Writer 2

Hand shaking, she dialed her boss on his cell. He answered on the fourth ring, when her stomach was doing swandives, and she was just about ready to disconnect.

“Well, hello, Dru. What a good girl, calling me like this, and on a Saturday morning.”

His tone was silky, and just shy of sarcastic. Her heart continued its rapid course. She felt sweaty, flushed and just a bit sick. Was she talking to her boss? Or her boss the Dom? She simply wasn’t certain.

“So you enjoy writing, Drusilla?”

There was a pregnant pause. Embarrassment supplanted the nerves.  He waited her out, until at last she hmmmed and ummed into a soft ‘yes’.

“And you enjoy writing that sort of thing, and just putting it out there for the entire world to masturbate to, hmmm?”

Her toes curled against the carpeting, her elbows squeezed against her sides, her eyes closed. She was so fucking embarrassed!


“Quite a bit of stuttering going on there, little girl. Come and open your door.”

Her eyes flew open.  Still clutching the phone to her ear, she ran down the stairs  and stood behind her door.

“Well?” His voice came from beside her, and she jumped, forgetting for a moment she still had the phone on. Fumbling, she unlocked the door, pulled it open. He stood just beyond the screen, looking down at her. He was dressed in comfortable khacki pants, and a tee-shirt. She pushed open the screen and spoke into the phone.

“Come in.”

He laughed.

“Oh, Drusilla, you are the perfect picture of embarrassment. You’ve blushed all the way to the tops of your very pretty titties.”

Following his finger, which traced a path from her cheek to her collarbone to the top of her cleavage, she noted that she was still wearing her hand-me-down wifebeater tank top, and a pair of comfortably shabby boxers, her traditional summer sleepwear.


“Sir. Let’s save Mr. Humphrey for work, shall we?”

She nodded, mute with shock. Was she dreaming? Was this all an elaborate dream she was having, after writing that first blog entry? She pinched herself; ouch! She was very definitely awake….unless of course she was dreaming  that  she pinched herself…no…no, she was not even going down that road.

“How about you save the pinching for me?” He looked at her. She knew that he understood how totally unsettled she was.

“Nice house.” He looked around the small, neat living room. Beyond, the dining room with its antique table. And on the other side of the living room lay the formal parlor.

“I. . . it was my Grandmother’s. She left it to me when she passed. I–she…we were very close.”

He nodded, taking note of the antiques sprinkled here and there. The house very much suited his Drusilla; light and airy curtains at the windows, the breeze blowing them gently, filling the room with the sweet scent of honeysuckle from the garden beyond. The couch was floral, the television across from it, unobtrusively tucked into an antique-looking armoire. Even the DVD’s stacked inside it were neat.

So much order and neatness, hiding a cauldron of sexy desire. He smiled.

“Shall we talk?”

She moved into the kitchen and turned on her coffee pot.


Her eyes moved from the cabinet where she was taking down thick white mugs, over to where he stood, at the vee where the two counters came together. On the opposite side of the large farmer’s sink, the coffee maker hissed its siren call, as the aroma of morning filled the air.

She swallowed nervously.


“Are you wet?”

The question threw her, and she fumbled, nearly dropping one of the mugs. She caught it before it hit the counter, then braced her hands on either side, heart racing, and not from the near-miss with the mug.  His hands came over hers, and she felt him behind her. Close behind her.

He moved closer.

His cheek brushed her ear. “you embarrass so easily, little one. This is going to be great fun, isn’t it? Of course, if this is too much for you, you can say no. At any time…tell me enough…and it will be done. No harm to your career. But your blog was pretty specific.”

He paused, as his hands slipped up from hers, to caress her arms. He raised goose-flesh, and she felt her nipples harden in response.

‘Gods, don’t let me be dreaming,’ she begged herself.

“And Drusilla? You haven’t answered my question yet. Perhaps I should find out for myself?”

She froze. His right hand rose up over her shoulder, caressing down her back, and slowly moved over the curve of her ass.

“Open your legs wider.”

She shifted, opening. Her heart beat was so loud she was amazed that he couldn’t hear it.

He cupped her pussy through the thin boxers, the heat of his hand fueling her fire, and she whimpered, and pushed down against it, seeking more.

His voice was a low, warm murmur near her ear.

“There’s the horny little girl I read about last night. That’s it, go for it…” His fingers curled, rubbing against her clit and lips. She groaned, and rubbed against his hand.

And then it dropped away.

“Shall I fuck you, then?”

She nodded.

“Say it. Tell me what you want, you greedy, horny slut.”

She was mortified. And so turned on she could barely breathe.

“Sir? I want you to fuck me. Please Sir? Will you…fuck me?”

Dru felt his chuckle against her back.

“Was that so very hard, little slut?”

“yes, Sir, it was.”

“hmmm, I don’t think it was as hard as …this..” There was the sound of a zipper, and the soft whoosh of fabric as it slid down his legs. She pictured his shorts pooled around his ankles. With a tug, he pulled her boxers down, and hooking his arm around her belly, pulled her back until she was leaning forward, bent at the waist.

“So, Dru. You really want me to fuck this pussy of yours? It’s dripping down your thigh, you know.”

She blushed. She had never said such dirty things aloud before. Even writing them had been so difficult for her. Hearing them was exciting. That was part of the draw of going to the Play Party that time. She’d hung back, shy and awkward. Everyone else was having a great time, including Nick. Which had shocked her no end. Watching him touching and pinching those girls who gathered around him.

His eyes had swept the room, but had likely missed her, tucked in the corner as she was. But she had been so turned on as she watched his whip-play with a submissive, and later, as he dripped wax on another. He was so sexy! She’d gone home that night and masturbated to several incredible orgasms.

And now, Nick was here. Her boss, bending her over her coffee mugs, and touching her pussy.

“Drusilla? You keep forgetting to answer me. One might think you were …preoccupied…” And he laughed, that sexy hot laugh that never failed to excite her. Her clit…throbbed.

“Yes, Sir. Yes! I want you to fuck my pussy.”

Thank goodness her face was over the counter. His hand left her wet center, and she gasped when he took her head by the hair, bending it back. Her eyes looked up at his, shocked.

And so fucking excited she thought she might explode right there! No wonder girls loved to get their hair pulled!

“Where are your utensils, Dru?”

Her eyes widened. She stuttered out what drawer they were in. Releasing her head, he bid her to “stay.”

Like she was a dog.

Her head fell forward, she was panting heavily, so aroused she could barely stand it. She heard him rummaging around in the utensil drawer, the sound of various things being moved, from the ting of a pancake turner to the scrape of her serving spoon. She wondered which…


Her head rose, her rump quivered.

“Oh, that was nice.”

He hit her jutting ass again.