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The crop starts to work harder. Faster. Faster.
“Hold yourself together Miss Nolan, you haven’t been given permission yet.”
I clamp my mouth shut, suck in my abs as the divine and very new pressure builds.
She taps the crop against my clit now.
“Climax, Miss Nolan, now.”
The orgasm is barbaric, ripped from deep within a space I never knew existed, and is expelled with a scream of joy, frustration and salient understanding.
I wait, patient and pliant as she meanders beside me, searching my body. I know she can see my juices running to my knee.
“Well done, Miss Nolan.”
She reaches up and unties me. My hands are tingling violently from the odd angle. I shake them roughly.
“Have a shower; the room is booked for another hour on John’s account.”
I slide into the gown, white-hot pain pulsing on my right thigh. It hurts. I’m not going to lie. She goes to lift the crop from the bed as I come strangely alive.
“Can I take that? The heels too?”
The tingles on my thigh vibrate upward, deep between my legs and into my core, broadening when I see Demica smile.
“Of course, Miss Nolan, I will put them on John’s account.”
“No,” I say, standing as straight as I can, my nipples clearly visible through the silk wrap. “May I open one of my own, please?”
JACOB’S NOTE
Derek McDaniel
Julie came home from work that night to find what might have been the sweetest note Jacob had ever left for her. It was written on a sheet of vellum and sat, deliciously, upon their tightly made bed. The late-evening light was slanting through the windows, and when she flipped the light switch, nothing happened. She was left to regard the bedroom in ambient light.
There was a fresh comforter cover on the bed; the sheets and pillowcases, tomato red, had been freshly changed from the more typical, more prosaic ivory ones. Those were cotton; these were satin. There were three extra pillows, plainly new and very, very firm. These, too, were cased in red satin, but the fact that the three were stacked atop each other, midway between headboard and footboard, left no question in Julie’s mind as to what they were for or what was intended to go atop them. The vellum note had been pinned to the pillows.
From each of the four corners of the heavy bed frame trailed loops of black nylon rope, open padlocks hooked around them.
She felt the ropes; they were quite secure.
Atop the white comforter between there were scattered rose petals. On the lower part of the rose-covered bed, south of the pillows and the note, there were two very large-looking dildos with a complicated array of straps, two pairs of padded restraints, a pair of silver-and-black nipple clamps joined by a bright silver chain, and a dog collar.
It was the dog collar, even more than the note, that made Julie’s flesh feel tingly.
She breathed hard as she read the note again and again and again, hot waves of arousal pouring through her body.
There wasn’t much to read, so each rendition was quick but nonetheless caused a whole new ripple of excitement to course through her. She read it so many times she lost track of time.
She couldn’t resist the urge; she lifted her plain, businesslike wool skirt and slipped her hand in her panties.
Fuck, that felt good.
At that moment, Julie would have been happy if Jacob had shown up right then and fucked her brains out. No further preparation. No more ritual. No fucking around, just fucking. But that’s not what the note said.
Julie really had to expend a lot of effort to get her hand out of her panties. She brought her fingers to her red-painted mouth and licked them, feeling filthy as she did. She unbuttoned her blouse, shrugged it off, put it in the immaculate, empty hamper. She unzipped her skirt, wriggled out of it. She kicked off her shoes; removed her bra, her stockings, her panties. She took off her makeup and got in the shower. On second thought, before her long dark curly hair hit the stream, she stepped out, dripping everywhere, and fetched a shower cap. The last thing she wanted was clammy, wet hair.
She got back in the shower, scrubbed her face, shaved. She did her legs and her pussy, her armpits. They were pretty much smooth, but it pays to be sure. She lathered and rinsed. The shower massager migrated down automatically, until she was slumped up against the clammy, cold tiles. Her eyes rolled back. She bit her lip. She had to stop herself.
