

"Some you have to get into it through a large opening at the neck. It's very flexible, although quite a lot of lube may be required. But ones like that usually have a zipper up the back that a partner would help you into and out of."

"I think I'll pass." When he sighed, I said, "I pray that is relief I hear?"

"Yes, Becca. I'd rather stick to the ropes and chains. Speaking of which..."

We had continued down the next aisle and stopped at a booth that looked like it belonged in Home Depot. I'd never seen so many chains. Like the first rope booth, dozens of samples of chains hung from a rod and lay on a display table. They ranged from tiny links that I imagined someone would wear as a necklace to ones so big and thick they could probably tow a truck.

"Malcolm! It's been too long." The short, burly guy under the curtain of chains reached across the table and gave my fiancé a manly handshake.

Although there was a break in the display so the curtain of chains didn't hinder conversation, the guy's head hit a couple, which sent the strands tinkling and rattling against each other. It made me think of kinky wind chimes. I'm sure someone here was already marketing that.

"Darryl, good to see you. Business still good?"

"Can't complain. What brings you up here? I haven't seen you at a convention in years."

Malcolm put his arm around my shoulders. "I'd like to introduce my fiancée, Becca Rockland."

Darryl's face lit up as his smile widened. He had just taken my hand to shake it when he froze. "Wait a minute. As in Rebecca Rockland? A.K.A. Drake Alexander? The author?"

I grinned. "The one and only."

A couple of women who were standing nearby whispered to each other and stared at me for a moment. I gave them a smile and a quick tip up of the chin. They smiled in return and wandered on to another booth. The novelty of being recognized had worn off several months after coming out about hiding behind my brother's names for seven years. I'd rather missed it—except the time a fan had hoodwinked me prior to my kidnapping last summer.

"Man, why do you always have all the luck?" Darryl said, shaking his head.

"I wish I knew," Malcolm chuckled.

Darryl pointed at me. "Do not let this one go. Ever. Seeing that she's here, I'd say it's safe to say she's into something kinky with you. If she's as good in bed as she is at writing..."

Oh. My. God. Did he just say that? My cheeks felt warm as I glanced at my feet.

Malcolm leaned over the table. "Even better. But that's all I'm saying on the subject."

I stared slack-jawed at my fiancé. Seriously? Did they forget I was standing right there?

"I wish I had one of your books with me so you could sign it." Darryl glanced around as if hoping one would appear out of the boxes he had neatly stacked around the booth.

I smiled wider and found my voice. "Do you have a business card?"

Darryl patted the back of his pants before Malcolm cleared his throat as he lifted a card off the stack on the table and handed it to me. Darryl grinned. "See what a beautiful woman does to a guy?"

"Trust me, I know all too well," Malcolm shook his head.

I pocketed the card. "I'll send you a signed copy of the first book in 'Triple Tease.' How's that sound?"

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you." Darryl took my hand and kissed it.

"Whenever you're done fawning over my future wife, I'm actually interested in doing a little business," Malcolm said, faking a yawn.

I let the guys talk while I turned my attention to the display. A very tiny set of links made me think of the chain that connected the nipple clamps we used. Another made me shiver as it reminded me of a dog leash. I refused to touch that one. The thickest sample was quite heavy. I wondered what its use was. Did they use chains for restraining in erotic bondage?

"Well, it would depend on how much she weighs." I heard Darryl say.

I snapped my head up and glared at Malcolm. "You better watch what words come out of your mouth next, mister."

Darryl covered his mouth with his hand. "Do you need a moment alone?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes, which was a sight I'd rarely witnessed. Usually I was the one doing the eye rolling. "He's just saying that your weight would determine what type of chain to order."

"To do what? Hang me from the ceiling?"

Both men looked at me and then at each other. Malcolm gave a slight shrug and gestured with his hand, palm up, toward me.

"You're right, she is smart," Darryl said.

"I wasn't serious." It was my turn to glance back and forth between them. I crossed my arms. "You actually want to hang me from the ceiling?"

"It's called suspension, Becca." Malcolm placed a hand on my shoulder, as if that was the international gesture to calm down. "It was just an idea."

I resisted shrugging his hand off. Just barely. "Being tied up with chains and hung like a piece of meat isn't really my idea of sexy."

"Becca—"

"No, Malcolm," Darryl said, "she has a point. Have you been to the suspension demo yet? The next one starts in fifteen minutes. Go check it out and come back if she changes her mind. I'll be here all weekend. Plus you have my card."

Malcolm considered it for a moment and then nodded. "We'll see you later."

I wanted to discuss this suspension idea more, but I also knew I should probably keep my mouth shut for now. So I just took Malcolm's arm as he turned to leave. We maneuvered through the crowd to the other side of the room then through a set of double-doors. They led to a connecting hall lined with a series of doors along the opposite wall. Each door had a small, framed whiteboard next to it with a handwritten sign indicating why the room had been reserved. There were people mingling around two open doors. The rest of the rooms had their doors shut.

I managed to read three of the signs as we passed: Shibari, Harness, and Sleepsack. I recognized the first as the term Malcolm had explained when we had visited the first rope booth. I hoped we were going to visit that at some point. I wasn't too sure about the other two.

Malcolm stopped at the fourth room where the sign read Suspension. He moved his hand to my lower back and guided me past two couples who were chatting in the hall. We settled into two seats along the wall, and I stared at the metal contraption at the front of the room. It looked like a set of monkey bars from a grade school playground.

For the next thirty minutes, I watched a buff, ponytailed man wearing only torn jeans demonstrate how to use materials "available in any hardware store, or direct from the vendors throughout the weekend." First, he bound his partner—a tall, skinny woman with very short hair who was dressed in a tank top and biker shorts. Then, he hooked her up to the contraption so that she hung in various ways depending on the desired purpose and use.

I wasn't sure about the woman, but I was exhausted just from watching the show. Yet I was intrigued when he mimicked having sex. Sometimes she had one or both feet on the floor. But mostly, the ropes that bound her and the chains that attached her to the device were her only support. I could only imagine how it would feel to have sex like that. Completely trusting your partner. Feeling nothing but air beneath you. It gave me shivers. Delightful shivers.

The next Shibari demonstration started within minutes after the Suspension one finished, so we had no time to talk between sessions. I wished I'd brought a notepad to take notes. Or at least my iPhone so I'd remember what to ask Malcolm later. But I hadn't known to bring a notepad, and the latter I'd left charging in the room. I hadn't thought it would be necessary to have it on me since I would be with Malcolm. No one else would need to get ahold of me. Heck, no one else knew I was out of the country.

I found the second presentation more interesting. I hadn't realized that the rope bondage Malcolm practiced on me had a specific name. Someone had printed a short history on a whiteboard at the front of the room. The specific art of binding originated during the mid-1600s in Japan. It later entered mainstream media in the 1950s and 1960s through erotic magazines before gaining popularity in the United States. It was now a staple to many members of the BDSM scene worldwide.

In hindsight, as nervous as I had been back on that day so long ago when my brother asked if I'd be the model for Malcolm's own rope demonstration, I had enjoyed the act of bondage. It left me feeling helpless. Which I found heightened my arousal...when I was with the right partner.

Now, as I watched a man with tattoos all over his arms and most of his baldhead show various knots and binding methods on two female models, I grew jealous. I wanted people watching me look as beautiful as those women did with those colored ropes making artful designs across my body parts. So much so that I felt a little deflated when Mr. Tattoo dismissed us.

We caught the demo in the Harness room next. I found I wasn't really into wearing a sex sling. It reminded me too much of being at the gynecologist's office. And sitting in a swing to have sex? While I could see that both devices did incorporate bondage in that they restricted movement in a minimal way, they just weren't my thing. I prayed it wasn't Malcolm's, either.

After the third presentation, I was famished. We'd skipped breakfast, so we swung by Darryl's booth and persuaded him to join us for lunch in the restaurant. During the meal, the men tried to encourage me to change my mind about playing with suspension. In the end, I agreed we could try it, but I made no promises that it would become a permanent fixture to our current repertoire of contraptions. Malcolm seemed satisfied that I had not been adamantly against the idea.

Darryl hooked us up with an order of chains to be delivered back home, and he gave us a couple of suggestions for good rope dealers. Malcolm and I spent the afternoon wandering through rows of booths, touching different materials, asking questions, and watching demos on the laptops. I fell in love with two types of ropes. Both were dyed jute. One was black and blue twisted together, and another was black and red. The woman selling them promised neither would chafe the skin. Malcolm ordered several meters of each as well as a thicker style we could use in the suspension.

The gallery was opening this evening at six o'clock, so I asked Malcolm if we could return to the room to freshen up and rest for a bit. He watched a hockey game while I took a nap. When I woke, I hopped into the shower. I was combing out my hair when he leaned against the bathroom doorway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Becca?"

I smiled at him in the mirror. He looked dashing in his dress shirt, tie, and dark jeans. I wanted to run my hands through his hair. Hell, I wanted to rip off his clothes, push him back on the bed, and mount him. Whoa! That was definitely not the thought process of a submissive.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "It has been a very enlightening day. I'm glad we came."

He sidled up behind me. His hand crept around my waist. When it slid between the edges of the towel I had wrapped around my torso, I started to close my eyes as I felt his fingers searching.

"Eyes on me," he growled against my ear.

I gasped, my lids lifting again to meet his gaze in the mirror just as his fingers pressed deeper.

"Mmm. Wet already? Whatever are you thinking about?"

I licked my lips, unable to speak. A moan escaped instead as he rubbed my clit. Then his hand was gone. I watched him raise it to his mouth and lick his fingers. When he tilted my head back to kiss me, I tasted the saltiness of my arousal lingering on his tongue.

"Finish getting ready. Darryl said he would meet us by the elevators in fifteen minutes." He smacked my ass as he left the bathroom.

I wasn't a typical woman who took her time doing her hair and makeup on most days. I could usually shower and be completely ready in thirty minutes. Tonight? I think I set a record even for myself.

My hair was still wet when I pulled it back into a braid. I dropped my towel on the tile floor and sauntered past Malcolm, fully naked. As I searched through the clothes he had chosen to bring for me, he moved from the couch to sit on the foot of the bed. More than once, I heard him growl.

I held up each item before I put it on, doing an erotic, backwards striptease. First, there was a black thong. Then the matching black, lace bra. The same tight-black pants I'd worn to Jesse's party the infamous night I'd learned the truth about my brother. Even the same damn blue top, which I did love. Thankfully, there was also a pair of black heels.

"You look amazing," Malcolm said as he stood. He tipped my chin up and kissed me softly. "I'm such a lucky man to have you on my arm tonight."

"And I'm such a lucky woman." I kissed him back and rubbed my hand across his groin, grinning as I felt his hardness. He tried to grab my hand as I stepped away, but I was faster. I opened the door and looked back over my shoulder. "We don't want to keep Darryl waiting."

I heard his footsteps hurrying after me—the hotel room door slamming shut behind him—as I headed to the elevators. Darryl was already there. His grin turned to a frown as I approached.

"Trouble in paradise?"

I winked at him and pressed the button to go down. "More like impatience."

The elevator doors opened, and I turned around after I stepped on. Malcolm just shook his head as he passed his friend, who gave us both a quizzical look. And if my eyes did not deceive me, Malcolm rolled his own eyes for the second time today. Interesting.

"I hope I'm not out of place to say you look absolutely stunning, Becca." Darryl had his back to Malcolm and me as we stood against the glass wall of the car. He glanced back over his shoulder but faced forward again so quickly I thought I'd imagined it.

"You are not out of place," Malcolm said. He put my hand on the crook of his elbow. "She is beautiful."

I laughed. "Thank you, Darryl."

"And, thank you, Malcolm," Malcolm said as he handed me my lanyard for entrance into the ballroom.

Oh, geesh. I gulped and put the ribbon around my neck as I whispered, "Thank you, Sir."

He said nothing, but his hand brushed past my breast as he lowered it, his thumb grazing my nipple. I shivered and tightened my grip on his arm.

We checked into the ballroom where a line was forming by a far set of double-doors. It looked nothing like the controlled chaos we'd experienced just a couple of hours prior. The vendor booths had closed, and the overhead lighting was off. Now, candles in lanterns lit the way down the red-carpeted aisle lined with red, velvet ropes. I felt a little like a celebrity.

As we waited, I noticed most of other guests had changed as well. No more was the color palate mostly black. The men had traded their T-shirts and jeans for suitcoats, dress shirts, and ties. And the women wore an array of colorful dresses and pantsuits. Were these the same people who had been perusing for the best ropes and chains earlier today?

The chatter stayed at a minimum, as if we were in a museum. Malcolm and Darryl talked about some magazine they used to get with "toys of the trade." I took the time to investigate the booths along the back of the room. We hadn't gotten to most of them since we'd gone to the demonstrations and then returned to perusing the aisles by Darryl's booth. But now, one of them caught my eye.

I risked interrupting the men and asked, "Could we visit here tomorrow?"

Malcolm paused to glance at the booth. "Are you sure?"

I understood his concern. The wall had a display of blindfolds, handcuffs, hoods, spreader bars, and ball-gags. While the latter item literally made me want to gag, I was interested in the former. "I was thinking of that blindfold and some new cuffs. Something with more cushioning, especially if we use them in the suspension. Not that I don't like the ones you already have."

He considered it a moment and nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

"I know the vendor," Darryl said. He pulled his phone out of the inside pocket of his sports coat and sent a text. The guys continued their discussion as we moved up the queue. After a few minutes, Darryl's phone buzzed. "Layla said she'd be happy to meet with you. She'll be here all day tomorrow. Tell her I sent you, and she'll give you a discount."

"Thanks, Darryl." I kissed him on the cheek.

"Wow. A kiss from a beautiful, famous author. You two, um, aren't into ménage à trois—"

"No," Malcolm and I both said at the same time.

"Hey, I thought I'd ask!" Darryl said, holding up his hands, palms out. "You never know."

We all laughed. And then it was our turn to enter the exhibit.

I had imagined it to be mostly photography of rope bondage at use in artistic ways. While I had been pretty much on point, there were also paintings and sculptures. But I had not expected to see live models. Especially nude ones. Most had some garment covering them either above or below, but some were obviously not wearing any undergarments at all. In some cases, the ropes didn't cover private areas. They did the opposite and accentuated those parts.

The models—both live and in print—were mostly female. They ranged from single to three-or-four participants. One even had eight against a web of rope with each woman bound by a different color of that made her look like a spider. Many were non-erotic with the model just sitting or standing. Others had the models in sexual positions, or an apparent submissive or slave bound while a model representing a Dominant partner posed in a display of control.

We perused the room, and I tried to tune out the chatter around us. The more I looked, the more my arousal grew. As did my envy. My mouth was dry, and I kept licking my lips. My heartbeat quickened. My nipples perked up. Painfully. I wanted to rub my arm against them, but I didn't think I could do it subtly.




Raw Ch. 09



Men in tuxedos presented trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne as we mingled. A cluster of men were discussing some rope strategies on one of the models as we walked past, and I wondered if that's all they were studying. As the model kept a straight face, I wondered how hard that was for her. And if she got any enjoyment out of this.

Malcolm and Darryl had stopped next to a sculpture of some sort. I studied the photograph on the wall next to it of a naked woman in profile sitting back on her feet, her hands bound behind her waist. Her bound legs prevented her from moving from her kneeling position. A rope wrapped above and below the intricate lines of a Celtic knot on her right forearm. Ropes also wound around her breasts and neck like an erotic halter-top that bared her nipples.

Her head was tipped back, her mouth open as she stared up at the barefooted man who stood next to her in the camera's lens. He wore rugged jeans and an open shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his burly arms covered in dark hair that matched the smattering of hair on his equally-defined chest and the short but messy style on his head. He had one large hand fisted in her wild mane while the other rested over his fly that was already unbuttoned. The placement of his fingers and thumb implied he was preparing to unzip his pants and whip out his cock.

The piece was mostly black and white. However, the photographer had brought out the specific colors of the woman's bright red hair, the deep green of her eyes, the blue in the man's jeans, and the matching shade of his eyes. It was breathtaking.

I felt a slight tug. But instead of moving on with Malcolm, my hand fell from where it had rested on his arm. I stepped closer to the enlarged photo. I couldn't take my eyes off the couple's expressions. The complete devotion she was showing to him. The control he reflected back. I could sense her readiness to take his cock between her lips if he asked her to.

Something inside me twisted tighter. It wasn't arousal this time, but rather a longing. I'd given up on my search for what I'd thought was the perfect partner years ago. I'd convinced myself that I was better off alone. And when I had least suspected it, there was Malcolm. I had never imagined I'd be in this type of relationship. Now? I didn't want any other kind. And I didn't want it with any other man.

"Becca?"

He spoke my name so softly I barely heard it. But when he said it a little louder, I turned my head from the photo. As soon as I saw Malcolm standing there, a tear escaped my eye.

"What's wrong?" He swiped his thumb across my skin to catch the teardrop.

"Nothing." I turned my face into this palm as he cupped my cheek. Then I stared up at him through blurry eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered before he took my face in both of his hands and kissed me.

My composure regained, I looped both of my hands through his proffered arm so we could continue through the exhibit. I noticed that Darryl had wandered off and was talking to a group of men by one of the live models. We let him be and veered off towards another area, pointing out various pieces that sparked our interest.

We were standing before a suspension display when I heard the whispers. I wouldn't have noticed them amid the other chatter, but we were the only ones in that area. It was almost as if they wanted me to hear them.

"Is that's her?" said girl #1.

"Yes, I told you she was here!" girl #2 said.

"No, she just looks like her." Girl #3 seemed disinterested with the conversation. I wondered if she was chewing gum or studying her nail polish. Or both.

"It's really her. She was talking with one of the vendors." By the tone of girl #2's voice, I could envision her stomping her foot to get it across that she knew what she'd seen and heard.

"Why would she be here in Canada?" Girl #1 wasn't completely abandoning belief in her friend, but she still had plenty of doubts. She probably had her arms crossed and one eye squinted.

"Why would anyone intentionally come to Canada?" Girl #3 really didn't want to be here. "It's effing cold, and there are no single men."

I could hide my curiosity no longer and turned around. Three girls, who were probably no older than twenty, stood behind a pillar holding a sculpture of two figures having sex. Rope wrapped the metal couple's appendages. It looked like a lame attempt to signify bondage in order to get the piece entered into the show.

The blonde and the brunette girls looked like two sorority-sisters-turned-porn-stars. Both had their long hair in two braids and wore plaid super-mini-skirts with white button-up blouses that were two sizes too small and were unbuttoned at the top to fit over their ample bosoms. To complete the look, they wore black, knee-high platform boots. I wondered how close they were to the line of "no kinky clothes."

The moment they saw me watching them, the two girls started whispering and pointing at the sculpture as if they had been deep in discussion all along. The third friend, a petite girl with red hair in a pixie-style cut, had lowered her eyes to the floor. She had on an emerald-green halter dress that looked very cute with her black open-toed pumps. Very sophisticated. Unlike her companions. She looked serious about being here; they did not.

"Can I help you, ladies?" I tried to be professional, but I really wanted to crack a smile at their poor attempt to look disinterested. Especially when I heard Malcolm's soft chuckle.

"Us? No, we're fine," the blonde-haired girl said with a quick smile before she turned away. Ah, girl #1. 

"See, I told you it wasn't her," the brunette hissed at her friends. That would be girl #3. She turned to leave as well.

The redhead, whom I assumed was girl #2, bit her lower lip. She glanced after her friends who had already moved onto another exhibit. I heard her take a deep breath before she raised her head to me.

"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you, but are you Rebecca Rockland?"

I smiled and stepped toward her cautiously. "Yes, I am."

"The writer?" The corner of her mouth turned up in an awkward smile.

My chest warmed with admiration for her bravery. "The one and only."

"I think you're amazing. I mean an amazing writer. Not that you're not probably amazing, too. Wait, I don't think I said that right. Anyway, I just wanted to say I think it's so cool that you're into the scene, too. I know your latest book is kinkier, but...well, you know what I mean." She shrugged then.

I finally let out my laugh. "Yes, I do know what you mean. Can I ask your name?"

"It's Ginger." Her eyes fell to the floor again, and she wrung her hands at her waist. "Don't laugh. My parents didn't know how cruel kids would be when they named me. A ginger called Ginger. Especially after 'Gillian's Island' and all."

I was standing beside her now and gently tipped up her chin. "I think it's a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Her cheeks competed with her hair now. "Thank you."

The words were barely audible, and I could see her green eyes were glossy. If she was a little older and her hair had been longer, she could have been the woman in the photograph I'd been admiring. A quick scan of the room showed that Ginger's friends were no longer around. What a surprise.

"Would you like to walk with us through the rest of the gallery?"

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

I glanced at Malcolm over my shoulder. I could see the pride in his eyes and his smile. He gave me a quick nod. I should have asked first, but the thought had just come to me. If I was in trouble, he didn't show it. Regardless, it would be worth it.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Yes. It would be my pleasure."

Ginger's smile returned, and the three of us stepped back to the suspension contraption.

"What have we here?" Darryl said. He put his hands behind his back and grinned back and forth between Ginger and myself.

"Nice of you to join us." Malcolm cleared his throat. He held out his hand to our newest guest. "Ginger, I'm Malcolm, Rebecca's fiancé. And this is Darryl, a friend of mine."

"It's lovely to meet you, Ginger," Darryl said, kissing her hand as she offered it to him.

"It's very nice to meet all of you." Her shoulders rose up, and I could see her eyes darting down to the ground. She was a shy one. I wondered what area and role of the scene she leaned towards.

"Shall we proceed onto the next piece?" Malcolm suggested.

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

By the time we'd walked the laid-out course, I'd learned that Ginger had overheard me talking with Darryl earlier today and realized who I was. She had every book I'd written, and she'd written a few erotic short stories herself. Mostly, she was thrilled that I'd incorporated more kinkiness into my new series.

We talked about our various interests in the scene. She revealed that it had been her idea to come to the convention, and her friends had tagged along hoping to find some cute guys. While there had been plenty to see, they had been disappointed to learn that there were no scheduled play parties or hook-up events. They'd pretty much made the day miserable for Ginger as a result.

"I should find my friends," Ginger said once we'd exited the ballroom. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

I put my hand on Malcolm's arm since he was talking to Darryl. I did not want to assume we were staying the whole weekend.

Ginger repeated her question to him, and Malcolm nodded. "We still have half of the convention to see. Plus, there are a couple of other demos I'd like to sit in on."

"Thank you for letting me join your group. You have no idea how much I enjoyed it."

Malcolm took her hand in both of his. "You are very welcome, Ginger."

"If it's not too much to ask, I brought my copy of 'Triple Tease' to read in my downtime." Her eyes lowered to her feet again. "Would you be willing to sign it? I could meet you whenever it's convenient."

"I'd be delighted." I gave her shoulders a quick one-armed hug.

"If you'd like," Malcolm said, "you can join us for breakfast at eight downstairs. Bring your book then."

She glanced between all of us. "Really? That would be wonderful!"

"We'll see you bright and early, kid," Darryl said as she giggled and turned to leave. Once she'd disappeared around the corner, he shook his head. "She is the equivalent of a puppy. I hope you two didn't have any plans for personal time the rest of the weekend."

"Before you ask, you can't keep her," Malcolm said before he kissed my forehead.

I stuck out my lower lip. "You are no fun at all."

"That's why I'm the Dom, and you're the sub."

"Touché." Darryl said, leading the way to the elevator. "How about we all go get a nightcap?"

###

The next morning, we were down at the buffet by eight o'clock. Ginger was already waiting. By herself. I didn't ask where her companions had run off. I assumed they were probably still in bed. My guess was, she would be seeing very little of them today.

As soon as we finished eating, I asked to see her copy of the book. I opened the cover to the title page and signed 'To Ginger. Stay Kinky in Canada. Love Becca' with the date. "So, what's your favorite series?"

"I loved the Dex Knightly mysteries. I hope I'm not jinxing anything, but I'm counting on the new series to top it, though. I love the first book so far. I can't wait to see where you take it from here."

I silently thought that she wasn't the only one. I really needed to crack down on the chapters once we got home. "Book two should be coming out later this year. It's a new genre for me to write in, but I'm enjoying it. I'm glad to hear my readers are, too."

"Thank you, again, for signing my copy. But more so, for rescuing me last night from Ashley and Mindy."

I tried not to laugh at her friends' names. They seemed to fit so perfectly. Malcolm's words came to mind suddenly, and I smirked. I could play with my puppy as long as I had her. I opened my iPhone up to the notepad and slid the device over to her. "If you give me your address, I'll send you a copy of the two other books in the trilogy once they're published."

Ginger's face turned as red as her hair, just like last night. "I can't thank you enough."

Darryl whistled. "Gee, and all I got was a signed business card."

"Actually, you got nothing. Yet. I'm sending you a book, too, when I get home."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Um, Becca?"

I traded Ginger's book for my phone and glanced at him, wondering what I had done wrong. He just gestured with his head to look to my left. I flinched when I saw Ashley and Mindy standing by an empty table, a book in each of their hands. They had sensible jeans and T-shirts on today, but their clothes were still too tight in my opinion. The only thing out of place was the apprehensive looks they kept sending in my direction as they worried their lower lips.

I put on my best professional smile and waved them over. "Good morning, girls. Would you like me to sign your books, too?"

"Yes, please, ma'am," the blonde said. "I'm Ashley."

I ignored her use of the old moniker, but I kicked my boyfriend under the table as I heard him stifle a snort. The faux respect they were showing was hilarious. Did they not think I remembered them from last night? How rude they had been to me, and especially to their friend?

I just signed my name this time then slid the book back to her. I glanced up at the brunette. Her hand was shaking as she held her book out. I smirked as I handed back the signed book. "Here you go, Mindy. Enjoy your weekend."

The brunette's jaw dropped. Ah ha! I knew her name, oh ye of little faith. Ashley pulled on her friend's arm, and they walked way glancing back at us over their shoulders. Probably mostly likely at Ginger who remained seated with us.

I had just settled back into my chair and was lifting my glass of juice to my mouth when Darryl pointed behind me.

"Don't look now, but Babes R Us is spreading the news that a celebrity is amongst us."

I didn't dare turn around. But I did see Malcolm raise his hand and beckon someone forward with his first two fingers.

And that's how I spent the next thirty minutes signing everything from napkins to hotel brochures. Malcolm disappeared at some point during the spontaneous non-book signing. Damn him. But Darryl stepped up and helped choral the line that had formed. It was mostly women, but there were some curious men as well, which made me blush. And through it all, Ginger sat there with the biggest smile on her face. My puppy was having a good time, too!

Once the hullaballoo died down, Malcolm returned and we parted ways with our new friend as well as with Darryl who had to go man his booth.

"You are quite the popular attraction today," Malcolm said, his grin reaching from ear to ear. He had enjoyed it, too.

I stuck out my lower lip and crossed my arms. "And you were quite the missing arm candy."

"I had something to take care of. Please forgive me."

I narrowed my eyes at him and then giggled as he kissed me. "Forgiven."

"Good. Let's go do more shopping. You had something you wanted to show me in regards to a blindfold and new handcuffs?"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me," I sang, waiting for the elevator doors to open.

"You better believe it," Malcolm growled, squeezing my ass as we embarked.

If it hadn't been for the glass walls or the fact that there were dozens of people around us, I think he would have taken it farther. We'd crashed last night and hadn't had time this morning for any playtime. I was hoping that that wouldn't be the case for the remainder of our stay. I was still horny from the exhibit last night.

We spent the entire morning browsing. A few people asked for autographs, which delayed our destination several times. Why had no one recognized me yesterday?

I settled on two pair of fur-lined leather cuffs with heavy-duty buckles—one set for my wrists and the other for my ankles—from the booth I'd noticed the night before. Darryl confirmed the chains we'd bought from him would work with them for suspension, although he us sold a thinner set as well for just restraint use. Malcolm found a new crop that had satin strands combined with the feathers, and I selected a blindfold with an adjustable strap instead of just elastic. I'd giggled when I reminded him we'd rather worn out the stretchiness of the one we'd started with.

After a demonstration on leather bondage, we chose to get room service for lunch and relax a bit. Malcolm opened our hotel room door and stepped aside to let me enter first. I tripped over two large boxes set just inside the doorway.

"What the hell?" I sat on the edge of the bed to rub my shin.

"Oh, good, they arrived." He picked up each of the boxes and plopped them next to me on the mattress.

"What arrived?"

"A little surprise." He managed to get the tape loose that had sealed the top of the box. One side of the box had a stamp from a bookstore. Once unbound, he said, "Go ahead and look."

I lifted two of the flaps to see stacks of 'Triple Tease' staring at me. "I'm assuming that box is the same?"

He shook his head, his hands on his hips and a big grin on his face. "Those are your other titles."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Why do I need dozens of my own books?"

"Because I spoke to the convention organizers, and they've given you a booth for the rest of the weekend to sign books."

I was speechless. I wasn't sure if it was from shock or elation that he'd thought of this. After several swallows, I managed to ask, "How?"

"Sue. I called her this morning after seeing the breakfast fan base. She made some calls to the bookstores around here. One of them offered to send their stock to accommodate us. She's giving them a portion of the proceeds from any sales you make. You open at one, so we should order lunch."

I was still leery about selling my books at a kinky convention. Who thought this would be a good idea? But as soon as I began unpacking the boxes on the empty table that had been set up by the curtained area near the entrance to the ballroom, people started stopping by. At first, they were just curious. But it seemed that the word was spreading and people who'd actually heard of me joined the queue.

I spent the next several hours selling copies of books, giving autographs on a variety of items, and shaking hands with a different kind of crowd than usual. It wasn't until dinner that I learned Darryl had taken to social media to advertise I was at the convention. I knew my popularity couldn't have spiked only due to Babes R Us, as he called Ginger's friends. I thanked him profusely, happy that I could give him a signed copy of my book this weekend. I even kissed the title page with extra lipstick so he'd have something to remember me by.

Sunday was a repeat of the day before where we had breakfast with Ginger and Darryl, I signed books during the morning and afternoon, and then we had dinner with our new friends before we retired to our respective rooms.

I lay in bed that night cuddled against Malcolm's body, exhausted but completely happy.

He kissed my shoulder. "Did you have a good time?"

"Mmm hmm." I linked my fingers through his as his hand crept around to hug me. "I can't believe it's over already."

"Are you sorry I set up the book signings? Was there something you wanted to see that you missed?"

"I really hate that we missed the sleepsack demonstration. And the rubber and latex one. I was really considering—" My shrieks filled the room as he tickled me.

"You are such a tease."

"You asked the tease to marry you. You must love the abuse."

He chuckled and kissed me goodnight.

As I heard his soft snoring, I realized we hadn't had sex since Thursday night when we'd arrived. We just hadn't taken the time. We'd have to rectify that in few hours. I loved morning sex with him.




Raw Ch. 09



I awoke Monday morning refreshed. Remembering my thought before I fell asleep, I exaggerated my stretch as I sat up, letting the sheet drop to my waist. I turned to reveal my breasts to my lover and frowned. Malcolm was sitting on the couch, fully dressed, watching TV.

I cleared my throat.

He glanced at me. "How long until you think you're ready to go?"

"Good morning to you, too!" I laughed as I wiggled my chest at him.

"Sorry, but we're in a bit of a rush. There's a snowstorm coming later today. I got our flight changed to a nonstop one leaving this morning. I let you sleep as long as I possibly could."

I threw back the covers. "Give me ten minutes."

He clicked off the TV and crossed to the bed. "God, woman. You've pranced around here naked so many times. I haven't had the time to show you any appreciation."

I slapped his hand away as he cupped my breast while I reached for the underwear he'd left out for me. "You can play when we get home."

"I will hold you to that promise."

I let him get in a kiss before I grabbed the rest of my clothes and went to the bathroom to change so he wasn't distracting me.

True to my word, we were heading to the elevators within ten minutes. He had already checked us out using the automated service, and we were able to get a cab without too much hassle. I don't think either of us was breathing normally until we were in the air. Especially, since it started snowing as soon as the cab dropped us off at our gate.

It had snowed some while we were gone, but the roads were clear enough that we could drive home to Wheaton. I couldn't believe that just seventy-two hours earlier, I'd thought my life was over and I was going to be committed for insanity. Then again, this past weekend had seemed like a crazy dream.

"Pinch me. Did we really just fly to Canada where I sold my books at a bondage convention?"

"Yes, we did. You did."

I leaned against the kitchen counter. "It just seems surreal. I'm a bit exhausted."

"I sure hope not too much."

I didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant as he took my hand and dragged me to the stairs to our second floor bedroom suite. He waited until we'd reached the bed before he stripped me. I tried to help, but my hands were shaking too much.

"God, I've missed your body." His voice was a low rumble, and I gasped as he pushed me face down on the mattress.

His hands cupped my ass and squeezed the cheeks, pulling them apart. Then he was sinking into my pussy from behind. I cried out, gripping the duvet. He felt so fucking good. His fingers pressed into my hips, gripping almost painfully as he rocked in and out of me.

We were both panting, urging each other on, when I cried out as his cock hit my G-spot. I could hear his labored breathing through the pounding of blood in my ears. I came just before he stilled, and then his deep growl filled the room before he maneuvered us both onto the bed.

His hand found my breast, and I drifted off to the feeling of his fingers stroking my clit. I think I had another orgasm. Or maybe I was dreaming again.

###

I went to see Dr. Pritchard on Tuesday. I thanked her profusely for her prescription. Just as she had ordered, the weekend excursion to Canada was exactly what I had needed.

The trip boosted my morale in more ways than in the bedroom with Malcolm. It was also apparent in my visits with the doctor. Instead of describing what had depressed me since our last session—which had been my M.O.—I told her about the convention and my amazement at the vast options when it came to bondage. About how the demonstrations renewed the fire within me, encouraging me to continue embracing my inner desires.

Then I told her about Ginger and the impromptu book signings. That it seemed to give me a sense of purpose to befriend a younger woman in the scene, as new as I was at it myself. I had exchanged Emails with my new friend, and I had every intention of keeping in touch with her although we resided in different countries.

As usual, Dr. Pritchard did not say much. But I could tell she was proud of my progress by the way she smiled as I talked. And took less notes. I did not bring up knowing how my fiancé knew her. I thought that little fact wasn't vital to my healing process.

It seemed like my writer's block had departed with us on the flight to Canada as well. Within the two weeks since our return, I had cranked out several more chapters, much to Sue's delight. I couldn't write fast enough...and sometimes couldn't wait to get through breakfast with Malcolm each morning. No more did I carry the worry that book number two wouldn't make the deadline for publication this year.

After Malcolm got home from school every day, he graded his papers or worked on lesson plans. Then we both cooked dinner and retired to the Star Wars den or went upstairs to play before we went to bed. I was happy again. And he told me often that he was so glad to have me in his life.

We had not discussed the wedding at all. I think we both knew that there was no rush. Yet while I had been content with our current relationship, I felt giddy when I thought of the fact that I would officially be his wife, and he my husband. I even found myself going on tangents to look at wedding dresses when I was researching online for my book.

Like the year before, it was obvious that we were going to have a very cold winter. There had been several days in January where the temperature was below zero, and the forecast didn't show any improvements in the next week. Although we had the heat on, there were nights where I wished we had a fireplace in the bedroom as we had at the house on the coast. We layered blankets on the bed instead and used our naked bodies to keep each other warm. It was more than effective.

The first Sunday of February, it was especially cold. I had woken up shivering. My eyes still closed, I rolled over to snuggle against Malcolm only to find him not in the bed. When I'd managed to rub the sleep from my eyes, I saw that the clock read it was past ten. I groaned and wrapped one of the blankets around my body as I hurried to the bathroom.

Haphazardly dressed in a baggy sweater, sweatpants, two layers of socks, and my slippers—my hair pulled into a messy ponytail—I wandered downstairs. It was silent. Maybe he had gone out to run an errand. I checked the kitchen, but there was no note. It looked like I was on my own for breakfast.

I set the Keurig to make a cup of hot chocolate and scrounged the cupboard for something edible. I had settled on a granola bar and was retrieving my filled cup when I heard footsteps coming from the basement. I'd just turned around when I heard the voices. Two of them.

The door opened. Malcolm emerged. And so did Jesse.

The cup fell from my hand and shattered at my feet. I barely felt the hot liquid as it started to soak through the layers of slippers and socks. Three thoughts raced through my head: First, I looked like shit. Second, I wasn't wearing a bra. And third, what the fuck was Jesse doing here?

~ H



Raw Ch. 10



I saw their mouths moving, but I couldn't hear anything. I blinked. And then suddenly, Malcolm was rushing toward me, his words filling my head.

"Becca! Are you okay?" His hands were on my shoulders, his eyes on mine.

My gaze darted over his shoulder to see Jesse just standing there, a slight smirk on his face. Or maybe I had imagined it because he was beside Malcolm a second later, asking me the same question.

I blinked again and shook my head. "Sorry. You just startled me."

"Go upstairs and change," Malcolm said. "We'll clean up the mess."

I stared at him. What? I wasn't presentable like this? I hadn't realized I always needed to be pulled together whenever someone else was in the house. I opened my mouth to say I was just fine, but he interrupted me before I could get the words out.

"Your feet are wet." His warm breath caressed my ear, the words barely a whisper.

I managed to nod. Then my brain kicked into gear. I took his hand as he helped me step out of the ceramic shards that now decorated the tile floor amidst a pool of light brown liquid. He held onto me as I dislodged my feet from the sopping material that encased them.

Upstairs, I acquired a dry pair of socks. And I had the sense enough to pull on a bra, change into jeans, and comb my hair before I returned to our surprise guest. My composure gathered, I took a deep breath and descended down into the lions' den.

I found the men literally in the den. Jesse sat on one of the leather couches with Malcolm on the other. I stood in the doorway until they both looked up, acknowledging my presence. "My apologies for the mess."

"Not necessary. It was an accident." Jesse's smile seemed to be forced. But I had a feeling that was how he always smiled. He gestured to the empty seat opposite him.

I raised an eyebrow and sat with one foot under me on the couch right next to Malcolm who put his arm around my shoulders. Jesse's eyes narrowed marginally. He had no authority in this house. My house. I could sit wherever I damn well pleased. And he didn't have to like it. But I wasn't a snob.

"Thank you for giving up your tickets to the convention, Jesse."

"You are very welcome, Lady Becca."

My shoulders stiffened. Malcom's hand squeezed gently. I relaxed, but only slightly. I had forgotten Jesse's insistence on using titles regardless of being in a scene or not. Apparently, Malcolm was familiar with the habit.

"Sir Malcolm told me about your experience. I understand you enjoyed it, thoroughly?"

"Very much so. It was quite interesting. Especially the demos."

"I was just telling him about your opportunity," Malcolm said. "He thinks it's something you'd be able get in on at more conventions. Book vendors are becoming more popular. Especially erotic fiction ones."

I managed a heartfelt smile at our guest. "Really?"

"I believe your weekend in Canada is proof enough. And that was only after what? A single day?"

Malcolm nodded. "Jesse has given me the contact information for the organizers of the bondage convention. While most are up over the border, they also sponsor events for other areas of BDSM, and some of the gatherings here in the states."

"Some are overseas, as well," Jesse added.

"If you're interested, Becca, we'll look into it."

"I'd have to check with Sue," I said, thinking about traveling to Europe to sell my books. When I saw Jesse's eyebrows arch in question, I added, "She's my agent. I'm sure we can work something out. It's just a technicality."

Jesse nodded. "Tell me, what was your favorite—"

The doorbell rang, and I hopped to my feet. "Please excuse me, gentlemen."

I let out a huge sigh of relief as I left the den. I wondered if it would be rude to hide away in my office for the rest of the day. My stomach grumbled, and I remembered I hadn't eaten my breakfast. I opened the front door and had to grab onto the edge of the door to stay upright.

What had I done to deserve this?

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Reebeeca," Juliet said, her teeth blindingly white behind blood-red lips as they parted in a smile. Her blonde hair was coiffed around the fur collar of her fitted winter coat, and knee-high, leather boots encased her feet. Boots that were also sunk into at least two inches of snow.

I glanced behind her. It was snowing more. Joy. "Hello, Juliet."

"Je suis ici pour voir Yehzee."

"I'm sorry?"

"Désolé. Yehzee? He eez here?"

I had not missed the French vampire. And I still thought she sounded hilarious. But my momentary anger at the sudden intrusion overpowered any desire to laugh. "Yes, Jesse is here."

"Becca, who's at the d—"

My hand fell to my side as Malcolm stopped behind me and opened the door fully. I felt his heavy exhale against my neck. I wish I could see his face.

"Juliet? What? How?"

"Bonjour, mon chéri!" She put out both hands and held Malcolm's head as she gave him a kiss on each cheek before she stepped past us into the house.

"Juliet?" He said again. "What are you —"

"Ah, Juliet. So glad you could join us," Jesse said as he entered from the hallway. "Did you have any trouble finding the house?"

"Non, Monsieur."

"Good. Good."

"La météo est terrible."

"English, please, in front of our guests."

I opened my mouth to correct him that it was the other way around and that they were our guests—uninvited, in fact—but Juliet spoke first.

"Zee, weather. Eet eez geeting terriblay." 

Malcolm's hand pressed against my shoulder, and I had enough sense to step out of the way. He closed the door. We both turned to see Jesse helping Juliet from her coat. Then Jesse kissed her fully on the lips. I swear I heard a groan from Malcolm who was behind me again.

I don't what happened next. One minute, the four of us were standing in the living room, two of us in shock. The next, I was standing alone, hearing the door to the den close. I marched across the room, intent on bursting in on them. But as I approached, Jesse stepped out of the shadows like a bouncer guarding a club's entrance.

I put my hands on my hips. "What the hell is going on?"

"Lady Becca," Jesse said, his hand on my wrist. "Please, do not disturb them."

I tried to wrench my arm away, but his grip tightened. I gritted my teeth. "Let go of me right now, or so help me God..."

He complied, but he did not step away from the door.

"I'm going to say this once and only once. This is my fucking house. You are Malcolm's guest, not the other way around. And if I'd had any say, I wouldn't have let you in the front door after that little stunt you pulled at your party last year."

"I have missed your hot temper. You are so beautiful. Malcolm is a lucky man to have found such a submissive as you." Jesse raised his hand, his fingers curled, as if he were about to stroke my cheek.

I swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me."

"Come, let us be civil. We are both adults. Let the long-lost lovers talk."

I retreated from the hallway, unwilling to turn my back on Jesse lest he try something. He followed, and we settled at the counter in the kitchen. This time, I staked my claim standing, and he sat at the island. The rightful position for me at least. My house. My rules.

When he asked, I managed to make him a drink. Then we sat in awkward silence for several minutes.

"Malcolm has shown me his dungeon. It would be my honor to escort you there for a private session where we can work on honing your submissive qualities. Free of charge."

There were no words to describe the incredulity burning through me. What audacity he had to assume I'd want to be alone with him ever again! I threw up my hands in disgust and disappeared to my office. Once alone—with the door locked—I let the first tear fall. Then another, and another. I curled up on the oversized chair, pulled a blanket over me, and sobbed.

Just when everything had been going so well, this had to happen. My stomach was in knots, wondering what they were saying behind closed doors. I did not trust that Juliet bitch at all. Yet, I had to rely on my trust in Malcolm to know that nothing would happen between them. That our bond was stronger, and our relationship was not at any risk.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke to Malcolm sitting beside me, my head in his lap and his hand rubbing my back.

"Hey." I smiled weakly as I sat up. I glanced at the door. He hadn't argued when I'd requested changing the handle so it could lock with a key. But he had insisted on a spare for emergencies. I guess he thought today's circumstances validated using his key.

"Hey, yourself," he said, kissing me. He pulled me into an embrace. "I know you're going to object, but please hear me out."

My eyes lowered to his lap, and I played with a loose string on his jeans. "You want them to stay for dinner. Probably overnight."

He tilted my chin up. "They were down in Springfield and were on the way back to Chicago. He was just stopping for a short visit before they flew back to Europe. I wouldn't ask, but their flight isn't until tomorrow night, and it's getting late. With the weather, it's safer to wait until daylight. They will have cleared the roads by then. They can stay in the guest room or even downstairs in one of the private play rooms that has a bed."

"Fine, I don't care." I cuddled up against his chest. I closed my eyes when his hand stroked my hair. But it did little to settle the disquiet I felt. I knew it wouldn't be gone until they were.

Somehow, I made it through dinner. I retired early, but I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness wondering what they were all talking about downstairs. Were they speaking in French? Laughing as they reminisced on old times? Times when I wasn't even a blip in Malcolm's thoughts.

###

It was snowing lightly Monday morning, and Malcolm had to go to work. When I got up for breakfast with him, our guests were not around. I prayed that they had departed early.

Malcolm revealed, though, that they had opted to stay down in the basement for the night and had not emerged yet. Thankfully, the soundproofed basement meant I didn't have to hear them. Now I just had to stop myself from imagining what they were doing.

With a promise that they would be leaving later this morning, I kissed my fiancé goodbye and settled in to work on some editing revisions Sue had sent me.

It was around noon when someone knocked on my door.

"Lady Becca?" Jesse's head popped into the room after I called to come in.

I cursed myself for having not locked the door and faked a smile. "What can I do for you, Jesse?"

He entered the room fully. "I have been in contact with Malcolm. The school is closing early due to the weather. He was going to stop on the way home and get some groceries as well as lunch for us all."

I glanced at my phone. It had not rung, and when I pressed the home button, it showed no missed texts.

As if reading my unspoken question of how he knew this information, Jesse said, "I messaged him when I was notified that our flight has been cancelled. I do not want to be a burden—"

"You are welcome to stay another night." I don't know how I said the words without gritting my teeth...or throwing up.

"Thank you, Lady Becca. I will leave you be."

As soon as the door closed, I stuck my tongue out at him. Then I started a text to Malcolm, berating him for not telling me first that he was coming home early. But as soon as the words were on the screen, I deleted them and set the phone aside. It was safer not to text him if he was driving. I could express my thoughts later in person. And I most definitely intended to tell him my thoughts on this entire extended weekend.

But an hour later, I'd forgotten about my anger as I paced the kitchen with worry. Neither Jesse nor I had received a call or text from Malcolm. When the back door finally opened, I fell to my knees, crying.

Malcolm set several plastic bags down and knelt beside me. He wrapped me in a cold embrace. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Where have you been?" I kissed his equally cold cheeks. His hair was damp as my fingers buried in it. "I thought something had happened."

"I'm sorry. The grocery store is a madhouse. It hasn't stopped snowing since this morning. They're calling for almost two feet tonight."

I dried my eyes and jumped into my role as hostess making sandwiches and soup while he put the rest of the food away. I knew Jesse and Juliet were sitting in the living room, and I tried to ignore them. But it was hard when you heard two people speaking in a foreign language. I had to remind myself that as eloquent as the language sounded, they were the enemy...and could very well be talking about me.

The meal consisted of idle chitchat that centered on the weather. Malcolm invited our guests to join us for a movie in the den, but they thankfully elected to retreat to the basement for the afternoon. It was nice having some alone time to cuddle. More than once, I started to ask what they had discussed the night before, but I clamped my mouth shut and decided to put it behind me.

After dinner that evening, the couples parted to our separate areas of the house again for the night. For not having done much today myself, I was thoroughly exhausted. We had barely spoken to each other during the day despite having the afternoon alone. I fell asleep almost as soon I crawled under the piles of warm blankets.

The next morning, Malcolm got a call that they had cancelled school due to blizzard conditions. All I could think about was that if buses couldn't get to school, our unwanted guests probably couldn't get back to Chicago. I resolved that I was going to stay in bed today. I couldn't face them again, pretending I was okay with this arrangement, as temporary as it was. I waited for Malcolm to end his call before telling him my decision. But he spoke first.

"I have been neglecting you," he said as he set his phone on the nightstand and rolled back to face me. "I aim to rectify that."

I smiled softly, glad for the chance to change my train of thought. But I shrieked as he threw back the covers, exposing my body to the coolness of the room. Once more, I was distracted as I took in his naked body, anticipating him coming to me. Instead, he got up.

My disappointment turned to intrigue, though, as he went to the dresser. My fingers twitched as I stared at his ass. God, he was so fucking sexy it hurt sometimes.

He turned around to face me, a length of rope in his hands. "Sit up with your back to the headboard, Lady Becca."

I quickly scooted up the mattress, my breath quickening.

Malcolm laid out the rope, found the middle, and looped it around the back of my neck. He laced it down under each armpit, crossed it behind my back, and brought it up under each thigh so that it was snug against either side of my pussy. Then he proceeded to tie the rope around my midsection with a series of knots in front until he reached my breasts. He circled the latter with the rope, and I sucked in my breath at the sudden tightness.

He held my left arm up against the headboard and laced one end of the rope through the rails as he wrapped it around my appendage. He tied it off at the wrist, leaving my hand dangling and my fingers unable to reach to untie the knots. Then he secured my right arm in the same fashion as he had done with my left.

I wiggled a little and realized that not only had he attached my arms to the headboard, but he had also done so to my torso. Very interesting.

He placed a pillow behind my neck, and I smiled up at him. He ran his fingers down my cheek. His thumb grazed over my lips, which were dry from panting. He paused until my tongue darted out, touching his digit, and he let me suck on it a moment.

When he pulled his hand away, I expected him to lean down and kiss me. I tilted my head up, my eyes still on his. To my dismay, his mouth didn't move any closer to mine. 

I gasped when I felt his hands sliding down my thighs to my knees, bending my legs.

"Stay put."

Where was I going to go? Then I realized he meant not to close my legs.

He returned to the dresser, this time bringing back the fur-lined leather cuffs we'd purchased at the convention as well as a length of chain. He secured the first to each of my ankles. Then with my knees positioned almost touching my elbows, he attached one end of the chain to one cuff. The other end went behind me through the rails of the headboard and attached to the other cuff. The process left me feeling a bit like an erotic totem pole.

The pièce de résistance was when he retrieved the nipple clamps. I hissed as he applied them, my back arching from the sharpness of the rubber-tipped metal prongs compressing the sensitive skin. Then I shivered as the drooping chain connecting them swayed and lightly brushed my skin as I breathed.

"You have no idea how vulnerable you look. So absolutely hot and sexy," Malcolm said, his voice gruff. "For the record, a ball gag would be perfect to complete the effect."

I opened my mouth to object but closed it when he raised his hand. I told myself to calm down. I knew he would never do anything against my wishes again since the fiasco at my brother's collaring ceremony.

"It was just a thought. Maybe someday."

Not if I had any say. I pressed my lips tighter together, feeling my arousal slip away.

He pulled the sheet and comforter back towards the foot of the bed where he folded them in on themselves. I had tried to keep my eyes on his cock when I could. Since he had first gotten out of bed, it had gone from slapping against his thigh in its flaccid state to slightly bouncing now. The bondage process aroused him. Which reignited my own arousal. I was wondering what the end result of this was as he placed the rest of the pillows on top of the folded bed linens and sat Indian-style on the mattress, his back against the pile he'd created.

"Do not speak, Lady Becca," he said, taking his cock in his hand.

I licked my lips, pressing them together as my eyes watched his large fingers wrap around his specimen that continued to swell. Already, the head glistened with precum. It would not be long until he was completely erect. I so wanted to help him reach his full potential.

"And do not come until I say so."

Oh, shit.

"Look at me. Nod if you understand the rules."

I gulped and nodded slowly as I raised my eyes up his chest and settled on his gaze.

"Very good. Now breathe deep and relax."

I obeyed. At least with the breathing part. But even that became harder because my eyes dropped back down to where his hand was slowly stroking his cock.

Over the next several minutes, I studied how his wrist twisted in as he got to the head. How the palm of his hand would graze over the tip before he stroked down again. And sometimes, he would pause and just circle his thumb and forefinger around the crown in quick strokes. His other hand rested in his lap, sometimes fondling or stroking his balls.

I licked my lips again. I thought of my tongue going over all of those inches where his hand was. Where his fingers were. I usually closed my eyes to immerse myself when I was worshipping his cock. Malcolm sometimes asked me to keep my eyes on him. I knew he thought it made me look sexy. I kind of felt as if I was a slutty actress in a porno, but I still did it to please him.

The muscles deep within me clenched suddenly. I went to move my hand between my legs for a little respite. Then I remembered that I couldn't touch anything. I laid my head back, thankful for the pillow.

My eyes closed and then opened to stare at the ceiling while I struggled to swallow. Then I was watching him again. Trying not to focus directly on his cock. Instead, I traced each muscle of his arms and legs with my eyes. Studied the shadow on his jawline. Caught how dark his eyes were as they watched me.




Raw Ch. 10



In my peripheral vision, though, I could always see his arm moving. I knew what it was doing. And regardless of where I looked, my gaze always came back to settle between his strong legs.

The longer he stroked, the more I thought about not my hand or mouth replacing his hand but my pussy. And then my muscles clenched more often. I was able to arch my back away from the headboard and wiggle my ass a little, which helped with the stiffness settling into my body. Plus it helped distract me. But the former action seemed to tighten the ropes encasing my breasts. Reminding me that they, too, ached, and my nipples stung slightly from their own restraints. God, I really wanted some release.

"Stay with me, Lady Becca. Just a little longer."

I heard Malcolm's voice, but it was so hard to listen. Still, I bit down on my lip to fend off the twisting desire within. I heard grunting and realized it was coming from me.

My hands clenched at the air. My toes curled against the sheet. My vision became a little blurry. My breathing shallower. All of the thoughts in my head centered on one thing: wanting him to fuck me.

Suddenly, my wish came true. Sort of. His fingers were inside me. It felt so damn good I moaned loudly. I tried to rock my hips against his hand, but I found it was useless with the way he had bound me. His thumb rubbed at my clit, and my jaw dropped as my body froze. All noises ceased as I told myself to hold on. Yet, I knew I was reaching my limit. Oh, please...please...

"Come for me, Lady Becca."

I'd never heard such sweeter words. His hand was thrusting hard against my pussy. It took only seconds before everything brook loose within me and I was crying. I felt the heat of the tears on my cheeks and tasted the saltiness as they reached my lips. I thrashed against the headboard, the movement mostly impeded by the ropes.

I heard his heavy breathing mixing with mine in my head. Felt him remove his hand. Heard the chain attached to my ankles rattling. Then my legs were being lifted, my pelvis as well. I almost passed out as his cock slid into me and he lowered my legs to rest on top of his thighs.

The soles of my feet pressed against the cool sheet on either side of him. I found that I could now arch my hips against him. I sobbed from relief as he filled me.

"Shh. Shh, Lady Becca." Malcolm wrapped my calves around his hips and rocked gently. His hands caressed where ropes didn't cover me.

Suddenly, he released one clamp. His mouth settled onto the painful nipple, his tongue like a branding iron to my sensitive skin. He suckled, soothing and yet arousing at the same time. I was babbling by the time he repeated it on my other nipple.

I flung my head back against the pillow as I came again. When I opened my eyes, he was still there kneeling before me. Still thrusting into me. Our eyes met, and finally our mouths. His hands were on my face then, holding me still so he could kiss every inch of my cheeks, nose, eyelids, and forehead before he came back to my lips.

I thought he was done as he started to pull out, but his thumb rested on my clit and rubbed it while he must have been guiding just the head of his cock into me. I could feel the slight pressure each time he entered as well as his hand bumping against my pelvis.

"Oh, God." They were the first words I'd said since this has begun. Despite his rule, I wasn't able to stop them. I was staring at the ceiling now as the lower part of my body convulsed against him.

The tingling intensified as he slid fully inside again.

"Becca!" He growled my name. His forehead pressed to my shoulder, his chest against mine, as he found release within me.

I tightened my legs around him, hugging him close in the only way possible. I managed to turn my head and kiss his hair. 

It was several minutes before he moved. When he did, I moaned because his cock fell out. I cried as he carefully unwound the ropes. It seemed like forever before he cuddled me on the bed.

"Shh, Becca. It's okay." He kissed the back of my shoulder, his hands massaging each breast to distract me from the pain of blood flowing back into them.

My sobs subsided as I snuggled up against his body.

"Good girl."

After some time of listening to our breathing slowing down, I was cognizant enough to realize that I could finally get my hands on him. I caressed his body. Felt the heat emanating from him. The strength in his muscles.

As my hands wandered, arousal burned within again. Especially when he let out a low moan as my fingers grazed over his cock. It lay between our thighs, and it twitched to life as I touched it. There was a lingering hardness beneath the loose skin as my fingers wrapped around him.

"You are going to be the death of me," Malcolm said, his voice tight and gravelly.

I bit my lower lip and doubled my efforts, my hand tightening slightly, stroking a little faster but still at a leisurely pace.

Suddenly, he moved away from my grasp.

"Hey!" I propped myself up on one elbow. This brought me face-to-face with his cock because he knelt before me.

"Hey, yourself," he whispered, his thumb rubbing my lower lip. He put a little pressure, and my jaw opened. My tongue flicked out, the tip licking my upper lip. He growled. "Oh, baby, what you do to me."

I didn't have a chance to ask him to elaborate as he pressed his cock to my mouth. I kissed the tip and ran my tongue over the tiny hole, tasting the saltiness of the lingering cum from his recent ejaculation mixed with the spiciness from my own pussy. I moaned my consent and opened my mouth wider, gladly taking him in further.

My eyes fluttered closed as I licked him, my hand cupping a still-tender breast. When he pulled out, I gasped and opened my eyes to see he had gotten off the bed.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize." He was sifting through the dresser again. What now?

He tied a short length of rope to the metal D-ring on the cuff still encasing my right ankle. The other end as tied around two spindles of the footboard. I was still trying to figure out what had happened when he repeated the process on my left ankle. It left me sitting on the bed, my legs spread-eagle.

"Lie down, Lady Becca."

It must have been aftereffects of our previous session, because my head was a little cloudy. I just stared up at him. He sighed and pressed on my shoulder so that I landed on my back with a slight "oomph." He reached under me and gathered my hair so it lay spread out above my head on the pillow.

I flinched away when his cock brushed my hip. It tickled, and I failed to bite back a giggle.

He paused, his fingers wrapped around my right wrist as he held it in the air. "Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head, and then emitted a soft squeal as he tightened his grip. I gulped. "No, Sir."

His lips pressed into a firm line as he continued with securing a leather cuff around each of my wrists. He laced a piece of rope several times between the two metal D-rings, holding my wrists together, and then tied my arms above me to the headboard.

Only then did he get back on the bed next to me.

"I told you, this is because I neglected you. I want you to relax. You deserve this."

Relax? Ha! I could relax from his massages. Or leisurely lovemaking. But not bondage. Bondage excited me. At least with him. But I wasn't going to complain.

When he held the base of his cock in his hand, I didn't need any further instruction. I opened my mouth and turned my head slightly. He guided the tip so it traced my lips like an oversized tube of lipstick.

I couldn't wait to taste him. My tongue snaked out and followed the head, trying to get just a quick sample. Then my eyes darted up to his face. Was I on the verge of topping him? His jaw noticeably tightened, but he said nothing. He pressed a little further into my mouth, and I closed my lips around the crown.

My tongue took over from there as if it had a mind of its own. I licked. I teased. And when I pressed the tip just under the base of the crown on the underside of his cock and glided it side to side, I drew such deep growls from him that I froze.

"If you don't continue..." he hissed.

I blinked and got back down to business. Eventually, he slid further in so that the flat top of the head slid against the back of my mouth. As he withdrew, he tilted my head back slightly, and I felt the tip graze against the rough part of my pallet behind my top teeth. We both groaned then.

He alternated between fucking my mouth and letting me suck. He gripped my hair at one point, and I sucked harder. Which made him thrust deeper.

I was concentrating on breathing and sucking at the same time when I felt his hand cover my pussy. I almost choked on his cock as his fingers dipped in and stroked, his thumb rubbing lightly. My eyes had only closed for a second before I felt the yank on my hair.

"Eyes on me, Lady Becca."

My fingers and toes repeatedly curled and then fanned out as he fucked my mouth with his cock and my pussy with his fingers. I came twice, thrashing under his gentle but unrelenting touch. I had to release his cock both times so I could breathe.

I was feeling a little lightheaded when he removed his hand after the second orgasm. My efforts to suck his cock had dwindled as well. I was grateful for the respite, but he wasn't done with me.

He released my hands from the headboard but kept them tied together. As soon as he untied my ankles, he flipped me onto my stomach and dragged me to the edge of the bed. My toes had just touched the rug on the floor when he slammed into me from behind.

"Oh, God, Malcolm!" I screamed so loud I'm sure our guests heard us. And I relished the thought.

Then all of my thoughts ceased to exist as feelings took over. His thick cock in me. My breasts smashed beneath me against the mattress. My nose pressed into the remnants of my latest release, my own scent infiltrating my head.

His hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back. My back arched. I screamed again when his hand landed on one side of my ass. Then the other. Back and forth, spanking me while he fucked me. My bound, outstretched hands gripped for purchase on the wrinkled sheets. And then we came together.

I floated on a cloud of euphoria. Somewhere in the distance, I heard his grunts and groans as he continued to stroke despite his release. Every bit of me tingled. I was so buzzed I felt like I'd drunk an entire bottle of wine. And I never wanted the feeling to end.

I think I passed out. When I forced my eyes open, I was on my side under the covers, all traces of the cuffs and ropes gone. And I smelled bacon.

I tried rolling over. My body was so sore I felt tears in my eyes. But I eventually managed to sit up. And on the nightstand was a tray with a plate of eggs, toast, and several strips of the best-tasting meat ever. There was also a glass of orange juice, a folded note...and a single red rose.

I opened the note and pressed my hand to my chest, finding it hard to breathe for a moment. In Malcolm's masculine handwriting, he'd written, "This is your snow day. Watch TV, read a book, or get some rest. You may get up to take a shower, but otherwise, you are to stay in bed today. Enjoy your breakfast. I'll be by to check on you later. I love you, Becca."

I held the rose to my nose and inhaled deeply. As I exhaled, one single thought filled my head. How had I gotten so lucky?

True to his word, Malcolm stopped in around lunchtime with a tray of cold sandwiches. He made me eat in bed, but not until after we did a sixty-nine. After lunch, I took a shower. And then the two of us spent the afternoon having sex or cuddled under the blankets while we flipped between cooking, home improvement shows, and a classic movie from the '80s.

Not once did I ask him about our guests. I didn't care. I had him, and that was all that mattered.

I actually didn't see our guests who'd outstayed their uninvited welcome again. I woke up Wednesday morning to the bright sunshine beaming in through the window. Malcolm wasn't in bed beside me, and the clock showed it was well past ten o'clock. I dressed in warm clothes and wandered downstairs.

It was eerily quiet when I entered the kitchen. I grabbed a bagel from the fridge and was staring out the window as it toasted when I saw Malcolm pushing the snowblower up the driveway. He didn't seem to see me, and he turned to go back in the other direction. They must have closed school again. Maybe it was too cold because the roads looked clear. Did I dare get hopeful?

I wanted to race to the basement. Instead, I tiptoed down the stairs instead, as if I wasn't supposed to go there. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, and I cringed. But the main room was dark.

When I turned on the lights, there was no evidence that anyone was present. Still, I checked each of the four private rooms. Only after I had confirmed that they were each empty—save for the bed, table, and chair that we kept there for playtime—did I let out my breath.

My house was my house again.

~ H



Raw Ch. 11



I chalked it up to the fact that I was almost forty that I forgot to revisit a very important and unanswered question until two days after our uninvited guests had departed: How did my fiancé know my shrink, a.k.a. Mistress Lydia?

I remembered just as I got to my appointment with Dr. Pritchard that Friday, but I didn't feel comfortable asking her. That and the fact that she wanted to limit our visits to once a month now distracted me. I knew it meant I was recovering. But it also meant I wouldn't have the familiar sounding board I'd grown used to this past month. Then again, I think that's partially why she made that decision: she didn't want me to become dependent on her.

I left with a heavy heart that our time was through for another four weeks. After several hours of working on my book, I'd almost forgotten the question again until Malcolm texted me that he was on his way home from the late meeting at school. He said he hoped I had good session with the head doc, and did I want pizza for dinner?

I placed the order and then paced the kitchen, rehearsing how I would approach the topic. I waffled between a direct approach and letting it slip into our conversation casually. Which would he be more likely to answer?

The sight of his car pulling into the drive made me pause. I switched to wringing my hands. Then I strained to hear the garage door closing. The sound of the car door as he shut it.

"How do you know Dr. Pritchard?" I said before he'd even fully crossed the threshold of the back door. Direct and impatient had apparently won.

He leaned in to give me a quick kiss before he shucked off his coat. "Hello to you, too."

I watched him sift through the mail and then sit down at the lunch counter facing the kitchen. I stayed standing on the kitchen side and took a deep breath. "I want to know how you know Dr. Pritchard."

He chuckled for a moment. "Did you order the pizza?"

"Yes." I glanced at my watch. "It should be here in thirty minutes. Now please, answer my question."

He looked up then. When he noticed I wasn't smiling or laughing, he said, "You're serious."

"Yes."

"Can you tell me why it's so important?"

"Because, it is. Is she one of the strippers you hung out with in France?"

His smile disappeared. "No."

"Is she an ex-girlfriend?"

He shook his head. He abandoned the mail and clasped his hands on the countertop instead. Finally, he realized I wasn't going to drop the subject.

"An ex-partner in the scene?"

"No, Becca."

I felt my hands fisting at my side. Why was he making this so difficult? I restrained myself from stomping my foot, but just barely. "Then how—"

"I know her from the club in Chicago."

"I figured as much. And you just what? Thought a psychiatrist with a penchant for whipping men was the perfect solution for your abused girlfriend—"

"Becca!" He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "She is—or rather, she was—Daphne's shrink."

I scrunched up my nose. "Why couldn't you just say that in the first place?"

He reached out to clasp my hands. "Because it really isn't any of your business. I helped a friend get professional help several years ago. It was extremely successful. So I called on that professional to help me now as a favor."

When I exhaled, it felt like I was releasing all the tension in my body. I knew the truth now. And it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined it would be. Go figure.

"Why she did it wasn't important. The fact that you are comfortable talking to her so you can feel better is. But then she wrote that note. I knew it was inevitable you'd ask questions."

I nodded.

"To be honest, it was a relief that you had forgotten to ask me again that night at the airport. I didn't want to dig up old wounds. You're seeing Lydia because of the pain your brother has caused you. Your brother and his wife, Daphne. I'm sure last summer has come up as well. You've made such progress. I didn't want to hinder your healing, and I thought that knowing the connection was there because of Daphne would do just that."

I lowered my eyes to where his thumb was brushing my knuckles. God, I hated it when he had a point like that. It made me feel so dumb that I hadn't considered all of the implications.

"But you are persistent. I love that about you." When I gave him a soft smile, he added, "Usually."

I wished I had a stool to sit on now. So what, I shared a shrink with my estranged sister? It actually made sense now why Dr. Pritchard would stop taking notes whenever I mentioned Daphne's name. But now I wondered what the doctor thought of me when I complained about Daphne...a woman who had been just as damaged—if not more—than I was. Especially now that I knew the three of us women shared a taste for nonconformity when it came to sex.

"Are you okay?"

When I didn't respond, he squeezed my hands. Then he tipped my chin up and asked me again.

I nodded this time. It was a relief that I didn't have to worry about seeing my doctor again knowing she had some sordid past with my fiancé. But I felt a twinge in my chest when I thought of my long-lost friend now. How she had tried to warn me that night at the club. But then she had played into the charade, as well, by dragging me to Jesse's house as a distraction until we had to get to the ceremony. The ceremony that drove a wedge between all of us.

"Good." He stood and rounded the counter to pull me into his arms. "Promise me you will tell me if you are having any problems with Dr. Pritchard? With anyone at all?"

"Mmm hmm." My breath came out shaky.

I had yet to say anything about my encounter with Jesse last December. I kept telling myself that it didn't matter. Even though Malcolm had thought the same thing about his platonic relationship with my doctor, in the end it, my new knowledge made things better. Clearer.

Just like I had not broached the subject of what he had discussed with our guests behind closed doors, I knew that nothing good could come from telling Malcolm that Jesse was a jerk. Besides, Jesse and Juliet were back in Europe. The past was in the past...or at least several thousand miles away.

###

Somehow, we managed to get through the bitterly cold winter. We did not speak of Jesse and Juliet. We did not speak of Daphne. And we did not speak of my brother. Although, I did cry when I noticed on the calendar that Drake's birthday was a week away. I battled about sending him a card. I loved him, but...

Dr. Pritchard had said it wasn't uncommon to have those feelings when there was an estranged relationship in a family. Especially, between siblings. She wouldn't affirm that any decision I made was right or wrong, though.

In the end, I chose to do what I felt in my heart: I sent a card. It was on Drake now if he decided to respond. I prayed that he didn't return it unopened. I'd rather he just throw it away than give me evidence that he wanted no part in my life if I didn't support him in every aspect of his. I told myself that each day that passed with no mail from him was a good thing. Wasn't it?

Spring kept us busy with writing midterms and final chapters. Malcolm was happy. I was happy. Sue was happy. Life was good.

The Friday that school let out for Spring Break, I decided to surprise Malcolm. I'd been there a couple of times. So after I checked in at the office and got a visitor's pass, I made my way to his classroom on the third floor.

A glance at my watch showed that there was still another fifteen minutes before the hallways would become a racetrack of hormones with one goal: the exit doors that led to freedom for the next nine days. I could wait in the hall and be run over. I chose to sneak into the classroom through the door at the back of the room, a benefit of being in an older school with larger rooms that had two entrances.

No one paid any attention to me as I quietly took a seat on a stool under the back blackboard, another relic of days gone by. Granted, the seats were only half-full, and the ceiling lights were only on in the front half of the room. I wondered if it was normally like this, or if a large portion of the student body chose to start vacation a day early. Those present hunched over their desks, probably watching the black arms inch toward the twelve and three on the white-faced clock at the front of the room.

Just below the clock, Malcolm had his back to the room as he wrote on the whiteboard in red dry-erase marker. It looked like A2+B2=C2, and the words 'Pythagorean theorem.' Seriously? He was trying to teach them something new within minutes of them emptying their brains of anything related to school? My poor man. He was too dedicated to his job.

I hooked the heel of my right pump on the lowest rung of the stool. I bent my left leg and propped my other shoe one rung up. Then I waited.

He finally turned around, mouth open, the marker in one hand and the eraser in the other.

I knew the moment he saw me because he dropped both items. I tried not to laugh as he chased the marker under his desk. When he stood again, I had my finger to my lips. I undid the bottom-most button and cinched the left side of my coat further apart, revealing the top of my white knee-high stockings.

He cleared his throat and told the class, "Forget it. You can talk for the rest of the hour."

The next ten minutes had to be the longest of his life. He sat staring at his desk while the noise level in the room rose exponentially. Every few seconds, he'd glance up at me. I guess to see if I was still there or if he'd imagined me. I'd tease him by adjusting my coat. His head would dip as if he were reviewing something very important. A couple of times, he fiddled with something in the desk drawers.

I kept an eye on the clock as well. I grew warmer with each minute that ticked by. And not just because I still had my coat on. I licked my lips, wondering what Malcolm was thinking. What he was feeling. A small part of me thought he might be upset with my intrusion. Adrenaline hyped up the rest of my body too much for me to care, though.

As the bell mercifully rang, the farthest door became a bottleneck as the room emptied. Over the cacophony building in the hallway, I heard a chorus of, "Goodbye, Mr. McClaren," and "Have good Spring Break, Mr. McClaren," from the front of the room.

Even after the last student had disappeared out the door, Malcolm stayed seated at his desk. He hadn't looked at me in a good two minutes. I know because I counted them in my head as I watched him. The noise in the hall dispersed. Still, we sat in silence.

When he finally lifted his head, I was glad I was at the back of the room. I was too far away to see the look in his eyes, but he was not smiling. Okay, maybe I should have been more worried about his response. I gulped and gave myself a silent pep talk as he slowly pushed back from his desk and walked around it.

I waited until he had started toward me down an aisle between rows of chairs before I stood and unbuttoned my coat, letting it fall to the floor.

He froze mid-stride. Then he turned on his heel and walked to the door nearest him. Which he closed, turned the lock, and pulled the old-fashioned shade down over the window. He proceeded toward me again, this time along the wall to my left. He repeated the process on the door I had entered.

When he was still a couple of feet from me, I stuck out my lower lip and twirled my finger in one of the pigtails that I'd pulled my hair up into during a quick pit stop at the girls' restroom across the hall before I'd chickened out with my surprise. He opened his mouth, but I was faster.

"Mr. McClaren, I'm sorry for disrupting class. I'm here for my detention."

I don't know what he was going to say, but whatever it was, he left it unsaid as his mouth closed and his jaw clenched. Even in the shadows at the back of the room, I saw the darkness take over the flicker of light in his eyes. Then I saw his eyes drop, presumably to my feet.

I could imagine him taking every inch of me in as he slowly lifted his head from my black high heels up my stocking-clad legs. He'd already seen that for the past ten minutes, but he seemed to take his time revisiting the view.

As I could see his gaze lifting, he seemed to pause. I wasn't sure if it was the plaid mini-skirt that showed more thigh than anything I'd ever worn. Or maybe it was the short-sleeved blouse that tied just under my breasts, creating a mountain of cleavage that would make any waitress at Hooters jealous. Quite possibly, it was the shiny belly necklace that floated in between where the skirt rested on my hips and the blouse supported my ample bosom. I'd secured a fake belly ring to my abdomen to loop the chain through, adding to the effect.

I'd felt a little silly when I'd purchased the schoolgirl outfit. But once I'd put it on at home, I understood why those girls at the convention had dressed the way they had for the exhibit. I felt damn sexy.

But now? Now I wasn't sure if this had been a good idea. Malcolm had yet to say anything. I hoped my knees didn't knock together, showing my nerves.

He took a step forward, and I stepped back involuntarily, bumping into the stool I'd so proudly perched myself on until just moments earlier. It wobbled and fell over. He pointed to the front of the room, and I hurried up the aisle.

It wasn't until we were both standing in front of his desk when he finally spoke.

"Ms. Rockland, you are a model student. Your disruption in class today was quite a surprise. I expected better behavior from you."

I let out a slow breath, glad to see he was playing along. "I'm sorry, Mr. McClaren."

"Please, bend over my desk."

I turned and rested my chest on his desk between two piles of books. My inhale was sharp when he flipped the back of my skirt up, revealing my ass to him. Had it been a bad idea to wear a G-string?

"Are you ready for your punishment?"

I nodded. Then I screeched as something smacked both butt cheeks. My ass stung like no tomorrow.

"Please respond aloud with 'Yes, Sir, Mr. McClaren.' Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. McClaren," I managed, gasping.

"Very good. Now be a good girl and be quiet."

Something clattered next to my head. I stared at the wooden ruler he'd tossed onto the desk. Holy shit!

Suddenly, his hand smacked my left cheek. Then my right. Over and over again, he spanked me. I wasn't sure if this was my punishment for showing up in his class as I had, or if it was part of the roleplay. It wasn't exactly what I'd imagined we'd be doing.

I tried to relax, but the spanking actually aroused me more. Especially, when his hand smacked lower along the crease between my ass and my thigh. By the time he had finished, my ass burned and I could feel the wetness gathering between my legs.

"Stand up, Ms. Rockland."

I obeyed, although my legs shook even more than before. I prayed I wouldn't collapse.

"Turn around and kneel."

"Yes, Sir, Mr. McClaren," I said softly, obeying. My eyes widened as I faced him. Malcolm was unbuckling his belt. A moment later, he was holding his cock out to me.

"Now open your mouth." He pressed the tip between my lips and grabbed onto my pigtails. "Suck, like a good girl. Next time you'll think twice about talking in class without permission."

I kept my hands in my lap as I twirled my tongue around the crown. I teased the tiny hole, licking away his precum. He was already semi-hard by the time he pressed further into my mouth. Oh yeah, he was turned on by this.

He thrust into my mouth, holding my head still by his grip on my hair. Then he would still his hips and use my pigtails like handlebars and pull my face closer to him or push my mouth away. The whole time, he stared down at me, his mouth a hard, thin line.

My eyes stayed on him, blinking occasionally. I didn't fight him. Not even when he went balls-deep and held us both still for a moment. We'd worked on my gag reflex enough that I could handle a few long seconds. But my eyes still watered, and my slobber dribbled out of my mouth as he withdrew.

When he'd had enough of fucking my mouth, he helped me stand up. Without a word, he patted the top of the desk. I hoisted myself up on it, and he laid me back, pushing the books aside.

One minute, I was looking up at him, licking the saltiness of his arousal off my lips. The next, he lifted my legs, spread them apart so my ankles were on his shoulders, and yanked the G-string aside. I cried out as he thrust inside of me. I bit my bottom lip when I saw the warning in his eyes. Locked doors or not, someone could get suspicious.

Euphoria swept over me. We were in his classroom. On his desk. Having sex. Teacher and student in roleplay, but also in life. That is how we'd met. I'd dared to be insubordinate today. To top him. And God, it felt good for him to punish me. Yet, I felt rewarded, as well, for my actions.

I was aware of his grunts. The clanking of his belt buckle as it hit the wooden desk with each thrust. The possessiveness of his hand as he pulled one corner of my shirt down and cupped my breast. The roughness of his other hand as it gripped my hip, his fingers digging, holding me in place.

One of my shoes fell off and clattered to the floor. He leaned forward, bending me in half, and tugged with his teeth at the knot tying my top together until it came loose.

I had little time to enjoy him releasing my breasts as he pulled out of me and flipped me onto my stomach. My breath came out as a short gasp, and then I moaned as he slid into me again from behind. His hands reached around and under me, gripping my breasts.

I arched back to him, my hands pressed flat against the desk. God, I loved this man. I loved how he filled me. Surprised me. Completed me. Thank you, Jerry McGuire.

I was on the cusp of my orgasm when he withdrew once more. This time, he did not penetrate again but came against my legs. Then, he spanked me with an open hand. I lost count of how many times. Tears formed in my eyes, but they were from frustration that I hadn't found release. 

Suddenly, his fingers pressed up into me, his thumb grazing my clit. I sobbed on his lesson plan book. Neither one of us seemed to care at this point what noises we made. He stroked me until I shook beneath him.

When I'd calmed down, he helped me stand. I had bent down to retrieve my shoe when he said, "Ms. Rockland, I pray that you have learned your lesson?"

I nodded, which earned me another smack on my already raw ass. I stood upright with a start. "Yes, Sir, Mr. McClaren!"

"Very good. Now behave yourself and enjoy your Spring Break."

I bit my lip as I secured my top. I waited until I'd reached the back of the room to wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand. I shrugged on my coat and untied my hair, processing the scene in my head.

I'd enjoyed it. I liked the roleplay. I liked that we hadn't needed to use bondage to get excited. I liked that he—

"Becca?" His voice was so soft behind me.

I froze, uncertain of what his intent was. Slowly, I turned to face him.

"You are the sexiest woman I have ever known," he whispered before he gently pressed his lips to mine. His arms enveloped me, drawing me against his chest where I felt his heart still beating wildly.

"So you're not mad at me?" I asked when he'd allowed me to come up for air.

"Honey, I told you that you could have me any time or place you wanted it. Including school. I'd find a way. Although, it looks like you beat me to it." He kissed me again. Then he kissed my wet cheeks. His thumb brushed at a fresh tear that trickled from my eye as I blinked. "What I'm mad about is those ten minutes where I could see you and those damn kids were in the way. And that damn clock would not move fast enough."

I giggled and brushed my hand through his hair that was damp along his temple. Then I stepped back and flashed him the schoolgirl outfit. "I bet you didn't expect me to be wearing this, did you?"




Raw Ch. 11



He arched an eyebrow at me. "I actually thought you'd be naked under that overcoat."

"Hmm, maybe next time."

He growled as he cupped my breast through the flimsy shirt. Then his hand trailed downward. He licked his lips as he fingered the belly ring. "Is this..."

"It's not."

Malcolm lifted his eyes to mine. "Could it be?"

My cheeks grew warm. "You'd like that?"

"Only if you do." He tugged my hips closer to him and kissed me once more.

"I think it's something I could consider," I whispered against his lips. When I felt his hand creeping up my ass, I pulled back and closed my coat. "My teacher said I needed to get home."

"I think he said to behave and enjoy your Spring Break."

"Well, you know I can be a bit of a troublemaker. I'm not sure if I can obey him on that first request."

He growled again and gave me a lascivious grin. "I think you may need some personal tutoring over vacation, Ms. Rockland."

I rubbed my hand over his growing bulge. Then I unlocked the nearest door. "Good bye, Mr. McClaren."

###

Saturday morning, we had our usual breakfast. But unlike our usual mornings, he wasn't dressed to go for a jog. He'd thrown on his robe over his boxer shorts, his hair still messy from our lovemaking last night and a good night's sleep.

After a quick kiss, he led me to my office. He sat me down in my chair behind my desk and left the room.

"Malcolm? What's going on?" I called after him.

He returned shortly with the straight-back chair we kept in the guestroom next door and sat down on the other side of my desk, facing me. Then he bent over. When I heard the rustling of paper, I pushed back from the desk and ducked as well. He had a filing box at his feet, the lid upturned on the floor. I didn't remember that being in here before.

I sat up and jumped. He was staring at me, his mouth turned down, his eyes dark.

"We need to talk."

Oh. Shit. I felt the blood drain from my face. My eyes dropped to the desk where he had set a legal pad and a pen in front of him. He picked up the latter and removed the cap.

Had he reconsidered a non-disclosure agreement? I'd asked about it almost three years ago when we had first started seeing each other. He'd said we didn't need one. But now? Now we'd seen—unfortunately—the infamous movie version of the first "Fifty Shades" book. NDAs were all the rage as a result, even in the vanilla world. Although they had no idea what they were talking about, much like with the contents of the rest of the novels. But I did. And Malcolm did.

I gulped. "What do you want to talk about?"

He tapped the end of the pen against the paper. "Our wedding, my dear. I fear we've been procrastinating, and I want to make you Mrs. McClaren as soon as I can."

I unclenched my hands in my lap and smoothed my palms over my sleep pants. The wedding. Of course. How silly of me. I'd done it again, jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

"So tell me, what kind of ceremony do you want, dear?"

"Funny you should ask." I turned around, pulled a folder from my filing cabinet, and opened it before him. "I've been doing a little research over the past couple of months."

We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon tossing up dates, locations, and finally, whom to invite. It was funny how easy most of the decisions came once we actually talked to each other about it. I'd had little doubt we'd disagree. But then again, we could have had vast differences in what we'd imagined our wedding would be like. He could have wanted some kinky ritual with his friends from the club. Though he was adamant that there would be no collaring ceremony or anything like it as long as I was against it.

"So, we've agreed to wait until school is out," he whispered, clutching my hands. "We'll have a small ceremony at our beach house with family and immediate friends. And we'll arrange a private reception at the club on our return from wherever we decide to honeymoon."

I nodded, worrying my lower lip. Three months and I'd be married. I'd be Mrs. Malcolm McClaren.

We stared into each other's eyes for several long minutes. I didn't know about him, but it was something I'd never get tired of doing. He eventually broke the moment by leaning across to brush his lips against mine. I willingly reciprocated.

"Now that the important part is done," Malcolm said, closing my folder and adding it to his box with his legal pad, "I think we need a little vacation."

"What did you have in mind?" I crossed my arms. "Another impromptu trip across the border? Maybe south this time?"

He chuckled. "No, I was thinking north into the city at the hotel Rockland. I hear they have a vacancy, and I know someone on the inside who can get us a room for cheap."

I arched an eyebrow. "You always have someone on the inside." This of course made me lick my lips because I suddenly thought of him being on the inside of me. It took some effort not to say that aloud.

"Then a nice dinner out," he continued, ignoring me. "Maybe a night of playing at a private club."

"I think I'm intrigued."

"Good. Go pack for a couple of days."

I hopped out of my chair and gave him a kiss before I headed upstairs. We hadn't been to my condo since last fall. I really loved living with him, but I was kind of missing my old place.

On the drive to Chicago, I rolled the window down partway and stuck my hand out. The crisp air felt wonderful although it bit my skin. If it wouldn't have distracted other drivers—and I knew I wouldn't catch pneumonia—I probably would have hung my head out as well. I had spring fever. Bad.

The first thing I did when we got to my inherited condo was open all of the windows to air out the rooms. I found some scented candles and lit them in the master bedroom to get the musty smell out even faster. Then I flung myself back on my bed.

"Gee, if I didn't know better, I'd say you missed being here." Malcolm leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

I rolled onto my stomach and sighed deeply. "It's been my home for so long."

He crossed over to sit beside me on the bed. "You don't have to sell it."

I just nodded. I'd tried to think rationally. Why did we need another house an hour from where we lived? It may have been in a great location in the city, but it was no longer practical. Still, I didn't want to make any rash decisions.

I groaned when his hands rested on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles of my neck. As his hands moved down, kneading my back, a moan slipped out. Then another. And another.

By the time his hands had crept around to my sides and grazed my breasts, I was panting. He made quick work of lowering my jeans and panties. Then I cooed contentedly as he slid into me.

He proceeded to fuck me so slowly I thought we'd never get to the end. I gripped the comforter with both my fingers and my teeth. My pants were still around my knees, keeping my legs together as I lay prostrate across the width of the bed. They created a tight bond that made my thighs grip him as he rocked in and out of me. It was amazing. I could only imagine it felt just as good to him.

We came together, his body resting on mine afterwards as we shuddered from our release. I pried one eye open when he eventually moved off me.

"Where are you going?"

"To bring our bags upstairs. Do you need to take a shower before we head out tonight?"

I rolled over onto my back, kicking my pants loose. I parted my legs and planted my heels on the comforter. "I have a better idea on how to get cleaned up."

He growled and crossed the room again in two steps, climbing up onto the bed to kneel between my legs. "And you think I'm insatiable?"

His tongue and fingers began a slow torture of cleaning my pussy. It was redundant as I could feel the twinges of another orgasm pulling at me from within. Neither of us seemed to care.

###

Dinner at an upscale steakhouse was delicious. But the whole while, I worried deep down about revisiting the club. It had been three months.

Malcolm must have sensed the tension in the air. He remained silent about the subject until we were in the cab on the way to the club. He held my hand in his as I stared out the window. His deep voice drew my eyes back into the car.

"Count to ten and let out a deep breath. Then tell me what your concerns are."

I obeyed the first part. But when I tried to put my thoughts into words, every reason for why going back to the club was upsetting fell flat. I'd had my therapy. I'd had good times there. I shouldn't dismiss the establishment because of one bad visit. And I shouldn't associate the club with my brother.

In the end, I just sighed again and looked out the window.

Malcolm didn't push me to discuss it. Once we'd entered the club, he led me directly toward the private rooms. I found my tongue to question what he was doing, as dumb as that sounded.

"Shh," was all he said while we ascended to the second floor. As soon as he'd secured the door, he turned to me and said, "Strip and get on the bed."

He was halfway there himself with his shirt flung aside and his hand on the zipper to his pants. I slid the sleeveless straps of the short, flowy dress off my shoulders. The rest of the material slunk to the ground. I heard his gasp as he realized I'd gone commando.

I was kneeling on the bed as he finished disrobing. He climbed up beside me at full attention. I prepared to lie down, but his hand on my arm stopped me. He lay on his back instead and tugged on my hand.

I was shaking as I straddled his waist. As he slid into my warmth. As his hands on my hips guided me.

My eyes closed, and I let the surroundings infiltrate my head. The heavy beat of the base from the music beneath us combining with my heart in my chest. The sounds of our panting. The scent of Malcolm's cologne drifting up to my nose.

I gripped his arms and let my head fall back as I fell into the trance of our lovemaking. We found our rhythm. His hands caressed my breasts now. And I let go of all of my worries like the water draining from the tub after I pulled the plug.

When we'd recovered, we went below to dance. We rested and drank. Then we danced some more. Twice, we visited a private room. Once, he held me against the wall while he fucked me from behind. The second time, I worshipped his cock on my knees until he'd been unable to hold out, flinging me over his shoulder to carry me to the bed where he ravished me until we were both covered in sweat.

Fully exhausted, we left the club. I snuggled against him, my head against his shoulder. I had just closed my eyes when I heard him tell the cabbie to go to a new address that wasn't my condo. I struggled to focus my thoughts and ask him where we were going.

"Shh, Becca. Rest."

I was too tired to disobey.

###

My eyes opened to see daylight slipping in a window. I blinked and yawned as I sat up, the sheet pooling at my waist. The cool air of the room whispered against my bare breasts. I rubbed them lightly.

"That is a delightful site to see in the morning."

I screamed and pulled my knees up to my chest, scrambling to find the sheet without taking my eyes off the man standing by the open door. "What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Your bedroom? Dear, Lady Becca, you are in fact in my bedroom. Or more precisely, a bedroom in my house." Jesse took a step further into the room. The door clicked closed behind him. "I pray that you slept well?"

I tugged the sheet tighter to me and glanced around the gray-and-white decorated room. It was small with only the bed and a narrow three-drawer chest against one wall. A single chair sat next to the chest, and my red dress draped across one arm. "What the hell is going on here? Where is Malcolm?"

"He is downstairs. I shall take you to him, if you desire."

Fuck that, I would go on my own. Without thinking, I flung back the sheet and stood up.

A deep moan crossed the short distance to me. "Such a beautiful woman."

I cursed under my breath, remembering that I had no panties or bra on, and yanked the comforter towards me. Teeth clenched, I muttered, "Can you please toss me my dress?"

He took his time reaching the chair and picking up the garment. He did it so reverently, as if it was a fragile piece of art. To my horror, he brought the dress to his nose and closed his eyes as he inhaled.

A shudder ran through me. I held out one hand, ready to catch it when he flung it me. Instead, he brought the dress to me. I swear he intentionally held it out of the reach of my waiting hand as he used his other hand to stroke my cheek.

"We could be so good together." His voice caressed my ear, reminding me of those brief moments of seduction on the couch in the secret room of his basement.

Before my instincts could kick in, he placed my dress in my hand and crossed the room. I blinked as the door closed behind him. Had that just happened?

I was dressed within seconds and navigating my way down a stairway to the first floor. I didn't see or hear Jesse. Or anyone else for that matter. Did I dare call out? While I wanted to find Malcolm, I didn't want to draw Jesse's attention. But I figured I was too late for the latter, anyway.

The layout of the main level came back to me as I wandered through the living room. I easily found the door to the basement play area. It was partially open. I was contemplating exploring the rest of the first floor before returning to the scene of the crime when I heard voices from below.

The door creaked slightly as I slipped through. I'd elected to carry my shoes, which aided in my silent descent. The voices grew louder but not clearer.

"Plus serré, mon chéri," Juliet said.

"Dites-lui quand, Lady Juliet," Jesse's voice responded.

"Are you sure I'm doing this right?"

The sound of Malcolm's voice made me pause on the landing halfway down.

There was a loud gasp, then, "Eet feelz vunderful, mon chéri!"

I took another step down so I could see. I wished I hadn't.

Juliet appeared to be naked as she hung horizontal to the floor from a contraption on the stage. It wasn't the same hangman's noose from the dungeon party I'd attended. Instead, it looked more like the monkey bar display we'd seen at the convention. Ropes bound her arms straight-out from her head; wrapped her midsection; and held her legs bent and apart. She appeared to be frozen, doing the breaststroke. At intervals, chains held those ropes to the bars above.

She didn't appear to see me. Nor did Jesse who stood directly behind her at the back of the metal framework so that her feet flanked his hips. And Malcolm definitely didn't notice the fourth body in the room as his back was to the stairs.

"Can there be loss of circulation?" Malcolm asked. "Pain? Cause for distress?"

"Only if you tie the ropes too tight. Lady Juliet has a high tolerance, as you are well aware."

Malcolm chuckled. "But she's not usually on the receiving end."

"Very true." Jesse stepped around to Malcolm's side. "In this position, she is left vulnerable to all angles. From the back, below, and the front. See?"

Oh, yes, I did see as Jesse demonstrated thrusting his hips against Juliet's face.

"It all depends on the dimensions of the device. Here, take my place."

I covered my eyes for a second, but like a car accident, I couldn't remain blind to the situation for too long. I peeked between my fingers to see Malcolm standing before Juliet's face. Jesse had returned to standing behind her. From where I was standing, if I hadn't known better, it looked like one was fucking her mouth while the other fucked her from behind. Jesse even had his hands on Juliet's legs, swinging her slightly so her face bumped up against Malcolm's crotch. He jumped back slightly.

"Of course, you can adjust the length of the chains so that she is at the correct height for whatever function is desired at the time," Jesse said. "Remember, less repositioning means you can increase performance and achieve greater results."

"Vous pouvez atteindre mes seins?" Juliet said.

Malcolm scratched his head. "Come again?"

"My breaztz. Can you reech them, mon chéri?"

I stood up straight, letting the upper steps block my vision. I didn't want to see if my boyfriend—my fiancé—was touching another woman's breasts.

Malcolm's laugh seemed strained, much to my delight. "I'm sorry. My French is a little rusty."

"We can amend that," Jesse said. I saw his smile as I lowered my hand. "Join us this summer. It will be like old times."

"I can't. I'm getting married in June."

"Bring Lady Becca. My wedding gift to you. She would enjoy it immensely."

I could hear the anticipation dripping from Jesse's voice. It made me shudder.

"Yeez. Breeng your Beeca, mon chéri. We have all kindz of fun."

I shivered again. What was it with these two that put me so on edge? And furthermore, whatever had Malcolm seen in them that he considered them such good friends?

"I will have to discuss it with her."

"You are her Master," Jesse said. "There is nothing to discuss. Come, we will go make plans."

I descended the rest of the steps and said loudly, "Discuss what?"

There was a brief gasp. The fact that it wasn't collective clued me in that my presence wasn't a complete surprise to everyone on stage. In fact, I'd wager, only one person didn't know I'd overheard more than just Jesse's last comment.

"Becca!" Malcolm jumped off the stage and crossed the room to embrace me. He pressed his lips to mine and turned to face our surprise hosts, one arm still around my shoulders. "We've been invited to visit Paris with Jesse and Juliet this summer."

"Oh, how lovely." Under my breath, I leaned in and hissed in his ear, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

~ H



Raw Ch. 12



It has been an amazing journey from the first stand-alone short story to what has blossomed into eleven more chapters of adventures. Never had I thought it would come this far for Becca. Thank you, to all of my readers who have been loyal along the way, encouraging me to continue when I was ready to give up for fear that the story would become cliché in the realm of BDSM. I hope that the ending has done the characters and the series justice.

I would like to extend an immense thank you to EGRI for your impromptu and continuing advice and support on the series. I treasure your friendship, although it's just through cyberspace. I can't thank you enough.

SSW

--------------

Nothing but the hand of God allowed me to hold in my anger as Malcolm guided me across the floor of Master Jesse Pratt's dungeon-slash-basement.

"Lady Becca, how good of you to join us." Jesse stepped down from the stage and took both of my hands in his. He raised them to his lips. "I hope you slept well."

He squeezed my hands tighter as he lifted his eyes to mine. For the briefest moment, he held me in his trance. I couldn't breathe. Or think. And I couldn't stop the shivers that raced up my back when the tip of his tongue darted out to lick my skin.

The corner of his mouth turned up as he lowered our hands, although he did not release his hold. God, how the man repulsed me. And yet, he still managed to spellbind me at the same time.

"Bonjour, Beeca! Veuillez m'excuser. Je suis assez indisposé."

As much as I hated to say it, I had never been more thankful in my life for Juliet. I don't know what the hell she'd said, but it distracted Jesse enough that I could pull my hands free. I sidled closer to Malcolm, mad as I was at him, too.

That's when I noticed—with a bit of relief—that Juliet was wearing nude underwear, much like she had the night of the dungeon party I'd been to in December. She was grinning at us. Or at Malcolm at least.

"Lady Juliet asks us to please excuse her for not coming to greet you," Jesse said, although I hadn't requested a translation. "Come, I have been showing Master Malcolm the basics of suspension. He has informed me that you were quite interested in the demonstration at the convention, no?"

"We agreed to look into it," Malcolm said, rubbing my back lightly. "If Becca decides—"

Jesse's hard glance silenced my fiancé, much to my amazement. Before Malcolm could react, Jesse waved his hand at Juliet and the suspension rig. "Let us not delay. While Lady Juliet is a good sport, I prefer not to leave her hanging for too much longer."

I clenched my teeth as Jesse once again acted as if nothing had happened between us a few minutes prior, not to mention a few months ago. I wanted to smack him. To put him in his place once and for all. But I knew it was better not to. Not here like this. Not before I could confront Malcolm. So I bit my cheek and concentrated on breathing normally.

For the next twenty minutes, I managed to stand without crossing my arms or saying a word while Jesse showed me the finer points of rope bondage and suspension. Or rather, he noted how he and Malcolm had previously bound Juliet, and demonstrated the use of several different positions. The latter was done without any decorum for us ladies present. Then again, I wouldn't necessarily qualify Juliet as a lady, unless it was a lady of the night.

Juliet startled me by speaking up at one point, offering a few words of advice—in her vampirish accent—on how to control breathing and to think away any pain. I'd actually forgotten she was there, my focus primarily on keeping as far away from Jesse as possible while still trying to appear that I was listening and taking mental notes. I'd jumped and shrieked which earned me a glare from Jesse and raised eyebrows from Malcolm.

When Jesse deemed the lesson complete, I forced back the desire to scowl as I watched both him and Malcolm lower Juliet from the scaffolding and then release her from the ropes. Juliet's eyes never left my fiancé, and she licked her lips at least twice when his hands brushed against her while untying a section of rope. If I'd ever seen a cat that was eyeing its prey...

Jesse retrieved a silk robe from a table on the stage and covered Juliet, loosely concealing the multitude of red marks circling her body. He walked her to the edge of the stage where Malcolm was standing instead of leading her to the aftercare room. It puzzled me, especially after how long I'd witnessed her being suspended. Then again, maybe Jesse didn't believe that slaves always required aftercare. Maybe the room was more for show. As was this whole morning's display, I deduced.

"Thank you, Juliet, for your assistance," Malcolm said, offering her a hand as she stepped down from the stage. "It was very informative."

"Vous êtes toujours bienvenue, mon chéri." She was smiling widely as she opened the sides of the robe, revealing her practically naked body to him before she rewrapped the material around her and tied it off with the attached sash. "Alwayz weelcome, mon chéri."

Malcolm's cheeks colored slightly. I felt like I was going to gag.

Jesse offered me his hand to assist me as well, but I pursed my lips and walked past him.

He was apparently undaunted by my act of defiance as he pressed his hand to my back in an attempt to support me should I need it on my descent down the two meager steps. "Please, stay for lunch with us. We can make our plans for Paris. We have much to talk about."

I scooted away from him and cleared my throat. Malcolm's eyes darted over to me. His forehead creased in question when I gave him a minute shake of the head.

"Thank you for the invitation," Malcolm said slowly, "but, uh, I think we should be on our way."

I could sense Jesse's lingering gaze on me, although I could not see him. Why did it feel like I'd just walked through a spider's web? And I needed a scalding hot shower?

After a moment, Jesse said, "As you wish. Please, after you."

Malcolm led the way upstairs, and I managed to get in between him and Juliet. When were all on the ground level, I spied my purse on the kitchen counter. I snatched it up, resisting the desire to open it and sift through the contents. Jesse had just better pray that nothing was missing.

While we waited for a cab to respond to our phone call, I stared out the window at the silent street. I listened to the three of them exchange goodbyes behind me in both English and French. There were at least two more reminders to let Jesse and Juliet know when we could talk about Paris.

I closed my eyes briefly. Would this day never end?

When I finally spied the cab pulling up outside, I flung open the front door with a little too much strength. It banged against the wall of the foyer, but I didn't care. I was already off the porch and halfway down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the large paving stones in a sharp staccato, when I heard the door close. Another set of shoes scuffled down the steps and hurried after me.

"Becca, wait!"

I spun around and pointed my index finger at Malcolm. "Not. One. Fucking. Word."

He stopped short, blinking at me.

"Listen to me, and listen to me good. You would be wise to not speak until we get home."

He closed his mouth and gave me a slight nod before I continued on the path to the getaway vehicle.

I refused to let him help me into the backseat. I stared out the window the entire ride, my breathing fast and sharp as I crossed my arms, my thoughts a swirling frenzy in my head. I hoped he was worried.

I opened the door and jumped out as soon as the car stopped at the curb by my brownstone, leaving him to pay the fare. I heard the front door shut behind me as I continued on a path upstairs. If I was going to let him have it, I wasn't going to be half-naked so he'd have easy access to use his amazing cock to distract me from my thoughts. There would be no fucking on the hallway floor today. That would only deaden the significance of this, our first major fight.

Because there would be a fight. That I was certain. How we would both come out of it afterwards...

He did not follow me. I half listened to hear if the door opened and shut again—signaling he was escaping before whatever storm that was brewing erupted. The other half of my brain wondered what he was thinking as I layered on panties, bra, socks, jeans, and a sweater.

It occurred to me that I was not acting rationally. I should be talking out the problem with the man I had agreed to marry. This was not even close to the cool and calculated person I used to be in times of stress. Funny how I'd used those same two words to describe Brian Hughes at one time. And he was a maniac. I let out a soft snort. Maybe Malcolm should have committed me when he'd had the chance.

I was determined not to go easy on him. He needed to know what was wrong and why. It would do neither of us any good if I were humble. I had to lock up the submissive for the time being.

Feeling much more assertive—as if covering the whole of my body was the source of my courage, opposed to the way I felt I bared my soul to him whenever I left skin showing—I walked out of the bedroom and went in search of Malcolm. I found him in the living room staring out at the backyard through the open patio door. He had his hands in his front pockets from the way his elbows stuck out at his sides. The early spring breeze tousled his hair.

The vision before me reminded me of being at the beach. Of how relaxed he always looked. In his element. I wanted to wrap my arms around him. To press my cheek—

No. I couldn't think like that. It would make me soft.

I fisted my hands at my side and proceeded toward him. I was halfway across the room when a board creaked under my feet. He turned.

All of the tension in me—every angry word—started to slip away with one look of his glossy eyes. His wet cheeks. The trembling of his mouth.

I stumbled back and bumped into the arm of the couch, a cry catching at the back of my throat. My chest hurt as his gaze pierced right through me.

"I'm sorry."

I blinked several times. His voice had been soft, but I'd still heard it. I just didn't believe it. "What?"

"I'm sorry." He took a step toward me. "I don't want to fight with you."

I sunk down to the cushion as he stared at me. I saw his shoulders rise and fall. He took another step forward. I scooted back until I could go no further.

"Tell me how to fix it." His words came out as a sob. He didn't try to wipe the tears from his face. "I love you, Becca. Please, talk to me."

Of all the things I'd wanted to say to him, the two words that came out were, "It's hard."

"I know."

I cowered in the corner of the couch now, my knees pulled up to my chin. "He's your friend."

That made him pause. His forehead creased for a moment, his eyes moving erratically from side to side. Suddenly they locked on mine. "Jesse?"

I nodded.

"What do you mean?" His jaw twitched. His hands started to fist. Then he relaxed his fingers and shook them out.

It had been my intention to spout off at Malcolm the moment I had noticed Jesse leering at me from the bedroom door this morning. I had not intentionally gone to that man's house. I had not put myself in that position.

But apparently, my conscious decided to kick in right then. Reminding me that this wasn't Malcolm's fault. It was mine for keeping my mouth shut for so long. I had no right to be angry with him for not knowing the truth.

He seemed to be steeling himself for whatever would come next through deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. He'd used the same method to calm me down on many occasions. But right now, he sounded a bit like a bull impatiently waiting to charge. It did not lessen the apprehension that had settled within me.

My lower lip trembled. Where had my bravado gone? What had happened to not being meek?

Finally, he said, "Okay. Tell me as best as you can." His voice was low and even. A controlled anger, but probably just barely.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to redo that night in December. To have walked out of that house after the first insult. I should have gone right to Malcolm and told him what a self-righteous prick his so-called longtime friend really was. To hell with the consequences.

"Becca? Please?"

My eyelids fluttered open. He was still standing over me. I could only stare at his abdomen as it moved with his labored breathing against his dress shirt. He had started to crumble before, but he had returned to be an imposing brick wall of power. It was a characteristic I normally revered but suddenly feared.

"You will tell me. Now!"

I flinched and lowered my eyes to his knees at the sudden sternness in his voice. "It was at his party last winter. The one Daphne took me to." I cringed as I realized I made it sound as if there were another party of Jesse's I'd been to. Way to go, Becca, for making this more difficult than necessary.

The couch shifted slightly as Malcolm sat down. He did not pick up—or at least comment aloud—on my faux pas. In fact, he was completely silent, which I took as a cue to keep going.

"It was after the show." I picked at a rip in the fabric of the cushion I was sitting on. "He wanted to show me the aftercare room. We were just talking. But he offended me. Told me I wasn't truly a submissive. Insinuated that it was a result of poor instruction, which implied that you were a poor Dominant. Honestly, I don't think any category exists to him but Master and slave. If you don't fit into those two roles, you have no business claiming that you're kinky. Yet, he kept saying I was beautiful and he would love to train me."

Malcolm made some kind of noise between a grunt and a growl.

I closed my eyes, reliving the guilt all over again. "He made me feel trapped. Confused. He was insulting me and complimenting me in the same breath. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak." A lump formed in my throat. I thought that I would feel relief for finally getting this off my chest. I wished there was something I could do to dispel the memories of what had gone down that dreadful night. Talking about it now definitely did not help.

"Continue."

With a gulp, I obeyed Malcolm. "Daphne came looking for me. One minute, Jesse was pinning me against the side of the couch, telling me he wanted to show me how to get in touch with my inner submissive. The next, he was across the room acting as if nothing had happened. Then we left."

"I see."

I turned to face Malcolm, clutching my knees closer to my chest. "No, you don't. I've gone over that night more times than I can count. Did I say something—do something—to lead him on? I didn't tell him to stop. But I didn't say yes, either."

He nodded his head. He was staring at the middle couch cushion, his hands clasped in his lap.

A little bit of my heart broke right then. He wouldn't look at me. He wouldn't comfort me. I'd never felt so ashamed. So alone.

"We went to Canada and I learned who Juliet really was to you. That Jesse had given up his tickets for us to attend the convention. I thought I'd judged him too harshly. Maybe it was his way of apologizing for being an ass."

"Hmm."

"I couldn't find the right time to tell you that Juliet was with Jesse now. I wondered if it even mattered."

"Then they both showed up just before the blizzard."

I nodded, even if he couldn't see me.

"Did he...?"

I rested my forehead on my knees. "He tried. When you were with Juliet. I had wanted to know what you were talking about. Why I wasn't included. He wouldn't let me see you. He suggested we go play in our dungeon. So I locked myself in my office to get away from him. When they were gone again, I buried it all. I'm sorry." The last two words came out as a sob. How had this turned upside down so quickly? I was supposed to be mad at him. He had been the one apologizing before I'd even said a word. Now, I was the one in tears.

His sigh was shaky. When I raised my head, he was looking across the room. "I'm glad you told me."

There was an unspoken "finally" in the air. Or maybe that was just what I was thinking. I worried my bottom lip. After several minutes of silence, I knew I couldn't let the topic just drop.

"What happened last night?" I barely heard the words coming out of my mouth.

He laugh sounded feeble as he shook his head. "I got a text that they were back for a short trip and wanted to know when we could hook up. I told them we were already in the city. Jesse said to stop by after we left the club. I didn't think you'd mind. You were almost out by the time we got there. He offered the use one of his guest rooms so you could rest and not be disturbed. The three of us stayed up and talked most of the night."

I didn't really want to continue, but I needed to know. "And this morning?"

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He seemed to be thinking about something, but finally, he said, "Jesse suggested we test out the suspension grid he made. You were still sleeping, so I figured a little practice wouldn't hurt in case we decided to get one for ourselves."

"Did you check on me at all?"

His head whipped around to face me. "Of course I did! Twice last night. You looked so peaceful. I didn't think it was necessary to wake you to take you across town just so you could go back to sleep."

I waited a five-count before I asked my next question, my voice low. "Did you take off my dress?"

"No, I did not." His eyes narrowed with each slowly spoken word. "You were still wearing it around two this morning."

I swallowed heavily. "Please tell me that he did not take off my dress and pretend to have walked in on me just as I woke up."

His jaw clenched as he sat upright. "If he—"

My stomach churned. "I don't think he did anything but look. But it was enough to creep me out."

Malcolm suddenly pulled me into his embrace.

I buried my face against his chest, fighting down the bile at the back of my throat.

He kept repeating, "I'm so sorry."

"It's my fault that I didn't tell you sooner." I hugged him tighter. "If I'd only—"

"Stop it. He's the only one to blame."

I sat up a little. "But if you'd known..."

"Shh. It's over now." He held my head to his shoulder and rocked me.

After several minutes, I mumbled, "I guess the trip to Paris is out, huh?"

He groaned. "You were seriously considering that?"

"Hell no. At least not with them in tow."

We sat there, not speaking, just breathing. Just...being. I had adjusted to sitting with my back against his chest, my head resting on his arm that he had looped around my shoulders and neck. Outside, I could hear life going on around us: traffic passing; horns honking; birds tweeting; a dog barking; a plane roaring overhead. All oblivious to the troubles unraveling in my living room.

I was trying to formulate a question so that it didn't sound accusatory when he broke the silence first.

"He lied to me."

I tilted my head back to look up at him. "Jesse?"

"Hmm." Malcolm pressed his lips to my head and sighed. It was another long minute before he continued. "He lied several times. And I believed him."

I nodded even though I was lost.

His other arm wrapped around me, and his hold tightened almost painfully for a moment. "I was so stupid. I know him. He's a manipulator. I just never thought he'd do it to me."

Had he considered that we were talking about his "good friend" who had knowingly hooked up with the woman who'd attempted to sexually assaulted Malcolm years ago? The same woman the "good friend" had diverted Malcolm's attention from to introduce him to the lifestyle? Or was that what he was referring to?

I bit my tongue when I wondered how much silence I should allow before I broached my next question. I knew it was selfish of me. I'd dealt Malcolm a devastating blow. He was hurting.




Raw Ch. 12



I turned sideways in our embrace. Did the fact that my question was selfish mean I shouldn't ask it? Look what keeping silent about the ordeal with Jesse had caused.

His hands threaded into my hair. "That day they showed up in February, he said you wanted to leave us alone to catch up. I didn't think anything of it until I found you locked in your office. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. You seemed distant but still engaged at dinner, so I wasn't concerned. Maybe it was the weather. I didn't think it had anything to do with their visit."

He'd opened the door I was afraid to turn the handle on. So I walked right through. "What did you and Juliet talk about?"

"Paris mostly. Where we'd been since. It was cathartic. She said we'd come so far, and yet not far at all. It all reminded me of what my life used to be like. The good. The bad. Lots of memories."

"You miss her."

Malcolm sat up suddenly and held me away from him with both hands, his eyes boring into mine. "What did you just say?"

Oh. My. God. "I-I don't know..."

"Yes, you do."

I shook my head. "It's not what I meant to say."

"But you were thinking it." His lips pressed together as he studied me. "There's something else, isn't there? Just spit it out."

I hesitated. I would have made up something if I thought I could get away with it. But his dark eyes held me captive, and his grip tightened on my arms. If I lied...

"Say it, Becca. I want to hear it. And don't lie to me."

I lifted my chin, but it shook as I mumbled, "Did Juliet try to seduce you?"

His grip loosened, and he backed off a bit. His forehead creased as it did when he was trying to figure something out in his head. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him. "Why in the world would you think that?"

"Because you said she's done it the past. You met her at a stripclub. You spent an entire summer with her in France. She's a very beautiful woman. And she's very kinky. It's under—"

"Seriously, Becca? Do you think I have no restraint?" He was up and pacing now. "Do you have no trust in me?"

"I didn't ask if you had sex." I stood as well, rubbing my hands up and down my arms where his fingers had been just seconds before. As strange as it sounded, I actually missed them. His touch kept me grounded. Away from him, I began to think irrationally again in stressful situations like this one. He had that much effect on me. "I asked if she tried to seduce you. But now I'm wondering about—"

"Is that what all of this has been leading up to? You're jealous of a woman who was never my partner, much less a girlfriend? Was there ever any issue with Jesse? Maybe that was all a façade so you could throw Juliet in my face."

My lower lip trembled. I would not back down this time. It was too important. "You haven't answered my question."

He scoffed. "I didn't think it merited an answer."

His non-answer unsettled me even further. We were only standing three feet apart, but he could have been on the phone in Wheaton for as far away from him as I felt inside at that moment. "Is it so far fetched to think that you couldn't be wiled by her wicked ways?"

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

I stood up straighter. "I see how she looks at you. Talks to you. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought Jesse taught her to be that way. She's just as manipulative as he is. Maybe more. He's done it to me. Surely she could do it to you. Or are you impervious because you're a Dom?"

"You are walking on very thin ice, sweetheart."

"What are you going to do? Spank me?" I turned around and put my hands on the arm of the couch, thrusting my ass out. I glared at him over my shoulder. "Go ahead. Punish me for believing what I've seen with my own two eyes."

He took a step toward me, his hands on his hips. "And what was that?"

I faced him again and held my ground. Every fiber of my being said I'd gone too far. That I should have shut up when I'd had the chance. Now, it was too late. I couldn't just let it go that Juliet may have tried to seduce my fiancé...and possibly succeeded.

"I saw you touching her naked body just this morning."

"She was wearing underwear!" Another step closer to me.

My legs quivered. "Oh, that makes it alright?"

"I had to touch her to bind her and hook her to the bars." He suddenly turned and walked in the other direction, to my relief.

My breath came out shaky. "Because you couldn't have used me to practice?"

"You were sleeping!"

"Yes, while your mentor could have been molesting me!"

"I didn't know that!" He ran his hands back through his hair as he stared out the patio door again. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You have a history. All three of you. What would you expect someone in my position to think?"

He turned abruptly. "I'd expect you to trust me that it's exactly what you said. History. There's nothing there now."

"Apparently not according to them. They aren't ready to let you go. Especially her. Are you that blind? Especially after everything I've told you?"

He was in front of me in three large strides. His breath heated my cheeks. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You need to stop this, right now."

I retreated to my corner of the couch, but the words had already formed and were spilling out of my mouth. "Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe I can't submit properly because you can't dominate!"

"ENOUGH!"

His yell shook me to my core. I should obey him. But a nagging feeling told me that I wasn't the only one who had a secret. And I had to know. "I'm going to ask you one last time."

His Adam's apple slowly bobbed as he swallowed and backed away. He stopped at the chair. Then he lowered his head as if he knew...as if he was waiting for the final blow.

"Did she seduce you?" The words were a low growl through clenched teeth. I leaned forward, renewed tension spreading throughout my body.

He gripped the back of the armchair. I wished I could see his face.

When he didn't answer, I slowly got to my feet. "Maybe in the den. Maybe in the dungeon. His or ours, doesn't matter. Did she seduce you? Did. You. Fuck. Her?"

He lifted his eyes to mine. I saw despair and defiance fighting for control. "She sucked my cock."

"Get. Out."

"Becca, please. I heard you out..."

"GET OUT NOW!" I realized my neighbors could probably hear my scream, but I was beyond caring.

He moved past me, shooting me the angriest look I'd ever seen. I heard the scrape and jingle as he retrieved his keys from the table in the front hall. The front door slammed a moment later.

I stood in the living room, my hands fisted at my sides. Just like I'd entered almost an hour ago. But now, my chest was heaving. My head was throbbing.

I collapsed to the floor, clutching my chest. What had I done?

###

When I pried my eyes open, my cheeks were stiff from dried tears. The room was semi-dark, and I could hear the sounds of bugs chirping outside my bedroom window. I shivered from the evening breeze creeping in and pulled the blanket tighter up under my chin.

I remembered crying until I felt completely empty inside. My back had ached from lying on the hardwood floor of my living room for so long. I didn't remember coming upstairs. But I must have.

I played the events of the morning all over again in my mind. Waking up at Jesse's house with no clothes on. Seeing Malcolm touching Juliet. Fighting with him. Finding out she'd given him a blowjob.

The last one triggered a fresh round of tears to fill my eyes. I told myself I didn't care about the when or why. That there was no acceptable explanation. But I did care.

When I eventually rolled over to check the clock, it read that it was ten till seven. Shit. I'd slept most of the day away. I sat up and looked around, realizing I was alone.

My heart broke a little more knowing that Malcolm wasn't there. I knew he wasn't going to be downstairs waiting for me, either. Although, part of me did hope.

My stomach rumbled, and it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. I pushed aside my thoughts of food and wondered how we were going to repair the damage we'd both caused. Was it even possible?

Just as I feared, it was dark downstairs as well. And a little cold. I wandered into the living room and shivered as I saw the patio door was still open. The evening breeze blew in through the screen door. I imagined Malcolm standing there earlier today with his hair tousled about his head. I closed my eyes and inhaled. My nose twitched at the scent of rain in the air.

I stepped outside, grateful that I was still wearing my sweater. Despite a pending shower, the sky was a brilliant orange and red to the west as the sun set. As I faced the east again, the sky faded into shades of blue until it was almost black over the horizon. It was beautiful.

I wiped the back of my hand at my eyes, wishing Malcolm were here to experience it with me. It was one of our favorite things to do in the evening out on the coast. We tended to forget to watch the sunset when we were in Illinois. Too many other things to distract us. But out there, we could watch both sunrises and sunsets from strategic places in the house or on the beach, and all of our troubles stayed back in Chicago. What I wouldn't give to be back out at the beach house. To be away from all of this turmoil.

I knew then I had to hear Malcolm out, regardless of what came of it. I owed him that. I loved him. I couldn't just walk away having not given him a chance to explain.

I was searching for my purse to check my phone for missed calls or messages when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, thank God. Did you forget your house key—" I stared dumbfounded at the police officer on the stoop as I opened the front door.

"Ms. Rockland?" The tall man tipped his hat at me when I managed a nod. "I'm Officer Marx."

The flashing red and blue lights over his shoulder drew my attention. Another officer stood by the open passenger door. I heard no sirens. Fuck. I gripped the door handle so hard my hands were burning.

"Ma'am?" Officer Marx scratched his forehead for a moment. "There was a car accident. Mr. McClaren had you as his emergency contact. We tried to call, but there was no answer. We've been trying to locate you in Wheaton. Then we found your Chicago address. If you could—"

"M-Malcolm? What—" I tried to lick my lips, but it didn't help my sudden cottonmouth. Even my eyes had gone dry.

"Ma'am, I think you should come with us," the other officer said, joining Officer Marx. He was shorter, heavier, and his nametag said 'Trenton.'

My head was buzzing now. I saw neighbors with unknown names and faces slowly filing out into the street or peaking out of their doors and windows to gawk. It was like watching a movie on mute as both officers led me down the front steps to the waiting patrol car.

It started raining as we drove through the city. All of the buildings were a swirl of flashing colors and lights against the night sky. But that was partially due to the tears filling my eyes again. They trickled down my cheeks as I blinked. I cursed myself that my last words to Malcolm had been in anger.

When the car stopped outside of the emergency room at the University of Chicago Medical Center, Officer Marx helped me from the backseat. I felt the cold sting of the rain as it blew against my face despite the overhang of the driveway. Inside, the lights were too bright. The noises of chatter and calls on the intercom suddenly broke through my haze, and I squeezed my eyes shut as if it would help.

The officers led me past the receptionist counter, through a door, and to a bay of elevators. I'd never been to the morgue. I steeled myself to not faint when I saw Malcolm. What would he look like? Would I be able to recognize him?

When the elevator doors parted, Officer Marx held my arm as we walked out. I balked at the smell of antiseptic and the underlying stench of sickness all hospitals had. I felt numb but slightly relieved as we stopped at the nurses' station. We weren't in the morgue. A woman in purple scrubs and her hair in long, black braid asked me if there was someone they could call to be with me. I mumbled something about my mother being on my phone as I handed it over.

I heard bits and pieces as both officers spoke with the nurse about the condition of the new patient. She said it was touch and go. He'd had to have his heart restarted once, and he was in immense pain. I couldn't wait any more.

I wandered over to the transparent wall beside the nurse's station and numbly walked through the door as it slid open. I stopped at the first room. A sign on the glass wall that was mostly another sliding door stated a bunch of warnings, but the only word that clicked in my brain was "ICU."

A man lay in the bed. The only parts of his face that were visible between the bandages wrapped around his head were red and puckered with burns. Tubes and wires ran from various beeping machines positioned around the bed, connecting to every imaginable part of his body.

Any ray of hope within me turned to darkness, like the night sky taking over the sun. My knees gave out, and a silent scream escaped. Why had I been so selfish to fight with him? It had been so stupid. I should have submitted to him. I wish I'd never—

"Ms. Rockland?" Officer Trenton said.

An arm wrapped around just under my shoulders, helping me stand. Then someone led me away from the room and back through the main sliding door. Away from the love of my life.

"No, I have to see him," I mumbled, struggling to turn around.

"Mr. McClaren is down the hall." Officer Marx stepped up on my left side so that both officers flanked me. "Please, come with us."

I blinked through my hot tears, my feet moving in the same direction as the officers against my will. Away from the ICU. My knees buckled as I thought the worst. If he wasn't in intensive care...

But hope seeped back in as I realized there were regular rooms on this floor as well. That the patient they had been discussing was not Malcolm. That he wasn't dead or dying.

A couple of machines filled the room we stopped at as well, but Malcolm was clearly recognizable under the sheet and blanket. My eyes danced over his face. Other than a black eye, a busted lip, and several white strips along the left side of his face, he looked amazing. Then I noticed that a cast encased his left leg. And it was elevated in a sling-type contraption.

A woman wearing a white lab coat stood by one the heart monitor. She turned to us as we entered.

"Ms. Rockland? I'm Dr. Runyon."

I just nodded at her. I tried to scoot past her. I had to touch him.

She stopped me with a hand on my arm. I glanced over my shoulder as she gently led me toward the door. Malcolm hadn't moved an inch. I silently begged him to open his eyes.

"Is he..." I couldn't say the words.

"He's stable." Dr. Runyon stepped in front of me so I could only see her. "His left fibula is broken, and he has a couple of fractured ribs. We've set the leg in surgery. The ribs will heal in about six weeks, and we'll start physical therapy for the leg around the same time when the cast comes off. He had hit his head, but his CT scan came back clear. I'd like to keep him under observation for a couple of days and take another chest X-ray just to make sure we didn't miss anything. I also want to monitor his breathing. If he can't breathe deeply, he could develop pneumonia."

I nodded, trying to process everything she'd said. Broken bones. No head trauma. Avoid pneumonia.

Officer Marx joined us with another man in a suit, and then the officer left with a tip of his hat.

The man in the suit pulled a notepad out of his shirt pocket. "Ms. Rockland, I'm Detective Jansen. Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?"

I blinked at him, glanced at Malcolm, and stared at the doctor for a moment. "Yes, but I don't know what good it will do. I wasn't there."

"Do you know a Jesse Pratt?"

I swallowed hard. "He's a friend of Malcolm's. What does he have to do with this?"

"Mr. McClaren was in altercation with Mr. Pratt prior to the car accident. Something about overstepping boundaries with a woman according to a witness." Detective Jansen pointed to his own lip and eye, indicating how Malcolm had received those injuries. "Apparently, Mr. McClaren was leaving the scene when another car ran a stop sign and T-boned him. Mr. Pratt called 9-1-1."

How very chivalrous of Jesse. I hid my scoff with a cough. But my heart sung at the thought that Malcolm had gone to defend me, regardless of our fight.

I had to answer several more questions before he let me back into Malcolm's room. I was running on only adrenaline by the time I pulled a chair over beside the bed and managed to weave my hands around Malcolm's through the IV tube and the device clipped to his finger to measure his pulse. Then I laid my head on his stomach and cried until the blanket between us was soaked.

If I knew they wouldn't chastise me, I would have crawled into the bed, too. I slept fitfully as it was with nurses coming in to check various levels on the machines or administer more pain medication. It amazed me how they expected patients to recover if they were poking and prodding them at all hours.

Marge, the night desk nurse, tried to convince me to go down to the waiting room where there was a couch, but I couldn't stand to leave Malcolm's side. I left only long enough to get a sandwich and soup from the cafeteria. When I'd returned, I heard Marge arguing with someone that only family could be on the floor after regular visiting hours.

I rounded the corner to see Juliet pacing with her arms crossed and wearing a scowl. Jesse was leaning on one arm across the counter, a smirk on his face as he tried to flirt with Marge. Just what I needed.

"Beeca!" Juliet hurried over to hug me. I was so shocked I just stood there. "How eez mon chéri?"

"Ms. Rockland!" Marge sighed at the sign of reinforcements. "I tried to tell them—"

"I'm sorry, but neither of you are welcome here," I said. My brain said I should shove Juliet away, but I was too exhausted to have a catfight right now. I'm surprised I could even form a complete sentence.

Juliet gasped, finally letting me go only to put her hands to her face as she shook her head. "Comment absolument impoli!"

Jesse's smug look slowly disappeared from his face...that seemed to be devoid of any evidence that he'd been in a scuffle. Which told me that Malcolm had been the punching bag for his old mentor. How very typical and dominating of Jesse. I was glad I had not witnessed that act of humilation. However, Jesse had not come out of the struggle completely unscathed. His knuckles were raw, and he seemed to be favoring his left hand as he gestured to the waiting room. "Lady Becca, let us talk about this."

"There is nothing to discuss, Jesse. Malcolm is in this situation solely because of you. He was defending my honor." To push the point even further, I turned back to Juliet and said, "As for you, the only 'darling' Malcolm has is me, his fiancée. We would both appreciate it if you could accept that and move on."

"He wazn't complaining when I took care of heem lazt night," Juliet sneered. "He waz beeging for more!"

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Although she'd provided the answer to one of the many nagging questions I had, I knew this was not the time to deal with that. "I don't give a shit what you say happened last night, bitch. Keep your hands off my man, or we'll be pressing charges."

Juliet clamped her mouth shut with a loud humph and tugged the sides of her coat tighter around her as she turned with her nose in the air. I heard a snicker from Marge.

Apparently, it wasn't as easy to silence Jesse. He reached out and grabbed my left arm. "Lady Becca, I insist that you reconsider both your words and your actions. Your current attitude is highly unbecoming for a submissive."




Raw Ch. 12



"Remove your fucking hand, asshole," I hissed, raising my right hand.

Surprisingly, he let go and even took a step back. Dammit, I had really wanted to slap him. But I wasn't done with him yet.

"Malcolm told me you took my dress off while I was sleeping last night. You're lucky I don't turn you in for attempted rape. If I ever find out you did anything more than just look at me—"

I heard a man clear his throat behind me.

"I was just looking for you, Ms. Rockland. I need you to sign off on your statement."

I started to ask what the man meant. What statement? But as the officer stepped around me, I sighed.

"Detective Jansen! It's so kind of you to stop by. This would be Mr. Pratt."

"We've met." The detective nodded, tipping his head slightly toward Jesse. "And I was the woman Malcolm and Mr. Pratt were fighting over."

"Yes, I have gathered that much." He waved his finger between Jesse and me. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," Marge and I said together.

"We are friends of Malcolm," Jesse said, his hand now gripping the edge of the counter. "We have done nothing wrong."

"I told him visiting hours are over." Marge crossed her arms. "They are not family."

I fisted my hands at my side, willing myself to stay calm as I faced Jesse. "I want you and Juliet to leave immediately. Do not try to contact Malcolm. Do not try to contact me."

Jesse stood straighter and lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me. He was apparently trying to intimidate me with his height and girth. It didn't work this time.

Detective Jansen put a hand on my arm, blocking me as I stepped forward. But he did not speak.

"If I ever see you again, I'll hit you with a harassment lawsuit so big you'll wish you'd never heard of my name. You've messed with the wrong fucking sub this time." I turned to the detective. "Will you please escort them out?"

"Yes, ma'am." The corner of Detective Jansen's mouth had been turned up, but his smile hardened as he released my arm. "You heard the lady. Let's go. Both of you."

I was shaking as I walked back down the hall. I had to stop twice and grip the railing along the wall. I closed the door behind me as I entered Malcolm's room, grateful that he didn't have one of the glass walls with the automatic sliding doors like in the ICU. That we could have some privacy. My legs gave out just as I reached the chair.

For the hundredth time in the past twelve hours, I regretted not telling Malcolm sooner about that night in December. I could have avoided all of this. We could have been enjoying our vacation—each other—without a care in the world. And Jesse and Juliet would have been a blip on the radar of our past.

I ran the back of my fingers over Malcolm's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. The slight stubble from having not shaved since yesterday. I brushed his hair off his forehead so I could kiss him there. A tear dropped from my eyelash as I blinked. It landed on his eyelid, which moved occasionally as he slept. I watched the tear trickle down to the corner of his eye as if he were the one crying. I hoped he was having a good dream.

I lay my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. My own skipped a beat as I thanked the Lord that he was going to be okay. "Please, baby, please forgive me."

###

Someone was shaking my shoulder and saying my name softly.

I stirred and blinked. It took a moment to remember that I was still in the hospital. Why I was in the hospital. I jerked upright, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. My first thought was that something had happened to Malcolm. But he was still sleeping peacefully. Or as well as he could considering the circumstances.

"Ms. Rockland?" Marge's face hovered over mine in the dim light from the wall fixture above the bed. She squatted down next to me, her mouth somewhere in between a smile and a frown. "There's someone here to see you."

As I turned in my chair, I let out a sharp cry. I pressed my hand to my chest, as if that would help still my racing heart. "I must be dreaming."

"You're not." Drake took a step into the room from where he had been waiting in the open doorway. The light from the hall showed his frown as he crossed his arms in front of him. He nodded at me and simply said, "Becca."

Tears choked my throat. I reigned in the urge to lurch myself out of my chair at him. I wanted so badly to hug him. Or maybe throttle him. Actually, I wanted to do both. But something about his posture told me that neither would be well received. I slowly stood up instead and remained beside the head of the bed.

"You're okay?" His voice was gruff, much like Malcolm sounded when I'd woken him from sleep. Drake looked me over quickly. "You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine. Only Malcolm was in the car." I waved Marge away. She held her hand up in a hang-ten symbol to her ear and mouth as she gestured toward Drake with her eyes. I nodded that I got the message to call for help if needed, and she left us alone. I sat back down, slipping my hand through the bars of the bedrail to grasp Malcolm's cool hand for strength. It would have helped if he'd squeezed back. I sighed, conceding that I had to do this on my own. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm kind of wondering that myself." Drake's gaze was on Malcolm as he walked to the foot of the bed and stopped. He was still for a moment before he seemed to lift his head.

He was too much in the shadows for me to read his expression now. I'm not sure I wanted to see it anyway. The only time I'd ever seen him truly angry was the last time I'd actually seen him: that night at the club. He'd been in my hospital room hours later after my severe panic attack, but I'd faked sleeping, refusing to speak to him, much less look at him. Then he was gone. I had just started to accept that it was for good.

I'd never been afraid of my brother. Until now. And I wasn't even sure what exactly he could or would do to me that was frightening me.

"I got a phone call that there was an emergency with my sister. They wouldn't tell me anything else. I was lucky to catch a flight at such short notice."

I glanced at my watch. It was four in the morning. "I-I just remember giving the nurse my phone when she asked if they should call anyone to be with me."

"The police called the I.C.E. number on your phone and got me. I guess you never changed it."

"What is an ice number?"

He let out a deep breath. As if my question irritated him. "It stands for In Case of Emergency. A phone number of someone that can be reached immediately...in an emergency. Preferably, someone in the same state."

In my head, I was rolling my eyes at him and saying a sarcastic, drawn-out "Sorry." To his face, I gave a slight shrug. He must have programmed it for me at some point. I think I would have remembered doing that myself. I had probably seen it in my contact list but not paid any attention to what it was. I pretty much just used the phone as a phone and ignored all of the other technology on it. I would have to figure out how to change the number.

In retrospect, I was grateful that he had been the one the police contacted, as inconvenient as the trip had apparently been for him. My mother would have been hysterical if she'd gotten the call. Especially after the events of last summer. I felt bad, though, that he'd had to fly here from California without knowing any details. Then again, he probably wouldn't have come if he had known the truth. Not that I needed him now, but I guessed I should be glad to know he'd come if I was on my deathbed. I'd have to remember that for when it actually happened...and hope he didn't think I was crying wolf.

Suddenly, I looked around. "Is Daphne with you?"

"She's in the waiting room. I wanted to check on you first. Please come with me to get her."

My chest was tight as I stood again and followed my brother. As much as I'd wanted to try to repair the fences between us these past months, I had rather hoped not to do it in person so I could relax and think straight. Now, I had nowhere to hide. And he wasn't exactly acting thrilled to see me.

Daphne stood as we entered the waiting room. She opened her mouth but suddenly glanced at Drake.

He held her gaze for a moment, until she closed her mouth, and then he nodded.

"Hi, Becca." She gave me a soft smile. Shy almost. "It's good to see you."

"Stop it. Come here." I held out my arms.

She hesitated again to glance at Drake—who nodded once more—before she ran into my embrace. Over her shoulder, I saw Drake stand up taller, his grimace disheartening. I couldn't tell if he was upset that I was hugging his wife, that she was so overjoyed to see me, or that I hadn't hugged him, too.

I brushed it off and smiled at her as she took a step back. "How are you? How's California treating you? Are you doing much modeling?"

"I'm great. I love the weather out there." Her shoulders hunched up as she grinned, clasping my fingers at our waists now. "And the jobs? The phone is ringing off the hook! I've built up my portfolio and have an audition for a commercial next week. Can you believe it? I can't wait! I want to tell you all—"

"Daphne."

It was just the one word, spoken with no inflection. Yet, she had apparently taken it as a command because her mouth snapped shut, and she released my hands. Without a word, she walked back to stand beside yet slightly behind Drake, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes lowered.

"We've all had a long night. Now is not the time to play catch up."

Daphne nodded at Drake's explanation, although he wasn't even looking at her. He was watching me.

I matched my brother's frown. What the hell? I'd missed getting to know Daphne as my new sister. She was family. She had apparently missed me, as well. But now that he'd reconnected us, he was treating her as if she needed to ask permission to do anything but breathe. Shouldn't it be up to me if I wanted to talk to her now?

"Is he going to be okay?" Drake said, interrupting my thoughts.

It took me a moment to understand whom he was talking about. "Malcolm? Yes, he'll be fine. The worst is his broken leg. Nothing that won't heal with time."

"Good." He glanced around the sparsely decorated room. "Can we go somewhere private? To talk?"

I looked around as well, confused. There were more than enough cushioned chairs for the three of us. And we were alone. "It's the middle of the night. Isn't this—"

"I would prefer some place where we can close a door."

Oh, brother. Literally. I turned around and rolled my eyes. My mom would have been a better support person, despite the hysterics. I should have insisted they call her. Or maybe I had but I'd been in so much shock I'd said 'brother' when I meant 'mother.' Oh well, it was too late now.

Marge said we could hijack a conference room at the end of the floor. Once Daphne and I sat down across from each other at the end of a small, rectangular table—and he'd shut the door—Drake took the floor. He paced around the other end of the room as he spoke, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were a professor giving a lecture.

I tried to listen intently as my eldest brother talked for the next twenty minutes about what it meant to him to be a Master. Why he chose to have a relationship where his partner was a slave. Why Daphne had chosen him.

It had started out as a bedroom-only thing but had evolved into the other aspects of their lives, even before they were married. The closer they had gotten to their wedding, the more they had discussed and agreed that Daphne would try to be as submissive as possible within the home. Then they expanded it beyond those walls. Letting him be in control of everything. Relying solely on him to support her, although she could continue modeling as long as it didn't interfere with their relationship.

After the past few months, they were very close to being what is called in the scene as twenty-four/seven. Constantly staying in their roles, regardless of the situation or location. Even when sex wasn't involved.

I fisted my hands under the table when he admitted that the move had been the best thing that had happened for them. It gave them the space and opportunity to focus on just the two of them and building their bond. No distractions.

So family was suddenly a distraction? No longer important to them? Or just him? Why had I wasted so much time worrying about trying to reconcile?

He presented evidence that she hadn't lost her identity when she became his slave. That like him, she was working. She hung out with her own friends. Had her alone times to relax or have fun.

Yes, but apparently only with his blessing.

According to him, the respect and loyalty she showed him made him a better person. And her in turn. They were more than just husband and wife. They were lovers and best friends. Ultimately, Master and slave. It had been difficult at first, and they still had their occasional struggles, but it was worth it.

I was patient, sometimes having to bite my cheek while I bided my time for my turn to speak.

Drake finally sat down. He kept his back to Daphne, as if she wasn't there. She hadn't said a word at all in her own defense. In fact, whenever he had referred to her, he hadn't even used her name save for that brief moment in the waiting room when he obviously wanted her to stop talking.

Was that what he meant by her being as submissive as possible now? Keeping her mouth shut unless spoken to? Having no opinions? Seeking approval to hug her fucking sister? Ceasing to exist unless he acknowledged her? What kind of life was that? It sure sounded like she'd lost her identity by marrying him and choosing to be his slave in all meanings of the word.

I had discussed the Master/slave dynamic a little with Malcolm out of curiosity earlier this year. It drew a specific type of person to fill both roles. It hadn't attracted me then. And after hearing Drake talk like he had—seeing how Daphne was now, compared to the bubbly woman I had grown to know and confide in over the past three years—I was certain it never would. Even if Drake was taking embracing the Master role to the extremes.

I shivered, thinking that three out of the five men I knew in the scene had gone the way of Christian Grey. Had let the role—the title—go to their heads. I assumed it didn't for Darryl, Malcolm's chain-selling friend from the convention. I prayed that it never happened to Malcolm.

Drake lay his arms on the table, his hands clasped together like he was ready to drive home his point on a business deal. "So, Becca, do you see why the collaring ceremony was so important for me? For us?"

I'd thought of this moment more often than not ever since he walked out of my life. Finally confronting my brother because of the cavern he'd forged between us. Telling him in no uncertain terms what I thought of his attitude and his decisions on that cold December night. How I hated the way he'd treated Malcolm as I lay in a hospital bed recovering from a panic attack brought on by Drake's very actions. How he'd ignored us both until an accident brought us back together.

I'd imagined myself hitting his chest with my fists. Screaming until I was red in the face and out of breath with tears streaming down my cheeks as I'd done when we had fought as kids. Trying to force him to hear my side. In my head, he had clutched me close to him, apologizing profusely and begging to know what he had to do to put things right. I flinched as I realized that almost the very same thing had happened several hours ago in my living room. Just with Malcolm.

I glanced around Drake's shoulder at Daphne. At the choker she wore around her neck. And the quarter-sized heart pendant marred only by a small hole in the middle. The lights above us reflected off the polished silver of the chain and heart. I'd noticed it in the waiting room.

I could hear Darryl in my head now as he described a sample that was made of links of the same thickness as Daphne's necklace was. How they were small enough to look feminine but were incredibly strong. Impossible to snap if one yanked on the chain.

I had studied the pendant a little closer as Drake had talked. How it didn't hang on a loop from the chain as it would on a normal necklace. It seemed fastened between the links instead. And the chain itself was only long enough to encircle Daphne's pale neck, causing the heart to sit snug against her throat.

Now, as Drake leaned forward, I noticed a thin, black rope around his neck. It sat inside his shirt collar against his skin. And dangling from the rope—behind where the buttons of his polo shirt would conceal it—was a silver key.

I'd assumed the collar and leash at the ceremony were for show. Mere sex toys for their bedroom pleasure. But as he'd emphasized several times in his speech tonight, they no longer confined aspects of BDSM to their private quarters. That obedience was practiced wherever they were and that there was discipline for defiance. The severity of the former was dependent on the specific infraction. While most punishments were carried out in private, it wasn't always the case if he determined a lesson could be better learned immediately, even in the company of others.

I realized now that when he'd collared her, it was symbolic. He'd done it for every aspect of her life. The physical object of said collar had just changed for public display. He'd marked her as his. Owned her. Probably thought of her as his property. She'd mentioned that the night of the infamous party.

Which made me consider that as much as Drake had professed his wife was loyal to him, the fact that he'd brought her along raised doubts. Did he not trust her to be on her own over two-thousand miles away? Was he hoping to use her to convince me that their relationship worked? Or just maybe, she'd gotten so entrenched in the slave role that she ceased to know how to exist without him telling her what to do and how to do it. Or vise versa.

I wavered between wishing she'd stayed home so I didn't have to witness what they had become, and being grateful that she was here so I could see my brother in his true element.

It could have been the disaster with Malcolm. The altercation with Jesse and Juliet combined with my brother's diatribe—which strangely sounded like an extension of one Jesse had given me. Or quite possibly, just too many things had been fucked up in my life over the past year. Whatever it was, I felt emotionally and physically drained. I wanted to raise my white flag. But I had one last battle left in me before I gave him the war.

My legs threatened to give out as I moved to stand behind my chair. It was mostly for support, but it also created a barrier between us. I closed my eyes to count to ten and then took a deep breath.

When I opened my eyes, both Drake and Daphne were staring at me.

The first wore a slight smirk, cracking the gloom that had been written all over his face since he'd surprised me. He looked confident that he'd pleaded his case effectively. He had sat back but suddenly leaned forward again with expectation...as if I was going to make a confession he'd been waiting a long time to hear. He was about to be sorely disappointed.

The other one was worrying her lower lip. Her eyes looked soulful. They suddenly dropped to the table as our gazes met, as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have. That tugged at my heartstrings. She'd willingly put herself in this situation. Yet she definitely did not look happy.

I tried to take another deep breath to calm my nerves, but it came out shaky, belying my confidence.

"Drake, I want you to know that you hurt me. You didn't talk to me about your ceremony beforehand. You didn't ask me if I wanted to be involved. You just insisted I be there because it was what you wanted. You went from being a dominant man to a dictator. And damn anyone who dare challenge you. Including your blood. Never in my life have I been more ashamed of you."




Raw Ch. 12



His hands gripped the arms of the chair, his mouth pressed into a straight line. For all the control he claimed to wield, he was having such difficulty not to interrupt me. I wondered if it was because he saw my speech as an act of defiance. That I was overstepping my role as a sub. But I didn't give a shit, and he didn't have to like it any more than I had to like his spiel. He'd have to get over it.

"Of all the things I've learned these past three years since entering the scene, something a bondage demonstrator at the convention this winter said made the biggest impact. Being a Dom isn't about being in control. It's about accepting the gift of control your sub has given you. Handling it with care. Protecting and respecting your sub. Looking out for her best interests. Doing so successfully earns the Dom respect and trust in turn."

I held up my hand as he opened his mouth. He nodded slightly. For a moment, a thought flickered through my brain that he was merely giving me permission to continue speaking. I stamped down the desire to snap at him for trying to command me. It wasn't worth it.

"Before you object that what I'm saying is irrelevant because you're a Master not a Dom, I'm using the term in the collective sense of the partner in the power seat, whether that's a Master, Dom, or Top."

He closed his mouth, but his scowl remained. I could see the anger in his eyes that I was telling him what he should be like as a dominant partner. That he was basically doing it wrong. No one likes to be told they're wrong, especially a dominant man. He needed to hear it, though. Because I could see where it would take him. As much as he'd disappointed me, I didn't want him to end up like the others.

"It also means respecting others in the scene...even if that includes your sister. That's where you went wrong. You failed to respect me. My thoughts. My feelings. You were thinking of no one but yourself. You didn't stop to consider how your actions might affect other people. Or if you did, you intentionally disregarded any reasoning."

He had not looked away from me the entire time I'd given my lecture. It had been vexing, and my fingers ached from gripping the cloth headrest of the chair. I could hear the squeaking of his chair as he rocked gently now, his steepled hands raised, his index fingers rubbing absently at his lips as he apparently pondered what I'd said.

When he remained quiet, I asked, "Do you have any idea why I was so against the ceremony?"

He stopped rocking and lowered his hands to his lap. But he still didn't speak.

"It wasn't a rhetorical question. You can answer. I really want to know."

"Of course I know why. Because you don't believe in it for yourself. Collaring celebrates the very action of giving oneself completely to another. Ultimate surrender. Loss of control. Becoming a slave to her Master. You want to hold onto something still. I don't know why. I think you're missing out on a great deal. If you just give up and let go, you would see."

His words unnerved me. For a moment, I thought Jesse was talking to me. But I blinked and saw my brother still sitting there. Allowing me to remain standing above him. It was backwards and out of place according our status levels in the kinky realm. It had to be killing him.

Words swirled in my head. Angry words. Hateful words. But a little voice broke through the chaos. It told me I couldn't change Drake any more than I could change Jesse. Or Brian.

Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. I knew what I had to say. What I had to do. I hated it. But there was no other way.

"You're wrong, Drake. So very wrong." I shook my head at my brother. My favorite. My confidant and protector all through my life. His ego and need to be in control at all times deluded him. He thought he had all of the answers. My whole body trembled suddenly, and my voice cracked as I continued. "I was against the ceremony because not six months earlier, I'd been collared and leashed against my will and treated like a dog for a week. Yes, he raped me. But he also degraded me. Treated me as if I were less than human. And when I didn't obey, he tortured me. All this by a man who was a dominant figure in our common world. He thought the ultimate power was to get someone to completely surrender to him, even if it required force."

All of the color drained from Drake's face. I had not revealed to him the entirety of what had happened during my captivity in Brian's secret room last summer. I'd previously just grazed over the important aspects. Only Malcolm, the police, and my two shrinks knew everything. I didn't need to give any specific details now. I could see by the downcast look in his eyes that he finally understood.

"I didn't think it was important to divulge that information. I was getting better. And then you threw that at me. I'd have preferred you'd done your ceremony in private and told me later. I would have come to terms with it eventually and understood on some level."

Drake shook his head, but I'm not sure why. He didn't explain his thoughts, what had caused that reaction. The anger seemed to have left his eyes, though. What remained was a blank expression.

"At the least, you should have given me the chance to explain my opposition. Being forced into the situation as it was, my mind wasn't in the right place to equate that a collar could be something consensual. Desired, even. You took away the option for me to decide, to have an opinion even. To make it worse, you not only didn't tell me, you deliberately plotted how to get me there. You lied to me. Because you knew deep down that I'd say no. The why doesn't matter anymore. The point is you knew you'd have to force me. There was no way, in your mind, that I wouldn't be there to support you. And that, Drake, makes you no better than Brian."

Daphne was whimpering, her arms wrapped around her chest. Her eyes were on Drake's back. Probably waiting for him to scold her for being emotional. I expected him to snap at her at any second, too. To my surprise, he remained stoic to her reaction.

The room was otherwise silent. My entire body ached. I put more of my weight on the chair, but it did little to relieve the strain on my back. I was out of energy. I was out of words. There was nothing left to say, anyway.

I wasn't sure if Daphne was feeling sympathetic toward my plight. Or was she afraid of what my brother might say or do? Now or later. Then there was my big brother who had yet to show any true concern for my welfare, especially with my fiancé in the hospital. He'd just been perturbed that he'd had to fly halfway across the country to find out I wasn't in trouble. And to set the record straight that his way was the best way to live.

I hadn't said anything about being engaged. I'd not sent any correspondence besides the ignored birthday card, and I'd left that tidbit out. But I was wearing the ring...that neither seemed to have noticed. Because I forgot, this trip was all about them.

I jumped upright at a knock on the door. It opened slightly, and Marge poked her head in.

"Ms. Rockland, he's asking for you," she said with a smile.

I stared at her for a moment as my heart leapt. Malcolm was awake! He was speaking!

"Becca, we can wait here," Drake said.

"No." I heard him get up and I turned back around.

His tilted his head toward me. "Do you want me to go with you?"

I shook my head. "I want you to leave. Take your wife back to California. Be good to her. Remember she submits because she loves you, that she respects you. She wants to please you. Don't ever forget that. Don't let the control go to your head."

"Becca, what do you want from me?" His voice was rough. Was he actually starting to break from the macho façade he'd been putting on ever since he'd shown up?

I walked over to my brother and kissed his unshaven cheek lightly. He recoiled as if I'd smacked him. As I stepped back, I put my hand where my lips had been. "An apology would have been nice."

His jaw twitched, and something flashed in his eyes as I stepped away. But he remained silent. Even after all I'd poured out, after serving him the first plank to rebuild this bridge, he still couldn't say it?

I walked around the table and gave Daphne a tight hug. I whispered in her ear, "Promise me you'll get help if you ever feel threatened. I'm always just a call away. Don't forget me."

She nodded against my shoulder, the sound of her sobs preventing whatever she mumbled from making sense to me.

I gave them both a sad smile. "Goodbye, Drake. Goodbye, Daphne. I love you both. I wish you the best."

As I walked through the conference room door, I felt a wave of peace flow over me. My heartbeat sped up the further I walked down the hall. I had to mend a bridge that was way more important.

###

"Becca! Becca!"

I heard Malcolm's hoarse voice before I'd barely pushed the door open. I could feel his eyes on me as I entered. My heart leapt with joy.

He was propped up in bed, and the light had been turned to a brighter setting. His left hand—free of tubes and wires—reached out for me. His fingers rapidly clenched and released, as if that would bring me to him faster.

I rushed to his right side where I'd previously been sleeping, letting out a soft cry as I gripped his waiting hand in mine. Our eyes met, and I couldn't stop the tears that choked the breath out of me. I pulled his hand up to hold it against my wet cheek and closed my eyes, pressing more tears out.

"Shh, sweetie, it's okay." He struggled but eventually succeeded in pulling his hand from my grasp. His fingers wiped at my tears and gently swept my hair from my forehead. It was futile since I was leaning over him and my hair kept falling over my eyes. But he didn't seem to mind.

"It's not okay! I did this!" I hiccupped, moving my hand to mirror his actions but on his face.

"No, don't say that." His gaze darted all over, his fingers lightly touching my mouth and jawline. They skated a path down my neck and then back up again to my ears. Moved along my temple, letting the strands of my unkempt hair tangle with his fingers. I closed my eyes as his thumb brushed over my eyebrows and then my eyelids. Traced the bridge of my nose. It was as if he was trying to remember me.

"If we hadn't fought...if I'd told you sooner..." I said between sobs.

"I forgive you." It was the softest whisper, yet it rang loudly in my head. He waited until I was looking into his eyes again before he said, "I love you."

"I don't care what happened with Juliet. Whatever it was, I forgive you, too. I love you so much! Too much to fight about something so trivial. I was such a fool." I choked back another cry just before he slid his hand up my jaw and behind my head, pulling me to him.

Our lips met with a mutual gasp. He pressed harder, to which I moaned my consent. I felt his tongue playing over my lips, testing for resistance. I opened to him, and he groaned as he entered, sweeping over my teeth and tongue.

His hand fisted and unfisted in my hair, holding my head to his. I leaned forward more, feeling the lowered bedrail digging into my belly. I didn't care.

Suddenly, he cried out and pushed me away, halting our hospital makeout session.

I stood up and glanced around. Had Marge entered the room? Then I looked to the ceiling, wondering if they had security cameras in the rooms up here.

"My chest," Malcolm said with a groan.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!" I lightly ran my hands over his hospital gown, as if that would help.

His grimace slowly faded and he smiled up at me. "It was worth it for that kiss!"

I swatted him lightly on his good leg. "Cad."

He arched an eyebrow. "Absolutely. Any day for you."

I pulled my chair up and sat down with a sigh. He slid his right hand toward me, curling his fingers into my waiting palm. I lowered my gaze to the IV tube snaking out the back of his hand and along the sheet. "Seriously, though, I am so sorry this happened."

"Becca—"

"No, please, let me finish."

He flashed me a tired smile. "I was just going to ask if you can reach the button for the morphine pump. It fell down the side of the bed."

I wanted to laugh. Then I saw that his grin seemed strained. He was hiding the pain, but just barely. "Is it your ribs? Did I—"

"A little. But mostly, it's my leg. Please, find the button."

I hurried around to the other side of the bed. A cord hung looped around a rung of the raised bedrail. A device that looked like the insert for a car cigarette lighter but with a flat top swung from the end. I pressed the button and then pulled it back up to where he could reach it, securing the attached clip to the sheet beside the call button for the nurse.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes, his mouth a grimace now. "Give me a couple of minutes."

I glanced between him and my watch, noting the time and counting down. After five minutes, his jaw finally relaxed. I used the time to think about our time together. Where we'd started. How we'd come so far.

I started to rub my thumb across the back of his fingers but stopped when I realized that might relax him too much. "Don't fall asleep on me again. Not until we've talked. Please."

He winced before he opened his eyes. I took his nod as a cue he was okay if I proceeded.

"I'm not going to rehash our fight. It's over and done with. We've both been through enough. I just want to apologize for not telling you sooner about Jesse. I'm sorry I didn't come to you that night."

"And I should have pressed harder about why you were so upset when you got to the club. I thought it was over-stimulation from the show." His words started out slow and low, and he paused in the middle to take a deep breath. By the last word, his voice sounded normal again. "But then we had that other issue...there just wasn't time."

I put both of my hands around his right hand, minding the IV line. "Speaking of other issues, they were here tonight. But they're gone now."

Malcolm turned his head toward me. "Jesse and Juliet?"

I cringed. "Uh, well, yes, them, too. I was speaking about my brother."

"I want to hear all about that. The other ones, too." He closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips. "But first, can you give me—"

"Another kiss?" I grinned.

He laughed. Then he groaned as he pressed his left hand to his chest. "I was going to say a drink of water, but a kiss would be nice as well."

I noticed the pink pitcher on the table beside the bed and went to pour it into the matching plastic glass beside it, but nothing came out. I lifted the lid and realized it was full of ice chips. Marge must have brought them just before I came back in the room because they were still frozen.

I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. Then I loaded the cup up with chips and held the spoon to his lips, feeding him while I relayed the events of both surprise visits. He nodded a lot. And scowled. He laughed at how I threw Jesse and Juliet out, which earned him a reprimand from me as he groaned in pain. He even got a little choked up when I explained how my brother controlled Daphne so much.

When I was finished, and the cup of ice chips was empty, he reached across to me with his left hand and gestured I come closer. Without a word, he gently pulled my head his chest and placed a kiss on my head. I guess it was his attempt at a hug.

We were both silent for a while, and I thought he'd drifted off based on the slowing of his heartbeat beneath my ear. I had closed my eyes as well. He startled me when he spoke.

"I know you said you didn't care, but I insist you—"

"Malcolm..." I said as I started to sit up. He let me lift my head so that our eyes met, but he kept his free hand buried in my locks, restricting me from rising up fully.

"Please, hear me out. And we'll never speak of it again."

I bit my lower lip and nodded.

"The other night. Last night. This morning. Whenever it was I took you to Jesse's house. You were sleeping. The three of us were up talking. They brought out some wine. And one bottle turned into two and then three. There might have been more after that. I don't remember. We'd gone down to the dungeon after the first bottle of wine. I hadn't seen it since he'd remodeled four years ago. We were in the aftercare room, laughing about something stupid. I don't even remember what it was." He stopped to lick his lips.

I pointed to the pitcher but he shook his head. He closed his eyes before continuing.

"I passed out at least once, probably a couple of more times. My brain is sketchy. I have visions of Juliet's face floating before mine. Her voice calling my name, mumbling questions. Laughing. She was kneeling in front of me at one point. I think I was still sitting on the couch. I could feel her touching me all over with her hands. I don't think I was wearing any pants. She smiled up at me before I felt her take me in her mouth. I couldn't push her away. She'd bound my hands. I couldn't move at all."

I shivered and squeezed his hand. "Where was Jesse?"

Malcolm's eyes opened, his frown deepening. "I have no idea, but I can take a wild guess."

I nodded, feeling a little nauseous.

"She said I told her to tie me up. To blow me. I'm ashamed to say I came. The next thing I remember, I woke up on the couch in the aftercare room with all of my clothes on. Alone. Not to mention, my head was killing me. When I approached her while she made breakfast, she said I must have been dreaming. I'd had a lot to drink. The last she saw me, I had passed out on the couch. She tried to wake me so I would go upstairs to be with you. But they couldn't rouse me, so they went to bed. She said she would never do anything without Jesse's permission now. And I couldn't believe my friend would have allowed that. So I convinced myself they were right, it had all been a drunken dream. Then they suggested we work on the suspension rig. Which is when you came in."

"Do you think they drugged you?"

"I don't want to believe it. But it's the only explanation. There is no way I'd actually have agreed to let her do that. The more I've thought about it, I knew I hadn't imagined it. They'd drunk just as much wine as I did." He turned his head to the far wall, his sigh shaky. "God, I can't believe I fell for her lie."

I squeezed his left hand, and eventually he turned back to me. "I said it already, and I'll keep saying it until you believe me. I forgive you. It's more important that you're alive."

"Thank you, Becca," he said, his voice catching. "That means so much to me. I felt so ashamed. I thought you'd found out somehow, that's why you were so mad when we left their house. But then I couldn't figure out how you knew. Which made it even more confusing. It killed me to think I could have betrayed you like that. We were both hurting—"

"Shh." I pressed my fingers to his lips. I felt the tears welling up again. My head was getting heavy holding it up as I was, so I laid it down on his shoulder. His head rolled to rest against mine, his left hand caressing my cheek and smoothing back my hair. I shuddered. "I wish this day was over."

"You and me both, sweetie." Malcolm sighed, kissing my hair. "You and me both."

###

We decided to stay in the city while he recovered. I made a trip back to the house in Wheaton to clean out the fridge and get enough clothes to last us for the next two months as well as my notes and laptop. I'd left the latter behind since we were supposed to be relaxing and had only come to the city for the weekend. This had turned into the worst planned vacation I'd ever experienced. But we quickly settled in for what I realized was a foreshadowing for our marriage. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, right?

He suggested staying in the guestroom, afraid that I'd be too much of a temptation in bed beside him and cause a setback to his healing progress. As much as it pained me, I agreed that he was right, so I made him as comfortable as possible. For once, he'd voiced his appreciation for my pillow fetish...and the fact that I had left it behind at the condo when I'd moved in with him. He looked like a child in a pillow fort.




Raw Ch. 12



After three days in bed, he was bored to death and insisted on going downstairs to the living room with the aid of his crutches. His new plan was to veg in front of the TV or nap throughout the day and then go upstairs to sleep at night. He said he could handle it and waved away my offer of extra support on his initial decent. But when I witnessed him pausing every two steps to press his hand to his side—along with the beads of sweat on his brow once he'd made it to the living room—I put my foot down.

I frowned and pointed to the armchair. I left him to wonder what I was doing as I stripped his temporary bed upstairs and gather half of the pillows I'd used to create a cushion around him while he slept. When I returned, he was sitting with his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, his forehead resting in his palm. He had closed his eyes, but they popped open as I dragged the couch to position it with one arm butted up against the wall for better TV viewing. He watched silently as I made up a bed and moved the ottoman and an end table within reach.

"You will be staying down here for the duration," I said, my hands on my hips as I surveyed the new living arrangements. "The last thing I want or need is for you to fall down the stairs. Plus, you're closer to the kitchen if you need to get something to eat or drink and I'm not available. You'll have to use the half-bath, but I think you can manage."

He cringed as he stood up and hobbled over to the couch. I helped him get his left leg up onto the seat cushions, tucking a blanket around where his toes poked free of the cast. Then I stuffed pillows behind his head and the rest of his body. He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

I watched as the creases on his forehead slowly disappeared. I left him long enough to retrieve his pain pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these before you fall asleep."

He nodded his gratefulness and set the glass on the end table.

I turned to find the remote for him and felt his right hand on my wrist. I stopped with a gasp. It no longer bothered me or brought back old memories when he did that. I was just surprised. Especially as the gesture turned more intimate when his grip loosened and slid down to clasp my hand, his thumb stroking my skin.

"Thank you, Becca." His voice seemed tight.

I let him pull me down to sit beside him, although my butt was half off the couch. For the longest time, we just stared into each other's eyes. His were glossy. Or maybe that was because mine were. I blinked, and a tear escaped.

"Don't cry." He wiped his left index finger across my cheek.

I shivered from the light touch, and another tear made its trek down to where he now cupped my face. He brushed that one away as well. "I'm sorry—"

"Shh." He lifted our joined hands up and pressed his lips to my knuckles. Then he moved both of my hands so they rested on his shoulders.

I watched him as I slid my hands back further, his disheveled locks tickling my fingers. His eyes were searching mine. Looking deep inside of me. I had just inhaled a shaky breath when his hands mirrored mine and pulled me closer, kissing me. I gasped again, caught off guard.

It started out light at first. Gentle touches. Lips brushing lips. Fingers stroking through each other's hair. With every second we kissed, tension drained from my muscles. The soft gasp that passed from my mouth as his hand fisted and tugged my head back must have spurred him on. I don't think he had realized how relaxed I was at that moment...that I was only upright due to his arms around my neck.

He let out a low growl, and his mouth pressed harder against mine. His tongue entered in sweeping motions, teasing and caressing at the same time. He moved one of his hands down to support my back. It also pressed my breasts against his upper chest and right shoulder in my cockeyed position.

I let out a moan. It had been three days since that kiss in the hospital room. The doctor had been concerned about a rash that had developed on Malcolm's cheek and hand. Some tests thankfully showed it was just an allergic reaction to the Steri-Strips used to close the surface wounds from his fight with Jesse, but it had delayed his discharge by a day.

Now, a low thrumming started between my legs at the feel of him. The taste. I whimpered as his hand released my hair and stroked down to cup my breast. His fingers pinched my nipple through my shirt and bra. I broke the kiss, leaning my head back to moan. His lips took the cue to caress my neck, his tongue flicking out to trace my carotid artery.

I cried out as he suddenly stopped and held me away, his hands gripping my biceps. I tried to pull him back to me. My heart was racing. My need growing.

"Becca, don't," he said, panting.

I shook my head as the darkness faded from his eyes. "No...no! You started—"

"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. It's too soon." He cringed as he tried to scoot over to give me more room to sit. He reached up to caress my cheek. His fingers played there for a moment, and I felt him pull several strands of my hair away from my damp face and tuck it behind my ear. "But I have to say, that was wonderful."

I stood up and glanced around. I realized he couldn't finish what he'd started. But I could. I scurried to the other end table and retrieved the remote, tossing it in his lap. I heard his hiss of pain but paid it no mind. It was his own fault he'd kissed me. Touched me. All while knowing he couldn't have sex with me, yet. "I'll...um...I'll be right back."

I was almost to the hallway when he said, "Becca, stop! Please!"

I paused. Then I clenched my eyes and tried not to cry. No. He couldn't do this to me. He'd already put me in a difficult situation.

There was loud growl and "Shit!" behind me.

I took another step.

His voice changed from pleading to commanding. "Lady Becca, come here!"

My legs shook as I slowly faced him, my lower lip trembling. He must have tried to turn—and found it quite painful—as both of his arms gripped the top of the couch as he watched me, his teeth clenched and hands fisted. I choked back a gasp as I connected with his dark eyes.

"Don't make me say it again."

I obeyed, but it was very reluctantly. It seemed like it took ten minutes to walk the ten steps back toward him. I stopped when I'd reached the back of the couch.

"Where were you going?"

"I...um..."

"Becca..."

I pointed upstairs.

"And what were you going to do up there?"

My face flushed. When I was able to speak, my voice was high-pitched. "To find release."

His eyes narrowed.

I gulped. "To find release, Sir."

"Turn on the ceiling fan then stand in front of the chair."

I obeyed, but once again, my feet felt like I was wearing shoes and walking underwater. I shivered after completing the first task. It was the beginning of April. The room was very comfortable and didn't need the added electrically powered breeze.

Once I'd reached the chair, I turned to face him. A part of me had expected a spanking. He couldn't do that from over here. I sighed with disappointment.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" I don't know why it slipped out. Why I questioned him.

"You heard me."

Now my hands trembled along with my legs as I pulled my shirt over my head. When I reached to do my pants next, I heard his "Uh uh." I couldn't look at him for some reason, so I studied the designs in the rug beneath my socks. I moved my hands up to my bra and he said, "Yes." I bit my lip to control a whimper as I released the clasps and my breasts met the cool air of the room. I saw the method to his madness as my nipples puckered painfully, making me catch my breath.

He groaned.

I held my hand at my waist again. When there was no sound of disapproval, I unzipped my jeans and lowered them. My panties were the last to go. Unfortunately, they stuck a little due to my arousal, and I had to spread my legs to release the fabric. I heard another groan from the couch as I dropped my underwear to my ankles and stepped clear of them.

"Turn around."

I let my breath out slowly as I faced the closed patio door. At least I didn't have to worry about looking at him. I had no idea why that was an issue now. Maybe it was shame that I couldn't control myself, as he was able to. I could have put on a façade and taken care of the situation later with him none the wiser. What an impatient dolt I had been.

"Spread your legs wider." When I had done so, he said, "Put your forearms on the seat of the chair."

I obeyed. My ass went up, and I felt the cool air against my pussy now. Goosebumps prickled like little bubbles popping all over my legs and arms.

There was silence for an ungodly length of time. The longer I stood there, the more I grew tired. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other a couple of times. Then I checked myself as I realized that the movement was making my ass shake. My face was on fire now. What the heck was wrong with me?

"Are you wet, Lady Becca?"

His voice startled me, and my knees buckled. I composed myself and straightened my legs. I realized he was waiting for an answer. But before I could speak, he did.

"Take your finger and run it through your pussy."

As I did so, my knees threatened to give out again. Shivers ran up my back as I finally had some pressure against my sensitivity, as brief as it was. I let out a silent cry and rubbed a second time.

"Stop. Wipe it on your ass."

I reached behind me and stroked my right middle finger across my right ass cheek. I knew the shiny slickness I left behind as I had looked at my finger when I'd removed it from between my legs. My tangy scent was evident from where I stood. I wondered if the fan's circulation drew the smell to him as well.

There was a groan of approval from behind me. Then, "Turn around and sit down. Spread your legs so they're hanging over the arms of the chair."

Now my whole body was shaking. I wasn't able to stand up fully. I did a sort of roll over where one moment, my arms were on the seat and the next my ass was, but I'd stayed bent over. I took deep breaths as I positioned the underside of my knees over the padded material that wrapped around most of the old-fashioned arms. Then I closed my eyes and waited.

"Look at me, Lady Becca."

I pried my eyes open with a whimper.

"Good girl." He held my gaze for a moment before his eyes slowly dropped down my body.

I didn't know how much he could see from about eight feet away. But it didn't stop my breasts from heaving with my breathing now. My fingers twitched, indecisive. I wanted to cover myself below.

And that's when it hit me. In the three years we'd been together, we'd done all kinds of sexual, erotic things. I'd masturbated quite frequently prior to meeting him. And admittedly, quite a bit more after, but not so much since we'd moved in together.

Never I had I done it in front of him. It hadn't occurred to me to do so since he was always there to do it to me. And there had only been the one time—during the blizzard—that he'd stroked his own cock to get off and I was present (granted he'd tied me up, so I couldn't have gone anywhere if I'd wanted to).

He'd never requested it of me. Until now. Because that's the only direction this was going. And it scared the shit out of me for some reason.

I was okay with having him tie me up to feed me his cock; fuck me senseless; or chain me to a cross on the wall so he could whip me while I had a buttplug or vibrator inside me. But suddenly I was Sister Christian when it came to sticking my fingers between my legs while he watched? Maybe I was crazy.

I shivered and licked my lips. I could do this. I loved him. I was marrying him. It was far past time for him to watch me as I brought myself pleasure. My fate accepted, I let out my breath slowly and relaxed, waiting for his direction.

"You look so beautiful, Lady Becca," Malcolm said, licking his lips as well.

My breasts rose up as I inhaled, watching how his hand moved slightly from where it lay in his lap. I knew the accident hadn't affected his cock, and that the makeout session had definitely turned him on. But the doctor had said no rigorous activity until his ribs healed. They were fractured, not completely broken, but we wanted to avoid the latter. Knowing our sex habits, that could very well be the result.

It was another agonizing few minutes before he spoke again. The whole time I sat there with my legs parted, my hands draped over my knees like some lewd sex goddess statue. And the thought that kept circulating in my head was how much more erotic this would be if we had some rope.

"You know," he said, clearing his throat, "I really wish you'd brought the rope back with you. I'd love to tie your legs to those wooden arms. Bind your breasts. Secure you to the chair back so you can only move your hands."

My pussy clenched in desire. God, how I loved how he could read my mind. I licked my lips again.

"Another time, definitely." He smiled as I nodded. "But for now..."

I held in my breath, my entire body on high alert. If he made me sit here and wait...

"These are the rules. You must stay in the chair. You can only use your hands. And you must keep your eyes on me until you come. Otherwise, I don't care how or when you come. Do you understand?"

I nodded vigorously. Instinctively, I flexed my fingers. My pussy throbbed now, begging to be touched.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "There are no restrictions on using your voice, Lady Becca."

"Uh...Yes, Sir!"

"You may begin when you're ready." He seemed to settle back into his corner of the couch, his arms spread out along the back and arm of the couch. "Oh, and if you break any of the rules, there will be consequences. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir." My hands immediately went to my breasts, and I cooed, relaxing into the form of the chair. The globes were heavy. Warm. Supple. My thumbs grazed over my nipples, and my eyes immediately began to close in relief.

"Lady Becca!"

I sat upright with a start, staring at him with my breasts cupped in my hands, my nipples pinched between each thumb and forefinger.

"That was your only warning."

Did he have any idea how hard it was to keep your eyes open when you're feeling such pleasure? You want to sink into it. Embrace it.

I whimpered as I returned to fondling my breasts for him. Squeezing. Rubbing. A vision of his cock sliding between them had my tongue darting out, licking at the imaginary head. I kept my eyes on him, my chin tucked to my chest.

His eyes widened as I leaned forward a little more and raised my right breast.

For a fraction of a second, I wondered if this was breaking the rule of only using my hands, but he didn't give any indication of a violation. The tip of my tongue flicked at my nipple. I bent even more and was able to suck it into my mouth. Nipping with my teeth. Pulling my lips back so he could see.

His inhale sounded like a hiss as it carried across the room.

Although it made my neck ache, I repeated the process on my left breast. I was mindful to keep my eyes trained in his direction. He seemed to shift a little, which made me smile.

I know he wanted me to put on a show for him. But his kisses had driven me well on the way to madness. I'd been denied, and the desire had waned. Now, given the chance for redemption, it twisted inside again. I didn't know how long I could hold out. It might be a short performance.

With my left hand still caressing my left breast, I slid my right hand down my stomach and stopped with my palm resting just above my mound. Using my index and ring finger, I parted my outer lips. They were swollen, wet, and hot to the touch.

Although I had to keep my eyes on him, his gaze remained on my body, darting up only occasionally to make sure I was obeying him. I paused, waiting until his gaze returned to mine before I proceeded. I ran the tip of my tongue along my upper lip, and immediately, his eyes dropped again. I pressed my middle finger through the folds.

I'd barely touched the pad of my finger to the tip of my clit, but I cried out, my back arching away from the chair. I stared at the ceiling for a moment as I grazed my finger across my clit from side to side. I quickly glanced at him, but he was enthralled with what was happening below my waist.

Struggling to keep my eyes open and on him, I slid my finger down, pressing into the heat. Spreading my arousal around. Voyaging even further, I circled the sensitive ring of my vagina three times before I slid my finger inside with a loud moan. That brought his eyes up to mine.

I had to free both hands for a moment to adjust my position on the chair, scooting my ass toward the edge. It spread my legs wider. Abandoning my breasts, I used my left hand to hold my lower lips open while my right hand delved into my pussy. My arms created a V, pressing my breasts together while my hands worked between my legs.

Usually when I fingered myself, I had my eyes closed while I imagined being in some position or scenario with him. While it usually took me awhile to reach orgasm on my own, I found that the more erotic my imagination, the faster I achieved results. Now was definitely not the case.

It was getting harder to focus on him while alternating between rubbing my clit and thrusting two and then three fingers inside me. I whimpered my frustration as the precipice continued to elude me and my right hand started to cramp.

Time to switch tactics.

I returned to massaging my breasts with my left hand and rubbing my clit with my right. I imagined my fingers were his and he was holding the head of his cock just beyond the reach of my pussy. That he was whispering for me to come, and as soon as I did, he'd give me what I really wanted. He'd thrust his thick, hard cock in my hot, tight pussy. I even ran a finger over my entrance a few times, as if he were teasing me with the tip.

My unhurried pants turned to desperate mewls. I could feel my heart pounding wildly against my chest. Sweat gathered under my right arm that rested across my belly and dripped off my forehead. The smell of my arousal was more potent, the squishing sound louder as it coated my fingers as they moved back and forth like a self-lubricating piston.

And then suddenly, I threw my head back and cried out, my eyes clenching. My pussy pulsed around the imaginary cock my thoughts said he'd forced into me upon my scream. Little ripples spread throughout my belly.

The hand on my breast squeezed tighter, and the one between my legs tried to continue rubbing while my mind drifted away. I fought against the voice in my head that said to relax and feel. I had enough sense left to know that the feelings would flee if my hands stopped moving.

But nature won, and I gave into the feelings. I held still as long as possible afterwards, trying to keep the feeling of ecstasy flowing through me. I wanted more. I really wanted Malcolm moving within me, drawing out the orgasm as he was wont to do. Which made me whimper again.

It was a few minutes before I settled down. Before I could breathe normally. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the ceiling. An aftershock ripped through me as I sat up straight. I arched again, holding my breath and the arms of the chair until it passed.

"You are the most amazing woman..." Malcolm's voice shook me from my headspace. "You're glowing."

I blinked, remembering he was there. I started to lower my legs, as if that would cover my sudden embarrassment. But I froze as my brain started working again and said I shouldn't do so until instructed. So I trained my eyes toward my dominant partner and waited.

He was watching me, his lips moving but no sound coming out. His arms were spread on the back and side of the couch again, but his hands were fisted.




Raw Chemistry



This story is based on things a female friend has told me about a real life situation she has, perhaps surprisingly, come to enjoy. It may sound like typical male wishful thinking, but her enjoyment of giving oral and oral-anal sex in a purely sexual relationship is exactly as she described it.

*

The ring of the phone brought her out of her mid-morning fantasy, and when she answered it, the voice on the other end made her heart skip.

"So...you want to meet for lunch?"

She had to clear her throat and work at sounding composed.

"Yeah, sure. I guess so." 

She felt a lot more eager than she sounded, but since he never betrayed a hint of deeper feeling for her, she did her best to make him think he'd have to do better to keep her. 

The whole relationship was crazy. 

They'd met one night in a bar. She'd gone there alone hoping to meet a guy and she noticed him watching her for the better part of an hour while she shot pool. When she went to get another last gin and tonic, he offered to buy it and they struck up a conversation. He was 35 -- almost 10 years younger -- and in a cold marriage that had been completely sexless for years. That much he made clear up front. She was divorced and looking for a steady commitment. Even though his being married set off alarm bells, she liked his blue eyes, well-muscled arms and sarcastic sense of humor. He turned her on.

They drank a lot more and ended up in bed at her place at 4 a.m. -- nothing unusual for her -- but the unusual part was how comfortable and hot the sex turned out to be. Quite often she'd found herself wishing she weren't lying there naked while some strange guy she was liking less by the minute frantically thrust his erection into her. This was different. He clearly appreciated having her in bed and he aroused her so much that she found herself trying her best to satisfy him. That she did by sucking his cock until he came in her mouth. 

They began seeing each other, usually on Friday nights because those were best for him to get away from his family. They always met at her place or a local bar for drinks and talk and sex. She liked the way he carried himself -- so cocky and self-assured -- but she began to feel some frustration at the way he refused to really open up or tell her how he felt about her. Despite this, she was amazed to find that she loved his body unlike any other she had ever known. There was something about it that turned her on intensely. It looked really sexy -- the product of his regular visits to the gym -- and it had this strange power over her, especially his cock. 

It was without a doubt the most erotically beautiful penis she had ever seen -- seven circumcised inches with a big, well-defined pink-purple head of the kind that is usually described as a helmet. The thick shaft, which nearly filled her palm, wasn't bent slightly or lined with thick, bulging veins like every other penis she had experienced. His was smooth like ivory and just as hard when he was fully aroused. His pubic hair was soft and closely cropped and his large balls made his package a vision of male power. 

Giving oral sex was her biggest carnal thrill, but she found sucking and pleasuring his penis to be almost addictive. It always smelled and tasted intoxicatingly good -- pure man musk -- and the salty-sweet cream payoff was delicious. She also enjoyed the power she held over him when his penis was in her mouth, especially the look on his face as she brought him to the height of ecstasy and then made him lose control. He said he loved receiving oral sex more than anything, so he obviously enjoyed her sweet attentions and having a woman worship his penis.

Before long, she was giving him blowjobs whenever they were together -- sometimes two or three in a night -- and they both savored every second.

"It must be chemical," her best friend said one night as they tried to figure out exactly why she was enjoying sex with this man so much. "They say we just have natural matches on a purely physical level and, hon, he's yours..."

"I guess so," she said. "He really turns me on."

"Guys can be like that, too," her friend explained. "I had one who was crazy about my body. He used to say my taste got him off more than any woman he'd ever been with. He even said my asshole tasted good...."

The relationship remained mostly raw sex for months. Even though she knew he'd never leave his family, she found herself wanting more emotion and commitment, yet he refused to betray any real feeling other than appreciation for all the pleasure she was showering upon him. They had fun together, drinking and talking and laughing and fucking. The sex was especially good because he knew how to use his cock and mouth to satisfy her, but the challenge of opening him up consumed her. Even when she felt her frustration and dissatisfaction growing, the intense erotic satisfaction she got from his body and his pleasure kept her involved. And somewhere in the back of her mind lurked the thought that the way to his heart was through his penis.

His body enthralled her, rewarded her and made her feel wonderfully slutty. Sometimes as she sucked him, she came when he did, without his even touching her. The feel and taste of his warm, sticky cum usually sent her over the edge. She also liked how he always talked about her awesome blowjobs and how much he loved watching her suck and lick his big, hot throbbing meat while she gazed up at him, She fulfilled his wishes to take photos and video of her sucking him off and even though she was self-conscious at first, she eventually started doing it nude while playing to his camera with a porn starlet's moves that she later was surprised to find she enjoyed seeing. She had to admit she looked very sexy with her mouth on his cock. Her own pleasure was obvious. 

"You do like going down on him, don't you?" her best friend said when she was shown a couple of the photos, one of which was the head of his erection against her lips, his cream dripping off her chin onto her bare breasts. The expression on her face was blissful ecstasy. "He does have a nice dick..."

"It's so weird. You'd think I'd be tired of giving him blowjobs by now, but I'm not. That thing is delicious..."

Just the thought of him coming in her mouth was enough to make her horny and eager for another night's drinking and sucking. The first blowjob always produced the most semen. and that was the one she enjoyed most although his orgasms were always clearly more powerful the second and third times around even though it meant working on his penis for the better part of an hour, a chore she did not mind even when it made her jaw ache.

He certainly had no reason to quit this dream arrangement: a generous lover who gave him all the no-strings sex he could ever want and never hassled him about it. But she eventually had a reason to quit. As her desire for a deeper relationship grew, she began posting on dating websites and eventually met a guy she liked. He adored her and lavished her with gifts and praise and affection. He wasn't quite as good- looking or dynamic, but he was so caring and so much like the kind of man she always thought she'd want. Their sex was loving but strangely vanilla, and as a long-term future seemed possible, she committed to him while hoping that her vague feeling of boredom would not get the better of her. In the meantime, she kept seeing her "side candy" a couple of times a week even as her serious relationship grew into an assumption of exclusivity

She felt guilty at times about having this dirty but enervating little secret on the side, but those feelings were always swept away by the pure lust that is spawned and regenerated by great erotic sex. Maybe it was just the lure of forbidden fruit -- the irresistible attraction of a man she could not have for her own -- but she found she was hooked on the thrill of sex for the sake of sex. Their nights of drinking and fucking and sucking were great fun and she enjoyed the abandon as well as her own intense orgasms. Even when their relationship began to feel empty, she was invariably turned on by the sight, feel, scent and taste of his sexy penis. Being his blowjob queen fed something raw and sexual deep within her. And that's why she agreed to meet him yet again for lunch even though she was planning to leave work early that day for a weekend with her other man.

Lunch, of course, was never lunch. It was an hour at a local motel where she often serviced him during the day. Sometimes they would fuck, but there were times she found herself heading for sex that night with her other man only to realize that her pussy was caked with her juices and her candy man's cum. So, she usually just brought him off with her mouth, an act that was as deeply satisfying as a vaginal or anal fuck, and she liked returning to work with the faint taste of his cock and semen on her tongue and the musk of his crotch on her face and hands.

Feeling horny, her heart pounded on the way to the motel. His car was in the lot when she arrived. The desk clerk gave her the room number where he was waiting, shirt open and beer in hand.

"Want one?" he asked as she kissed him.

"No...I've got work to do when I get back," she said, running her palm over his chest and down his hairless stomach.

"Thanks for coming," he said, leaning back so that he was partly sitting on the low dresser, which had a mirror next to it.

"I haven't come yet," she smiled.

"Will you?" he asked.

"Mmmmmm," she replied, her hands beginning to unbuckle his jeans. "I always do..."

She always enjoyed unwrapping him. The first time she ever saw his penis, she was momentarily surprised, and almost shocked, by how erotic it was. Now the anticipation of seeing and feeling it always heightened her excitement. 

As she slowly pulleddown his zipper, he said, "Take off your skirt and panties."

"I don't know if we should fuck, my period is coming on," she said, lying.

"I just want to look at your pussy and ass while you suck me," he said, before taking a long swig of beer.

Stepping back, she undid her black skirt and let it fall. She was a slightly heavyset woman with a slight belly, big hips and a plump but firm ass, and was not often comfortable showing her body in broad daylight to her lovers, but he was different. He made her feel sexy and desirable, almost like she was acting in a porn flick and she totally embraced the sluttiness of it all. She'd even shaved her pussy for him when he asked -- the first time in her life she'd ever done that for anyone -- and liked the way her plump mons looked and felt, especially when he was down on it. He clearly enjoyed licking her cunt and even her asshole, and that turned her on immensely. 

Her panties came down next, slowly -- the better to watch his eyes, which were full of an appreciation that made her wet. She liked the way the cool air of the room felt on her thighs, mons and bare ass. She was only wearing stockings and her pink blouse now and he was obviously enjoying the sight.

Kissing his chest lightly, she finished pulling down his zipper and spread the top of his jeans. He shifted just so and she slid the pants down to mid-thigh, and then his underwear. Her heart skipped as his nearly erect manhood came free. He had shaved off his pubic hair and his dick looked even bigger than usual.

"Ooooh, I like that," she said, running her fingertips over his freshly hairless crotch. Taking his thick penis in her hand, she stroked it softly, lovingly, and moaned. Dropping to her knees, she kissed the big spongy pink head and looked up at him, then gently lifted the still-stiffening shaft so she could run her tongue slowly up and down the smooth underside.

"Hmmm oh yeah baby that's good," he said, cupping some her brown curls in with one hand. "You make my cock feel so good....I wanted it to look good for you..."

She nuzzled his balls and kissed the base of his shaft, savoring the musk of his crotch. The scent was stronger than usual and it made her very wet as she showered soft kisses on the loosely hanging sac of his balls. Again, her tongue traced a slow rise up the underside of his shaft. Glancing up into his eyes, she slowly licked and sucked, feeling his penis swell and harden even more in her mouth. 

"Ohhhh yeah baby. You make my dick feel so good....that's it.....suck it...suck it...yeah..."

She kept her eyes on his face as she worked her magic, just the way he liked it. He was totally blissed out and watching her avidly as she slowly and firmly stroked his erection, swirling her tongue around the head, licking the underside and feeling him tense, then taking him in and sucking deeply. He was insanely hard and she was fully wet, her pussy juices coating her round pink asshole, which he could see in the mirror on the closet door since she was now squatting with her legs and asscheeks apart.

"Mmm baby suck it...suck it...got a big load of hot cream for you...."

"Mmmmmm," she purred, stopping to stroke him some more while she looked up at him reverently. "I love your come....give it to me...come in my mouth...."

His penis was bulging and a big clear drop of precum appeared the head. Sticking out the tip of her tongue, she deftly licked it up and thrilled to its saltiness. Another stroke and firm squeeze produced another drop, its aftertaste hinting at the thick white juice to come.

"Suck my cock baby...make me come...I wanna come in your mouth...I want you to taste my come...."

"I want to taste your come," she said breathlessly. "I love your come...please come in my mouth....." 

She could sense him nearing orgasm and she was felt lightheaded with lust. His cock tasted even better than usual and she sucked intently, deeply, caressing the sensitive underside of the head with the velvet of her tongue. She wanted to go on longer and as she kissed her way down the shaft again, the musk of his crotch filled her with the urge to lick and taste his anus.

She had never licked a man there before, but his balls and ass smelled so good and she was so turned on that she wanted to experience the dirty, horny thrill. Her curiosity and desire instantly overrode any fear and she began planting little licks and kisses on the bottom of his asscheeks while she held his balls and shiny stiff cock out of her way.

"Oh yeah...." he sighed, and so she forced her tongue into the cleft of his ass. He moaned loudly and she followed in turn, seeking his asshole as he shifted to give her access. He tasted both salty and bitter and she could feel the firm pucker and softly wrinkled skin of his anus as she probed.

"Lick my asshole, baby...taste me..." he moaned, leaning back and widening his legs to expose his dark pink circle. Grabbing her head, he pulled her into him and she was almost swept away by her excitement. Licking strongly and smoothly, she was electrified by the taste and sought to work her tongue inside him. She'd never been so seized by lust before. This felt so rawly sexual, sticking her tongue into this man's asshole. It was clearly driving him wild and that made her even more aroused. And his ass smelled and tasted so good...

With each lick, his asshole relaxed until she was able to insert her tongue about a quarter of the way. The skin inside was firm and smooth, the taste like yeast and she eagerly sought it. For a second or two she wondered if she were crazy, but the idea of knowing him so intimately, and the musky scent of his anus moistened by her saliva, brought her to the verge of coming. She would have if he had touched her. Moaning and sighing, she continued licking and working her tongue in deeper until he frantically pulled her away.

"Gonna come...gonna come..." 

He grabbed his erection, which now had a small glob of white on the slit and directed it into her mouth. It was so hard, so warm, so smooth, so delicious in such an utterly male way. She sucked while moving her head slowly back and forth, concentrating on the sensation of the hard, smooth penis against her tongue. Her heart pounded as she anticipated his release, her lips wrapped around the big bulging head of his dick. At last, she could feel a pulse in her mouth, and then another. The first spurt of salty warm cream hit the back of her throat. Swallowing, she eased off a bit and opened her mouth so he could watch his cum flowing onto her tongue. 

She was so excited by the look on his face, his moans, the sensation of his spasms in her mouth, the growing taste and warmth of his fluid. Within seconds she was coming, too. Her hand rapidly urged out his cream -- so thick and white and warm -- one spurt after another as he gasped and moaned and shuddered. This was the moment she lived for. He was totally in her power, totally helpless as she drew out and drank his essence while her own ecstasy washed over her. His gooey, watery cum was everywhere...on her tongue...her chin....dripping down the front of her blouse as her thighs quivered with her own release.

She spent the next minute or so breathlessly kissing his spent penis and balls and licking up his semen while his hands played in her hair.

"Oh, baby that was awesome... the best you've ever given..."

"You liked that, huh?" she said, looking up as she held his cock.

"Loved it...loved it..."

"Well maybe if you're good, there'll be more where that came from," she said, kissing his penis then rising to find her skirt and panties. "Oh, wow...look at the time. I have to get back to the office..."

"Will I see you tonight?"

"Tonight? I don't think so. I have to work late and my place is a mess." Another lie.

"That's too bad," he said, watching her pull her panties up. "An encore would be nice..."

"I'm sure it would," she said, kissing his nose. He just smiled back. And so she left, but on the way back to the office, the taste in her mouth renewed her excitement. The rest of the afternoon was mainly restlessness until quitting time when she rushed home to freshen up for her dinner with her other man.

The evening passed pleasantly enough although her mind wandered back to the afternoon at the motel. Her man was affectionate and they dined at their favorite restaurant. Drinks flowed but not nearly as many as she ordinarily had with her candy lover, and they eventually ended up back at her place. During another drink and some soft music, they began kissing and before long they were naked on the sofa. It was all quite cozy and warm, but as she stroked his cock, she found herself comparing it to her candy. This one was pretty nice, but shorter and hairier and something indefinable was lacking. Maybe it was in the way he seemed to tense up whenever she went down on him. Her candy lived to have her pleasure his cock with her mouth, and that knowledge thrilled her. 

As they fucked almost politely in the missionary position, she though of that afternoon's blowjob and rimjob and came hard and suddenly. As they drifted off to sleep in bed a little while later, she felt guilty again,

The rest of their weekend together was nice -- they went shopping, had lunch and dinner at some good restaurants, and made love again before he left early that Sunday evening. But as soon as he was gone, she dialed her side candy's cell phone just on the off chance that he'd answer. He did.

"Can you come over for a drink?" she asked, feeling a naughty excitement. There was just something about hot, erotic sex. The more she had of it, the more she wanted. It was an itch that her other man, as sweet as he was, just could not scratch.

"You're in luck," he said. "I just finished at the gym. I'll grab a quick shower and be right there...."

"You can shower here," she said, her excitement growing.

"Sure. Be right there."

She quickly showered to freshen her cunt and asshole and was still nude when he arrived 20 minutes later with a six-pack in his hand. His eyes lit up as soon as she opened the door and smiled at him.




Raw Chemistry



"Well, well," he said. "Someone is horny..."

As soon as he put the beer in the refrigerator, she turned him around and passionately kissed him as his hands roamed her warm and still moist skin.

"Did you miss my cock?" 

"Mmmmmm," she cooed, lifting his t-shirt and pulling it up over his head while he squeezed her bare ass.

Spreading her legs and grinding her pussy against his thigh, she kissed his chest, licking at the salt from his sweat, and used her tongue to course down his stomach as she slowly dropped to her knees. His hands played in her hair as she opened his belt and the top of his jeans, gazing at the growing bulge against his upper thigh. Pulling down the zipper, she eagerly tugged at his jeans, sliding them and his underwear down to mid-thigh. And there in front of her face was his erotically glorious penis, three-quarters hard, pure sex meat. Quickly taking it in her hand, she guided his cock into her mouth, moaning with pleasure as she felt the head swell and the shaft stiffen as she sucked. It tasted just as she imagined it -- salty and manly.

"Oh babe you make it feel so good," he sighed.

"Mmmm" she purred, slowly moving her head back and forth, letting the head almost reach the back of her throat. His crotch smelled deliciously musky and she took a few moments to nuzzle and lick at his balls while she gently stroked his cock and squeezed the head.

"Take these off," she said, tugging his jeans down again. Once he stepped out of them, he was wearing only his white athletic socks. She kissed his penis and then stood up to lead him into the bedroom.

"I have something nice for you," she said.

"Nicer than that?"

"Uh huh." 

And she took his hand. He followed her, his big erection bobbing and swaying as he walked. Her heart thudded at the thought of what she was about to do.

"Lie down," she said as they reached her bed, which was still unmade from her sex earlier in the day. "On your stomach...."

He seemed a bit puzzled, but did as he was told. She then climbed on the bed and straddled him with her wet, cleanly shaved pussy resting on his bare ass.

"Relax," she said, leaning forward to knead his shoulders.

"Mmmm, that feels good," he sighed.

She continued squeezing and massaging his back, working her way down to his ass and back up while she pressed and ground her pussy against him. She was so horny she was almost dizzy and the sight of them in her bedroom mirror made her heart pound with lust.

"I'm glad you could come over," she whispered in his ear before kissing his neck. "I really want something...."

"Oh yeah?"

And she slowly kissed her way down to his hairless ass. Softly caressing each firm cheek, she moaned softly as she parted them.

"Mmmm do it, baby," he said softly.

The cleft of his ass was warm and slick with sweat, the scent strong and musky.

"Even his asshole is sexy," she thought as she licked along the length of his crack, savoring the saltiness and the yeasty flavor of his anus. She spent many minutes rimming him intently, exploring his anus as they both sighed and moaned. Licking his asshole and pushing her tongue into it felt so kinky, so powerfully erotic that she came simply by squeezing her thighs together.

He was being driven wild by what she was doing and this quickly refueled her lust. When she rolled him back over to suck him off, she was amazed at how big and hard his penis was. He was incredibly excited and she took the head in her mouth and sucked while stroking the shaft firmly, making him groan and roll his head back and forth.

Then she felt his hand pulling at her leg.

"Sit on my face, baby, I wanna eat you while you suck me off...."

Rising and swinging a leg over him, she was practically panting as she lowered her ass to his face. His hands were all over her cheeks and back and she gasped when she felt the soft, exciting sensation of his tongue on her wet cunt.

"Mmmm, so good," he moaned and she nearly lost it at the thought of him licking where her other man had come earlier that day and throughout the weekend. She liked the thought of having so much sex with two men in the same day. And then she felt that velvet sensation move to her asshole. His moans and licks brought her to the edge of orgasm and she hungrily took his hard penis back into her mouth and sucked and licked as she felt his tongue pressing into her anus.

Pushing her plump ass against his face, she came hard, crying out, Within seconds he groaned and she could feel the pulse against her lips, Lifting her head, she watched his thick white cream spurt until it ran off his cockhead, flowed down the shaft, over her hand and dripped in globs onto his belly where she licked it up, moaning and sighing as his tongue continued to move deep in her asshole. She was totally gone in a cloud of pure sexual bliss and she realized that she was totally into him now and there was no letting go, no matter what the future brought. This was just too good.



Raw Craving



I lay lonely in my bed thinking of him, always him... His face, his touch, the velvet sound of his voice as it whispers across my skin. Gentle as the caress of a soft evening breeze, but possessive, consuming. I am his; no qualms, no fears, but does he know? My body begins to squirm voicing its frustration. I know. I need him, that is what runs through my mind as my fingers gently touch my clit, just hard enough that I can feel it, but gentle enough that it only teases, making me wetter, more aroused than thoughts of him already had. 

Listen to me sweetheart, let me tell you my fantasy, let me share what we could have if only you'd take the next step.

You told me to wear my black teddy and my black lace thong, the set you gave me earlier this year. Knowing it would excite you I added my thigh high fishnet stockings and my red lace garter. You told me to go to work like that and wear nothing but my trench coat over it. Every sensible part of me told me it was ridiculous when I heard your order, but I obeyed, half scared that someone would know and half anticipating what would happen. Why you would change our usual "I'm horny baby, you free later?" routine escaped me. The sex has always been wonderful, with occasional deviations to spice it up, but its never been what it could be. We fell into an easy cadence almost like a dance; where each knows when the other has had enough. But I crave the tension, I thrive on the excitement. 

I step into the room and you're waiting for me, sitting behind your desk in that pose that seems to say you are completely at ease and in control. I'm still a little nervous but so excited and hot I hardly notice. My whole body is tingling with sexual energy, my senses heightened. I stand in the doorway and slowly unbutton my coat, not bothering to close the door as I shrug out of it and let it fall to the floor. I turn around and bend down much lower than needed to retrieve it from the floor and hang it on the back of the door before finally closing it. You stare transfixed, not bothering to hide the blatant appreciation showing on your face. I'm not sure what you're thinking, are you surprised I actually showed up as you instructed, maybe you just want me, all these thoughts are running through my mind as I turn to face you fully, letting my eyes meet yours as I slowly walk toward you.

"Stop," you say quietly. I stand still a bit taken aback. My mind starts racing, I assumed you wanted to spice things up but then we'd get right down to fucking. I assumed wrong. 

You look me over in a possessive appraising way that makes me shiver, your eyes drinking in each subtle nuance of my appearance. I watch you get up and slowly walk toward me; I am unable to move, pinned by the intensity of your gaze. 

I reach out to touch you and you raise a brow. My silent plea is stopped as you say "'Do not touch" in a quietly commanding tone. I let my hand drop back to my side. You remove a black silk scarf from your pocket and move behind me. Being careful not to touch me you tie the scarf over my eyes. Suddenly I realise I can't see a thing. "Shhh" you coo, soothing away whatever anxiety you think I might have. I stand still awaiting your touch, but it doesn't come, seconds pass by and I feel you take my hand and move me toward the back of the room. 

You gently set me into your chair and pull my hands behind, tying them there with what feels like soft cord. I feel you shift and bend down to secure my ankles each to a leg of the chair. I whimper slightly, waiting for whatever comes next. For the first time I realise there is music playing, so faint I only know it's soothing with it being muffled by the scarf over my eyes. 

I feel something light brush my breast, gently whispering across my skin; too light to be your hands but what it is I'm not sure. You stroke it up the side of my neck and down my arm, soft and gentle like a feather. 

Your lips gently brush my forehead as you trail your fingertip down my other arm, adding a new sensation for my heightened senses to revel in. I tilt my head up hoping for a real kiss. My whole body is burning to feel you on me, inside me, taking me fast and hard. Instead you're soft and gentle as your lips finally brush mine. I won't let it stop there as I suck your lower lip softly and nip, then slide my tongue over yours hoping to set you on fire even half as much as I'm burning for you. I grin slowly in triumph against your lips as I feel you stop your other movements for a moment to kiss me hard and deep, devouring my mouth as my tongue meets yours. Abruptly you pull away, leaving me breathless and whimpering for more. 

"Just a moment sweetie" you say softly as you lift my ass just enough to slide my thong to one side. I feel your fingers as they gently touch my pussy lips, then linger just enough to brush my clit. I squirm and whimper with desire as you draw away and replace your hand with your tongue. 

Gently at first, then a little harder; you flick your tongue from side to side across my clit. So nice and slow, it drives me crazy as I thrash against the chair. You stop and turn your attention to my clit, slowly lapping at it in long slow strokes from bottom to top. I moan and buck against your mouth and you roughly and quickly slide a finger into my sopping wet slit. It feels so amazing that I don't want you to stop, thrusting my hips back against you, my body screams for more. Then suddenly you withdraw, after a moment I feel something else being pressed into my cunt, it isn't your cock, but it's long and hard and covered in ridges. You move slightly and turn it on, it hums softly as it vibrates sending sparks of pleasure through my body. As you thrust it in and out of me I still want more, it just isn't enough! I whimper. "Baby, please, please fuck me!" 

"I am" you quietly respond. You hear me growl as I thrust against the vibrator and moan in frustration. Finally you take the vibrator out and turn it off, slowly you untie my ankles and then my hands. I reach for you but you push my hands away; "Not yet" you say. I'm pulled along after you and pushed down onto the couch that I know is off to the side of your desk, you tell me to scoot up and lay back. I comply, still blind to what is going on around me. 

You slip a finger into my cunt then back out again and slowly slide your finger down to my ass. I groan as you slowly work it into my tight asshole, getting soaked with arousal. I feel myself start to relax and enjoy it as you slide a second finger into me stretching me wider, then you abruptly stop and pull away. I feel something hard against my ass and gasp as you start to nudge it in, it's wet and slick and I feel it start to hum and vibrate as I writhe against you. Slowly you push it in, it hurts a little at first but I'm so wet and hot that I barely feel the pain and just want to be filled. I groan as I imagine it's your cock instead, pushing forcefully into my tight ass. You slide the vibrator deep inside me and then move over me on the couch, I feel the head of your cock against my cunt and I rock my hips against it. You groan and position the head at my entrance, sliding it into me in one swift motion. I moan and call out your name, you feel so exquisite. I'm filled, completely full and owned. 

You thrust slowly into my wet pussy and I start moving against you trying to match your rhythm. I'm so aroused and wet that it doesn't take long before I start to feel myself getting close. You're so hard and thick, that coupled with the vibrator up my ass means I won't last long at all and you seem to know it, slamming your cock into me even harder.

I hear your breath start to come in short gasps as my release builds, your cock feels so good that I can't control myself. "Make me cum!" I groan. You tense as you grab my ass and pull me tight against you; slowing down for a moment you slide your cock in and out of my cunt in long slow strokes. Feeling the vibrations and squeezing down hard I can tell you're getting close as I start to feel my orgasm build.  

Breathlessly I chant "God baby, I'm cumming! I'm cumming all over you hard cock! Cum for me now baby! Please cum for me!" I slam back against your cock, completely out of breath as I begin to cum, my whole body shuddering and thrashing beneath you. I feel you tense, shooting your hot thick cum deep inside my cunt as I moan and squirm on your cock. It feels like everything just disappeared and all that remains is the lingering high, nothing but the glow of pleasure. I slowly start to come down from my high as I feel you shudder at the end of your own.



Raw Desire



Maureen awoke before her slave. She looked at the older woman lying next to her. Her chest slowly moving up and down in a constant pattern.

Her slave was 42 years old, and she was only 20. She couldn't help but desire a more attractive, youthful slave.

Betty was beautiful though. She had soft black hair and pale skin. Piercing blue eyes that would make Maureen wet every time she looked into them. But wrinkles started to surround her face, and she was worn out. Worn about by Maureen's constant using of her, worn about by her constant abuse. She took it because it was what Maureen desired, and she lived to serve her Goddess.

Maureen sighed deeply. She felt shallow but the truth is, she wasn't attracted to her anymore, and it was as simple as that. She broke her own heart at her realization, and began to weep.

Betty woke up immediately.

"What's wrong, my beautiful?" She asked. She began to stroke Maureen's long, soft brown hair, trying to sooth her.

Maureen almost couldn't bring herself to tell Betty the truth.

"I... you know I love you, right?" She asked, sobbing.

"Yes my Goddess. I love you too." She responded. Maureen's stomach flipped.

"I think it... it's time for me to find a different slave. But I will always love you!" Maureen told her. She felt week. She felt almost submissive as Betty wrapped her up in her arms, but she allowed her self to feel her sadness. Who said dommes aren't allowed to have emotions?

"I understand, my love. And I will still always be here for you. I think it's time for both of us to move on." She told Maureen. She smiled at the younger, beautiful woman before her.

Maureen was tall; about 5'10. She had legs that went on for miles. Her eyes were an enchanting green, and her lips were full and luscious. She smiled back at Betty. She raised her hand up to caress Betty's cheek, and passionately kissed her. It would be the last kiss they would ever share.

Betty moved out of the house shortly after. Maureen was constantly thinking about her, and she felt she had made the wrong decision, but after contemplating it some more, she accepted it.

But Maureen was sad. She stopped going out. Stopped seeing friends.

Only slept.

And sat on her ass staring at the TV screen. As she was figuring out what to watch on demand, she came across The L Word, and started watching it. It started to turn her on.

She had forgotten all about the physical side of dominating a girl. How good she felt with a head between her legs. Her pussy began to tingle, and she was wet. She slid her hand down her pants but then stopped herself.

A tongue would feel so much better on her clit. She needed someone. She thought about calling Betty but decided against it. Sighing, she put her thought away, and decided to go get something at the corner store across the street from her apartment.

She slipped on some shoes and was out the door. Maureen was graceful when she walked, her hips always swayed from side to side seductively, easily getting the attention of anyone who walked past. She was almost out of the apartment when someone knocked into her.

They both fell to the floor. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry! I never watch where I'm going, that was totally my fault. Let me help you up!" The girl babbled, springing to her feet. She held out a hand to Maureen, and she took it, allowing herself to be pulled up. Maureen didn't release the girl's hand, instead she shook it.

"I'm Maureen, nice to meet you. And don't worry about it, hunnie." She told her. The girl smiled back.

"I'm Zoe. Are you sure, that was really dumb of me." She said. Maureen confirmed that it was fine. They began to small talk. Zoe was explaining that she was new to the apartment, but Maureen wasn't really listening. She was ogling at Zoe.

Wow, she was beautiful! Probably about 6 inches shorter than Maureen, making her petite. Her skin suggested she was not white, but she definitely didn't look black. Maybe she was mixed. Her eyes were a grey color that lit up against her olive skin. They were surround by thick-rimmed hipster glasses, but they looked like prescription. Her hair was about shoulder length, brown, with fringe bangs. She was thin; thinner than Maureen. Maureen was not fat at all though. She had curves in all the right places, and a flat stomach. She examined Zoe's body as Zoe talked on and on, noticing that she had smallish breasts, and a cute little butt.

"If you want, I can show you around New York." Maureen suggested. Zoe graciously accepted.

"Let me just get some nicer clothes on, here, come up to my apartment with me." She told her. Zoe followed Maureen to her apartment. Maureen was dripping, god this girl was hot. She wondered if Zoe would willingly serve her. When they got into the house Zoe noticed that The L Word was paused on the TV.

"The L word, huh?" She asked.

"Yeah, I love it. Do you watch?" Maureen asked.

"I mean, I'm not a lesbian, but yeah, it's cute." Zoe said.

Maureen felt disappointed. Zoe wasn't a lesbian, damn. But she wanted her so bad. An idea popped into Maureen's mind.

Hypnosis.

She had taken a class about it, but never really tried it before. It seemed a tad ridiculous, and she didn't even know if it would work. But it was worth a shot. Of course if it didn't work, it would be awkward and uncomfortable for both of them.

She went into her room to change while Zoe watched TV. She slipped in some fishnet stockings, and a garter corset, both black. She would wear this sometimes when dominating. She looked around for something to hypnotize Zoe with but found nothing. She remembered the necklace around her neck that Betty bought her. A golden locket necklace. She would use it, Betty would want her to. She walked back into the living room.

"Zoe," She called. "Stay very still."

Zoe did as she was told. Naturally submissive she was. Maureen loved that.

"Don't speak."

"Why?"

"Don't speak." Maureen repeated. "Just listen."

Zoe debated protesting in confusion, but she decided against it.

"Close your eyes, just listen." Maureen told her, inching toward the younger girl. She sat in front of Zoe on her coffee table, and took out her necklace.

"Open your eyes now Zoe. Just look into mine." Maureen told her. Zoe did as she was told. Maureen began to wave the necklace back and forth. Zoe's eyes began to follow it.

"Listen. Listen with your eyes Zoe, listen. You are going deeper, and deeper."

Zoe was going deeper and deeper.

"Deeper and deeper."

Deeper and deeper.

"It's okay, just listen. It's okay to go deeper. You want to go deeper. You need to go deeper."

Zoe needed to go deeper.

"Whenever I say 'listen' you will go deeper."

Zoe watched the glistening gold locket.

"Listen."

Zoe went deeper still.

"I'm going to count to 3, and when I finish, you'll be completely under my control."

Zoe's eyes moved from side to side.

"1... It's okay, you want this.

2... I will now be your Goddess.

3... it feels so good to just listen."

Zoe was completely and utterly under her control. She put away her necklace.

"You are here to serve me, say it."

"I am here to serve you." Zoe mimicked, monotone.

Maureen smiled. "Again, my slave."

"I am here to serve you." She repeated.

"Listen, my slave. Just listen. You don't have to think anymore. Your mistress will think for you. You just need to obey."

"Obey." Zoe said.

"When I tell you to, you will go to sleep. Once you wake, you will be my pet." Maureen told her. She went on to tell her all the things that Zoe would do for her new Goddess. Then Zoe went to sleep. Her face was beautiful under slumber, and Maureen was very pleased. She gently removed the girl's glasses, and stroked her cheek.

She sat next to Zoe, and put her arm around her. She lightly pushed her new slave's shoulder so she would fall into Maureen's arms.

She closed her eyes herself for a second, and relaxed. But then she remembered how horny she was, so she woke Zoe up. She decided that she should start by laying down the law.

She stood before Zoe, and smacked her in the face. Zoe quickly sprung awake. She looked confused.

"Ow!" She said, holding her cheek.

"Get on your knees, bitch." Maureen said. Zoe was confused but she found herself getting off the couch and sitting on her knees, between Maureen's legs. She didn't know why she did it, but it just seemed right.

"Good girl." Zoe's new Goddess told her. Zoe's stomach was filled with butterflies and she found herself smiling.

"Take off that shirt, pet." Maureen said. Zoe timidly took off her Clash T-shirt. 

"The bra, too."

Zoe removed her pink bra and her small breasts fell out. Maureen examined her cute body. She had her belly button pierced. Her olive skin looked incredibly smooth and Maureen couldn't wait to caress it. Her nipples were small and erect. A beautiful soft pink.

"Very nice, hun." Maureen said.

"Th- thanks." Zoe said, shaking with excitement and fright. She was smacked across the face again, harder this time. It left her cheek stinging and red. Zoe fell to the side, yelping in pain.

"I am your Goddess, bitch. That's how you'll address me." Maureen said, angry. She wasn't used to someone so novice. It made her even wetter though. She loved the thought of really putting his little girl in her place.

She grabbed Zoe hard by her arm, and yanked her up so she was once again, sitting between her legs.

"I'm sorry Goddess." Zoe said. She had tears in her eyes. Not because of the pain, because she felt so disappointed in herself. She couldn't believe she would do such a silly thing.

"Aw..." Maureen started. She held Zoe's cheek and wiped away a tear with her thumb, and then she took back her hand, and put her thumb in her mouth, tasting the salty tear. Zoe bit her lip, and her pussy moistened. Maureen was the sexiest thing ever. She stared directly into her electric green eyes. It was like they stabbed her in the heart, and she felt overwhelmed with an erotic, passionate, need to serve and make Maureen happy. Maureen felt overjoyed, and she knew this wasn't about hypnosis, it was pure energy, directly from the heart, both of them penetrated by pure, raw, innate desire for one another.

Yes, at that moment, they fell in sync, in love.

An involuntary moan fell from Maureen's lips and her hands moved, as if by instinct, to the back of Zoe's head. She grabbed it hard and with all of her strength, jammed her Zoe's face into her pussy. Zoe immediately started sucking and licking up all the juices invading her slit, despite the pain in her face. Maureen smashed her pussy hard into Zoe's face over and over again, and Zoe knew that she would have bruises the next day. Zoe had never eaten out a girl before, but guys had done it to her. She tried to do it the way she would want it done. It was hard, for she couldn't really breath, but she tried her best. She sucked hard on Maureen's clit, which made Maureen scream in pleasure. She began to hit the walls of her new Goddess's cunt with her tongue, violently digging in and out at a speedy, constant rate.

"Yeah you stupid slut!" Maureen said firmly. "You're such a good girl."

The words would stay with Zoe for the rest of her life. Those words were what she craved.

Maureen suddenly, and without warning, burst into Zoe's mouth. When Maureen still kept her head shoved into her slit, Zoe decided she should clean up. She slurped down all Maureen's cum. Maureen grabbed Zoe's hair roughly and pulled her mouth from her cunt. She used her other hand to smack Zoe roughly across the face again.

Zoe's grey eyes filled with tears because of the pain. Maureen pushed her down and she hit her head on the ground. Maureen stood, and walked over to Zoe, towering over the small girl. She kneeled down and caressed Zoe's cheeks. Goosebumps emerged on Zoe's skin. Maureen moved to sit on Zoe's chest. Zoe was so much smaller that Maureen's weight crushed her. But she wasn't thinking about the pain in her chest anymore... She was overwhelmed with the enchanting beauty of her mistress's emerald eyes. Maureen grabbed Zoe's face softly with her hands, and kissed her lips gently. Their tongues danced with each other as their soft lips hugged. Maureen humped her cunt against Zoe's chest.

Zoe felt her hair being grabbed and then felt harsh yet delicate kisses down her neck. Maureen held the girls head in place, as she tasted the young flesh of her slave. She moved her lips to Zoe's ears and whispered, "You're going to be perfect."



Raw Dick On A Wet Morning



(Here is another entry from my sexblog, Diary of a Cum Junky. A few people contacted me after my first story and asked for something with a more public setting- hopefully they will enjoy this.)

One morning about 6am I was online while extremely horned up and borderline desperate for a load. This guy sent me a message, unfortunately my roommate had company and he couldn't play at his place either. He said he would meet me somewhere outdoors and fuck me really quick. It had rained quite a bit the night before so I knew it was going to be soggy- not to mention it was only about 45 degrees out. Normally, I wouldn't have even considered going out in that weather, especially not if pulling down my pants and exposing my genitals to the elements was involved, but my hole was making the decisions... and it decided it was hungry. The trick in question had a thick 9 inch cock, served raw, on the menu so before I knew it I was asking him where we could meet.


He couldn't think of anywhere, but I had an idea. It was a week day and there was a sports field nearby that had some batting cages and basketball courts where the surrounding fences had a kind of black mesh covering them. They were opposite the parking lot and the mesh made it hard to see through from far away, but not so if you were standing right next to it, so it would be perfect to hide you and let you see any approaching cars or whatever. He hastily agreed and said he'd be there in 30 minutes.

I threw on some sweat pants with no underwear and a shirt and grabbed my keys and travel lube while I pulled on my shoes. I wanted to get there first and scope out the best place. On the short drive over I squirted some lube on my two fingers and gave my snatch a good coating, inside and out. Remembering the size of the fuck tool he was packing (he had shown me pictures) I went ahead and worked 3, then 4 fingers inside my ass as a little stretching warm-up before the game. A passing car pulled my attention back to the road and I decided I should wipe my slimy hand dry before I tried to turn the steering wheel- wouldn't that be a fun wreck to explain?

I pulled onto the small road that led to the parking lot- it was empty just as I expected. I parked in an inconspicuous space away from where the action would take place and quickly shut off my car and scurried across the lot to disappear into the safety of the dark behind one of the courts. After standing there still and quiet for a minute to make sure I was alone I pulled the back of my sweats down to expose my rump and re-grease my sticky opening. As I put the lube back in my pocket I noticed a bottle of poppers I had left in there. I wiped the excess slippery gel on my cock and it recoiled in protest to the cold. Twisting the cap off the head cleaner and bringing the bottle under one nostril I inhaled several deep breaths and tried to focus enough to screw the cap back on as the warm feeling of inhibition wrapped around my body and mind like a hug.

Just then a pair of headlights made their way closer and I a held my breath to steady myself. It was a gold car... ok, at least I knew it wasn't a cop. I saw my buddy open the car door. He parked really close without even knowing where I was... like his cock had honed in on the position of it's target. I let him peer around a few seconds before jokingly giving a wolf whistle. His eyes focused as he spotted me and he made his way around.

"I hope your dick is already hard, because I'm not kneeling in the mud to suck it," I informed him. He smirked and pulled a rapidly growing slab of meat to show me that it was. Wow... it looked even bigger in person so I offered him the lube while I hit the poppers again and then I turned around to face the fence. I leaned forward and pulled my cheeks apart to show him my starving pucker. The cold seemed amplified by the lubricant smeared across my anus as he pumped his monster cock up with a slick fist.

You know that feeling when you are in the cold and your ears go numb... until you pull off your gloves and wrap your warm hands around them? Well, it pales in comparison to the feeling of a long, heavy, warm penis being thumped against your frozen asshole and rubbed deep into your crack. All I could do was moan and reach around to grasp the massive thing and coax it into my steaming insides- hesitantly at first, but apparently there wasn't going to be any problem. My sphincter opened up and devoured every single inch of his ass splitter and came to rest at the very base, albeit stretched pretty taut.

"Awww, ohh...mmm," he groaned with pleasure. "I did tell you I haven't gotten off in two days so I probably won't last long at all, right?"

"Good. It's too fucking cold to be out here any longer than absolutely necessary," I reassured him while I flexed my o-ring around his cock trying to get used to such a gigantic intrusion.

"Yeah, I can tell this hole gets alot of use. It just opens up for this big dick and begs for more. Squat down lower and bend over more so I can really give it to you deep," he instructed. I grabbed the fence and bent down lower to make my chute as accessible as possible. He stands straight up and rocks back on his heels slightly, withdrawing his hard meat about 3/4 of the way and then let's himself fall forward, ramming himself into my ass with his full body weight. He repeats this slowly and steadily 15 or 20 more times- being sure to come at a different angle each time. I wasn't sure if he was trying to make it hurt a little or what, but it felt great and I began rock backwards to meet his every assault on my cunt.

As if reading my mind, he answered my question. "I'm gonna pound the bottom out of this hole- make sure there's plenty of room for every drop of my fuckin' load in that slutty ass." I relaxed my anal-grip and enjoyed the sensation as the head of his cock pulled out and exposed the skin just inside my ass lips. He muttered some sort of approval and removed his whole tool so that he could rub his thumb across my juicy rosebud. He cock slapped my gaping slit a few times and teased it with his pulsing mushroom head. Without warning he buried himself in me again. I decided to try and push him a little by once again clamping down around his shaft. (OK so I also liked the extra rough feeling that making my pussy tight caused.)

Apparently, he got that I was trying to be a smart ass and it set him off. With one hand holding my hip and the other on my back, he laid into me with a brutal fuck.

"Oh, go ahead and try to squeeze tight, fucker. It won't matter. I'll tear this fuckin' ass up so damn bad it will feel like I'm fucking jello when I dump my nuts up inside you," he spat at me as his relentless attack on my hole continued. At some point while he was slam fucking me- repeatedly ripping his huge shaft all the way out of my hole- I did lose the ability or the will to maintain the pressure on his cock with my ass. I gave in to the ecstasy. The difference in temperature between his searing hot fuck meat and the biting cold air that replaced it every time he withdrew was unreal. I placed one hand on my flat abdomen and I swear I could feel where his cock pushed my stomach muscles out every time he plunged into my abused hole.

Suddenly he grunted and grabbed me by the shoulder, impaling me on his dick and holding me there.

"Don't you fucking move. You take every drop of my wad you little whore!" He sounded almost believable as he spurted gush after gush of semen into the roomy space he had fucked into my body. Not that I could feel the squirts of jism... my hole and insides were all but numb from the experience. He stayed deep inside me for a moment and then held me in place as he slowly slid his cock out of me- squeezing the remnants of his orgasm up the shaft of his penis so that I literally got every drop.

He went to put his deflating member away, but I decided that I could brave a little mud and stopped him so that I could drop to my knees and suck his cock clean of the cum and lube that was glistening on it by the street lights. We both said, "Thanks," at the same time and laughed it off as we walked back to our vehicles to leave.

Amazingly, even though my ass was incredibly stretched out and loose, none of his cum oozed out on the way home. He had pounded his wad so deep inside me that I had to reach way up inside with a finger to feel it.... and it was a damn large load, too!



Raw Electricity



(Thanks and applause to PinkPlaidPanties for her assistance)

Tonight I have a special treat for you, my love. Relax, this is going to be good. Are you comfortable? Nod your head if you are. Good.

We've had a special day, haven't we? Just the two of us, doing relaxing things together.

First, we went to the beach together, just playing in the sea and looking at the people. We shared notes about which men you liked, and you pointed out some very pretty girls. I still think that blonde woman in the pink bikini is not nearly as good-looking as you.

Then we had lunch, and we started playing under the table. It was very naughty to stroke me like that, Sarah, especially as you knew that the waitress was looking at us. Did you enjoy the shocked look on her face when she saw you deliberately exciting me?

Then we came home to look at some movies together; the sexy ones I bought last week. Plain simple movies with a little story line. The first one had a feminine heroine that simply could not resist any man. We got to see every detail of her body, and you made me rewind to prove that her breasts are bigger than yours. By the way, yours are just perfect, my love; perfect for fondling, perfect for kissing, and perfect for looking at. Do you like the way I'm playing with them now? Excellent.

The second movie starred a very handsome guy who was in some predicament or other, but I think that you did not even care what that might have been. You only had eyes for his body. Yes, I could see the excitement building in you, and how you groaned softly when he undressed. Afterwards you said that he looked like your favourite movie star, but I think this one has a style and charisma all his own. And his technique at seducing women is certainly awesome. I think you fantasized about being the lucky girl to land in his path, didn't you? No good denying it, I know you did.

And finally we saw the video of the woman who was blindfolded. After it was over, I asked you if you'd like that, and you smiled. Maybe you were thinking of the times we blindfolded you...

And now we have started our game for tonight. But tonight I have gone a little further than usual. I have gagged you too. 

Why have you suddenly tensed up? Are you afraid? If something should happen that you don't you like, all you have to do is click your fingers, and we will stop immediately. Is that alright? Just click your fingers once to show you understand. Fine.

Remember how good looking the guy was? How would you like it to have a visit from him? I have known him for a long time. His name is Gerald. I spoke to him about the movie that we saw tonight. Would you like to hear what he said? I thought so.

Gerald is one of my long-term acquaintances who has struck it rich. He still works as hard as ever, but he likes having some fun every now and then. About a year ago one of his friends told him about an idea for a movie, and Gerald agreed to do it. He did not have much acting experience, only the most important qualifications for a porn star: a most impressive package and the ability to show off in front of the camera. You liked his equipment, didn't you? I think you called it 'filling.'

When Gerald arrived at the studio, he met Crystal, the female lead for the first time. He was a bit apprehensive. Would there be the right chemistry? Fortunately they hit it off right away. She had a real naughtiness to her that he enjoyed. She liked him too: Crystal says that the man is raw sexual electricity that drives her whole body into overload. Coming from her, that's saying something. Crystal even went back to him for more after they completed the movie.

You aren't the only one who thinks they were hot. Gerald gets loads of fan mail from women who tell him how much they like his technique and requesting a 'filling' time with him.

Am I boring you? No? Good. Just interrupt me any time if you have any questions.

Why am I telling you this? Easy. Gerald will be here in a few minutes' time. I told him about how much you liked his movie, and how you liked being tied up too. Don't worry, he won't tell anyone.

He's got too many secrets of his own, you know...

So I invited him over tonight. I showed him your picture: the naughty one of you in the shower. He likes you.

He's not here yet, but I'm sure he will be arriving some time soon. I've kept the door open so that he need not knock. Of course if someone else were to come in he would have the treat of his life looking at your sexy body, but you will be handle that easily, won't you?

Please excuse me for a minute; I need to make myself some coffee, so feel free to amuse yourself thinking sexy thoughts. Why don't you try to remember what Gerald looks like? That will keep you warm and cozy...

* * *

I'm back. The coffee is very good. I would offer you some, but you seem to be quite tied up at the moment. Maybe I should tell you about Gerald.

He is a man who treats women like ladies. He does it quietly and gently, but somehow women seem to find him irresistible. I'll tell you a story to show you what I mean. 

One evening, about two years before we met, a group of us were visiting together. My friend Garth and I had our eyes on two girls. I was going for Suzanne, a cute little blonde with a sweet smile and a very short cream dress. Garth liked her close friend, Rhonda, a vivacious redhead whose best asset was her stunning cleavage. The drinks seemed to be working just right: the girls were allowing us to get closer and closer. They were teasing us, and we were touching them playfully, certain that things would soon get more intense.

I looked up and saw Gerald walk in. I was feeling happy and secure, and waved to him in greeting. He came over to say hello and I introduced him to the girls. I don't know how it happened but the mood immediately changed. Suzanne and Rhonda switched their attention to him and suddenly Garth and I were forgotten. It was clear that our flirting was over. Both women seemed absolutely besotted with him. Both Rhonda and Suzanne peppered him with questions, getting him to talk about himself. They were completely charmed. 

After about an hour, Gerald excused himself, saying he wanted to go the toilet. He had hardly left when Rhonda looked at Suzanne and asked her whether they should go to the bathroom together. Garth and I teased them that women do things in flocks and thought nothing more of it.

Little did we know that the two women had already individually made up their minds to have Gerald. As soon as they were alone, they discussed him, and quickly decided to seduce him together. They simply waited for Gerald to leave the bathroom. As he came out they asked him to spend some quality time with them in Suzanne's bedroom. 

Meanwhile, Garth and I waited for the girls, blissfully unaware. After an hour and a half, we went to look for them. That was when we discovered that the three of them already left.

At first I was angry. How could he have stolen my girl?

Some weeks later I saw Rhonda again in passing. I bought her a few drinks and soon she explained what had happened that night. She could not stop talking about how good he was and how his performance was electrifying. As she spoke I realised that if two sexy women had propositioned me I would have acted in exactly the same way he had. He had not stolen my girl: she had simply ditched me when Gerald came on the scene. I suppose I have always known that he is a nice guy that just happens to draw women as nectar draws bees. 

The next day I phoned Gerald and met him over lunch. We made peace and swore eternal friendship. He is generous, friendly and not given to bragging about his conquests...

By the way, Gerald has been here now for a few minutes. How are you Gerald? Yes, I know you're fine. Sarah, stop squirming, he has already seen your beautiful body. Yes, he looks absolutely enthralled. 

Gerald, do her photographs do her justice? Look at her beautiful mane of hair, the beautifully proportioned arms and legs, the slenderness of her figure. Look at the breasts, perky and a delightful handful. But most of all, look at the gates of paradise. Once you have entered there, you will never want to leave.

But of course, Gerald, you have had your eyes full of her beauty. Make yourself at home. Sarah won't mind you stroking her gently. She loves being touched. Yes, but move away from her arms, she wants more. Look at how her nipples are responding, and you haven't come near them yet!

I knew you would want to explore her legs and thighs next. They are so inviting. With every movement Sarah is getting more excited. She loves the bold way you are playing between her legs. Amazing! She seems to be opening her legs wider so that you can touch her moist, ready womanhood.

Gerald, how can you disappoint a girl like that? Just when she was sure you were going to reach her labia you stopped and moved away. Look at her squirm in frustration!

Yes Gerald, play with her body. Tease her a little. Look at how she is straining as you run your hands through her hair and around her neck. Now you touch her body. Where'd you learn to massage a back like that? By all means, touch her breasts too. I think that they need some attention...

Now for the next part of Sarah's treat. Here are some pillows. You lift Sarah, and I will slide them under her. Her middle is lifted, exposing her gorgeous fanny. Enjoy it: I love it when men look at my pretty wife.

What do you have for her now? That took her by surprise! When she felt the ice touch her, she nearly pulled the wall down. That cooled her down a little, I can tell. I see you're working mainly on her breasts. I love the way they stand to attention when they are cold. What a cunning idea, Gerald, first cool the nipples down, and then warm them with your lips while your cold hands are cupping her breasts. You are making this poor woman very hot.

Those cubes are finished now, Gerald, here are some new ones. I think that you are going to pay attention to the inner woman now, aren't you? Look at Sarah try to squeeze the cubes out of her! But you are right there to keep the cubes in. Kiss her sweet pussy. Look at Sarah squirm at the contrast between the cold ice and your warm tongue licking along her labia. She is breathing heavily. You have got her exactly where you want her.

I can see your erection making a bulge in your pants. You would not be a man if you didn't have one. Sarah is a very sexy woman. I think it's getting a bit hot. I think you can make yourself a bit more at home. Take off you pants; Sarah can't see it.

He's done it, Sarah! Gerald is naked from the waist down. I bet you wish you could see what I am looking at now. You said that you liked his cock, remember? Well, it looks even better in real life. Gerald is so aroused, and his penis shows it. It is rock hard and glistening with pre-cum. I can see every vein on its shaft. He is slowly jacking himself off now, one hand rubbing his balls, his eyes fixed on you.

And you are a sexy sight, my love. Your naked body is radiating sexual energy; you can't lie still. You want to be filled, don't you? You can't wait.

How'd you like a little more, Gerald? Don't be shy, I know what you want. Sarah wants it too; look at her hips swaying backward and forward. She likes your touch, and she is asking for more. Please give my wife what she wants. Don't you want her pleasure? Do it! 

Yes, he's moving closer! He can't resist your body. Yes, now he is right behind you. He's touching you in that special way. Don't move too quickly now, he's lining himself up. Yes, that was his cock that brushed against you. Ooh, yes, he is gently entering you. Your heat is absolutely incredible. He does not need any lubrication: you are completely ready for him.

You jerk as if jolted by an electric shock. You may be gagged, but you are squealing out of control as he slides into you. Your wrap your legs around him, welcoming him into you. You shake through your first orgasm as if his cock is a high voltage electric pylon.

Now he is deep inside you. It is so beautiful seeing how you are melting beneath him. It is too good. I can't talk any more. I will let you enjoy one another...

* * *

How did you enjoy that, Gerald? Don't answer. Sarah must not hear your voice, remember. I told you that she has a very sweet pussy, didn't I? I just loved looking at how Sarah opened her legs for you. Didn't you just love that little gasp when you rubbed your cock against her hungry slit? I think that was her first orgasm. But you didn't stop there; you kept on giving her pleasure after pleasure. Your stamina is quite amazing. You took your time, sometimes with gentle strokes, sometimes a bit rougher, but all the time taking her from climax to climax. How many times did Sarah cum?

But I think that the best moment was when you finally got ready for your own climax. Sarah knew that you were about to blow your load because you started gasping like a steam train. Sarah wanted it to be special for you too. Yes, Sarah, I noticed how you pressed extra hard against Gerald. You were trying to help him, weren't you? You didn't care that he was driving into you as hard as he could and that his hands were touching every square inch of your body as if he were desperately trying to explore you completely. And then when he came I heard you gasp out in pleasure. I think you enjoyed it as much as he did. That's when I came too.

And when Gerald fell on top of you, winded and spent, you were just as paralysed as he. The two of you just lay there for nearly half an hour. No, I was not bored. While you were recovering, I was making a snack. Gerald is nodding his head; he has worked very hard, and now that it is over, he is peckish. Gerald, I have put your food into this container. Yes, I know that it is late and that you want to go home. I'm sure you want to leave me to spend some time with Sarah. I'll speak to Sarah; if she liked this evening, she might agree to let you sleep over one night.

You do dress quickly, my friend. Here's your food parcel. Have a good evening...

Yes, he's left, my wife. You do look a picture, still glowing in your sexual contentment. I think you like my ideas. 

I think it's time to release you. Later, when you are ready, it will be my turn...



Raw Emotion, Hot Sex and Laughter



The number one (two and three) rule of being a writer is...don't respond to criticism. But every now and then someone or something comes along that makes that virtually impossible. For me, it is never the scathing, barely camouflaged vitriol of other authors or wanna-be's. It is the thoughtful and well worded (and spell checked) ones that get my mental gears rolling. And I take each of those very seriously since I am always look to improve my stories.

I received one of those recently. The anonymous reader believed that the issue was with the pacing in my story. He felt that I was getting too caught up in the characters and not giving enough focus to the story. B-I-N-G-O. He is completely right. And actually, most of what he said was a compliment in that light. 

Over the past three years as I have grown from kick'em out as fast as you can erotica writing (bordering on straight porn honestly) to a indie writer, who is working towards making this a career, I am continually evaluating what it is that I write, why I write it and who I am in the brave new world of publishing. And I have come to some conclusions, although as with anything in life it is always evolving. But here goes with some of those beliefs.

I began two years ago with the tag line...Reality romances because everyone deserves a happily ever after. But then I started to write some fantasy and sci-fi that were anything but real. So how did that fit it? What's more, some of my most popular stories were not strictly romance at all as attested to by the fact that a surprisingly large portion of my readers are male. If I labeled myself a 'romance' writer then I felt I might lose some of them. So that did not feel quite right.

Then about a year ago, I decided to shift the focus from what I wrote to who I am...as a writer and a person. I came up with a new tag line...Writer, Madonna and More. The great thing about this was that it is not genre specific. It would allow me to even include my non-fiction parenting and self-help works under the same pen name. That felt really right to me, even though it flew in the face of conventional brand marketing. It was also a cute play upon words that had been a major challenge of my life...Madonna/whore complex. Since one of the themes in many of my books is the fact that woman can and often do (unless something is wrong with them physically or something traumatic happened to them) enjoy sex as much or more (thank the goddess for multi-orgasms) than men, I liked it...at the time.

Then my works seemed to take on a darker, more deep tone that transcended both erotica and romance. Something that no publisher would touch. I came to fume and ferment each time I was asked at one of the point of sales to categorize my stories. It makes marketing a nightmare when your target audience is as broad as the human race. Which led me back to the question...what do I write? For now at least, this is what I came up with...

Real life dramas that are full of raw emotion, hot sex and enough laughter to get your through to the happily ever after's.

Of course, it is still a work in progress, but then again so is everything in life. Especially after anon's comments about characters. So I am chewing that one over, because above all else my stories are about the people (I hate the word characters). Life is not something that happens to us, but about the things that happen within us and how those things/thoughts/scripts determine how we re-act to those happenings. So yes anon, everything I write is character driven. It might not be the prevalent type of literature that is currently popular, but it is a valid one. And thank you for noting that strength of my works. 

That, of course, begs the question...why do I write such character driven and 'artsy' things if I know that they are not 'saleable.' The answer is pure and simple...my readers. I recognize that the 'mushy crap' I write is not for everyone. But every time a reader takes the time, which is the most precious and limited resource we have upon this earth, to read, comment upon or email me their thanks, I know that I have found my place, my mission, myself. I won't lie, I do hope that one day I can make enough money out of it to survive. But a big a point of higher sales is getting these stories into the hands and broken hearts of those readers who do like/need my stories.

So who am I in this brave new world of indie publishing? First of all, I am damned thankful to be living today when the Internet and e-readers makes it easy to get your stories into the hands of readers. Not since the Middle Ages and the travelling bards with their songs and stories has their been a time when writers, singers and artists have greater control of their works and art forms. And for this storyteller that is a liberating reality. 

For I am a storyteller. I am not an author, whose focus is upon their craft or a writer whose point is the story. I am a storyteller whose passion is sharing the hundreds of complex and very real people that lives inside my head with people who for the length of a story can see a part of themselves in the characters...and my greatest wish is that she or he comes away felling just one thing...HOPE. Because real life is sometimes even more complex, complicated, dark and long than my stories. And I hope that all my friends can find a small dose of raw emotion, hot sex and enough laughter to get them through to their own happily-ever-after's.



Raw Gets Gingerlicious



WARNING: The following is a work of erotic fan fiction, the events of which are completely made up and did not happen, and is no true reflection of the persons, wrestlers, events, promotions etc depicted within. This material is unsuitable to be viewed by those under the legal age limit of viewing pornographic material in your current country of residence. 

Featuring: Taeler Hendrix(indies, AIW, SHINE), John Cena(WWE), Chris Jericho(WWE).

Raw Gets Gingerlicious

An indies/WWE crossover erotic story 

* * *

Moments after the December 15th 2014 edition of WWE Monday Night Raw has gone off the air, the man who guest hosted the show Chris Jericho is giving the long time face of the WWE John Cena a pat on the back as the two head along a corridor backstage.

"You and me both deserve a raise after tonight for putting over the "Champ" like we did." Jericho, dressed in jeans and a Fozzy T-shirt, jokes in reference to how he received an in-ring beating from Brock Lesnar, similar to the once Cena just took as part of the end to Raw.

"I'll be glad when he goes back home and stays there, leaving the title to the real Superstars around here..." Cena responds with a smirk, still dressed in his trademark shorts ring attire from the main event Steel Cage Match he was in.

"Oh, so you got a problem with people only showing up around here once in a while?" Jericho questions in another jokey tone.

"You at least take shifts of a few months on, a few months off..." Cena responds.

Just as the two are heading along, they end up bumping into a gorgeous young lady with long flaming red hair coming out of a side corridor, who's carrying a bag that has what appears to be a festive Christmas elf dress in it. She happens to be independent scene wrestler and a former winner of TNA Wrestling's Cut Check challenge - Taeler Hendrix. She's dressed in a short skirt that nicely shows off her thick ass, and a short no-sleeve top that strains slightly against her large breasts, and her pouty lips are covered with sexy bright red lipstick to match her hair colour.

"Oh my gosh! John Cena! Chris Jericho!" Taeler exclaims with a smile. "I'm sorry! I was just leaving, and..."

"Hey hey hey! Baby, leaving without us? What's the rush?" Jericho laughs as he shows he wasn't bothered by the slight collision.

"Oh no rush at all! I was just leaving since the show is done... I was surprised they let me and some of the other guys who played Rosebuds tonight stay for as long as we got to." She explains, referring to her role earlier in the night as part of the Rosebud party posse to WWE Superstar Adam Rose.

"Well looking like that, I'm not surprised you were allowed to stick around for a while." Cena says with a smirk of his own, not exactly being subtle with his approving look over the gorgeous and curvy beauty.

"So you like what you see John?" She flirts back as she places a hand on her hip. "Would your girlfriend approve of you eyeing up another woman?"

"If she knew of half the stuff I get up to with just the Divas around here, I don't think we'd still be together, TV show or otherwise..." John says with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 

"And what about you Chris?" Taeler asks as she turns her attention towards the other WWE hunk. "You interesting in some Gingerlicious action?"

"Gingerlicious? If that means getting a piece of you baby, then I'm all in!" Jericho states with a smile. "The question is if you can handle us?"

"Damn right I can!" She smirks. "I'm not just some random pretty face you know... I'm a wrestler, a former OVW Women's Champion, and most of all I'm Gingerlicious... Which means I can take anything you boys want to give me... And I do mean anything..." She adds, giving her bright red lips a long lick.

"I'd better give Nikki a call and an excuse to why I'm gonna be late back to the hotel then..." Cena says with a chuckle. "Because something tells me we're all going to be busy for a long while..."

* * *

Moments later in the personal green room set aside for Chris Jericho, both he and John Cena have stripped off their clothing, and the sight of their long and thick to match cocks have put a huge smile on the pretty face of Taeler Hendrix as she pulls her top up and off over her head, letting her magnificently rounded and large breasts bounce free.

"Haven't seen a rack like that... Well, since this morning when Nikki decided to wake me up..." John smirks, watching as she lowers her skirt to show off her neatly trimmed snatch.

"If you like them so much, why don't you come and have some fun with them then?" Taeler says with a wink as tosses the clothing aside and moves down to lie on the floor of the locker room.

"I'll help myself to see how good this "Gingerlicious" stuff is..." Chris states, his smirk already showing what he's thinking as the two approach her.

"Yeah, come and fuck these nice, big titties John..." Hendrix invitingly offers, licking her lips as she squeezes her massive mounds in her hands, watching the hung stud move down to mount her chest, and all too eagerly she traps his member between her breasts, using her hands to squeeze his meat in between her boobs.

At the same time, Jericho is moving down in between her legs, spreading them apart so he can push his similarly lengthy cock into her snatch making himself and the beauty being invaded moan as he slides his inches in and feels how nicely tight and tellingly already a little wet she is down there.

"Mmmm... Feels like someone's excited about this..." The former WWE Undisputed Champion chuckles as he starts to thrust into the busty redhead, working his shaft in and out of her pussy with a brisk pace, allowing them both to adjust to the feeling of his vast size going deep into her tightness.

"Mmmmm!! Oh fuck yeah I am..." Taeler grins, rubbing her breasts up and down along Cena's dick to wank him off with her vast and sexy chest, already showing skill in this sex act from the way he's moaning from the touch of her soft tits gliding back and forth over his member as she sandwiches it between her boobs.

"Two hot studs, with two big cocks to match? How can... Mmmmm... I not love it?" The former multi-time OVW Women's Champion grins with a lusty groan as takes the firm and deep pumping into her snatch, but her gaze is locked onto the meaty pole she's sliding up and down between her deep cleavage as she can't help but lick her lips and even spit down onto the head of that big dick.

"I could say the same thing... Mmmm... For what I'm getting right now..." John says with a moan of his own as he lets her rub those magnificent tits over his cock for a couple more motions. It's not too long though before he starts pumping himself between her rounded, soft orbs to her grinning delight, and the moans of pleasure he releases shows he's enjoying it just as much as the babe being titfucked is.

Speaking of fucked, she's getting that as well as the guest GM for the night and veteran sports entertainer drives his cock back and forth into her tight twat, keeping her tanned legs spread apart so he can firmly nail the former TNA Knockout while she's getting her breasts pumped at the same time.

"Ahhhh... Definitely beats having to put over that meat head managed by the chump who still... Ahhhh... Owes me money from back in the day..." The handsome grappler known was Y2J groans as he sends his shaft in deeper into the long time indy scene starlet, his thrusts making her curvy body slightly jolt, and if it wasn't for the other WWE stud who's keeping her pinned down to the locker room floor as he fucks her tits she'd no doubt be sliding in time with the smooth pumps Jericho is firing into that wet snatch.

"Mmmm!! I hope you boys... Ahhhhh... Make me feel real good..." She grins again, squeezing the thrusting dick that's moving between her boobs with another push of her hands to grind her lovely, big tits against the dick of the multi-time former WWE Champion while getting her snatch more than just nicely filled up by the shaft of another Superstar who's had many reigns as a World Champion.

"Oooooh fuck!! Mmmm... Yeah, you like that?? You like getting Gingerlicious?" Hendrix moans again, not clearly directing the question at either man but the answer is pretty obvious from the way both men are groaning in delight as one thrusts away into snug pussy while the other enjoys the sensations of pumping in between her big, pushed together and made to be fucked tits.

"I don't think... Ahhhh... I need to spell out the answer to that one..." Jericho smirks as he delivers a couple more deep strokes of his tool all the way into that nicely damp and tight pussy, pulling out with a groan that's matched by her, even as she keeps on moving her breasts against the dick being thrust between those massive tits.

"Mmmm... I can never say no to a great tit fuck..." Cena says tellingly with a chuckle, moaning as he pumps up into her breasts again before he moves and pulls his dick out from her. "But I want a piece of what Chris was just getting..." He states, giving his cock a pump with his hand for good measure.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Taeler grins sexily as she quickly moves to get onto her hands and knees on the floor, sticking her fantastic, juicy ass out towards him. "Shove that big fucking cock in and take me!" 

"You'd better not be leaving me out of this..." Chris says with a smile, getting her attention as he kneels down in front of her with his cock pointing right at her.

Giving a non-verbal but very pleasant response, she turns her flaming red haired head towards him and takes his Canadian dick into her soothing American mouth, wrapping her bright red lipstick covered lips around his man meat to instantly make him moan. 

More is to come however as she gets right down to business by going down on him, slipping the inches that had just been right into her snatch now into her oral hole, and it seems tasting herself from off of his cock is just encouraging her to suck him off if the muffled groans she's letting out are any indication.

As this is happening, Cena has moved down behind the beauty who had a role as a Rosebud on the show, guiding his shaft into her slick snatch and pushing in, moaning with a smile as he feels her rocking back towards him even before he's started banging her but once he starts doing just that, the smack of skin hitting skin starts to ring out when her ass cheeks connect with his ripped and muscular stomach.

"Ahhhh... The chicks down in OVW were never this hot... Ahhhhh... When I was down there..." The former OVW Heavyweight Champion says between moans as he fucks the former three-time OVW Women's Champion from behind, going balls deep with his stiff thrusts into the gorgeous beauty as she sucks off the former WCW and ECW Television Champion.

"Then again... Ahhhhh... I've never seen a redhead around the WWE who didn't love... Mmmm!! To fuck in a heartbeat..." He adds with a groan, watch the thick ass cheeks of the starlet who's worked for ROH and SHINE Wrestling shake each time she pushes back sharply against his deep and strong thrusts into her wet snatch, her own cries of pleasure muffled by the dick she's similarly deeply taking in and out between her bright red lips.

"Mmmmphh!! Mmmm... MMMMPH!!" The Gingerlicious wrestler groans around that fat and long cock that's being lightly sent into her hungry and talented mouth as she energetically bobs her long red haired head onto that dick, sucking him off deeply while still pushing her stunning body back against the thrusts she's taking from behind into her tight snatch.

"Mmmm!! MMMMMPHH!! GAHHHHHH!! Mmmmm..." The first female winner of TNA's brief Gut Check Challenge lets out a loud, erotic gag when she takes Jericho's dick in deep, further causing saliva to drip off that thick shaft but she continues to suck him off, her bright red lipstick smearing and staining his rod from the repeated blowing motion.

"Mmmm!! Oh shit! That's some good... Ahhhhh... Fucking skill right there..." The lead singer of the rock band Fozzy states as he watches the gorgeous indy scene wrestler continue to deeply suck him off with smooth and quick slurps, even as she gags when he's taken in deep between those pouty lips. 

"Ahhhhh... I'm going to have to check out the kinds of Rosebuds... Mmmm!! That pop up around here now..." He's able to add before moaning again as she easily takes his length into her obviously experienced oral hole, her sexual skills clear to see from the way she's taking this spit roasting as she gets her pussy pounded with balls deep pumps, and continues to gag herself onto the just as thick and long dick being fed to her at her other end.

"Mmmm!! From the stories I've heard... Ahhhh... That shouldn't be too hard to find a hook up with one of them..." The West Newbury, Massachusetts stud says with a smirk as he delivers another round of stiff, balls deep thrusts into the still nicely tight but more than just wet snatch of the proudly Boston Strong beauty. As she sucks away on the cock in front of her, she's more than able to keep on pushing back with perfect timing to meet the driving shaft going into her twat from behind, her juicy butt cheeks shaking when they slap against his chiseled out of stone mid section.

"Ahhhh... Rose might be stuck with a lame ass gimmick... Mmmmm!! But he sure gets plenty of hotties to hang out with..." Cena adds before letting out a low moan as he stops his thrusting motion, watching her stunning backside move back and forth over his cock as Hendrix now fucks herself on his mighty dick, happily working herself onto that rod to stuff herself full while making herself groan and gag over the now coated with spit cock of the other hung WWE stud she's sandwiched between.

Giving another couple of deep sucks, she lifts her head away with a groan and a long gasp of air, a sexy smile coming across her face as she looks back behind her. "You saying... Mmmm!! That I'm easy or something?" Despite narrowing her eyes, the smirk she has on shows she's far from fazed as she rocks forward to make his dick slip out of her snatch.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted a piece of us, so you tell us." John teases the horny beauty, and with his dick standing at full attention it's clear he's up for more action just like she is.

"A piece of one guy who's married, and the other in a relationship that's all over a reality TV show..." She taunts right back, turning around so now she's still on her hands and knees, facing the hunk who'd just been fucking her. Just as she opens her mouth to take him in, she's made to groan as she feels the cool sensation of liquid being poured out onto her ass and glancing back she sees that Jericho has gotten a bottle of sex lube and is starting to ready her no doubt for some anal action as the fluid drips down her butt crack and over her asshole. 

"Hey, what happens backstage stays backstage baby!" Chris says with a smirk, using a finger to push into her tight-feeling asshole in order to work the lube into her back passage, making her groan again but soon that cry is muffled as Cena takes full advantage of the open mouth to plunge his dick right into her. With her attention otherwise distracted, one of the few sports entertainers to have competed in ECW, WCW, and WWE proceeds to finger-bang the juicy backside of the beauty nicknamed the One Girl Revolution, able to force his digit in deep to allow more lube to be poured down into her and impressively she's barely flinching at all at this finger pumping invasion.

"Mmmmmphh!! MMMMM... GAAAAAAHH!!" Letting out another sinful but rather shameless gagging sound, the stunner who became Miss OVW in 2012 is more than happy to allow her mouth to be used and almost abused already by the quick and deep thrusts being sent by the multi-time former World and WWE Champion in front of her who moans and grunts himself as he drives in deep into that damp oral hole.

"GAHHHHH!! Mmmmmphh!! GAAAAAAAH!! MMMMM!!" The feeling of a now lube-covered dick being eased into her juicy booty makes her groan deeply and jolt forward, resulting in more loud gagging as saliva drips off the shaft being delivering in and out of her mouth. Fighting to keep her lips around one meaty length, the Gingerlicious babe now has to handle the sensations of her stunning and thick ass getting fucked as the other hung and handsome hunk begins pumping his tool back and forth into her so once again she's right in the middle of some smoking hot spit roast action.

"Mmmm!! Oh fuck!! What... Ahhhh... What a fucking ass..." The Manhasset, New York-born Canadian moans as he shows off his own sexual ability, using perfected timing and force behind his pumps to piston his member into the luscious and rounded backside of the New Bedford, Massachusetts-born stunner .

"Ahhhh! Mmmmm... Hope you saved some of that... Awwwww fuck!! Lube for me to use on her..." The polerising to say the least WWE Superstar groans as he keeps a handful of the long flaming red hair of the fellow desirable grappler born in the state of Massachusetts, gazing down and watching her pretty face moving towards and away from his crotch as he feeds her every inch of his thick prick that's now totally coated with her saliva.

"MMMMPHH!! GAAAAAAAAH!! MMMMMPH... MMMM..." The gorgeous female wrestler continues to let out muffled moans of pleasure along with deep gags from when the cock that's fucking her face connects with the back of her mouth, and even though she isn't even rubbing her snatch right now she's still getting off having her ass being fucked from behind steadily and gradually deeper and deeper.

"MMMMMPHHH... MMMM!! GAAAAAAAHHHH!! MMMMPHHH!!" Even as sweat starts to form over her curvaceous, tanned frame, the starlet who's worked for ROH and TNA Wrestling in the past is showing she's more than able to handle what two of the greatest WWE Superstars of all time can dish out as she takes a cock in each end, slobbering over the dick pumping in and out of her mouth while her ass takes a firm pumping at the same time. 

"Ahhhhh!! Mmmmm shit!! There's something about red heads around the WWE... Ahhhhh!! And knowing how to fuck..." Cena is able to groan out, delivering a couple more thrusts into her oral hole before pulling back, allowing her to draw in breath while she still gets fucked up the ass from behind. Flashing him another wide and sexy grin, she leans her head forward to swat her tongue over his bell end to keep him groaning, composed enough to allow herself to push sharply back against those deepening thrusts into her backside to in turn make the other stud involved in this three-way moan out in pure delight.

"Mmmmm!! You've never been with a redhead... Ahhhhh!! Like this Gingerlicious woman before!" Taeler states with a smile, letting out a long groan when the cock that had been thrusting into her thick butt is pulled out.

"I wouldn't go that far... You're no Rated R Sexpot, but you're way above the current Total Diva we've got around here..." Cena says as he helps her off from the locker room floor.

Before she can respond, she's caught by surprise as she's spun around and lifted up off the ground completely, and out of instinct wraps her arms around the smirking Jericho as he lowers her down pussy first onto the cock that has just been fucking her up the ass. "Ahhhh!! You've done this before..." He comments with approval as she's all too easily lowered down to the base to take all those thick inches inside her soaking wet snatch.

"Mmmmm!! Damn right I have... And the only thing I love... Uhhhhh!! More than a big dick in me..." Hendrix looks back over her shoulder, grinning lewdly as Cena approaches with the bottle of lubricant as he strokes the liquid over his still rock hard length. "Is two big fucking dicks at once!"

"You'd fit in around here, that's for sure..." The former Royal Rumble winner says as he steps up, spreading those thick butt cheeks as he lines himself up with her already nicely fucked hole, allowing for perhaps unsurprisingly easy entry as he pushes his lengthy rod up into her back passage, making them both groan out lustfully as he starts to fuck that magnificent ass.




Raw Gets Gingerlicious



"Mmmm!! Oh shit... You weren't fucking kidding... This is an ass and then some!" Cena further confirms the obvious with a groan as both he and the other WWE Superstar begin to thrust in and out of the respective hole they are deep in, already making the moaning, busty beauty between them bounce against their pumps as they deliver some hard double penetration action while she's suspended completely off the floor.

"MMMMM FUCK!! Ohhhhhhh fuck yes!! MMMM!! Oh fuck!!" The former TNA Gut Check winner moans out loudly as her lower holes are filled up and swiftly pumped, her big tits shaking as her tanned and sweaty frame rocks and slides against the muscular chests of the hunks she's captured between as they thrust deeply up into her dripping wet pussy and her tight ass.

"UHHHH!! Like... Like that!! MMMMM!! Oh I fucking LOVE THIS!! AHHHHH!!" The stunning redhead shamelessly moans out as she glances between the two men, biting down on her smeared red lipstick covered lips as she holds onto Jericho with her legs and arms wrapped around the veteran's body, allowing him to sharply ram his dick into her nicely snug but soaking snatch. At the same time her juicy backside jiggles as she takes a deep and hard anal pounding from the current face of the WWE as he groans and grunts from the tight to say the very least feeling of her back passage all around his cock.

"Mmmm!! There's a saying... You can sleep with a blonde or a brunette... Ahhhh!! Mmmmm!" The stud who says he's the best in the world at what he does is certainly showing he's very capable when it comes to some intense, thrusting action as he continues to drive his dick almost completely up into the wet twat of the gorgeous independent scene talent mounted on his long member.

"Awwwwww shit!! But you never get any fucking sleep with a redhead! Mmmm!!" He's able to groan out as he fires away quick pumps into that dripping wet but still nicely snug pussy, timing his motion just right with the other sports entertainer so that when one of them drives up into her the other pulls back before going straight up to stuff her full and then repeat the motion to keep all three desirable grapplers moaning out.

"Mmmmm!! I can believe that... Ahhhhhh!! An ass like this doesn't come along... Mmmmm... Every damn day..." The former Heavyweight Champion of OVW moans as sweat drips off his handsome face, the effects of keeping up this intense and hard hitting pace to give the former OVW Women's Champion the kind of fucking that she and her fantastically rounded and juicy ass start to take their toll. It's not going to stop him from enjoying giving it to her however, his hands gripping and keeping her butt cheeks spread so he can keep on slamming his dick home as deep as he can into that tight back passage.

"Just don't... Ahhhhhh! Tell Nikki I said that... Mmmmm... I don't want another beer thrown in my face..." Cena is able to add as he and the other just as hung former WWE and World Heavyweight Champion continue to drive up into her lower holes to leave her wet snatch and thick backside stuffed full of thick man meat, leaving her moaning out loudly and without any shame at all as she's getting banged more like a horny slut rather than a beautiful indy scene grappler.

"OH FUCK!! Mmmmm!! OH FUCK!! FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUCK MMMMMMM!!" Tilting her long red haired head back and letting out a long and loud moan of lust, Taeler Hendrix starts cumming hard on the dick of Chris Jericho, unable to take any more of his deep pounding of her pussy along with the anal banging she's getting at the same time courtesy of John Cena. 

"Oooooooooooh FUUUUUUUCK!! Mmmmm... Ahhhhhh!! Mmmmm..." She gasps and groans, her curvy body still jolting against the two hunks as they continue to drive their lengths up into her even as her pussy and her back passage tighten around their members to make them groan and cause their dicks to throb. Their final series of pumps aid the Gingerlicious beauty to ride completely an orgasm unlike anything she's felt before and will be tough to match again, but the wide and shameless smile on her sweat covered face shows she loved every moment of being fucked by the two WWE studs.

"Mmmm!! Shit!! Never blew inside of you..." Chris chuckles as he pulls his throbbing dick out of her dripping wet snatch, and similarly Cena behind her also eases his dick out of her backside.

"Ahhhhh... You boys... You boys got something for me?" Taeler gasps out as they answer her question by setting her down on the floor of the locker room, then moving in front of her as they grip their cocks and start to quickly stroke themselves off.

Brushing her long red hair back and opening her mouth wide, she soon finds out exactly what they have for her as Chris Jericho unleashes the first blast of jizz onto the side of her face, managing to aim the majority of his thick load into her mouth, and not too long after he starts letting loose John Cena is right there with a mighty shot that splashes over her nose. 

Groaning at the sensation, Hendrix stays down in place as her mouth gets filled up to the point of beginning to spill over her already smudged ruby lips, and as Jericho focuses on feeding her hungry mouth his load Cena aims his dick downward towards her large breasts, spraying the rest of his load onto those fantastic, large tits to give them a more than just decent dose of spunk each.

"Mmmmm..." Seeing the two spent studs finishing stroking off as they let go of their softening rods, she presses her lips together, swallowing down the vast amount of cum with a single, dirty gulp, and even licking her lips clean of jizz for good measure. "So... You enjoy getting Gingerlicious?" Taeler asks with a smile as she gets up off the floor to her feet.

"Damn straight I did... Even if I'm probably going to have to give Nikki a night of make-up sex for ditching her... Again..." Cena chuckles with a smirk as he moves rather quickly to get dressed.

"Poor you... But that was damn hot one, that's for fucking sure!" Chris states with a smile. "Question is... Are you up for another round?"

"Hmmm... I could be... I do need a ride out of here since I had to ditch my friends to "hang out" with you two..." Hendrix playfully says but the way she's glancing down at his dick shows she's more than happy with that idea.

"In that case I've got a ride ready to get to the hotel... And I'm sure I can call up a couple of other guys to join us..."

"We'd better hurry out of here then... Because there's plenty of Gingerlicious to go around when there's some big cocks involved!" She says with another wide smile.

* * *



Raw Intensity



I cannot keep my eyes off of you. Your beauty alone captivates me. Yet there is so much more to you than that. I can tell. A classic presence. An Intelligence. Sensuality. Passion. Raw emotion. My eyes continue to fixate on you. Your smile, the way you play with your hair, the sparkle in your encapsulating eyes, every subtle move you make. You have trapped me, without you even knowing or trying. I know now what a fool feels like. I would do anything to be with you.

Your eyes meet mine. My heart races. Pulse quickens. All I know now is that I want you. You try to look away from the intense look in my eyes, but you find that you just can't. Somehow, you are drawn to me. You walk closer to me. I continue to look at you, with wild, animalistic, and raw desire in my eyes. We move closer to each other, never breaking eye contact. Our lips meet. Softly at first. Our hands touch each other. As I pull your body close to mine, my lips move to kiss your soft skin of your neck. My warm breath sending chills of impending ecstasy throughout your body. You cannot help but convulse a bit from my sensual touches. Your hands slide under my shirt, lightly caressing my back. Our lips meet again, this time with more urgency and passion. I nibble on your lower lip, a sigh escapes you as I taste your lips, your breath, your arousal.

"I want you," I whispered softly. A moan escapes your lips as we continue our fiery embrace, our passionate kiss. My hands caress your face, your neck, your hair. Our lips moistened and slick from our frantic tongues. Your finger nails lightly scratch my back, feeling my muscles tense. Our tongues meet, a powerful, seductive dance together. I pull your head close to mine, holding firmly. I pressed your body against the wall, my hands slide under your shirt. My lips and tongue explore you, dragging on your slightly salty skin. I inhale your erotic smells, your intoxicating essence. Your soft hands move down my chest to my stomach. They fumbled with the undoing of my belt. I allow you to play with the button on my pants for a while. Then I move my hands, urging you to remove your shirt. Your arms raise for me, as I remove the shirt off of you. Our hands return to each other's body. My mouth moves lower, kissing the torrid flesh of your exposed chest. You lean your head back, as you finally manage to remove my belt. I kiss your shoulder, and slide your bra strap off. I cannot help myself, as I continue to kiss your sensuous skin. Your hands start unbuttoning my shirt now. But you falter a bit, as I can feel you are shaking in my arms. Amidst your frustration, you finally just rip apart my shirt, sending the last few buttons flying off. Our lips meet again as we press our desperate bodies together. Flesh to warm flesh. Your hands continue to caress my chest, my broad shoulders. I move my hands to your back and deftly undo your bra. You allow it to drop to the floor at our feet. Your skin is so soft to my touch, as I run my hands up and down your sexy back. Our lips kiss with urgency, you thrust your firm body against mine as our desperation grows.

"I want to taste you," you whisper in my mouth. Your hands unbutton my pants. My hand caresses your cheek. I lightly move your head away, exposing your neck, your chest. A low groan comes from you, almost like a hungry caged animal, as my mouth devours your skin. My tongue dancing circles on your exposed skin, tasting you, your chest. My senses heightened by the sounds, the taste, the aromas. All heightened because of you, all my focus on you. The moment. Everything. You hold my head close to your chest, as I suck on your skin. Your hands running through my hair, your body writhing with pleasure. I drop down to my knees, my mouth never losing contact from your smooth skin. My hands run down your exposed skin, your sensuous sides, to your pants. My lips kiss your stomach at the point where your skin ends, and your pants begin. My fingers run along the pants, teasing you with light touches. Your hands clench and unclench in my hair with rising sexual frustration. I slowly unbutton the top button on your pants. My mouth kissing the newly exposed skin, tongue lashing out on you. Another button comes undone, more skin exposed. My tongue dance on your torrid flesh some more, licking the top edge of your panties.

"Oh god," I heard you sigh, as I undo one more button. then achingly slow, I undo the last button. Now I can slide your pants off of your desperate body. My mouth and tongue leaving moist trails along your sensitive stomach. My hands slide the pants down your sleek legs. My face, my moist mouth never leaving your skin. I kiss your thigh, while you step out of your pants. My hands running up and down your smooth, firm legs. I cannot contain myself as I continue exploring your body with untamed desire. My lips drag on your skin, slowly up your thigh. My hands run up your back side, then grasp the sides of your panties. I slide them down quickly this time, eager to see more of your beauty. More of your arousal. I lick my lips at the sight before me.

"Mmmmm," I moan softly as I continue my sensual assault of kisses and licks against your body. You press my head firmly against your skin. I feel you spread your legs a bit, exposing more areas to kiss on your amazing body. My warm breath on your newly exposed flesh sends more tremors throughout your body. Your knees shake from the weakness for just a moment. I pull back from your body, your firm grasp of me, then I look up at you. Your eyes begging me for more, for me to take you now. I slowly lean into your body and lick your inner thigh. You move your other leg over my shoulder, pulling me almost under you. My mouth and tongue run up your inner thigh, slowly. Savoring your skin. Teasing you with the closeness of my tongue, the warmth of my breath. My tongue finally makes contact, so warm and moist to my lips. Your arousal tasting like honey on my tongue. Your head leans back and your back arches a bit, as you groan with pleasure. I drag my tongue on you, licking up and down. A shiver runs through your sensitive body at this intimate, erotic contact. Your hips moving in perfect synchronization with my tongue and mouth. Your hands holding my mouth close to you, while my hands run up your thighs and backside. My head moves up and down, my tongue laps circles around you. My right hand moves up your inner thigh, closer to my mouth and your warmth.

"Mmmmm," I moan while sucking lightly on you. The vibrations from my moan sending more waves of pleasure throughout your body. I hear you gasp, as I insert my fingers inside of you. My mouth never losing contact. I quickened my pace. I suck on you with more force now, while my fingers penetrate. My tongue lapping circles, while my head moves up and down. My fingers enter and retreat repeatedly, very moist and warm from your arousal. I can feel your muscles tense, then relax in perfect rhythym with the intense, frantic pace I have set on you. Your breathing becomes louder, more ragged and forced than before. Your hands clench and unclench with an amazing, ecstatic moment impending. I continue to suck on you, to lick you, to taste you, penetrate you, please you. I can feel the muscles in your thighs start to quiver. The moment of raw passion and uncontrollable desire almost upon your wavering body.

"Please, don't stop..." you whimper. I continue to rub and such and lick your body at quick, random intervals and directions. The quivering in your body, turns into shaking. I can feel your muscles clenching inside of you. Your hips push out to accept more of me, I never stop.

"Oh yes... Yes!!" you hissed while your body wracks uncontrollably with blissful convulsions. Your knee practically buckles from the onslaught of sensations and chills running through your body. Your hips move frantically, wanting to have more of me, but yet too sensitive to take more.

"My god!" You pull my head away from you suddenly, your body cannot take the sensations anymore. I look up at you, with a confident smile on my face. You gingerly step over me as I leaned against the wall, watching your every movement. You turn around, kneel down and undo my pants. I lift my hips up, to allow my pants to slide off. Your eyes fixated on the swollen bulge in my boxers. You unconsciously lick your lips as you crawl seductively closer to me. You hand grasps me though my boxers, feeling it's hardness. It's smoothness, it's raw power. You bend down closer to kiss it, through my boxers, as I lean against the wall. Your mouth kisses my stomach, my chest, slowly moving up to meet mine. We kiss finally, as you can taste yourself on my lips. You moan, while your tongue lashes out against mine. My hands caress every inch of your body, as I feel your hands slide my boxers off slowly. Our kiss ends, yet your mouth continues to tease my skin. I watch your head slowly move down my body, my boxers finally are removed from me. Your tongue lashes out on me, causing me to flinch at the sudden contact. Your breath on my wanting skin, drives me crazy. So intense were the sensations, I had to close my eyes.

"Mmmm, I want to taste you now." You purr softly to me. My hands move to your head, tangling in your soft hair. You run your warm tongue up and down me, slowly. So slowly. Teasing me with soft touches and licks. Another moan escapes you, then finally you wrapped your mouth around me. You can feel me throbbing, aching for a release.

"Mmmm," finally. You teasing has stopped. I don't think I could have taken much more! I opened my eyes to watch you. Your hand grasps me, rubbing up and down. I can feel the wetness from your hungry mouth, running up and down my shaft. Your tongue plays with my head, lips rubbing over and over my sensitive ridge. You move your other hand and caress my testicles, while your mouth sucks and licks away on me. I thrust my hips a little, my body begging for you to take more of me inside your mouth. Your hand grasps my smoothness and runs up and down me with a quicker pace. The sounds of sucking mixes with our moans were enough to send me over the edge. You can feel the urgency in me, as my hands guide your head with more force. Your sexy body moves to straddle my right leg, as you continue to send me closer. I press my leg up against you. I can feel the softness of your curves and the wetness from your arousal on my thigh. I could not take this anymore! I need to be inside of you. Now! I lifted your head to stop you. You look at me with confusion in your eyes. 

"I want to be inside of you, now!" I said with such intensity. I watch you stand up in front of me. You move to hover over me. Then you slowly kneel down, straddling me as your hand guides me into you. I feel the pressure as I am about to penetrate you. You are still wet and sensitive, your breathing increases as you lower yourself onto me more and more. Deeper and deeper. I feel your warmth, your strength, your passion, your arousal. All the way in. Slowly. You make a low growl like sound, as I push into you all the way. Your hands move to my shoulders now, as you slowly start to rise. This is absolutely amazing, dream like! Too many sensations running throughout our bodies. The sights of your lustful body, the sounds of our pleasure, the smells of our intimacy, the touches of our passion. You lower yourself again, however, this time you lean toward me. I kiss your neck as I thrust into your body. Your hips moving with my pace, doubling the sensitivity of our passionate union. Our pace quickens, our breathing intensifies. My lips continue to kiss your skin, an occasional nibble here and there. My hands hold your hips firmly, while my hips continue thrusting and gyrating.

"Ahh." a seductive breath leaves your body. You lean back, while continuing your hips dance sensually on me. Your hands move down my chest, scratching my sensitive, slightly sweaty flesh. You grope my body frantically, feeling my muscles flex and tense. 

"Mmmmm," I feel the warmth building up from deep inside of me, ready for a ecstatic final release. Your hands reach back behind you, bracing yourself on my thighs. Your arousal moistens my skin under you. You start breathing passionately, gasping loudly.

"Oh god...another one..." I hear you whisper. You lean forward and continue to move your body with mine at a furious pace. Our arousal peaking. Sensations coming on stronger now. I am not sure how much longer I can hold these back. I closed my eyes, while my muscles flex at the impending orgasm.

"Ahhh!!" I breathe out loud. This only makes you move faster, with more desire. Much more urgency. I cannot stop these feelings now. It is far too late! My body shakes with uncontrollable spasms, releasing my hot desire deep inside of you. Your moans turn to sounds of elation and unbridled ecstasy from my arousal. I throb inside of you, continually shaking sensitively. Sweet release! Our bodies wracking with pleasure and other sensation that we cannot possibly fathom. You wrap your arms around me, holding me close, as we bathe in the moment of our ecstasy. Our breathing is ragged, out bodes are sensitive and hot. 

A thousand sensations finally slowing down inside of us. Our bodies seem sated, however our emotions still wanting more of one another. I do not know how long we held each other, before you kissed me passionately on my lips. I do know, that this is amazing. I do know that you, only you can bring out the raw intensity of my desire for you. 



Raw Lust



We met at a friend's house, and we both felt the electricity of our attraction instantly. Thirty minutes after meeting we were off in another part of the house where we could be alone, our mouths locked together and our hands caressing each other's cocks through our pants.

I had unzipped him and managed to touch smooth man flesh before he stopped me. 

"Not here" he whispered "Let's go to my place."

Twenty minutes later we were standing naked in his bedroom, facing each other a few steps apart. He was shorter than men and hairier along with being huskier. His 9 inches of thick manhood stood strongly erect, as did mine. Every inch of my body yearned to feel the caress of his touch, the strength of his shaft, and the joy of his climax. My tongue was hungry for the taste of his cum, my hole eager to be stretched open by his manhood.

I stepped forward and knelt before him, taking his cock in my hand and wrapping my mouth around the glans, tasting his sweet pre-cum. I gazed up at him.

"I want you your cum in my mouth, but I want you to fuck me, too." I teased.

"Then don't stop." he commanded.

I made love to him with my mouth as he held my head and guided me. I sucked and licked him greedily, and soon I felt the rhythm of his body change. Hot jism exploded against the back of my throat and filled my mouth as several more spurts followed the first burst of his climax. I drank him like nectar and let the excess spill erotically from my mouth. 

My eyes met his again as I used his glistening hardness to smear his creamy love liquid all over my face.

He bent down and kissed me, our tongues tangling in my seed-filled mouth.

"Stand up. Go to the mirror." he ordered.

I turned and stood in front of the full length mirror at one side of his room. I could see my sweat in the soft light, and the glint of fresh spunk on my face. A dribble of pre-cum ran down my cock to my balls.

He knelt beside me and pulled my legs apart slightly. He poured a dollop of lube on the head of my cock and let it run down my shaft before using his hand to lubricate my love stick more thoroughly. Then he poured another dollop down my ass crack, and I enjoyed the tickle of it running down over my asshole and then my scrotum. 

He moved behind me and spread my cheeks. A finger caressed my hole and then slipped inside me, lubricating me.

He used both hands to spread my cheeks. I could see him gazing at my pucker hole via the mirror.

"You have a beautiful asshole" he said, before pressing his face between my cheeks and licking it. I moaned with pleasure. 

"You can fuck it, if you want. I like to be fucked." I said in a voice made halting by the pleasure of the moment.

"Not yet." he said.

He rose and went to the nightstand. He returned with a dildo in his hand. It was big, but not too big, and my body trembled with anticipation.

Kneeling behind me, he pressed the toy to my love opening. As my sphincter yielded to the pressure, I bent my knees to use my body to get a harder, faster penetration. I leaned forward with my hands on either side of the mirror. I could see the look of raw sexual delight on his face as he watched my asshole swallow the fuck toy.

"You like that, don't you?" I asked him with a smile.

"Yes, and so do you, I see." He replied as he reached around and gripped my rock-hard love shaft with his right hand.

He moved around to be beside me again. One hand stroked my cock with loving caresses, and the other languidly pumped the toy in and out of my fuck-hole.

"I want you to cum." he said. "Cum all over the mirror. I want to see you cum before we fuck."

It was a glorious orgasm! I erupted in a beautiful geyser of man nectar, much of which splattered on the mirror, and I cried out with the joy of climax. Waves of pleasure engulfed my body, and he pushed the dildo deep into me, intensifying the sensations washing over me. 

His mouth engulfed my cock, taking in the rivulet of man cream running down it, then he turned and licked my jizz from the mirror. My tongue flicked out with delight as I bent down to kiss him and share my spunk.

We went to the bed, and I lay back with my legs raised. The dildo was still buried in me up to the handle hilt. I saw the look of lust in his eyes as he paused to look at how my fuck hole held the toy, then he slid it out of me with exquisite slowness, and then my hole was empty. I wanted it filled. With him.

His love meat was fantastically rigid, and I slathered it with lube, then guided it to my hole. We both grunted when he shoved it all the way in in one eager stroke. 

He pulled my legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, then lubricated my cock. He didn't move, just held himself deep inside me while his fingers traced the length of my cock, then down my scrotum and made a circle around my engorged asshole. Then he began to fuck me and jack me in rhythm.

Our bodies moved in synch. Our breath became gasps, and our moans like animal grunts. Our bodies were covered in sweat, and each time we kissed, the taste of cum lingered and drove our passion even higher.

"Fuck me. Cum in me. Fuck me. Cum in me." I chanted in a hoarse whisper.

"Cum for me, baby. I want to fuck the cum out of you." He grunted in return.

But we didn't want to cum. Not yet. I was ecstatic with the pressure of his body inside mine. Every primitive thrust sent a new wave of pleasure through my body. I squeezed his love muscle with my sphincter, wanting to feel every ripple and vein of his flesh as it pistoned in and out of my hot fuck hole.

He used my body, my love hole, like a living sex toy. He used every inch of his manhood, pulling out until barely half of his bulbous glans was still ensheathed in the warm embrace of my anal ring. Then, he would drive his shaft hard into me, shivering with pleasure as my flesh caressed and squeezed as he plunged in.

Our foreheads pressed together, our eyes fixed on our loins. He was entranced by the sight of his thick, pink rod stretching and filling my hole, and it loved watching his hand masturbating me in rhythm with our lust fuck.

I don't know how long we fucked. 15, 20, 25 minutes maybe. Every thrust, every second, every stroke sent another ripple of pleasure through us, and he could feel the intensity rising in my body.

As he felt my orgasm rising, his thrusts became faster and harder.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" I cried out in almost animal tones.

He silenced my cries with his mouth, and I felt his orgasm burst deep inside me, silky warmth flooding my anal cavity as he pushed his cock in as deep as he could and made joyous whimpering noises in time with each pulsation of his love muscle.

I arched my back and moaned. 

"Yes!" I cried, and we both looked down and watched with erotic fascination as my manhood gushed ropy jets of creamy love juice out on to my belly, all the way to my chin.

He kept fucking me while he licked up the honey of my loins and shared the sticky treasure with me. I tingled with joy as I felt his jizz dribble from my hole with each outward thrust of his fuck. The orgasm he had pumped into my mouth had been exquisite lay copious, and the fact that my body had brought forth another equally productive ejaculation filled me with pride.

We continued to make love for several more minutes. His thrusts became gentler, more loving. My asshole was numb, but the pressure and gentle pain of his penetration was something I didn't want to end. 

Finally he pulled out of me, and another thick dribble of cum followed. My tongue instinctively licked my lips. He smiled and his face dropped down below my balls and his tongue lapped up the trickle of fuck cream that had slipped past my sphincter. We eagerly kissed once more, our tongues sharing the fruit of our lovemaking.

We lay together and kissed. I licked away the jizz that was smeared all over his cock, and we kissed some more before the need for sleep washed over us.

I awoke in the morning to the sound of his heavy breathing next to me. When I opened my eyes, he was face down looking at me with shocking intensity.

"I thought you'd never wake." he whispered.

As my eyes focused, I realized he was face down with his ass raised in the air. He was slowly fucking himself with the same dildo he had fucked me with. I was hard when I awoke, but this just made it better. I kissed him and told him not to go away, and made a quick trip to the bathroom.

When I got back I knelt behind him and gazed at his stretched asshole and gently licked at his scrotum, balls, and the smooth flesh of his love opening. 

I took control of his toy and dildo-fucked him until he gushed a stream of love nectar into my hand. I pulled the dildo out and mounted him, jamming my cock into him and shooting my own geyser of hot cream into his waiting rectum while I hungrily and greedily licked his spunk from my fingers.

We flopped on the bed and enjoyed the aftermath before it was time to shower and breakfast. When it was time to leave, I knelt before him and pulled his magnificent cock out of his jeans one more time.

I drove home with the taste of his jism fresh in my mouth, and when I kissed my room mate upon arrival at home, I felt a surge of testosterone when he tasted another man's jizz on my lips, and we fucked. We fucked in glorious lust.



Raw Meat



Wearing only a black leather skirt and thigh-high heeled black leather boots, charlotte stands in the center of the walk-in refrigerator, her wrists attached to either end of the spreader bar suspended from the ceiling, her nipples throb from the cold and from the pain of the clamps, each pulled upward due to the chains connecting each clamp with the O-ring at the front-center of her heavy leather collar. A tear tickles down her cheek due to the tightness of the clamps. 

With no clock inside this refrigerator, the captive has no idea how long she has been here. her feet and legs are tired and ache her, the muscles in her arms still quite stiff despite her repeated attempts to flex them. her throat is dry and she has difficulty swallowing after her repeated calls for someone to come free her. 

Here she is, a slave being punished. She had dropped a steak on the floor earlier in the day – it was an accident, as one of the cats had gotten underfoot. But Master Andrew would hear none of charlotte's explanations. Even though she had given her Master her steak instead and contented herself with just a small salad, she had had a strong feeling that she would be punished. 

And so, here she stands, just another piece of meat hanging in this cold, cold refrigerator. she had been placed here so long ago that the overpowering scent of raw meat is now almost sickening to her. she keeps here eyes closed so she no longer has to see all the meat hanging from the many hooks. Idly, she wonders if she will ever eat any kind off meat again after this experience, this punishment. 

charlotte shuffles her feet yet again, the three-inch heels keeping her leg muscles in an awkward position. At least she is able to step a few inches in each direction; if Master Andrew had somehow secured her boots to the floor – or worse, to each other – her discomfort would be even greater than it is now. 

Tipping her head forward relieves a little pressure on her nipples, but they still hurt, although not nearly as much as they had when the nipple clamps were initially applied. 

The refrigeration unit activates once again, and charlotte groans. With one of the coolant vents almost directly above her head, she is blasted once again with nearly-icy air. Since the spreader bar is attached to a single solid bolt in the ceiling, the submissive is at least able to turn so the cold blast from above tumbles down her back, not her front; if her nipples harden any further, she feels she may not be able o handle the pain from the heavy metal clamps. Even now, it is difficult to hold back the tears, and the cold and still-cooling air distracting her greatly, making it much more of a challenge to internalize the pain. 

…and the ever-present aroma of the raw meat definitely does not help in this situation. 

Yet charlotte refuses to cry, gathering all the willpower she can muster from deep within her being. Even though she is alone in the walk-in refrigerator, she still has her pride. Even though she and Master Andrew have shared a special bond for nearly a decade, she refuses to cry for him. 

she refuses to cry for herself. 

Thankfully, or perhaps simply mercifully, the cooling unit switches off, and instantly the backside of charlotte's topless body feels just a little warmer. The slave flexes her hands and slowly turns in circles to try to lessen the strain of being in the same position for such as long, long, long time. For the first time in perhaps an hour, or perhaps even longer, she opens her eyes, looking down at the heavy metal clamps biting at the base of each nipple, wishing she could use "Jedi mind tricks" to at least lessen the clamps' intensity. 

Being able to perform "Jedi mind tricks" would certainly separate from all the raw meat surrounding her. 

charlotte looks up at her wrists, the thick leather cuffs encasing them each secured by a heavy Masterlock – her Master's favorite brand due to the "Master" in the name. Of course, tipping her head back to look up at her wrists results in a tighter pull upon her sensitive nipples, and the slave nearly – but only nearly – cries out from the additional, self-inflicted pain. 

With a loud noise, the heavy double-sealed door is unlocked, causing charlotte's ears to pop. Unable to see the doorway due to all the thick hunks of meat blocking her view, she listens as the heavy door is opened, creaking loudly on its unoiled hinges. Hope fills her – hope that her Master will determine that she has been punished enough, hope that He will free her and lead her from this cold, odorous place. The single tear from earlier hangs on the edge of her chin, and charlotte shakes her head to force it away from her, in the process jostling the chains attached to the metal clamps and thus further torturing herself. Yet she is able to remain silent, breathing deeply through her nose to calm herself. 

The footsteps are loud, and finally, she sees Master Andrew stand before her. Even though she wears boots with three-inch heels, she must still look up to meet His gaze, which tugs at her nipples even more. The fact that her Master is dressed like He is about to venture outside during a major blizzard brings a quick feeling off resentment to her tired mind, even as she recognizes the psychological effect of his choice of clothing. 

Nothing is said as Master and slave simply look at each other for a long, long time. charlotte sees the care and love in Master Andrew's eyes, and hopes that her eyes emit the same. Yet she wishes He would touch her, speak to herm simply do something other than just look at her. 

The cooling unit activates again, and Master Andrew turns to captive so the cold air blasts down the front of her body. charlotte shudders, somehow holding back a sound of quiet torture, then suddenly screams and struggles violently as the clamps are removed simultaneously. The return of hot blood to the cold nipples is painful, worse than anything else she has experienced recently. The screams further the discomfort of her raw throat, and the tears threaten to cascade from her eyes. 

Pressing Himself against her backside, Master Andrew mauls her chest, the rough material of His gloves further torturing charlotte's pained nipples. Unable to hold back her tears any longer, she cries and cries and cries and cries and cries, even as she draws comfort and solace from her Master's presence and touches. 

Master Andrew at last steps away as the final tears drip to the floor. A few moments later, He reaches up and frees charlotte's wrists, ready to catch her as she slumps back against Him from her exhaustion. Carefully, He heads her to the fireplace, helping her to kneel before the tall flames and wrapping her in a blanket before He leaves her to close and lock the walk-in refrigerator. When He returns, He brings her a mug of hot chocolate, and kisses her cheek. 

All is forgiven. The punishment has ended. 



Raw Mommy



Last August, less than two weeks after I turned eighteen, I found the door unlocked. There was dust in the hallway, and a weird smell was lingering in the air.

I thought we got robbed. I snuck in, instantly nervous to the point of trembling. It struck me, too, that my mom was supposed to be home today - I knew she called in sick for some reason or other. Now scared for real, I called out to her, but got no answer.

I looked inside... and stumbled upon her - alone, face-down on the coffee table in the living room, with her hands and legs handcuffed to it, her pale chubby naked ass up in the air because of a pillow tucked under her tummy.

"Mom!"

She moaned. I ran towards her and saw she was gagged and blindfolded. There was no hope that she haven't gotten fucked. Even at a glance, she was taken in all ways a woman could have been. Semen was on her face and hair, mixed with make-up, streaming down her cheeks and chin. Trying not to touch the spunk, I undid the leather belt and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

"Mom, what happened to you?!"

Mom spat out a mouthful of drool.

"Please. Untie me... ok? Dear, please."

I hastily pulled at the handcuffs. Then I noticed a key on the TV stand, grabbed it and tried freeing her hands, but the key did not fit. I ran around, trying cuffs on her legs, shocked at the whip lines all over her back and her bottom. Semen was drying on mom's lower back, slowly leaking between her ass cheeks. Her cunt, resting in a hairy puddle of goo, was red and gaping, white and yellow spunk caked inside and around it.

"Oh god, don't watch," she said, but I already saw it.

I was trying to unlock the cuffs.

"Mom, have we gotten robbed?"

"No, untie me."

"Mom, what happened?!"

She yelled at me. I jumped to the cuffs again, and it worked - her right leg was free. Mom stepped off the table, shifting her weight. I tried the other lock, but the key didn't fit. I whimpered.

"Where are the keys?"

"I don't know."

"Mom, where are the keys? I can't take these off... mom!"

"I don't know", she said. "Maybe left in the bathroom."

I ran there. Across the slippery floor were pieces of mom's underwear. Her bra lay whole in the corner, but her panties were in pieces. I saw stockings - with crotch ripped, and stains all over. On the floor, on the sink, in the shower were used condoms. There was piss in the toilet and on the floor. Lipstick was all over the mirror, with pink fingerprints, lip stains and wide vertical smears.

Having found no keys, I returned to the room and looked all over it. My thoughts were rushing. Was she forced? Why did she call in sick, though she wasn't? I imagined someone putting a thick cock across my mother's face, balls covering her mouth entirely, and spilling on her forehead, letting it fly over her head and onto the table where her fringe had sponged it. Was that before or after they whipped her? When mom was getting punished, was they fucking her, too? Was someone enjoying her cunt as he whipped her? Did she scream? For some reason, I imagined mom say "Fuck me, fuck my ass, sodomize me." I kept looking for keys, but they were nowhere to be found.

"Mom, I have no idea where the keys are," I said, walking towards her. "Mom... mom, are you ok?"

"I'm ok," she mumbled.

"Maybe we should break the table."

I knelt near it. Now her pale ass was under my nose. Maybe I did it intentionally. Red slap prints were raw, yellowish semen has dried up in streaks. Her ass was chubby enough to bubble out prettily. Her free leg was stretched, making her ass asymmetric; I could see a bit of her pussy. I couldn't see well from behind like that, but I've already seen it when mom was on all fours.

"What are you doing over there?"

"Trying to break the table," I said.

"Careful..."

I grabbed it and pulled. With mom's weight on it, it was harder than I thought.

Finally, the wood broke. So, mom was free.

She stood up almost instantly. She lost balance and had to grab at me, dirty as she was. Blushing, she left for the bathroom.

"Mom, what happened?" I said, following her. "Mom, are you ok?"

She absent-mindedly touched my hand.

"I'm fine. Go outside."

"Mom, what happened?"

She waved without looking.

"Mom! Are you fine? Mom, tell me what happened."

"I am fine. Look... go, I need to dress."

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and cleaned her stomach.

"Mom."

I grabbed her wrist. She stood still.

"Mom, what happened?" I said, almost crying.

"Nothing happened," She snapped. "I got a dildo fucked into my ass. What, you afraid I was raped? I wasn't. Now I need to do something, so get outside and stay there."

"Yeah, you weren't?" I yelled. "And what happened? Is this how you do it? Is this how you whore yourself? Yeah, felt good? Is that your piss on the floor?"

"Mister Jerry A. Fischer, go outside - and stay there for half an hour," my mom said, rose her hand and slapped me across the face. Then I saw her feel sorry. She added, "Please, dear, I love you. Dear, I'm fine. Please go outside."

She turned to the sink. She was nude. Her body was smelling of sweat and semen. Breasts and ass had squeeze and slap marks all over them, and wet spots of dirt. She was getting whipped, fucked and chained when I was at college, and probably loved it, or maybe she didn't. But I also remembered that she was my mommy. She was in control, knew what's best for the both us.

So I did as she said, and tried forgetting.



Raw Pleasure



'I'm running so late, hurry up and turn green damn you!' Jacqui said under her breath while waiting at the lights.

She needed to be across town in a hurry as she had agreed to babysit for her neighbour that night. It was now 6.30 and she said that she would be there by 6.00 at the latest. She had also agreed to do a clients hair after work that night, not expecting it to take as long as it did. So now she was starting to panic about letting her neighbour down.

'Finally!' The light had turned green and she was on her way again. It's funny how when you are moving, you don't feel as much of the pressure, but when you are simply waiting at the lights with each second more pressure seems to build up.

It took Jacqui a further 25 minutes to get to her destination, so she arrived the best part of an hour late. Feeling really bad she raced up the driveway and knocked on the door, expecting her neighbour to be a bit angry at her delay. Instead it was quite the opposite.

'Hi, can I help you?' he said as he opened the door.

This was something that she had never expected. Who was this guy standing in her neighbour's doorway, certainly no one she had met before. He stood somewhere around six feet tall she guessed, paling her five foot 2 inch frame in comparison. He had a reasonably athletic build, short blonde hair and bluish-green eyes. He certainly was a 'pleasant' surprise.

'Um, hi, I'm the babysitter. I'm a little late...'

'Yes you are' he interrupted with a smile. 'I'm Steve, Lisa's brother. They left about half an hour ago and I wasn't doing anything so got roped into covering for you I guess. Come on in and I'll get out of your way!' Steve added as he stepped aside to let Jacqui past.

'I hope I haven't kept you from doing anything tonight, you know, um, I mean you don't look like the kind of guy that would be sitting at home on a Friday night.'

'Nah, not tonight, wasn't really in the mood for it. Had a rough day at work, so a night in front of the telly sounded like a better option, before getting called up to come around here!' Steve replied. 'So what's your name if you don't mind me asking?'

Instantly feeling flushed with embarrassment, Jacqui realised that she hadn't introduced herself. 'Jacqui, I'm Jacqui, I live next door.'

'Well it's a pleasure to meet you. I'll guess you'll be able to handle it from there though, so I'll take off and leave you to it.'

'Oh, can't you stay a bit? These two will be in bed soon and after that I could do with the company, and if you're only going to watch TV, then you could do that here too.'

'Sure, why not. No point sitting at home alone I s'pose'

Steve settled back into the couch as Jacqui sorted the kids out and it wasn't long before the duties were done and they were both sitting on the couch in relative peace and quiet.

'Can I get you a drink?' Jacqui asked to break the silence.

'Yeah, that'd be great, I could kill a beer.' Steve replied enthusiastically.

'Have you eaten?' Jacqui asked in reply as she got up, 'I could go a pizza if you are keen?'

'That sounds like a plan, I'll give them a call now' Steve offered.

It wasn't long before a couple of beers had passed and the pizza had come and gone and they were starting feel a lot more comfortable with one another – albeit thanks to the beers! So much so that they didn't realise that darkness had set in and they now sat very close to each other on the couch.

It wasn't until Steve moved and his leg brushed up against Jacqui's and an electrical jolt fired right through them both, like some sort of connection had just been made.

'Ooh sorry.' Steve offered politely

'That's OK, in fact it's quite nice just sitting and chilling here with you rather than alone by myself as is usually the case. Can I get you another drink or anything?' Jacqui replied trying to ease Steve's guilt.

'Yeah another beer would be great, thanks.' Steve replied

So as she got up Jacqui pressed herself of the couch using Steve's leg to assist and with that sent a signal to him that she wanted more.

Returning with a drink for them both, Jacqui settled back in beside Steve, this time a little closer still so their legs were touching. Jacqui felt like a teenager again with the nervous but excited butterflies fluttering through her body. Each one charged with a kind of energy that was making her more excited by the minute.

Within minutes the excitement was starting to consumer her every thought, She couldn't help but feel urges toward Steve that were getting harder and harder to control. She knew if she didn't do something that she wouldn't be able to resist them much longer.

'I'm gonna do something I don't usually do' Jacqui uttered in a quiet and scratchy voice.

'Pardon?' Steve said

Then Jacqui leaned in and kissed Steve, not just a gentle kiss but firm and wanting. This took Steve totally by surprise, but he soon found himself kissing her back, slowly at first then a little more deeply and finally quite passionately.

It was only a brief minute in reality but is seemed a lot longer to them before they broke the kiss and slowly pulled back from each other. Jacqui kept her eyes closed just that little but longer than usual, nervous to open them from taking that first initial risk. She needn't have worried as Steve leaned back in to give her another quick kiss as a sign of appreciation.

'WOW' Steve said 'I didn't see that coming, not that I'm complaining or anything, I mean, that was nice, unexpected but nice' He rambled.

Now the fire inside Jacqui was burning very strong and she wanted more, so without adding a word she leaned in and kissed Steve again, this time with a lot more passion, teasing his tongue with hers, kissing his breath away.

As they kissed Steve gently leaned back and they fell on top of each other on the couch, Jacqui on top of him, her hands now busy grabbing at his hair, at his neck as if she was trying to pull him into her.

Steve too moved his hands, but to Jacqui's waist where he eased them up under her shirt where he could feel her naked flesh. They kissed deeper and deeper, both totally in the moment forgetting who they were, where they were and what they were there for! It was as if they were the only two people on earth and they had finally found each other after years of loneliness.

Steve found himself gently scratching his fingernails across Jacqui's back and with each pass between her shoulder blades he felt her press herself a little further into him and every now and then a little breath would escape, which sounded more like a moan with each one.

Jacqui was getting very hot and she could feel that Steve was too, his pants containing a tempting bulge beneath her leg that she was imagining buried deep inside her.

They continued kissing and nibbling at each other on the couch, Steve's fingers continuing to scratch at Jacqui's back like a wild animal tearing at it's prey. With each swoop from her neck to the small of her back Steve flicked over her bra strap, desperate to snap it open, but knowing that he wouldn't feel right in doing it.

Jacqui started to kiss at Steve's ears, then neck then slowly she moved downward, unbuttoning his shirt as she went. With each button she nuzzled at his skin and teased him a little further, first exposing his athletic but not overly muscled chest. From his chest she slowly and carefully moved her way down to his stomach, eventually opening his shirt completely, exposing his torso as she sat astride him. She continued to caress and tease his chest, but this time it was her turn to scratch at him, gently rubbing her fingernails through the small thatch of hair at his breastplate, up across his shoulders and back down, ensuring to pass over his nipples. This caused Steve to jolt beneath her thrusting his hips upwards and into hers sending waves of heat through her.

Leaning back down to kiss him again, Jacqui guided his hands to the clasp of her bra inviting Steve to set it free. He needed no second chance, expertly flicking it open and exposing her complete back to the touch of his hands. Steve continued to paw at Jacqui's back like the hungry wild animal feasting for the first time in weeks.

Both totally consumed with each other and blind to the environment around them, they pawed at each other unable to satisfy their own desires until awkwardly they fell from the couch onto the floor, this time though Steve was on top.

Now it was Steve's turn to unbutton Jacqui's blouse. Staring deeply into Jacqui's eyes, Steve reached down and took Jacqui's left hand and slid it up so it was above her head. Then he repeated it with her right hand and placed it on her left hand. Jacqui now laid underneath him her hands as if tied above her.

Steve started at the bottom button to work his way up. With the first button he exposed her belly button, to find a diamante belly bar staring at him from her piercing. Up to the next button and he could see the underside of her bra and the lower parts of her breast escaping from the now loose bra. The third button freeing his view of her entire bra and the ample breast so delicately poised behind the flimsy material. Finally with the fourth and fifth buttons he had managed to open her blouse completely, leaving her totally topless save for the bra that sat loosely in front of him.

Slowly he traced his fingers in the same direction that he had undone her buttons stopping to play with the jewels of Jacqui's belly button ring and then up to the underneath of Jacqui's breasts, tracing slow circles around the outside of them. He could see her nipples starting to harden through the lace of her bra with each touch. This excited him so much that he needed to feel these soft nubs of flesh beneath his skin and hands so he reached up and slid Jacqui's hands down to her sides. As he did so he slid the straps of her bra down from her shoulders and off hers arms, free of her body.

Now they were both lying topless on the floor wanting more. Steve leaned in and started sucking and licking at Jacqui's nipples, sending jolt after jolt straight down to Jacqui's increasingly hot treasure trove. Her hands busily ran through his hair as he continued to lick and suck at Jacqui's torso, slowly moving his way down to her belly button and the top of her skirt. As her started to open the top button he was stopped by Jacqui's hand.

'No, not here' she pleaded

'Where then?' Steve asked, although it was more like a beg.

'Ah, the spare room. NOW!' Jacqui replied enthusiastically

They both got up and Jacqui took Steve's hand in hers and led them to the spare room – right opposite the kid's room.

Not turning on the light she led him in and sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him toward her. He was standing in front of her now, his bulge now right in front of her. Starvingly she unbuckled his pants and slid them down, followed shortly by his cotton sport boxers setting his hard manhood free.

With a gentle lean in she opened her mouth and started to take the tip of him inside her hot mouth and then gently she nipped the head with her teeth, allowing them to slide across the tip before releasing him. She repeated this several times until his cock had hardened even further and was now standing to full attention in front of her, where she started to lick the length of his shaft and down to his balls and back up again.

Taking his now very hard cock in her hands she gently pulled it down so she could take it all in her mouth, causing Steve to let out a deep and soulful moan of pleasure. Sliding her mouth off his cock she moved him to the bed beside her and eased herself up to stand in front of him.

Turning away from Steve, Jacqui unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down gently bending forward, teasing him as she stood in front of him in nothing but her Brazilian boy short style knickers. She turned around to face him and took his hands and placed them on her hips. With his hands in hers she slid them downward, taking her pants with them.

Steve leant in and kissed her navel then traced the outline of her neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair that stood there free in front of him. This drove Jacqui wild. She pulled his head into her as her tried to lap at her clit, wanting to taste her wetness on his tongue, but she wouldn't let him.

Instead she pushed him back on the bed and carefully climbed on him, straddling across him on all fours, but making sure to keep her knees up so her wetness stayed just out of reach of his throbbing hardness below her. Jacqui kissed him slowly and deeply just like they had on the couch.

While they were kissing she slowly eased herself down until the tip of his cock was poised just at the entry to her cavern.

'Wait' Steve called 'Don't you want to use some protection?'

It was a valid question, Jacqui had never had unprotected sex before, never. Each and every time she was prepared. Could she afford to not be protected, she had no idea of who this guy really was, no idea of his sexual history, did he have any diseases? What about pregnancy, she certainly wasn't ready for kids!

But there was something special about this guy, she felt safe, felt like it was ok. Also her purse was back in the lounge meaning that she would have to kind of kill the mood by going to get it. So she decided that tonight she would experience her first 'el natural' cock deep inside her. This made her even more excited, but a little nervous at the same time.

'No, it's ok I just want to feel you inside me' She replied in a voice trembling with passion and nervousness at the same time.

'Are you sure' Steve added giving her on last chance to 'be safe'.

With that Jacqui eased herself down onto him. Taking him in bit by bit, inch by inch until he was buried deep inside her just as she had wanted.

She had never felt such raw pleasure. Steve's naked cock deep inside her. It was much more intense than anything she had felt before, the flesh of him against the flesh of her. No thin rubber sheath preventing the direct contact. No longer did she feel the plastic of protection, just pure skin on skin inside her. It was such a raw pleasure. It felt so good, so natural, so naked, but most of it felt so right. She knew instantly that there was something special about this guy. They had a connection that she had never felt before. She also knew that she didn't want this to end anytime soon!

Moving her legs back down, she just laid atop of him, his hard cock inside her as she started to kiss him again. He kissed her back, thrusting his pelvis upward as he did, lifting them both off the bed. Her natural bodyweight pressing him deeper into her as he lifted.

They continued to do this for several minutes, kissing and thrusting, while also nibbling and teasing each other, as the passion slowly burnt between them. The limited movement making it all the more sensual as they stayed like that until it became unbearable for Jacqui. She needed to feel Steve thrusting into her, so she moved her knees up a little to give Steve a little room to do so from underneath.

'Oh fuck me, fuck me deep and hard, make me cum, I need to cum.' she begged.

There was no hesitation as he started bucking wildly at her from underneath, sliding effortlessly in and out of her very wet pussy.

With each thrust Jacqui panted until she was panting so fast that it became a throaty moan, and soon enough, as her orgasm hit her like an out of control train. Her moans turning to an intense cry of pleasure.

'Don't stop, ah, keep going, keep going' Jacqui pleaded as she felt another rush building within her.

Steve then pulled out of her and pushed her gently so she knew to roll off him and onto her back where he could enter her from above and give her exactly what she wanted. Now he was on top of her Steve re-entered Jacqui again, and started to thrust with long slow presses from the tip of his cock to the full depths and back again.

He continued these long thrusts until he could feel the bursts of his own orgasm building up.

'I'm coming' he uttered

'STOP' Jacqui cried, 'don't do it inside me, no protection'

Steve kept his thrusts going for as long as he could before pulling out on the edge of losing his load. Quickly Jacqui reached down and took his slick hard cock in her hand and pumped it until he came all over her chest, delivering his seed in a series of shots until the hardness that had pleased her so much started to drain away.

Knowing that Jacqui still wanted more, Steve headed south and started licking furiously at her clit.

'Oooh yess, that feels soo good, don't stop, make me come again. God I want that.' Jacqui whispered as she started to rub her hand across her torso, spreading Steve's seed across her hard nipples, breasts and stomach.

Steve worked tirelessly on her throbbing clit, lapping at her sweet juices, which were flowing freely. Within minutes Jacqui could feel herself bucking against Steve's tongue in ecstasy as she came for a second time. This time though it was a lot more intense and by the time it had passed, she was exhausted and just slumped n the bed.

'WOW' Steve said, 'I should babysit more often!'

Jacqui giggled. 'Yes you should, and I think that I might make a habit of being late! I should take a shower before your sister gets home, you mind?'

'No, go right ahead, I'll straighten up here and check on the kids' Steve replied still smiling from the evenings events.

Within a few minutes Steve was dressed and the spare bed was straightened and he was sitting back on the couch, finishing the beer that he never got to touch, and reliving what just happened in his head.

'Where's Jacqui? did she not turn up at all?' a voice sounded out from the kitchen.

Lisa had arrived home and Steve hadn't even noticed, as he was lost in his dream world.

'Ah yeah, she's in the shower, she ah got a little messy playing with the kids tonight" Steve replied kind of truthfully recalling her chest glistening with his seed.

'Oh Ok, so everything went ok? What time did she turn up? Lisa asked totally oblivious to Steve's meaning

'Yeah everything was fine; she's really good with the kids! Got here about 5 minutes after you left ' Steve lied 'Well I'll hit the road then' he added.

Steve got up and headed for the door.

'Alright then, and hey Steve, Thanks for helping out tonight.' Lisa replied.

'Oh that's ok, it was my pleasure really! I'll see you on Sunday'

They had one of the kid's birthday parties there on Sunday, so he would be back there for that.

As Steve was about to get into his car, he saw a car parked ahead of his with a personalised plate that read 'J Quay' and he knew instantly it had to be Jacqui's, So he took a business card from his wallet and wrote 'SUNDAY?' on it and slipped it under her windscreen wiper. Then he climbed into his car, drove off still smiling and not really paying attention to where he was going.

Steve was thinking about Sunday!