Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Isai and Ryker
Chapter 5
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Anonymous Desires
Isai and Ryker
A.D. herrick
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, place or theory is in no way intended or to be inferred as fact or reference.
The work is the singular property of the Author, and may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission, unless as part of a Review, Interview or Public push of the work and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Contains adult situations. 17+ only
Cover Design by A. D. Herrick
Copyright ©2018 Herrick
All rights reserved
To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. – Federico Garcia Lorca
Contents
Isai and Ryker
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Chapter 1
I don’t know when it happened.
There wasn’t a huge turning point in my life.
No pivotal moment in which a lightbulb went off over my head.
The thought had been on my mind for a while.
It started as a whisper. As time passed, the whisper grew and grew, until one day it was a loud shouting in the back of my mind, begging to be heard.
I heard it.
I heard it loud and clear.
Only, I didn’t know what to do with it.
Instead of dwelling on the things I couldn’t change I focused on the things I could. I shoved the thoughts away, slamming down the lid on the crazy fantasy threatening to consume my every waking thought.
I was at work. I needed to focus on work like things, most notably, the mounds of paperwork that sat on the corner of my desk. What I didn’t need to be thinking about was the way Mr. Kane’s presence made my insides turn to jelly. Or the way his dominating personality left my imagination running wild with filthy fantasies. One brief office meeting and it was as though my entire world was turned inside out, leaving me a quivering mess.
I basked in the vivid images that flashed behind my eyes, my mouth salivating. His ripped torso, the washboard abs that I imagined rested behind the smooth silk material of his shirt. I longed to run my fingertips along the firm ridges of his muscles, mapping his body with my mind for future use when I was alone.
His short black tresses always seemed to have that sexy just rolled out of bed look that matched the dusting of his five o’clock shadow along his chiseled square jaw. His penetrating cobalt blue eyes shined with hidden desires, causing even the most seasoned woman to look away blushing from the moisture that gathered between her legs from just a single look.
His broad six-foot-four stature was nearly as intimidating as the thick taut muscles that covered his body. The thick cords of his neck left my mouth watering. The powerful muscles in his legs were nearly my undoing.
Every woman wanted the chance to tame the savage beast, to tie him down and make him submit. I had no desire to tame him. I didn’t want his submission. I just wanted him for the night. I wanted to sample his brand of savagery more than I wanted my next breath.
Every woman has fantasies. Fantasies that would never be fulfilled. It's like we’re pre-wired to want for things we could never have. Things that seemed impossibly beyond reach.
I was no different.
Ryker Kane was my fantasy.
The thoughts that ran rampant through my mind were not the common garden variety. They were salacious thoughts that were downright sinful to think about. They were of the toe-curling, heavy panting variety. Just the mere whisper of the thought could leave your panties soaked, your thighs squelched together to ward away the throbbing desire radiating from your core.
That’s where I was in this moment. My legs pressed together; my core drawn tight like a bow, ready to fire, as I fantasized about my boss.
I fought it back, forcing my mind to focus on the digits dancing across the screen, spread out along the desk and computer in front of me. I had a stack of spreadsheets to finish before I could leave for the day. That's where I needed to focus my attention. Focus on work Isai.
My body betrayed me. My hips sank back, increasing the pressure between my legs. Need vibrated through me.
Why did I have to have such a hot young boss? Ryker Kane was undoubtedly the hottest guy I had ever seen. Even worse, he fit the personality of every deep dark fantasy I had ever had, demanding, aggressive, firm, but fair.
He was off limits.
Not only because he was my boss, but because he was Ryker freaking Kane, CEO of Kane Holdings, and Midtown's most eligible bachelor. I was simply Isai Channing, Data entry clerk, lost cause to men and relationships.
I needed to get a hold of myself. I needed to regain control. Focusing on my screen I tried desperately to get my workflow juices going. The number 69 repeated like a mantra on the screen, pulling forth the visual image, making work nearly impossible.
They were only numbers. But those numbers held so much power over my raging libido.
Valentine’s Day was knocking at the door. The commercialized holiday was undeniably at fault. I blamed the Greeting card manufacturers, the Jewelers, the Restaurants, and the sugar refineries for the gross commercialization of the holiday, sending my overactive imagination into a tailspin.
They took the sentimental Victorian holiday and perverted it for their own monetary gain. Taking the innocence of love and twisted it, creating a distortion in the female brain. Making us slaves to the holiday.
Red hearts, roses, and boxes of chocolates accompanied by over the top declarations of undying love cloud the thoughts of females around the world. Raging hormones turn us into man seeking zombies. We hunted out love as though it was brains and we were starving.
Only, I did not desire the conventional holiday flair. It wasn’t the bold red balloons, the sweet fragrant nectar of roses, or the rich burst of flavor of cocoa confections that sent my body into overdrive.
My cravings ran much darker, far more sinister.
It was the scent of leather, the blinding darkness, and the loss of control that sent my heart into overdrive.
The holiday served as a reminder, pointing out the fact that I was alone like a flashing neon sign. There would be no man waiting for me when I came home from work with a bouquet of roses. No man to enact my deepest darkest fantasies with. There would be no romantic dinners held by candlelight and no promise of sweet release.
I was alone.
The thought was sobering.
Unable to focus on my work I closed out the screen opening up my social media page. I don't know what I was looking for. Something-anything to distract me from the myriad of emotions filtering through my mind.
Taking out my frustrations on the mouse in my hand, I scrolled angrily across the screen in front of me. Post after post of romantic quotes filtered across the screen, souring my mood further.
Whatever I was searching for was clearly not on here. I didn't care that Sarah got a dozen red roses and a box of chocolates. I didn't care that Joey proposed to Elizabeth while on vacation. And I most certainly didn't care that my best friend Meghan was having another baby. Okay, that was a lie. I was ecstatic for her. I loved Meghan like a sister. But it still hurt to see image after image flashed across the s
creen, a proud declaration of their love for the entire world to see.
Everywhere I looked people were celebrating the holiday. Valentine's was still a day away, but that didn't stop the parade of roses and balloons streaming through the office. It didn't halt the overabundance of romantic post and quotes about love plastered all over social media.
I wasn't anti-Valentine's Day.
It wasn't that I hated the thought of love.
I was alone. It felt like rubbing salt in my wounds to see everyone else around me so crazy in love.
I don't even think it was love that I really wanted so much as somebody to spend my time with. Somebody to ease that throbbing ache that had begun to build between my legs. I was lonely, horny, and lost. I felt as though there was a missing piece of me. A piece so vital I would never be whole without it.
I continued to scroll through post after post, hoping to catch even a boring glimpse of somebody's morning coffee. Anything would be a welcome sight at this point; anything that had nothing to do with love and romance.
The sight of a black lace Victorian mask caught my eye. It lay nestled in a royal purple cushion. The caption read Anonymous Desires in a dark gothic scroll. Shining like a beacon in the night, the link for the app begged for attention on the screen. My mouse hovered above the banner advertising for anonymous chat.
Intrigued I clicked on the link.
The brief description of the app had my breath catching in the back of my throat. The app advertised fetish connections.
I've never thought of my sexual taste as fetish-worthy, but who was I to say. My vanilla may be someone else's chocolate or strawberry swirl. However, I wouldn't really know, considering I've never had vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry - swirled or not. I wasn't lactose intolerant I was just never offered the treat. I was a twenty-six-year-old virgin.
I wasn’t ashamed of my non-sexual status. I wasn’t saving myself for marriage or because of any religious beliefs. I was a virgin based on happenstance. Of all the men I’d dated, not that there were many, none of them had sparked any sexual desires within me. There was no desire to get down and dirty. No want or need for physical intimacy.
For the longest time, I had thought there was something wrong with me. It wasn’t until I had stumbled along a particular type of pornographic videos that I realized the issue lay more with my sexual preference than it did my chosen partners.
Glancing around the room I checked to ensure I was alone. I was desperate enough to join an online site, but not so desperate that I didn’t care who knew. Convinced no one was lurking around, I read through the brief terms of agreement.
There was a general statement in which the user agreed to follow the rules followed by several detailed points that caught my attention.
This was definitely an adult site. The site demanded that the user be eighteen years or older and made it abundantly clear that the user was to maintain theirs and other users’ anonymity.
The terms seemed reasonable enough. Agreeing to them was a simple task of clicking a button. There wasn’t much to it. Not like the terms and agreements I was used to signing for the normal social media apps I had used in the past. The site didn’t ask for access to my photos or contact list which was a relief. That last thing I wanted to do was explain to my eighty-year-old grandmother why a fetish site was trying to get her to join.
The sign in form was just as basic. The site took their name seriously. Anonymity was exactly what they provided. No names were asked, only a string of numbers attached to a preselected icon became my identity. I had become Anonymous 86753 highlighted by a glowing green donkey as my user icon. The image seemed fitting. I felt much like a glowing ass as I checked the boxes indicating my sexual interest and preferences. Rolling my eyes at my own idiocy I completed my registration.
Now that I was fully registered I sat back, unsure of what to do next. A string of chat rooms was listed in a column. Each one was more intriguing than the next. Reading through the list I felt my cheeks fill with heat.
The room labeled Collared Queens caught my attention but there was no way I was brave enough to enter. Instead, I scanned the listings of the chat rooms longing to join just one but never brave enough to actually click and enter.
I felt like I was taking one step forward and two steps back. The thing I most desired set right before me, but as usual, I was afraid to grab it. I was afraid to take the chance, to dive in headfirst. Instead, I sat there staring at the screen. Not even the allure of anonymity could persuade me to make the leap.
An email from Meghan flashed across the screen, reminding me of where I was. The pile of work on my desk wasn't going to go away. Closing the app I shut down the site redirecting my focus to my work. I ignored the throbbing sensation between my legs. With renewed determination, I focused on my work. I allowed the simplicity of the numbers before me to dull my mind.
Chapter 2
It was just after six and I was exhausted. I didn’t think I would ever get all the data input into the system before I left the office. By the grace of the heavens, I managed to complete my task right on time. My hands cramped just thinking about all the typing I had done today.
The weekend was here and I could finally relax. Walking into the house I kicked off my heels at the door, my toes sinking into the deep plush carpet. I sighed with relief as I undid the pins from my hair allowing the dark thick curls to flow freely down my back.
Making my way into the kitchen I pulled my shirt out of my skirt allowing it to hang loosely around my waist. As much as I love working with numbers at Kane Holdings I hated the constrictive clothing required.
In a fantasy world, I could work from home in the comfort of my pajamas while sipping coffee from my hot pink unicorn mug. Unfortunately, life was not a fantasy. I lived in the real world where monochromatic polyester was the required dress constraint and hot pink mugs were distractions in the sterile work environment.
The monochromatic colors I could deal with, but did they have to make the clothing so ungodly uncomfortable? It was as though the act of growing up meant all fun, excitement, and comfort was stripped from your life. With an exhausted sigh, I marched into the kitchen, my stomach growling it's protest for food.
Pulling out the leftover pizza from the fridge, I set my plate in the microwave and began stripping my clothes off as I walked into the bedroom to change. Gathering them in my hands I tossed them into the empty hamper.
The massive pile of clothing scattered across the room made me cringe. I had been ignoring my housework and it showed. Taking a quick sniff of air I relaxed when I didn’t smell anything unsavory. The house may be a disaster but it wasn’t so far gone that it had begun to smell.
Once dressed and a pair of loose gray sweatpants and thin white camisole I began gathering the scattered clothing into the laundry basket. There was no way the laundry was going to wait for next week. I was nearly out of clean underwear. If Mr. Kane kept making frequent appearances around the office I would be doing laundry twice as often or invest in a larger pantie drawer.
While most women were out spending their Friday nights at the club or having dinner with friends, I'd be spending mine cleaning my apartment and taking care of the much-needed housework that I had been neglecting, AKA making sure I had enough clean panties to get me through the work week.
With my reheated Pizza in hand, I settled on the couch in the living room. Nibbling on my dinner, I flicked through the channels on the TV. Valentine's Day had infiltrated every Network. Every channel I flip through had the same theme running throughout them; men and women in love, flowers, hearts, and candy. It made me sick with loneliness.
Flicking off the TV I tossed the remote onto the small wooden coffee table with a disgruntled huff. Even in the privacy of my own home, I would find no solace. With nervous trepidation, I decided to remedy my precarious situation. I pulled out my phone searching for the anonymous app. With the click of a button, I downloaded the app. Now alone in my own home, I felt sl
ightly more comfortable browsing through the tantalizing chat rooms.
My bravery only lasted a nanosecond. Once logged in I sat staring at the screen unsure what to do. A tiny mask icon flashed in the corner drawing my attention. Curiosity getting the better of me I clicked on it. The screen ballooned open revealing a chat box.
A small gray owl flitted across the screen.
Anonymous 75386 would like to chat with you. To accept click okay.
Nervously I glanced around the room, as expecting to find someone leering over my shoulder. It was a silly thing to do considering I lived alone. But it didn’t stop me from looking around the room just to be sure.
Letting out a long slow breath I closed my eyes mentally preparing myself to continue. Nerves danced along my flesh as my stomach rolled with nervousness. I was doing it. I was finally going to take that final step forward and take what I wanted.
Wine.
I needed wine and lots of it.
Setting my phone down on the coffee table I made my way into the kitchen snatching a bottle of dry red out of the refrigerator. I pop the top, dragging the entire bottle with me. I wouldn't need a glass tonight, not for what I was about to do.
Taking a healthy swallow out of the thick green bottle, using the aid of the alcohol to give me the courage needed to cross the precipice. I press the green button on my phone. The chat box lit up.
Anonymous 75386: Dom or sub?
I started the phone in shock, my jaw hanging open. He was direct. There were no pleasantries easing me into the conversation. The user on the other side jumped straight to the point. Licking my lips in anticipation I typed my reply into the phone.
Anonymous 86753: Sub
His reply was immediate. As though he were sitting there waiting. Perhaps he was.
Anonymous 75386: Location?
Anonymous Desires: Isai and Ryker Page 1
