The Job (10)

It wasn’t an epic fail, but it was a fail nonetheless.

Well, she had told him, she comforted herself as she stood under the hot spray of her shower. But he’d have none of that “I can’t” talk, she reminded herself. Just kept putting his finger over her lips when she’d start saying it. So the fail was his as well. She nodded to herself.  She couldn’t have an orgasm. And despite the beginnings of a connection with him, whatever this relationship was, it was already over. Because, hello, she was fucking broken! 

She’d rolled off the bed,  told him to go. They’d had a good time in her bed, time that had been enjoyable. She tried, tried to relax. Tried to feel the building bud of excitement. But she hadn’t cum, hadn’t helped him get off, just hadn’t.

Resting her forehead on the shower wall, hot water sluicing down her back, she remembered the feel of his hands sliding over her, the way his fingers cupped and kneaded her breasts, the arousal she began to feel.

Her head came up as tears threatened. She let them drown in the spray of water. It had died, that feeling, almost as soon as it began. She liked him touching her. She loved his mouth, the kisses that were as potent as a drug, the way his mouth had moved over her nipples, had buried itself between her thighs. It just …didn’t happen.

Maybe it was an epic fail.

She snapped off the shower, wrapped her hair in a towel, and her body in another. She’d get her sweats on and go order Chinese or something. She stopped in her bedroom. What was that smell? Hurrying to the kitchen, she wondered if she’d knocked a burner into the “on” position on her way through with Keegan. They’d been kiss-tangled at the time, bouncing off cabinets and her small kitchen set.

She stopped dead in the doorway.

“Hi. Have a nice shower?”

“Wha—what are you doing?”

“I don’t know about you, but I call it cooking.”

“B…but…”

“Surely you didn’t think I was just going to walk out and not talk about what didn’t happen in there?” He pointed in the direction of the bedroom. “That’s not how this works, kitten.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but she had no words.

He pulled out a chair and pointed to it. She sat, looking pole-axed.

******************************************************************************

“So, we talked it through, but there weren’t any concrete resolutions. If she keeps on thinking she’s broken, and god help the asshole who put that thought into her head if I ever find him, she’s going to believe it so deeply that I’ll never be rid of it.”

“It seems she’s already bought into it–“

“Well, she has, but it is always said somewhat tentatively.”

“Don’t interrupt me son.”

Keegan snorted into his coffee cup. There was no one who knew more about sex in general, and D/s as a lifestyle than Jakob. He’d been in the scene almost his entire life; his mother had been a professional Dominitrix –and likely still was though she was going on 75. He’d only met her once but she’d made him very nervous, which no one else had ever done. But when his friend put that Old Geezer voice on? It never failed to make him laugh. Or listen. Damn him anyway!

“As I wuz sayin’…”

“Okay, geezer, I get it. I’m all ears.”

“That’s not what I heard…according to Miz Traylor.” Jakob paused to laugh.  He really enjoyed getting under Keegan’s skin at times. Nothing would jostle him out of a mood faster.  Miz Traylor loved to watch Keegan in a scene, and would tease him relentlessly afterward. She had no interest in bedding him, but she very much enjoyed making him squirm. A die-hard lesbian, nothing made Keegan blush as the things Miz T would say to him. A blushing Dom was nothing short of hysterical, Jakob thought.

“Geezuz, J….” and the tips of his ears pinkened.

“So, back to your little problem. Here’s what I think. I think you need to stop being such a baby with her. She is curious. I swatted her butt way back when she started here, and I know it got her going. Some submissives don’t always understand what’s happening to them. You’re going to be the one to help guide her. So I would suggest doing so carefully.”

“I think you should help. Since you are so sure of her ‘hidden needs’ and all. Besides–It will be fun.”

“Fun, huh? Fun getting my janitor all hot and bothered, so that you can walk in and fuck her, while I get to walk out with hard wood?”

He laughed at the look on Keegan’s face, then continued.

“But lucky for you,  I don’t mind priming her. I like her–and you, though I’m not sure why since you’re so fucking ugly. But she’s wounded and I don’t mind having the chance to help heal that. And she has a really fine ass, too.”

He smiled as Keegan bristled.

“Well, she does, right? Let me know when and I’ll make sure that we have nothing else scheduled at that time. Monday’s are best you know. She’s here, you’re free, club is closed.”

They talked a bit more, until they’d decided on a course of action. Keegan left J’s office feeling much better than he had when he walked in.

**********************************************************

He took her to dinner. Took the menu from her, and said “Let me.” To his amazement, she did. If she was bemused that they hadn’t spoken further of the sexual breakdown she’d had, he let her wallow in it for the nonce. He caught more than a few inquiring, curious glances from her, at dinner, and the following day. He’d only kissed her firmly at her apartment door, then with a smile, turned and walked away. She was thinking hard while she cleaned, her brows furrowed more than once when he would walk through the room where she was working.

She wondered what the fuck was going on.He was still interested. Still taking her out on dates. Dinner last night had been a bit strange, but she had kind of liked it too, the guy ordering for the little lady and all. But she was still feeling shy? Maybe not shy. Weird? Yeah. She was definitely feeling weird. Guys she knew from before would have been long gone by now. But Keegan kept taking her out.  At work, he’d seek her out, fondling her tits when he could get her alone, or even sneaking up behind her while she was working and swat her on the ass. When she’d whirl with a squeal,  he’d grab her up,  tug her into another of those torrid kisses. She was puzzled. She was intrigued. She was very curious. Well, there was one person here who knew Keegan better than anyone. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on Jakob’s office door. Her eyes glanced at the “NO” plate. Wondering what, exactly “no” meant, she opened it at his very poorly timed “come”. If only.

“Ah, Mandy. How are things going?”

“I’m good, boss. Fine. Uhm… I was wondering what “no” meant on the door?”

He looked at her a moment, a faint half-smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Well, ah, that wasn’t why I came in here–I just kind of wondered is all. Never thought to ask before.”

“Ah. Well. It depends on why anyone is coming in here. If someone is looking to fuck in my private space, then NO. If a slut is here asking for permission to cum, then NO. If someone wants a special order? Maybe. But I thought NO was still a good answer and went with it. It stops a lot of bothersome nonsense, you see.”

Steepling his fingers, he gazed at her impassively.

“I’m supposing you aren’t here with bothersome nonsense, are you kitten?”

His voice had turned silky. Damned if that didn’t make her knees wobbly. He could be very “dangerous” in this mood. He teased her quite a bit, in a big brother sort of way. But sometimes he just let the Dominant side of him ride loose and free–and she didn’t quite know how to deal with that side of him yet.

“It makes me nervous when you do that,” she blurted.

“Do? Do what, kitten?”

“That!” she waved her hand at him. “That…dom stuff. You’re not my dom and I am not a submissive and … you still …I dunno….”

His smile grew sharper, and she supposed that this was the sort of things that got other girls going, that look on his face. It spoke of predators, and things that went bump in the night. And in here? It spoke of whips and chains and bondage and sex fantasies brought to life.

She cleared her throat.

“I…uh…wanted to ask about…Keegan. He…I…there was an issue….and…uh…”

She rolled her eyes, and blushed furiously.

“You are SO not making this easy.”

“Good things are rarely easy, girl.”

Taking a deep breath, she moved closer, daring to sit in one of those huge leather chairs.

“I can’t make him stop, you see. I can’t please him, I can’t…you know. I told you already. I’m broke–“

“Stop.”

It was pure Dom that interrupted before she could finish the word.

“I have tolerated you saying that for months. Mandy, you are not broken. Someone, somewhere, fucked you up. They were fucking awful in bed, and blamed you at a time when you were vulnerable. Your problem? Is buying into it. If someone told you that you were stupid, would you believe them?”

She shook her head vehemently no.

“No, of course not,” he continued. “Because you know that you’re a fucking smart woman. You have successfully taken care of yourself–paid your bills, maintained an apartment and a vehicle, and a job where your skills are definitely needed. So–not stupid. That said? You took his fuck up…whomever “he” was…because he couldn’t satisfy you…and turned it into a mantra that you’ve repeated often enough that your body believes it. You need to get through that, past that. I don’t think Keegan is able to do that.”

“But…”

“Hear me out, Mandy. He can’t, because he really cares about you. About fucking this up. So. He’s dumped you into my lap.”

She blinked, sitting up straight in the chair.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yup. You’re my problem now.”

She stared at him, horror written clearly on her face.

“I–I…no. No. Not possible. I can’t let my boss be the “cure” for my …my …orgasm issues. Oh my gawd.”

Her hands covered her flaming face. Soft ‘no, no, no, this isn’t happening’ came from between her fingers, to his vast amusement.

Keegan was right. This was going to be a lot of fun.

****************************************************

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OH Yeah…He *needs* “It”…

He may define “need and want” differently (or more basically) that I…but I’ll tell you that I’m sporting some pretty awesome bruises from his ferocious pinching…in public mind you. We met at a little gift shop that is mid-way between us, and He took that sensitive bit of flesh under my upper arm between His fingers, through my coat, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes…and “escorted” me inside. Sure, it looked like He was being the most considerate of gentlemen, holding my arm as He steered me inside. Only I, and of course He, knew otherwise.

Then at His car, He got my other arm in a biting grip as He talked on his cell to his son. All calm and nonchalant as he carried on this conversation, and there I am, nearly dying to cry out or moan or something and yet I cannot. Because, you know. Phone. Son. Geezuz I was so turned on, hurting so much. He smiles at me, and I see that He’s as into this as I am. Sure, I may crave it more vocally then him, and maybe even more regularly than Him…but He left me in no doubt that hurting me is His pleasure.

And when I showed Him how long my hair was getting, He wraps it in His fist and suddenly I’m looking up at the sky through the lift-back of his car. Tears sting my eyes once more, even as my clit starts banging in harmonic resonance with the throb in my hair follicles.

Today I’m bruised on my arms and belly (where He admonished me firmly that some of that (muffin top–don’t you hate that term?!) had to go…it was simply too tempting, and easy, for Him to assault…) and my heart is singing…

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A Dash of Reality

I talked to Him the other day about a thought that occurred when doing some random stuff around here. He and I have often wrangled about the concept of need vs want. I want to be played with, I want to be used, I want to be dominated. But I don’t need it. That’s HIS take on it. I say that I DO need it. I DO need to be used, and all the rest.

To him, military guy that he will always be–a need is food. A need is water. Shelter and clothing are optional comforts–very nice to have but survivable without. Ergo, I don’t need the Domming, the play, the…all of it. I might crave it, but that’s a different thing.

He is, of course, correct.

But that doesn’t account for the heart. For the twists and turns of our minds, the many vagaries of the human condition. Can we survive with just food and water? Of course. But it would be a very mean situation. (In the old definition of ‘mean’, not ‘he’s being unkind’)

So when I moan that I need a spanking (which I do…very badly!) he will oft counter with “No you don’t, you’re just craving one.” Though lately he has also been saying “You always need a spanking, nilla. You’re just a naughty little slut.”

(which gets me all sorts of worked up!)

So then I was thinking that think that I mentioned above…do they…(the ubiquitous ‘they’…!) need/crave/want the things that they do to us, as much as we need to be on the receiving end? I kinda think they do, but He doesn’t ever talk of it. Never so much as utters that He might need to use me as hard and roughly as I want to be taken.

So I asked him.

“Do you need it? Could you live for the rest of your life without it, turn it off, shut it down, put it away and never once think about being a Dom again?”

His answer was *immediate*…no pause, no hesitation, no ‘let’s fuck with the little subbie’s train of thought.’

“No. No, I need to spank you. I need to do what I do. No. I couldn’t put it away. Not ever. It’s part of who…of what…I am.”

There was solace in that for me. That, while we can both sort of compartmentalize our wants, our sordid desires, mine tends to leak out around the edges, and sometimes (shocker alert)…I get bitchy with it. But knowing that His needs are just a potent for him (though damn him for being able to put it all in a box and wait to take it out until the opportunity is right!)…it somehow helps me be able to cope more. 

I’m hanging on for dear life here because the cravings are so intense just now…and we’re not playing for a while now. We have had some short face-time interludes, and that helps…but it’s not all of what a needy slut needs. (I sound like a child there– I wanttttt ittttt!) but honest truth? I DO want it.

I think He doesn’t mind that I do, either. In fact, I think He counts on it.

 

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The Job (9)

She was back in her groove. Despite a few worries that she’d be weirded out about being kissed by Keegan, he didn’t change his routine around her. Like at all. Oh, maybe a wink or a light touch on the arm as she passed, but that was the extent of it. She’d also gotten through the shivers after cleaning that bathroom. There had been no lingering worries; the bothersome presence of the woman she had discovered was named Fae, and the man who was, in her own mind at least, titled ‘Sir Asshat’ had both been banished from the club for the foreseeable future. Back to loving her job once more, she moved through another week.

She wasn’t miffed about his lack of attention. So what if Keegan didn’t seem to be thinking about The Kiss. She didn’t either. Nope. She didn’t have time to think about that mind-bending kiss. Well, maybe sometimes, but only in random moments like when she was scrubbing toilets, that was all. Did he mention that kiss? Nope. Not once. Did he try again? Nope. Obviously it was a pity kiss, and that was fine. Just dandy.

Lying to herself about that dratted kiss was starting to rankle. She scrubbed the floor with her mop with a sudden burst of ferocity. Fuck him. Fuck them all. Men.

“What’d that floor ever do to you, kitten?”

Great. Just fucking great. Of all the people to sneak up on her now. She refused to acknowledge him by turning.

“It’s called cleaning. It’s what I do, remember?” Dickhead, she finished silently.

“O-kaay. What’s got you in such a pissy snit this morning?”

She whirled, the strings of the mop swirling about and nearly hitting his shins. She dropped it and stalked up to him, poking that finger into his chest again.

“You. You give me pissy snit. So just….go. Go wherever you flit off to, you…man you.”

She stomped back to where her mop lay on the floor and snatched it up.

“You mean my kissing you last week? Or your response to it?”

“Just go.”  She growled.

When she looked back over her shoulder, he was gone.

“Fuck.” she muttered, and returned to scrubbing the floor with a vengeance.

************************************************

“Damnest fuck of a thing. Seriously, she’s fucking deranged.”

Keegan paced around Jakob’s office.

“I go up to just check in with her, make sure she’s not getting the willies over cleaning that bathroom–“

“interesting word choice there–“

“you’re a fucking riot, J. So I go in and she’s scrubbing the floor–“

“Which I do pay her to do, Keege…”

“Will you shut the hell up and let me finish?” Keegan ran a hand through his hair, impatience sluicing off his every movement. “She’s scrubbing it like she’s pissed as hell, so I think maybe she’s having some sort of reaction to the whole thing, and when I ask her about it, she about throws her fucking mop at me and blames ME. Like…what the fuck did I do?”

“You kissed her, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, if I kissed you would that piss you off?”

“If you kissed me, after you picked your ass up off the floor, yeah, I’d be pissed. Unless, you know, you told me you liked me first. You know. Courted me a bit.”

Keegan stared at his friend for a long moment.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that, right?”

Jakob laughed so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. Pointing his finger at the man who was both employee and friend, he was gasping, on the verge of tears. Keegan continued to stare at him, but his lips were twitching.

“Shut up, you idiot!”

But a moment later the sheer ridiculousness struck him, and he too was laughing. The two howled like loons, until Keegan collapsed into a chair, begging for it to stop.

“Oh man…you have it so bad for her. Do you even realize how sunk you are? OH man.” Jakob wiped his eyes, then made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go…go work it out with her. Just…I can’t laugh anymore, I have a business to run.

He watched, still grinning, as Keegan shut the door, oh so quietly, behind him. Man, he thought again, you are fucking sunk.

***************************************************************

He caught up to her outside her “office”. It was a large space, with a soak sink, built-in shelving for proper chemical storage, and a cabinet for all of her tools. There was even a small desk in the corner where she could maintain her inventory, keep cleaning logs, and stash her stuff. She’d settled down to ‘fuming’ from her flaming mad a while ago. No. She wasn’t going to let him make her crazy. She was an adult and responsible for her own reactions to people around her. And he wasn’t going to make her mad. A few deep breaths as she stowed away the last of her gear helped push away the ang…no. She wasn’t angry. She was just…well, there wasn’t one defining word really. There was just him. And her. And her total lack of reaction to him.

Slipping her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, she tugged her hair out of the collar, and slid a scarf around her throat. It was getting chilly out there, and the wind was biting. Slinging her small purse over her shoulder,  and stuffing her keys into her coat pocket, she opened her door to find Keegan there, fist raised as if to knock.

“Well Jezuz H!” She exclaimed, taking a quick step backwards in surprise. “What the fuck?”

He took a half-step back as well; her fist had come up in her surprise. The woman had good reflexes, he gave her credit for that.

“You don’t want to hit me with that.”

“To be sure, I do.”

“No, no you don’t because if you do, you’ll break your thumb with that grip. The thumb, tucked inside the fingers, becomes vulnerable. Lay it outside, like this.”

He stepped forward, taking her hand in his; her small hand was swallowed in his,  just as she was dwarfed by his height. Patiently he uncurled her fingers, and plucked out her thumb. Gently he re-curled her fingers, then placed her thumb along her fingernails.

“The thumb will hold your fingers together better, giving you more strength behind the blow, and won’t get broken this way. Plus, when you throw the punch, you kind of want to pivot your foot and hip a bit, use your pelvis as a fulcrum for the arm. That way your whole body will be behind the blow.”

“So if I hold my hand like this,” she tugged her fist from his, and flicked it in front of his nose, “and do this” …she pivoted on her foot and swung her arm and hip towards him, “then I can break your nose?”

“Well, you can try, kitten, but rest assured, you won’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

Where the sudden urge to play with  him had come from, she had no idea.

“Like this, big boy? Huh? Like this?”

She jabbed at him playfully, tapping his chin, his pec, his belly.

“Actually, I like this much better.”

The tone should have warned her, but she was riding high on the humor from tapping him a few times. In seconds he’d caught her wrist, twisted her arm around behind her and pressed her hard against his chest.

“Oh yeah, I do like this. Those nice tits of yours pressed against me like this? Mmmm.”

“You…perv.”

“Well, duh.” He rolled his eyes at her, and she giggled.

“You’re also a bastard. Now, what did you come banging on my door for?”

“Banging. Another thing I like…” Now he waggled his brows at her, making her laugh outright.

“Look perv-boy, I’m still mad at you. It’s not all about banging here, you know.”

His free hand snaked behind her, pulling her even closer. The hand then slid lower, grabbing her ass and giving it a very firm squeeze.

“True, vanilla girl, very true. Sometimes it’s all about that ass…”

“Perv. You need to let me go. I was about to leave.”

“Ahhh, but you see, you have to pay a toll now, a penalty for getting caught.”

“I think my ass just paid it.”

“Naah…that was just a little goody bag. Or maybe I should call it a booty bag. Anyway, the price for your freedom is a kiss. Just one. But a good one. Not one of those granny-style pecks on the lips. This has to be real.”

“It’s not “real” if you have to make me do it.”

Oh, he knew it would be real.

“Don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He turned his face into a sad little boy pout, and she giggled again.

“You know, I hate when you make me laugh when I’m mad at you.”

“You’re not really mad at me. You’re mad at you. Because you liked my incredible kissing skills–and frankly, what’s not to like, right?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your conceit knows no bounds.”

“I prefer to call it “confidence” rather than conceit. Conceit sounds so….conceited.”

“I’ll get you a thesaurus for Christmas,” she said, trying to not smile again.

“Is that a cousin to a Brontosaurus? I always wanted one as a kid. Where do you get the DNA for that?”

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his to stop the silly flow of words. His hands released hers, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down into her. She liked the taste of him, and traced her tongue over and around the lovely outline of his lips, before sliding it inside of his mouth. She experimented, played, tasted and explored his mouth. His moan did funny things to her, and she knew she was getting to him when she felt the rise of his cock against her belly, even through his jeans.

“I want you.”

He pulled his mouth away for a moment, to whisper in her ear.

“Not here, not now. But I want to feel you under me. I want to be inside of you. I want to eat you from your toes to your ears and all the bits in between. I want to squeeze your ass and your tits and suck your nipples and spend a day and a night and a day exploring you.

Say yes.”

Her eyes were huge, the intense blue of them something he could almost feel. Then he did something he’d never done with a woman before. He was a taker, sought out in the circles that he enjoyed frequenting. He liked to hit, liked to raise bruises on pale skin, enjoyed the cacophony of yelps and moans, the gasps of air.  He enjoyed women, used them, walked away. This time, things were different. This time he was not a taker, but taken. He kissed her nose, a tiny, gentle kiss, and spoke a single word.

“Please?”

 

 

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The Job (8)

She sat in the chair in front of Jakob’s desk. He hoped she felt small in the chair which dwarfed her. Without saying a word, he watched as she shifted uneasily under his steady look.

“You look nervous, Fae.”

“Nah, just wonderin’ why I’m here. Maybe you’re lookin’ for a new girl?”

The last was spoken with a hint of coyness, accompanied, by a slow eyed wink.

“Actually, you’re here because I watched your little show on my security camera’s footage last night. I sat here and scrolled through quite a scene. And not one that Nettle’s is proud about playing a part in.”

“What? Scene? Show?”

She looked genuinely puzzled for a moment, until he began to clarify.

“The show where you teased one of my employee’s about her position here. The scene where you demanded that she take care of pee in the upstairs bathroom? Pee, incidentally, that you left for her, as you were the last person in there.”

There was a sharp in-drawn breath and she leaned forward in her seat, but his raised hand forestalled her words. She was too well trained to ignore a direction order by a Dom.

“You did piss on the floor. I can easily do a DNA swab, you know. But there isn’t a need for that. Do you know why?”

He paused a moment, holding her now-fearful gaze with his steely eyed stare. More than one slut’s eyes had fallen before that look. He could see that she was holding her breath.

“Will you confess then?”

He paused, giving her one more moment to ‘fess up. One moment of leniency. Her gaze fell to her lap, but her mouth remained stubbornly silent.

“Very well then. I know it was you because there is a cam in the bathrooms. Look, slut. Look for yourself.”

He turned the computer monitor so that she could see it. The cam showed the inside of the bathroom. In moments, it also very clearly showed her entering the room, peering around a moment, before entering the middle stall. For a moment, there was nothing, then her toes came into view, splayed wide apart, until the stall door swung open. She stood there–or rather, half-squatted there for a moment, her short skirt pulled up. A thin stream ran from between her legs to land on the floor. She gasped as she watched herself, her face turning an ugly shade of deep red.

“You know, I thought it was a waste of money, putting those cams around the club. But, my lawyer suggested it, actually, to avoid lawsuits. This way I can be sure what’s going on upstairs.  Surprised the fuck out of me that I’d actually need it after all this time. And I sat here last night reviewing my tapes, trying to find out who set up Kitten.  And there you were, pissing your way out of the stall.”

She fell back in her seat, her face blotched. Tears were starting to run the thick liner around her eyes.

“And then you sought out my staff. Specifically, Kitten. Why? And how much did he pay you?”

She shook her head.

“No no no no…he didn’t pay me. Just asked for a favor. I thought he w-was just gonna make her suck him off, or feel her up or something.”

“Geezuz you’re not that stupid. You know what the 2nd floor is about, slut.”

“I swear…Sir Malcolm just asked me for a favor. I didn’t know…” her voice slid into a whine, which grated on his nerves. He held up his hand to silence her again.

“Consider yourself lucky that Kitten did not choose to get the police involved. She was encouraged by me to do just that, but she preferred that I handle this internally. If I hadn’t then you could  be charged with accessory to rape. Instead, you’re out of here. For two full months.”

“But…but…” she sputtered, her mouth opening and closing almost comically. His stern face never wavered.

“Two months. Not a day sooner or it will be permanent banishment. Find another dom, another club, I don’t care. But I won’t hold with that sort of maliciousness in my own fucking club.”

She rose quickly. For a moment he thought she’d try offering him a blowjob, a free fuck, or some other equally annoying thing. Instead, she stormed across the room and whipped open the door.

She threw one last fulminating glare over her shoulder, and slammed the door behind her.  He watched on the cam to make sure that she left the club, was pleasantly surprised when she did. Just enough of a submissive to do as she was told. Unfortunately, that meant by any one in authority where ever she was at that moment.

He rose from his desk and went to check inventory. He needed to clear his fucking head, and counting bottles–with a glass of scotch in hand–was the best solution.

**********************************************************

They argued in the kitchen. It continued through breakfast, and into dishwashing. Lifting one soapy finger, she stabbed it into his chest.

“Fine. So you slept on my couch. Fine. So you got me into bed and didn’t do anything. Fine. So you drove me home.”

“I think your timing is a bit ass-backwards there..” he interjected, deeply amused at the finger that was creating a big wet spot between his pec’s.

“Fuck that!” She turned her back on him, intent on finishing their dishes. Always best to clean oatmeal pans and dishes promptly–removing it was next to impossible later. She scrubbed and then whirled again. It was like the thoughts circling in her head were in a whirlpool that occasionally disgorged from her lips.

“And okay, so FINE, you “rescued” me.” She mimed air quotes, her brows furrowed, her face dangerous in her outraged pique. Soap dripped from her fingers, to splat unnoticed between their feet. They were nearly toe to toe, though he towered over her. He was glad that she wasn’t cowed by yesterday’s experience. And a bit exasperated by that, too.

She slapped both hands on his chest and pushed back. Ten wet marks soaked through his cotton shirt, the heat and wetness sending an arrow of lust right to his cock. Damned if the woman didn’t get to him, big time.

“I’m not some helpless female”, she uttered between clenched teeth. “I can rescue myself. And I’m going to work today. Just like I did yesterday. And like I will tomorrow.”

He had no recourse, he decided. There was just one way to stop this woman from raging at him. The wet spots on his shirt were cool at the edges where the moisture had spread, and hot where her fingers pressed him back, back.

He took a step forward, cupping her head with his hands, and kissed her hard. Her mouth opened, to yell at him more, he was sure. His tongue slid inside, caressing the hot velvet space. She didn’t resist, but her fingers tightened against his chest. He bent further, arching her back as his mouth began to explore hers. What had been started in annoyance ended in heat. She got to him. Lips mated, teeth nipped, tongues swirled. He wasn’t sure which of them moaned first, but his cock rose at the sound, pressing painfully against the restricting zipper of his jeans.

His hands itched to reach for her tits, to caress and weigh them, but he held onto his sanity, though his screaming penis begged him to forget it, and just take her. He was a dom, she was willing…

But she wasn’t a slut, not like one of the girls from his world, anxious for his company and his physical attributes. He didn’t ‘take’, and she wasn’t offering.

He broke the kiss, stepping away. Her eyes were deeply blue, her lips pinkened by his.

“Well…”

She began, then licked her bottom lip which felt dry as dust now.

“I…”

She shook her head, feeling remarkably like she had last night, drunk on a few sips of very nice whiskey. But people didn’t get drunk on kisses except in romance novels. Which was stupid, when you thought of it. She thought of the stash of just those sort of novels in the under-bed storage box. But that didn’t mean she believed in that stuff in real life.

“Go. I have dishes to finish before work and YOU have to drive me.”

“Nice duck and cover, kitten.”

He flicked a finger down her cheek, making her try to nip it, which made him chuckle. She had no idea what he was doing to her. But he sure as hell gave good kiss. Wicked kiss, really. She turned back to the dishes with a perplexed smile. And a racing heart.

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HNT- Simply Tits

its-not-logical-u7sgqq

Isn’t this a *riot*?

And why are so many of us who exist in the “darkness” of D/s geeks, anyway?

(because we’re more accepting of alternate realities, perchance?)

Yeah, so Mr. Spock…there is no pussy in this HNT either.

Because sometimes lust just isn’t logical.

blankeynip

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The 5th Great Cookie Exchange

I was going to be ALL prepared for today. Yup. My cookies would be made, I’d take a photo, all would be well. Aaah, the best laid plans of sluts. Instead, I’m sitting here eating chocolates, and wracking my brain for a recipe to share.

Since Jz has opted to call it Holiday Goodies, I’m opting to post my fabulous Penuche Fudge.

Now, some will say fudge is hard and fiddlesome and annoying but I’ll just jump in here and say NO! No, this recipe is really easy, not tiresome, not hard. It will take you around 25 minutes (or less if you lay all your ingredients out to hand first.)

**note–I’ve NEVER added the nuts to this as no one in my family likes them that way, so they are totally optional. I also usually double this recipe.

1/2 cup butter (REAL butter)

1/2 cup HEAVY cream

1/2 cup each white and brown sugar (pack brown sugar into the cup)

1/8 tsp salt

1 cup pecan halves, toasted

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups confectioner’s sugar

1. Coat an 8-inch square baking dish with nonstick cooking spray

2. In a large saucepan, bring the butter, heavy cream, sugars, and salt to a rolling boil over medium heat, stirring frequently.

3. Allow to boil for 5 full minutes, stirring constantly, then remove the pan from the heat.

4. Stir in pecans (if using) and vanilla.

5. Add in the confectioners sugar all at once and stir until smooth and well combined (note: I had an issue with lumps, even pre-sifting. These days I use my hand mixer to combine (making sure that it’s ready to rumble before I add in the confectioners sugar–it makes the fudge lovely-smooth and it’s faster!)

6. Pour/spread mix into the prepared pan and allow to cool to room temperature. Cut into 1″ squares with a sharp knife. Store in an airtight container until ready to serve.

This stuff is SUPER sweet and goes well with a hot cup of tea. Alternative uses include spreading the finished fudge while it’s hot onto cookies (we make a pumpkin cookie that tastes awesome with this on top!).

That’s it from here….but the GCE is not over! Go visit these other participants to see what everyone else is doing!

abby

Same Sassygirl

sillyone

sofia

Tom Allen

Just remember, Dec. 10th lasts a whole 24 hours — and goes across international date lines! So if there’s nothing posted, don’t grumble. Just go back later.  :-)

UPDATE:  an hysterical picture from our friend and fellow pervie, LadyP…that we thought would be amusing to add to the cookie exchange of naughty cooking bloggers:

pervertables

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The Job (7)

She wished she didn’t care about what was going to happen next. It would be so much easier, getting fired, if she didn’t like this job so much. Despite what had just happened a bit ago, this was a place that she enjoyed waking up in the morning to come to. And okay, she wasn’t into this whole role-playing thing, but she wasn’t adverse to it either.  Keegan’s hand rested on the small of her back. He wasn’t exactly pushing her, but he wasn’t going to let her wriggle away either. She could have bristled him off, but she didn’t mind the warm touch either. Which was weird, but whatever.

They stopped in front of Jakob’s office. Keegan stepped in front of her, tipping her chin up to make eye contact.

“That…up there?” His free hand pointed to the ceiling, indicating the 2nd floor. “Was not your fault. But tell me, here and now, why were you up there to begin with.”

She really wanted to handle that young woman herself, but in all likelihood, she was lost in the crowd by now. The fucking bitch.

“Someone came and told me that there had been a pee accident in the 2nd floor bathroom.”

“Which someone?”

“I’d like the answer to that question as well.”

Jakob’s voice came from behind the pair. “But in my office, please, and not where someone can overhear this. Rumors fly around here like fucking sparrows. Mandy…” he shifted his hand, indicating that she should enter. Though she would have preferred to sit in the chair, she was steered to the couch. When the two men sat down, she felt dwarfed.

She was not going to fucking cry. A shiver ran through her nonetheless. Keegan rose, and moved to the cabinet on the far side of the office. He pulled out three ornately carved glasses and a tall square bottle. He poured a generous dollop of liquor in each, then brought them back.

She took the proffered glass, but turned it around in her palm. Keegan tugged the heavy leather-clad chair closer to the couch and sat in it, recognizing the lingering effects of shock on her face. She had gone pale again.

“Mandy.”

“I don’t know. I just …. don’t. She came to sit after Keegan left, and told me about the pee and she was kinda demeaning and it made me mad, so I just jumped up and left. Figured it would only take me a minute to clean up, which it would have. I was almost done when…”

“You know that the 2nd floor is heavy sceneing on Saturday nights. You should not have been up there.”

“I know. You can fire me but–“

“Fire you? Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Well, isn’t this place built on obeying…submissive/Dom…all that shit?”

Keegan leaned forward, lifting her glass.

“Drink. Just a sip.”

“I don’t drink. Alcohol is gross.”

“A sip, kitten. Please?”

To see the giant man cajoling her almost made her giggle. With only a little eye-roll, she took a sip. The amber liquid slid like fire over her tongue, burning a trail from lips to her belly. A pleasant glow began to thaw her, warming her from within.

“Happy?” She quirked her head at him.

“Giddy.”

Her lips curved a tiny smile at his droll tone.

“Why are you such an asshole?”

And where the fuck had that come from. She lifted the glass, studied the contents.

“I was born breech, so the asshole came out first. Stayed, too.”

It was obviously an old joke between them because they grinned, but she exploded in giggles. She took a quick sip of the drink, embarrassed to be giggling, and a single drop slid down the wrong way. Coughing brought tears to her eyes, and Jakob began pounding on her back.

Eventually the coughing wound down, but not before the mortification suffused her. Geeze. Way to go, choking on your bosses finest booze.

“Sorry…” she wheezed…”told you I didn’t drink…”

Somehow their positions had reversed, and now Keegan sat beside her rubbing her back in gentle circles, while her boss sat in front of her.

“Okay, let’s cut to the chase here, Mandy. One. I am not firing you. I AM fired up that one of my guests saw fit to ambush one of my employees. That is unacceptable to me, and to any of my crew. It is especially heinous to me since you are not a practitioner of the lifestyle…” There was a pregnant pause, an unspoken ‘yet’.

“Secondly, what happened to you up there was assault. You are more than welcome to go to the police and file charges.” He held up his hand as she began to shake her head no.

“Fine…we’ll handle it in-house then. Just know that in my opinion–and mine is the only one that matters here–what happened to you was a violation and I fully support your taking legal action if that is your decision.”

He paused. His face fell into stern lines, and Mandy knew that the Asshat Dom was in deep shit with Jakob…maybe even worse than if she had gone to the police.

“However, for the moment our guest, who was more than a bit drunk, will have an immediate suspension of his membership until some key issues have been resolved. He has had other incidents in the past. I won’t tolerate someone repeatedly crossing the line here. What happened tonight goes way beyond any prior grievances I’ve gotten about some over-zealous beatings. Sometimes when people are involved in a scene, things can and do go awry. But this? This crosses a line for me. If he’d try raping–real non-consensual sex, not a scene that had been previously agreed to–and to one of my people, what says he’d not try to ambush some unsuspecting newbie? I can’t tolerate that sort of thing, not when I know how much courage it can take to come in for the first time to get the flavor of a BDSM club. To the outside world there isn’t a line between abuse and sexual deviancy –yet it does exist–and I’m not going to let some half-assed Dom wannabe put people at risk for permanent harm–physical or mental. No, best he take a break and get a refresher on the rules.”

“Third, I want a description, to the best of your ability, of the woman who sent you on that errand. That was not mischief, that was malicious, and she too will be dealt with. You can talk to Keenan about the specifics–I’m certain he’ll recognize your assailant–for she is equally to blame.”

“Last–to reiterate–you are not going to be fired–I value your contributions here far too much and it would be more than unfair of me to blame YOU for being assaulted–but I would abjure you to avoid the upper floors on  weekends. This does not say that what happened was your fault…but it is best to limit the areas where those sort of …scenarios…could develop, however unintentionally.”

He turned to Keegan.

“I want increased signage…something before someone goes up, and I think we’ll have some sort of ticketing or pass system so that a newbie doesn’t get caught up and go up. The community comes under fire enough without having someone else be harmed who isn’t seeking that.”

“Sure, I’ll work out the details tomorrow…for now I have Harry keeping an eye on who goes up there.”

“Good.”

“As for you, Mandy, I am going to have Keegan escort you home. Sleep. The whiskey will help with that. Unless you choose to bunk here for the night. There’s a small room in here where you can rest undisturbed if you like?”

“I–I guess I’ll … I don’t know. I…I’m okay.”

She wasn’t, not exactly. But she wasn’t bad either.

“I guess I’ll just go home.” She needed time to process, and a good cry. “I can drive.”

“Not with that head for whiskey,” Keegan helped steady her as she swayed when she rose.  She opted to not protest, just let herself be bundled into his car and driven home. He helped her unlock her door, helped guide her into her bedroom. She was asleep in seconds, and never felt him slip off her sneakers, nor even stirred when he tugged off her jeans and shifted her under the blankets.

Snapping off the bedroom light, he made his way to the kitchen to find a snack, and turned on the small tv in her living room, and settled in to watch the nature channel. He could ignore the hard bulge in his jeans, but not the festering anger that one of his girls had come so close to harm. Sitting vigil in her apartment, knowing she was in a nice warm bed and half-naked, was a small price to pay in penance.

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Writing!

I am…I’ve started the next installment and hope to roll out a few more on Tuesday…but tonight I am anxiously watching the outcome of the football game (American) because I am SO in the hole right now with Him that I HAVE to win tonight or I’m going to be edging for a week and that might just flip me over the edge, you know? I’ll be a growling angsty, angry, needy, weepy child for some sexual action.

Damn He’s good.

I tried to set up a timeline for paying back the ‘debt’ and there is a moment of silence. Then a small breath and a crisp ‘nilla’.

I shut the fuck up right away at that particular tone. I’m not sure why–it’s not at all threatening. Except it is.

“I’m the one who sets that schedule up, nilla. That’s my job, my enjoyment, not yours.”

I feel my throat just slam shut and I squeak out a faint

“Yes Sir, Yes Master”

And suddenly I’m so turned on I can barely believe it. I’m driving and it’s FUCKING cold here and yet, I’m suddenly aware of an inferno between my thighs.

Yeah.

He’s just that fucking good. So now I really have to go and pray that another 20 points get scored so I get out of the hole. I can’t win any O’s…but it will wipe the slate clean if I can win on  points!

MORNING UPDATE….NOT SURE WHAT THE FINAL SCORE WAS–BUT I COULD REST SOMEWHAT EASILY WHEN THE SCORE WENT OVER 55…(i still had to ‘serve time’ for the two from last week, so I got them over and done and woke up horny and needy…just what He wanted…)

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The Job (6)

She went to her closet and grabbed her ‘go’ bucket, a mini version of her full cleaning kit for small ‘emergencies’ that cropped up from time to time. Grabbing her hair, she clubbed it back into a rough ponytail, then slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. She took advantage of the thrall of a group watching a man-slut getting his nipples pierced. It was obvious that he hadn’t been expecting it either, as his yelps were genuine. The crowd was enthralled as his mistress slapped his hairy thigh and told him to stop crying like a baby. Mandy didn’t even shake her head at these sorts of scenes anymore. They weren’t commonplace–but they weren’t out-of-place, either. Gliding around the back of the transfixed group of onlookers, she eased into the back hallway and dashed up the steps to the second floor.

She peered out before opening the door–it wouldn’t do to smack a patron in the face after all. Seeing that the coast was clear, she entered the long hallway and made her way to the end where the bathroom was. And there it was, a small river of urine snaking out of the second stall. She did shake her head over that. People. Geezuz. Propping open the door, she put her”closed” sign in the entry. Taking a wad of paper towels, she got to work. First she sopped up the puddle, getting the majority of the wet mess up. She threw that lot away. She was still pretty surprised that a person could miss an entire toilet bowl…but around here, people did weird shit all the damn time.

Pulling her kit close, she sprayed a heavy dose of sanitizer on the floor as well as the toilet itself. A quick wipe cleaned the seat; lifting that, she also wiped the bottom rim and the base. Dropping the toweling, she used her foot to swab the urine trail remaining on the floor. There was still a bit of it on the side of the toilet, she noted. Dropping to her knees, she bent forward and reached down around the side of the pot.

A heavy foot pressed against the back of her neck, mashing her to the floor. A hand stroked over her bottom.

“Well, and isn’t this a lovely sight to see?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. Anger suffused her.

“Hey! Let me up. I’m not a contestant. Not a sub. Not a playmate. Let me the fuck up.”

“You’re in submissive posture number 5. Ass up, waiting to be spanked and fucked.”

“I’m not…” she hissed in a sharp breath as the foot pressed harder.

“Shhhhh, it’s better for you to just submit, slut.”

The foot pressed harder. Her neck throbbed. She was totally vulnerable in this position, unable to move away with his weight on her neck like that.

A frisson of fear trembled through her. Yet she could still think clearly. You didn’t work for a place like this and not get hit on occasionally. Not ever like this but still. She was wearing jeans. He wasn’t going to be able to fuck her without shedding them and when he turned her loose, she’d make a hell of a ruckus.

“Submit.”

“Fine.” She hoped he’d release her, just enough…

“Good girl.”

A hard swat hit her ass, and she yelped.

“You need a good beating for your shitty attitude, whore.”

“OW!”

She yelped again.

“You FUCKING asshole, NO!”

A hand grabbed her ponytail, jerking her head back.

“A rape scene in the bathroom? How quaint. Yet, I feel obliging tonight, pet.”

He tugged her to her feet by her hair and by his grip on the back of her jeans. The pain in her head made her eyes water. She hadn’t realized how much that could hurt. He pulled her out of the stall, slamming her hard against the wall before leaning his body against hers.

“Like it rough, eh?”

“NOooooo!” she yelped again, her cry ending as a whimpering moan as stars danced through her vision.

The bathroom door slammed open. Somehow she hadn’t known that he’d closed it behind him, the fucking asshole.

“What. The. Fuck?”

“Just my girl and I sceneing, J.”

“Who is it? You came alone tonight, Mal.”

“Jakob! Make him let me go…” With a quick elbow into the belly of the man holding her, Mandy found her voice. Her head was still held tightly, but she didn’t give a fuck now. She wanted to be free, to be out of here. And to find the little fucking bitch who had set her up.

“Kitten!…Did you give consent for this scene?”

She stomped on the man’s left foot, hard enough to make him yell. His hand left her hair, snagging a few strands. That fired her up even more. As he turned away, she went after him. She may have been short but enraged as she was, it didn’t matter. She punched him in the eye, in the ear, attempted to knee his groin, which he barely managed to avoid. His quick move bent him slightly, enough to connect with her fist rising. There was a sharp crack under her knuckles, and she knew she’d broken that perfect nose.

“You fucking ASSHAT,” she yelled, “I said NO!”

She would have hit him again, but Jakob intervened then, pulling her away.

“Enough, Kitten, enough.”

The door opened again, revealing Keegan.

“You rang?”

“Escort Malcolm out of the premises. We don’t want Kitten to hurt him any more.”

He paused a moment.

“Mal?”

There was a moment of tense silence as Malcolm ignored everyone, holding a hand to his bleeding nose. He did glare at Mandy several times. Eventually the silence got to him and he glanced at Jakob.

“Very good. Glad you could spare me your attention.”

Jakob was excellent at delivering a reprimand in spare words, Mandy thought. Her heart was still racing, but she was under control. Things were fine. She broke the tableau by moving further away from the bleeding man, gathering her ‘go’ kit. She was unhappy to see that her hands were shaking as she put her cleansers back into the bucket.

“Excuse me,” she moved past the men, not wanting to be a part of this scene any more.  Keegan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her momentarily. He said nothing, but looked at her, giving her a brief squeeze before releasing her. She took a breath, and moved away from the bathroom, and down the stairs to her closet.

***************************************************

He found her there, some time later. Sitting on an old stool, arms wrapped around herself. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were red.

“Come.”

“I’m fine.”

“Boss wants you to come, I’m here to make sure you do it.”

“Fine.”

She rolled her eyes, and passed under his arm. He slung it over her shoulders, giving her a brief hug. A man-style hug.

“I’m fine, I said. No hugs needed.”

“Perhaps *I* needed one. Or perhaps it was more of a congratulations thing–you do give good bloody nose, you know.”

One corner of her lip quirked up, despite her gloomy mood.

“I did, didn’t I?”

There was a slight thaw in her demeanor now, he was glad to see, a dash of color in her cheeks. Best to confront the shock, he knew, face it, talk it through. And he wanted the back story on just how she’d come to be there, on the floor for intense sceneing.

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