The Unexpected Dom #1: Jennifer's Revenge (BBW BDSM Male Submission) (4 page)

My God, was he whistling?

What the fuck?

He enjoyed this too much. Something was just...off.

And then she had an idea. Where was his cell phone?

The last fucking thing Declan wanted to do right now was clean a toilet. Take a shower, eat some wings, watch a game – sure.

Scrub a toilet? No. But he had to prove to Jennifer that he wouldn't escape.

Getting more of this was critical. So – he sprayed the shower cleaner on the doors and tub, careful not to get any on his naked body, and started working on the toilet as the scrubbing spray set in. Whistling came naturally. The full-body glow he had was more than enough.

When Jennifer found him an hour later, the bathroom was spotless and he was washing his hands. Her face was tight with caution and suspicion and a bolt of fear shot through him.

“What's wrong?” he asked as casually as possible.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “I am just ready for round two!” Her affect was fake and the smile forced. What was this?

“You, uh, want me to do that again?” he asked, pointing to his ass.

She laughed, tipping her head back, showing a white expanse of flawless neck. “Oh, no. Something more vanilla.” She pointed to their bed.

“Go. Now.”

This was going to kill him. He wasn't twenty anymore. What was his refractory period, after all? Could he have sex again so soon? Apparently, he could, as his cock rose to the occasion, his body relieved to have an erection with freedom after being trapped in the chastity device for so long.

It was obvious what Jennifer wanted as she climbed on the bed, propped a pillow under her hips, and spread her legs nice and wide, her pussy lips slick with ready wetness.

“Eat me, Worm,” she said in a nasty tone of voice.

“Yes, Mistress!”

Jennifer wavered between pure fury and disappointed need. Forty-five minutes on his phone revealed everything; he was going to a BDSM club! And had a dominatrix named Miss Sally! No wonder Declan liked being dominated – he'd been paying for it for a long time. The phone records and emails stretched back two or more years.

And the only thing she could think was to fuck him again. Real sex, with caring and pleasure. Because that's what SHE wanted.

So she was about to get it.

NOW.

His tongue settled on her red nub, a soft touch like a promise from their past that made her ooze with pleasure where his lips met, like silk on silk.

"Your tongue is one-of-a-kind, Worm,"she said. He slid two fingers in her eager pussy and hooked his hand up enough to make her vaginal walls pulsate.

“Add this,” she ordered, handing him her bathtub dildo. He turned it on a lower vibrate setting and slid it in, one finger going along for the ride to steady it and position it perfectly.

Lust drove her to new heights, all heat converging on her clit as he teased it, building her to a screaming orgasm, slipping the dildo in and out, making her want more. Her hips slammed into his face, legs began to shaking.

She could feel for his head, sinking her hands into him, slipping and guiding him to find the just-right rhythm that would --

"Oh, Declan!" she hissed, pelvis grinding into his mouth and tongue. Laving now, his tongue widening, he alternated between a more diffuse feeling and the targeted, pointed tongue that made her entire body zing. Feeling both made her orgasm crest as even her rib muscles tightened, her pussy walls encasing and imprisoning the buzzing sex toy, her hands now urgently shoving his face into her, his tongue working hard to keep her frenzy going.

"No! Keep going! God, don't stop!" she screamed, fingernails gouging his shoulders, her clit forced against his face as she cried, "I am coming, oh, my GOD!" She had never exploded like this, anger and betrayal and love all converging. Focusing on her orgasm, he followed, butterflying her nub, now licking as the peak ended, her gasps subsiding, like an athlete recovering.

He grinned and slid his hands up her body, following. He tasted like pussy, which made her red and engorged again, her clit and pussy clenching so hard she climaxed yet again simply from the kiss, her pussy pressing into his hip, her juices in her mouth, his mouth, the odor turning her on so much that she found herself orgasming without touch.

He slipped one hand to her pussy, then with one finger he was touching her clit, rocketing her to yet another wave. She swatted his hand away and pulled the dildo out of her, turning it off. "No! It's too much." He licked his finger, then stood, staring deeply at her.

His hand reached down, finding her soaked, and went serious. "I need you again. I never should have stopped making love to you." Those were the exact words she needed to hear, craved, and he kissed her then, a soulful kiss of apology.

Of course, he had no idea she knew about his secret life.

Her own revenge was coming soon, though.

Exerting control, she then climbed on him. Aiming him carefully, she dipped over over his gloriously-thick shaft. He was tight and throbbing, and she groaned with fullness.

"You aren't even half the man that big black dildo is," she hissed in his ear. The feeling was indescribable, an ending and a beginning, emotional and psychological, all at once. As if he were literally filling a hole inside her that was fused into every part of who she was. His fingernails dug into her hips as he grinned.

When she pulled up, the friction was delightful, moving toward an orgasm more powerful than with anyone before. Kneading her breasts, he was tightening her pussy, too. Sliding her ass up, she changed her weight distribution, then teased him by moving him out, tightened her pussy walls and shocked him with the force of her descent.

"Thank you, Mistress! Oh, thank you for fucking your worm!" he cried out through gritted teeth. She was at a loss, her body all nerves and lust. She had lost her mind, had turned into nothing more than an ass he grabbed and nerves and pussy and clit and fucking.

She ripped the sheets off the bed corners, her fists tightening, two fingers and a cock her tools for orgasm.

"Fuck you, Declan!" And she screamed and screamed and rutted and jerked, a hot mess as sex juices went everywhere, squirting, knew he was creaming into her, pumping his seed, knew her pussy was one hot volcano of their juices as he came.

He pounded and pounded, she slammed back, he kneaded her ass and took one hand to tweak her right nipple, until all that was left was a release, all slick and pussy walls and cock.

The peak was over, little quakes inside her bleeding every drop of orgasm from parts of her she didn't know she had.

And then, as if a switch flipped on its own inside her, she climbed off him.

“That was so BORING!” she shouted. He was taken aback, then grinned, thinking this part of some game.

Jennifer's heart broke in two. He didn't love her. He was busy fucking Miss Sally at the Diamond Club. And yet, while he had a secret, so did she.

“Well, Mistress, I can make it not-so-boring for you.” The doorbell rang, making Declan jump.

A sly grin spread across her face as she reached for her robe. “Answer it.”

He looked alarmed and ashamed. “Uh, OK.” Declan stood and walked to his closet.

“What do you think you're doing?” Jennifer hissed. “I said, answer the door!”

“Like this?” he gestured down his body. All he wore was a dog collar now, and his pubic hair was matted with Astroglide and their mixed juices.

“Yes, Worm!” she grunted. Slowly, reluctantly, he wandered down the hall and she heard his footsteps descend the stairs.

Wait for it, Jennifer
. She wanted to run downstairs but she would have plenty of time. She'd paid for four hours. On Declan's business MasterCard, no less. Too bad BDSM clubs don't take PayPal.

The door creaked open. Jennifer padded barefoot to the landing and stared down to see nude Declan hiding behind a barely-cracked door.

“Miss Sally!” he screeched, then recovered quickly, whispering. “What the hell are you doing at my house?”

The most gorgeous woman Jennifer had ever seen stood there in a black business suit, a long pencil skirt with a slit up to her hip showing off smooth, perfect legs and open-toed, black Manolo Blahniks. Her hair was pitch-black and straight, with high bangs. She looked like a cross between a rockabilly girl, Elvira, and Angelina Jolie.

“I ask the questions, Declan,” she said in a smoky, whiskey voice that made Jennifer's clit tingle.

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.

“Now, where is my client?” Miss Sally asked, taking a step across the threshold.

Declan seemed confused. “Uh, I am your client.”

That was Jennifer's cue. “Hello,” she said, descending the stairs, coming to a halt a foot before the suited woman.

Jennifer extended her hand. “I'm Jennifer MacIntire. So pleased to meet you.” As the two women shook hands, Declan gaped. Both turned to him and smiled slowly.

Then Miss Sally looked Jennifer square in the eyes and murmured, “We are going to have so much fun with him.”

“Me?” he peeped. No one answered him.

No one needed to.

The End

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The Unexpected Dom #2: Dominating the CEO – A Sample

“So, Jennifer, let me pull out the contracts and explain.” With a precision that made engineers seem like Grateful Dead stoners, the dominatrix slid perfect manilla envelopes from her black leather brief bag. It was as if she were conducting a legal transaction.

Which, in a way, she was.

Miss Sally was as intimidating in real life as she had sounded on the Internet. After discovering Declan's emails, Jennifer had skipped over to the browser on Declan's phone, quickly finding an autofill for the address to her club. For some reason, that autofill feature – knowing that her husband visited the website often enough to have Google remember it – filled her with more disappointment, rage, and anxiety than the past day's events had. It made everything so real in a way that even making Declan fuck an arm-sized dildo hadn't.

When she'd seen the price tag for Miss Sally's services, she'd done a double take.

$400 an hour. Whoa.

And here she stood before Jennifer, the clock ticking away, Declan's business credit card being charged for the four hours she'd contracted by phone.

Oh, shit
, Jennifer thought. She really had done all this. In less than twenty-four hours she had changed her hair, gotten a makeover, bought and worn a Dom outfit, handcuffed her husband, turned him into her sex slave, learned he had a kink for it, and hired a dominatrix to come to her house and...

And what?

Miss Sally cleared her throat. The look on her face made it plain and clear that she was not accustomed to being ignored. “Jennifer? Let's sit over here.” Miss Sally moved with the fluid grace of a black cat over to a small table with chairs that were nestled in a tiny solarium off the living room. Jennifer adored the room, a small hothouse where she had tried – and failed – to grow orchids over the years.

“Now, I don't have a standard contract for the services you have purchased.” A sly grin spread across Miss Sally's face, the look quite startling, stripping ten years off her face and making her seem like a fresh-faced teenager with a very deviant secret. “Your request is quite...unique. And I do not use that word lightly.”

Jennifer tensed. “Is this OK?”

“Of course! You're the boss, after all. Or, rather,” Miss Sally added, “I am the boss, and I will teach you how to be the boss of Declan.” Her long, elegant fingers spread papers before Jennifer, all legalese she never understood. “I have to thank you, in fact.”

“Me?” Jennifer squeaked.

“Yes. This could prove to be the beginning of a new niche in my business. Giving Dom lessons. It never occurred to me, frankly.” She arched her eyebrows, going from virginal teen to prim schoolteacher in a fraction of a second.

“Really?” Jennifer's eyes pored over the words on the papers, but her mind couldn't decipher it. She trusted Miss Sally. Whatever the documents said was fine. Hastily scribbling her signature, she noted the credit card statement printed from a computer somewhere. $1,600. Declan's company could deal with that.