AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The war between them was not unusual. They’d warred a hundred times in their five year marriage, but never to this impasse, and never without some degree of certainty that the darkness of their sexual attraction would eventually rule and begin to heal what had been broken.
“You have a fascinating way of being happily married,” Trueblood stated.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
Though he was a slimy creature, unctuous and sly, his speech disarmed her. Speaking with that snooty officious English accent, she thought she’d have to answer him when none was called for.
“Ian Suffolk, er ... a Pennywhistle, was noted for sexually deviant activities. I made it my business to check on those of his acquaintances.”
“You what?” This was going too far.
“Just something cursory, of course. I’m hardly in your bedroom. But then, your husband’s proclivity toward bondage, discipline and the art of training women to be submissives is no real secret.”
Jocelyn was fuming, but dozens of chilling rejoinders were left unsaid.
“I have no more time for you, you’ll have to find Ian without me.” She imbued her words with as much venom as possible and pushed the man to the door and out. Having handed her his card as he was leaving, another ingratiating smile on his lips, she was moved to tear the card into pieces and drop them in the wastebasket.
“Emma, I’m leaving for the afternoon,” she announced moments later as she threw her coat over her shoulders and swept past her on the way out.
“You’ll be back at two?” her secretary asked.
“No, cancel my appointments.”
“But Mr. Donnally from the Ibercon board?”
“I’m not here,” she snapped at the freckled innocent face, and she was gone.
Like spring, the sun shone hot, but when the breeze blew the air was crisp. One gust raced right up Jocelyn’s skirt reminding her that in addition to being a bruised and battered business consultant she was a sexual being. The delicious tickle made her stomach grab, and reminded her of her unspent sexual energy. She walked three blocks away from the office in heels that should have made her legs and feet ache after the first block. However, Jocelyn was used to dressing in high-fashion statements of power that not only looked authoritative but also added sensuous to her list of personality traits. Jocelyn Killian Harold’s allure couldn’t be anything less than sexual; especially since Reggie had refined the seductive charm that had always been natural to her.
The aroma of fresh baked bread, Italian spices and cheese poured from a café she passed on her way to nowhere. Slowing her furious retreat from her office, she lingered in that fragrant space of sidewalk letting her nostrils feast on the smells. The jolt the breeze had fostered between her legs was only augmented. She remembered then the silk she was wearing on her breasts. Now sliding against her nipples it caused those sensuous rounds to draw into buds that any man would tongue with glee. A desire swept through her mind, one that would have taken her into an alley, where with a hand at her crotch she’d need little time to get off. Even in this marginal part of town she considered slipping into a private corner where she could take a moment to climax. But then she spotted the intriguing shop across the street.
Darting into the empty avenue, Jocelyn spent several minutes standing in front of the plate glass window looking inside a leather store. It must have cropped up overnight. Dozens of times down this street she’d never noticed the place. Since Reg, her mind was instantly tuned to spy such sights. Being so close to her office, she should have found this place before. Still, the storefront business looked ancient and well used. There was even dust on a few leather tooled bustiers displayed in the window, and the smell of incense was so strong it poured out onto the street even with the shop door closed.
Naked underneath her lime colored suit skirt, Jocelyn’s labia were easily tickled by the fabric brushing against them as she moved. Even standing still, she couldn’t stop the gentle sway of her hips that eroticized them even more. A banister, a railing, the arm of a chair would have sufficed to generate an orgasm. But having none of those, she took her arousal as an invitation to enter the sleazy establishment, nearly choking as she did from the plumes of patchouli and sage-scented smoke.
Behind a counter, a woman with a nose ring, purple spiked hair and silver rings on every finger perked up with the entrance of the redheaded business woman in the lime green suit. There was a sparkle back in Jocelyn’s green eyes, the mood of decadence overpowering her gloom. She could almost feel Reggie’s warm palm on her ass, massaging a rear cheek. She would push back against his fingers encouraging more. He’d slip his hand under the hem of the short skirt and probe her anally.
Peering inside a case displaying a good two dozen dildos, her eyes rested on an enormous anal plug that would be much too big for her to handle—despite her cravings that desired otherwise. Reggie had spent some energy and time making her ass as usable as her vagina for sex, and she could open that anterior orifice wide to accept a generous erection. Still, this plug was one of the largest she’d ever seen, which only reminded her of how long it had been since she’d indulged in an anal assault. There’d be pain the next time Reggie entered her ass, though she’d probably want that too.
“You want something?” the clerk asked. She looked like a girl on second glance, too young to be the proprietor of such a place. Young as she was, however, she looked like she knew what she was doing—at least as much as Jocelyn knew what she was doing in her late teens when Ian Pennywhistle absconded with her the summer she bummed around Europe. There was the thought of him again. When she hadn’t brought the man to mind in two years, here he was appearing twice in one hour. The girl with the spiked hair was a sister in rebellion, obviously planted by the gods to remind her of her other life. A life much less reputable, but much more fun than the one she was escaping now. Reggie was fun sometimes, but he wasn’t around.
“I don’t know what I want,” Jocelyn said sighing. The girl squirmed on the stool behind the counter—Jocelyn only then noting that this nymph was sitting squarely on her pussy, her skirt p
ulled up so her thighs and ass cheeks showed. With Jocelyn staring at the obvious exposure, the girl did nothing to change her pose when she realized she was being watched.
“I’m horny,” she explained.
“So am I,” Jocelyn replied, her voice dipping into a huskier tone much more mellow than her speech just a half hour before.
“You look like you could use a good screw.”
Jocelyn acknowledged the comment with a smile.
“Got a favorite fetish?” the girl asked.
“Hummm,” was the redhead’s answer as her eyes perused the array of bondage and discipline equipment in the cases before her. Reggie had as much at home, though that was so familiar to her that it hardly gave rise to much sexual titillation anymore. Together they were much less prone to using toys than early in their relationship. Reg kept the bondage simple, the domination as much mental as physical. Being able to mesmerize her with magical words evoked the stimulation that made such moments soar. “Frankly, I have this intense desire to be spanked right now,” Jocelyn admitted, finding it as easy to talk with the girl as it would have been to confess her thoughts to Alexandra, her best friend and sexually deviant female lover.
“I’d spank you if you like,” the girl replied, looking quite serious even though the suggestion almost made Jocelyn laugh.
