Compulsion (9 page)

This time he gave me a brief respite. He crawled up my body, pausing to kiss my breasts, then rested his weight on me, leaning on his elbows. He looked down at my face. I could feel his cock pressing against my pussy.

“Are you going to fuck me?” I whispered. He gazed searchingly into my eyes.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” All my desire was crammed into that one short word, but he heard it and his eyes widened.

“Oh Jane,” he breathed. He rested his forehead on mine and closed his eyes. For a few moments our breaths and beating hearts were the only sounds. Then he looked at me again and I knew he was going to deny me.

“It’s not what I had planned. I had something…special in mind for Saturday night. God knows I want you, but it’s worth waiting for. You’re worth waiting for.”

He gave me no chance to answer. If my hands had been free I would have wrapped my arms around him and hung on—tried to hold on to the precious moment. I ached to hold him, but of course I was helpless. He began to kiss his way back down my body and settled between my legs to ravish me with his mouth.

He caressed the sides of my clit with long, raspy laps of his tongue. Within moments he goaded me back to acute arousal. My legs stiffened and kicked against my bonds. He circled the opening of my pussy with his fingertip, pulling at me, testing the resilience of my flesh.

“Our little stretching exercises are working, Jane,” he said, lifting his head. “We can try the last dildo, but first a little more lube.”

He grabbed the half-full tube and, to my shock, inserted it directly into my cunt and squeezed. The cold sensation was immediate and intensely pleasurable. He withdrew the tube and applied some more directly to the big blue penis-shaped dildo, smearing over it with his fist. He grasped his erection and smeared lube on himself too. The dildo was big but he was even bigger, I noticed.

“Here we go, Jane. Believe me, I wish it were me!” He positioned the dildo against my opening. “Ready?”

Slowly, inexorably, he began to work it into my vagina, pushing and twisting it slightly. My tight sheath parted with a stretchy burn as he pressed past the narrowest part just at my entrance. I moaned and twisted, fighting the alien invasion, but my tender internal muscles were no match for the hard, inanimate length that he pressed mercilessly into me.

“Take it, Jane,” he commanded as I squirmed. “Relax and let it happen. In a moment it’s going to feel really good.” Then he used the vibrator on me again, pressing it against my clit, letting its magic ease me as he seated the dildo to the hilt. He praised me but I couldn’t make out the words through the fog of arousal that permeated my brain.

Suddenly his cock was pressing at my lips again. He’d moved back to kneel by my head, but was leaning over me to hold the dildo in place and the vibrator against me with one big hand. I opened my mouth and he surged in. I rubbed my tongue against his glans. The lube had a faintly sweet taste that mingled with his essence. He thrust strongly and I did my best to suck and breathe without gagging. His rough use of my mouth, combined with the fullness of my cunt and the unrelenting vibration against my clit, was driving me toward a massive climax.

“Both ends, Jane,” he ground out. “I’m fucking you from both ends while you’re tied down. How does it feel?”

My breath exploded from me in a muffled cry as my body fell over the edge into orgasm. He joined me on a shout, pumping his come into my mouth in hot spurts. He released his hold on the vibrator and dildo before collapsing next to me. The vibrator rolled away and lay buzzing against my thigh, and the last contractions of my climax squeezed the dildo from my body in a rush of lube and juices.

He recovered first and got off the bed, taking the toys to the bathroom. He returned soon after with a warm, damp towel and cleaned me off gently. Then he released the Velcro on my wrist and ankle cuffs and rubbed my reddened skin. He pulled me into a sitting position, supporting my exhausted body, and rolled the waterproof sheet down from the top of the bed. Then he laid me down again. Sliding a hand under me, he lifted my hips and pulled the waterproof sheet from under my body, leaving me lying on the clean sheets beneath. He unhooked it from the bottom of the mattress, bundled it up and tossed it into a corner of the room. He brought the quilt to the bed and spread it over me, and slid a pillow under my head. I lay quietly, drained, and let him arrange me on my side and tuck the quilt around me, as sleep sucked me down into blackness. I was vaguely aware of him climbing in behind me and spooning up to me, an arm draped over my hip, and then I was out.

I awoke to the blissful sensation of warmth. Matt was curved around me, his arm hugging me close. It was the most wonderful feeling. His arm tightened and I realized that he was awake.

“What time is it?” I whispered.

“Just after one,” came his soft reply close to my ear.

“Shit, I should go home. I’ve got work. I leave early to miss the traffic.” I unenthusiastically contemplated leaving the cocoon of warmth and dragging on my thin work clothes to walk next door.

“Give me a moment,” he said. “Stay put.”

He switched on the bedside lamp and I watched while he quickly dressed himself in track pants and a t-shirt, pushing his bare feet into his trainers.

He left the room and came back with my handbag.

“Get your house keys out.”

I groped around, locating them by feel, and handed them over. He took them and slung my bag over his shoulder. Then he leaned over the bed and picked me up, wrapping the quilt around me tightly.

“Are you going to carry me home, Matt?”

“Yes. It’s getting to be a habit. Would you prefer I didn’t?”

In answer I nuzzled against him. “Carry on, Captain,” I joked.

“Hmm, Captain. I like that.”

“Don’t even think about it! Next thing you’ll want me to call you Sir, or Master.”

“And would you?”

“No! Well, maybe… Sometimes. Occasionally.”

He laughed. We were already at my door. He carried me to my bed and laid me on it, still wrapped in his quilt.

“You can borrow the quilt. I have a spare. But I want it back tomorrow—not like my t-shirt!”

I grinned sheepishly. “What t-shirt, Sir?”

He kissed me briefly, sliding his tongue into my mouth. “Go to sleep, naughty girl. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He reached over and turned on my alarm clock. Sleep returned quickly and I fell, smiling, into dreams.

Friday

At six o’clock I knew I was in trouble. I was still at work with no chance of being able to leave anytime soon. I was going to miss my six thirty deadline to meet Matt.

I decided to text him because I was too nervous to call him. He was so unpredictable. I couldn’t imagine how he’d react to finding out that he wouldn’t see me tonight. Not letting him know at all was definitely not an option—he would be furious if I just didn’t pitch up. I sighed. It had been such a good day, until about an hour ago.

I’d woken up wrapped in his quilt, feeling sensuous and daring. When dressing in my work clothes I’d donned a lacy bra and panty set and chosen the silkiest shirt that I owned, loving how it felt against my skin. I completed my outfit with my heeled pumps and a pair of stay-up stockings instead of my usual pantyhose.

Work was very quiet, like a deep, calming breath in anticipation of the madness of the impending Christmas party. On impulse I asked Stephen, my boss, if I could have a few hours off. He agreed, so I went and had my hair done. My usual hairdresser was busy, so one of the other ladies helped me. She suggested cutting some layers in the sides and back of my usual blunt-cut style, and the effect was remarkable. My hair caressed my shoulders and hung in sexy tendrils down my back. She also talked me into some subtle reddish-gold highlights, and I loved the way they framed my face and brought out the sparks of green in my eyes. I’d finished around eleven, so I went into the spa adjoining the hairdresser’s and asked for a leg and bikini wax, something I hadn’t done for years, preferring the convenience of shaving. I got talking to the young beautician, telling her about my new dress and my special evening the next day, and somehow, under her gentle urging, I ended up getting a Brazilian. Which turned into a Hollywood.

I walked back into the office feeling as if everyone’s eyes were on me, with my sexy new hair and my even sexier hairless pussy. Between the tenderness from the wax and the strange naked feeling between my thighs, I spent the afternoon in a semi-aroused state, imagining Matt’s reaction when he saw my little surprise.

I was less invisible at work too. When taking the minutes at the Friday afternoon meeting, I was asked an unprecedented three questions. When Lauren, the sales group secretary, brought in the coffees, she handed me a mug too. Nobody had ever made me coffee at work before! To top it off I was paid two compliments on my new hairstyle, one by Lauren and one by Kyle, one of the salesmen who, before I met Matt, I’d thought quite cute.

Disaster struck at quarter to five, just when I was packing up to leave. Stephen came out of his office, which adjoined mine.

“Oh Jane, thank goodness you’re still here! I just got a call from Sydney. James Jameson’s coming to the party tomorrow.”

“Wow! He’s coming here?” In the three years I’d been at e-Vent Inc. in Brisbane, I’d never seen our CEO. He worked out of the huge Sydney office when he wasn’t traveling around the world visiting his international businesses and charities.

“Yes. And he’s specifically coming to see us—Web Marketing. Apparently we’re the highest-selling division this year. It’s the first time that any division from Brisbane has come in the top ten.”

“That’s huge! Well done, Stephen.” As sales manager, Stephen would be largely responsible for this success. He was a driven and hardworking man with a good management style and a real flair for selling. I was genuinely happy for him.

“Yeah, thanks. Thing is, now I’ve got to do a speech for tomorrow night. Web Marketing’s highlights and our outlook for next year. Can you stay and help me make slides? It won’t be too long—I’m not supposed to talk for more than fifteen minutes.”

I was stuck. I could hardly refuse to help him, given the importance of the situation. “Yeah, okay, Stephen.”

He looked at me. “You’re looking really nice. Got a date tonight?” He sounded surprised, either at realizing that I looked good or at the thought that I might have a date.

Probably both.

“I did,” I sighed, “but don’t worry about it.”

“Just call him and tell him you’ll be a bit late. He’ll forgive you when he sees you.”

“That probably…won’t work out.” I was quite sure that Matt was not in the habit of waiting around. But Stephen was already heading back into his office, beckoning me to follow and explaining the outline for his speech. I grabbed my notepad and hurried after him, frantically texting Matt.

Hi Matt. Stuck @ work, can’t make 2nite. V sorry. Jane.

I watched my phone anxiously for a reply, hoping that I wouldn’t have to phone him. When it beeped about three minutes later I almost dropped it, my hands were shaking so badly.

OMW

Three little letters. Shit. I wasn’t very good at all those abbreviations people use when texting, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew what he meant.

OMW. On My Way. As in, coming here now.

My heart began to race. Why would he come here? And how did he know where my office was?

I turned back to my computer, typing frantically. Stephen and I had prepared hundreds of presentations together and we had the procedure down pat. There were only a few more slides to go so maybe I could finish them by the time Matt got here.

Stephen came out of his office when I was busy on the last slide. He had his briefcase in his hand and he handed me a sheet of paper.

“I made a few changes to what we discussed and added one more slide,” he explained. I looked at the page in my hand. It was all quite clear and would probably take another ten minutes.

“I’m leaving now. Please email it to me when you finish so I can practice it a bit tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry this messed up your evening. If it had been anything else…”

“I know. It’s fine. I think…”

I stopped in mid-sentence. Matt strode into my office.

Oh my god, he was wearing a dark-gray pinstripe suit over a white shirt and red tie. He looked amazing. Authoritative. Our eyes met and the air between us sizzled. But he looked stern.

Stephen was staring at him in surprise. I jumped up to make introductions.

“Hi, Matt. This is Stephen, my boss. Stephen, this is Matt, my, er…my…”

Boyfriend? Neighbor? Hot, dominant lover? Help!

“Boyfriend,” said Matt smoothly, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Stephen.”

Did you hear that? Mr. Pinstripe just said he’s your boyfriend!

“Likewise, Matt.” Stephen shook his outstretched hand. They checked each other out. Stephen was quite an attractive, tall guy, but he looked somehow diminished next to Matt.

“Um, I was just on my way out,” said Stephen. I wondered if he could sense the tension between Matt and me.

“I see you’ve got a table in there.” Matt gestured toward Stephen’s office. “Mind if I sit there and check my email while I wait for Jane?” He was holding an ultra-slim notebook computer under his left arm.

“No worries.” Stephen headed for the door. “See you tomorrow night, Jane.” With that he was gone, his receding footsteps followed by the soft chime of the elevator as the doors closed behind him. I was alone with Matt.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” I began anxiously. He really looked forbidding. “I had to stay—it’s for tomorrow night. James Jameson is coming, and…” He cut me off.

“Finish your work, Jane. I’ll be in there. Come in and tell me when you’re done.”

With that he stalked into Stephen’s office and closed the door behind him. I sat down at my desk again, confused and uneasy, and carried on with the presentation.

Fifteen minutes later I put the finishing touches on the slides. Then I forced myself to read though the whole thing twice, checking for mistakes. When I was happy, I emailed it off to Stephen. I watched it leave my outbox then logged off my computer and sat for a moment at my desk, looking at the oak panels of Stephen’s office door.

I stood up and smoothed down my skirt, feeling unreasonably apprehensive, then crossed to the door. On impulse I knocked softly.

“Come.”

To my surprise his notebook was on the table, but he was sitting behind the gleaming expanse of Stephen’s polished-oak desk, leaning back in the tall, padded chair.

He said nothing, watching intently as I traversed the wide expanse of carpet to stand before the desk.

“I’m finished, Matt. We can go now.”

He looked me up and down, raking his eyes over me with such deliberation that I flushed. Sexual anticipation hummed through my body. He examined my new hairstyle and I swallowed hard when his eyes took on that feral glitter that I knew so well. Then he finally spoke and he said the last thing that I ever expected.

“Jane, did you snoop in my study yesterday?”

I stammered for a moment but there was no point in denying it. He obviously knew.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” I whispered, a horrible hollow feeling spreading outward from my stomach, almost overpowering my burgeoning lust. “I just popped my head in for a moment.”

“But you didn’t just look, did you, Jane? You touched as well.”

“Just a fingertip to that shiny pad. I didn’t even know what it was! Come on, Matt, you can’t be cross about that?”

He frowned, the effect quite daunting over his gleaming eyes.

“It’s more that I’m…
worried
about you, Jane. You seem to find snooping quite irresistible. One day it’s going to get you into big trouble.”

It already has.

“I won’t do it again, Matt, I promise. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure you mean it now, Jane, but I’m not sure you’ll remember that promise when temptation comes your way. I think you need some help, something to remind you not to give in to the urge so easily.” His voice was thick. A trickle of uneasy excitement crept along my spine.

“What… What do you mean?”

“I mean, Jane, that some punishment is called for. Something that you will never forget.” He stood up.

“Matt, you’re… What…? Are you going to hit me?” My voice was high-pitched and I started backing to the door. I realized again how little I knew about him. He always seemed so controlled, but what if he were to really lose his temper?

“I would never,
ever
hit a woman, Jane.” There was something in his voice that utterly reassured me. On some deep level, I knew that he was stating one of his most basic values and relief washed over me. But he came round the desk and stalked after me as I retreated backward in the general direction of the door. He still looked intimidating. A sudden thought occurred to me.

“What about hitting like…like…spanking? Or whipping? Like kinky stuff…” My voice disappeared in a dry whisper. He took another step toward me.

“I might spank you, Jane, but only if you asked me nicely. It’s not my usual style.”

My back hit the door. Before I could open it he stepped close to me, pressing me into it with his heavy, muscular body. He placed his hands on my arms, just above the elbows, trapping them at my sides against the warm wood panels. My body responded to his proximity with a rush of wetness from my cunt. He dipped his head, not to kiss me as I was expecting, but to bury his face in my neck and inhale, smelling me like an animal. His scorching, wet mouth opened on the delicate skin just below my ear, and a moment later I felt his teeth as he sucked and nibbled his way over the exquisitely sensitive tendons of my neck. Just above the curve of my shoulder he increased the pressure and sucked sharply. Goose bumps raced across my skin at the intense pleasure, and I cried out and tipped my head to allow him better access. I felt so vulnerable as he leaned over me with his teeth in my neck, keenly aware of his greater size and strength. Then he released me, turned the key that was in the lock and pocketed it. I stared at his broad shoulders as he returned to his seat behind the desk.

“So if you’re not going to spank me, what are you going to do?” I blurted quite belligerently. Apprehension made me bold. I was utterly disconcerted by his manner and the way he’d locked us in together, but even more disturbing to me was the level of arousal that I was experiencing at the thought of him punishing me. I seemed to crave the dissolute things he did to me.

“I like the punishment to fit the crime,” he said slowly, “so I’m going to invade one of your private spaces.”

Holding my gaze, he reached into his jacket pocket and very deliberately withdrew something that he placed, precisely, in the center of the desk.

It was a butt plug. Black. In my opinion, quite large. A punishment.

“Take all your clothes off, Jane. Strip for me. If you do it well enough, I might go easier on you.”

He leaned back in the imposing chair, his hands resting lightly on the armrests, legs crossed ankle to knee, and looked at me with raised brows. Between us, the butt plug reared up from the desk. My anxious gaze flicked between it and his face. Another surge of wetness swamped my panties. The thought of what would be involved for him to seat that plug within me… Oh dear god!

He was waiting.

Thoughts raced through my mind. With effort, I focused on the immediate problem. He wanted to me strip for his entertainment and I had no idea how to make it good. There was no music, and even if there had been, I didn’t have the courage to dance around like a stripper while he sat in that chair, dressed in his suit, and watched me. Under his piercing gaze, I was acutely self-conscious about my every move.

So ignore him. Pretend he isn’t there.

Easier said than done.

But it can be done—just don’t look at him.

I turned my back to him and stretched my arms over my head, leaning to one side and then the other. It felt good after the last couple of hours hunched over my computer. I could do this if I pretended that I was alone. Sometimes when I undressed at home at the end of a long day, I would touch my body. And sometimes, when freeing myself from my work clothes felt really good, I would masturbate on my bed, the cool quilt cover brushing against my warm skin. I could do this.

Keeping my back to him, I unbuttoned my shirt. Although he couldn’t see, he knew what I was doing, and I felt no need to rush—a bit of anticipation would be good for him. A languorous, sensuous feeling swept over me as I slowly swept the silky fabric off my shoulders and down my arms. I let it drop to the floor.