Follow (Social Media #1)

by JA Huss

  What, I wonder? Do I want to know?

  I smile before I can stop myself and one eyebrow hitches up on his forehead. But a smirk also comes forth and I know he knows what I’m thinking.

  He wants me to disobey too. He has something in mind for punishment and I’d like to know what it is.

  “No, Master,” I say to soften my refusal. “I’m not comfortable doing that.”

  “Your comfort is none of my concern. My only concern is that you do as you’re told, girl. Do you understand?”

  “I can’t, Master. I can’t say those things. You should punish me.”

  I catch him mumbling “Oh, shit,” as he turns to hide his smile. But then he clears his throat and turns back. “I will punish you by releasing you from my service. Do you want me to let you go, girl?”

  “No, Master.” And for a moment I fear he might actually tell me to get lost. I stare him in the eyes as he thinks, and then he holds his hand out, an open palm, to help me up off the ground.

  I accept it and he pulls me up and forces me to come right up next to his chest. “I will keep you this time, Grace. But your punishment is to walk back to your bungalow like this.”

  “Naked?” I gasp.

  “Yes, naked.” He turns me around and pushes me back towards the path I came from, then smacks me on the ass very hard, and gives me a push. “Walk, girl. And don’t look back. If you look back, this is over. Do you understand?”

  I think he’s pissed that I said no, so I nod and squeak out a “Yes, Master,” as I pick my way barefoot through the long grass-covered path. When I came down this path a little while ago the sun was shining and it felt like a fairy tale—the flower-covered stone wall, the long lush grass under my feet like a cushion. But now the rain is pelting the foliage and the grass is matted flat in the mud.

  Fantasy over. This is reality. And the reality is—I’m walking in the middle of a very busy resort naked.

  At first I have no idea if he’s behind me, but once I get to the wall I hear some twigs snapping, so I know he is.

  I turn back down the closed path that takes me to the sidewalk in front of my bungalow. After a minute or two of more silence, and just before I get to the chain that I have to step over to come out of the cover of trees, he places a hand on my shoulder. “I just want you to know that your muddy ass is beautiful. It’s filthy, Grace, but it’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, Master,” I say. Even though he’s been calling me Grace, I’ve been calling him Master. I’ll have to think about that a little if I make it through this test with my dignity. I stop at the chain and peek out, trying to assess if anyone is on the path.

  “Do not stop, girl. Keep going, and when you get to your bungalow, stop, turn around, and put your back against the door.”

  I step over the chain and on the other side is a large puddle that I have to step through to get back to the path. I hear voices, but they are not in sight—the people they belong to are around a corner or on a nearby path. I’m not sure which, but Vaughn grunts at my hesitation and I continue through the puddle and step out onto the path. My pace quickens and I walk quickly down the small section of sidewalk that leads to my door. When I finally get there I feel a little relief that I made it, so I stop, turn around and then press my back against the door with a smile.

  Vaughn is gone.

  I fidget, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I wait. After several minutes of this torture, wondering if people will walk by and see me standing here, covered in mud and bare naked, I hear him talking to someone down the path, out of sight.

  It’s another man. A deep voice that has a hearty laugh to it. I can hear them as they talk low, but I can’t make out the words.

  I take a deep breath and wonder if he expects me to go inside.

  Not likely.

  The voices get closer and I know, right then, I know. He’s bringing him this way on purpose. He’s gonna let some strange man look at my naked body to hammer home his point.

  I’m his property and he can do with me what he wants.

  I watch them as they approach and then, just before they turn the corner that will give this stranger a full-frontal view of my naked and dirty body, they stop. There’s a junction there. A fork in the road, if you will.

  And I feel like this is a fork in the road for me too. Because if he brings that man over here, I will turn and go inside. That’s a line I won’t let him cross.

  I take a deep breath and steady myself to disobey. They chat loudly, laughing. I can hear the conversation now. They are talking about my bag. Vaughn must have picked it up and carried it back from the clearing. They are looking inside, because the other man is asking Vaughn if he’s got a naked girl stashed somewhere.

  “I do,” Vaughn says. “I’m going to her now.”

  “Don’t forget lunch, dude. See you in a few.”

  And then the other man walks down the path that leads away and Vaughn comes into full view.

  He’s smiling. Quite big. “Good, girl. You have no idea how pleased I am.”

  I’m humiliated and confused but I’m pretty sure he’s got every idea about how I feel. “I’m sorry, Master. For disobeying you.”

  “I’m sure you are, Grace. But we’re not done here, not even close. I am a fountain of ideas, girl. You need to understand what you’re getting into if you deny me again. I’m going to make this incident your example.”

  My mouth drops into a frown. “What else do I have to do?”

  “Please yourself, Grace. Here. Now. And once you do that, once you make yourself come in public for me, I will allow you to go inside and clean up.”

  I just blink at him. He wants me to masturbate? Here?

  “Hurry up, girl. I’m waiting.’

  “I—I can’t, Mr. Asher,” I say, breaking the Master rule so he knows I need some leeway right now. “Really, I’m not kidding. I hardly ever come when I masturbate without a vibrator.”

  “Do you have a vibrator inside?”

  “No—”

  “Then you are shit out of luck, girl. Not put your fucking fingers between your legs, stick them inside your pussy, and make yourself come.”

  I draw in a deep breath and try to decide if I want to continue with this.

  I do. I can’t fucking help it. I do. I want him to fuck me, dammit. And not just because he’s Vaughn Asher, the man I’ve fantasized about for years, but because I’m so damn horny, I just need it!

  My hand dips down to my legs, but a voice on the next path makes me freeze. I look up at Asher and he’s smiling. Asshole.

  “Keep going, Grace.”

  He’s confusing me with the name thing. He’s calling me Grace, but he’s not being sympathetic to my situation at all. I take a steadying breath and begin to stimulate myself. I watch him intently as I do it. I picture him naked to get myself wet, and then I picture him on top of me, kissing me with that delicious mouth of his. And now that I think about it, I’ve gotten myself off to his image hundreds of times. At least. And here he is in front of me, in the flesh. In the rock-hard flesh.

  “Your cock is hard, Asher,” I say, surprising myself.

  He just smiles.

  “Your cock is hard and my pussy is so, so wet. You have no idea what you’re missing. You can stand there and stare all you want, that’s fine with me. Because I’ve got what you want, even if you refuse to admit it right now. You’re going to watch me play with my clit, then you’re going to go back to your room and jerk off, thinking about me doing this. So I’m the one in control now, Asher. I’m the one—”

  He drops my bag and walks towards me.

  I gulp and keep going.

  “I’m the one being satisfied, Asher. I’m the one in control, because I’m the one who will make you masturbate when you leave. So there. I win.”

  He cups my face in his hands. More voices and laughter come from off to the left. The rain has let up now and the place is getting busy again. “Miss Kinsella, would you like me to let you win this one?
”

  I nod. “I would. I really, really would.”

  “Will you agree to be a good girl for the next command, Grace? If I let you have your way at this moment? No matter what I ask?”

  I know the answer to this, and that answer is no. No, no, no! He’s setting me up, I can feel it. But I have a hard time saying no to people in the best of situations and right now all I want is to be spared the public humiliation of being caught touching myself by strangers. But at the same time, I really want to keep the game going. So of course, I say, “Yes, I will. I will, Mr. Asher. I swear. If you want I’ll go inside and give it a try in my room. You can even watch, but I won’t be—”

  “Shh,” he says with a finger to my lips. And then he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue slips in slightly, but not far. Just a small, tender kiss that makes my whole body melt like butter. “You win then. OK?”

  He pulls back, his strong hands gently resting on my shoulders, the back of his hand lightly sweeping up and down my cheek as he takes me in. “You win. Now inside is a box. Open it and follow all the directions.”

  He leans down and kisses me again and then goes back, retrieves my bag, and then slips it up my arm until it rests on my shoulder. He uses my key card to open my door, waving me in with a flourish of his hand.

  I step across the threshold and let out a long breath of relief when I see a prettily wrapped box on the bed. When I turn to ask him what it is, all I see is his back as he makes his retreat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  #ThatListIsGettingLong

  THE box is large, white, has a black bow, and everything about it says it’s expensive.

  I squeal after I close the door and then skip over to the bed and almost touch the precious, perfect gift box before remembering I’m a filthy mess of naked mud.

  I run to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

  Je-sus Christ. He saw me like this. I’m a fucking mess! I’ve got mud streaked down my whole body, my hair is a rat’s nest of tangles and that’s not easy to do with hair as straight as mine. I run the shower and jump in. I’m not sure how long I have before I need to meet him, so I wash quickly and wrap myself up in a large plush towel. I wrap my hair up next and then walk back out to the room and take in the box for real.

  Yes, it’s definitely out of my price range. And I’m just talking about the wrappings. God only knows what he’s got inside.

  I walk slowly over to it, circle it a little, like it’s a dangerous animal.

  When did he have time to buy me a present?

  I pull on the thick black loop of satin and it slides so easily, the bow practically dissolves with one slight tug. I push it off to the side and then lift off the lid. It comes off with a whoosh of air, and then it’s a flurry of white tissue paper. I rip the little sticker holding the two ends of tissue together, eager to see what kind of present a movie star gives a submissive on their second meeting, and have to gasp as I pull out the skirt and blouse.

  The skirt is white flirty chiffon. It’s short. Like very short. The blouse is white, crisp tailored cotton—very classic—like all the women were wearing last night at the wedding. There’s a thick black belt that settles high on the waist to make the legs look longer once it’s on.

  He got these clothes from the gift shop. I know this because I was longing for this outfit the day we checked in. Bebe and I stopped just to look—and this was one I had my eye on. The two tags combined came to seven thousand dollars. And if that wasn’t enough to give me a heart attack, I pull out a box filled with sexy shoes that have the trademark red soles of Louboutins. A classic black patent-leather shoe with a peekaboo toe and a cage of thin straps that climb all the way up over the ankle.

  I set them on the bed and pull out another little pink bag that I know comes from the lingerie shop because my horrible men’s underwear came in one exactly like it.

  I peek inside and there’s one of the bra and panties sets I looked at yesterday, in black.

  Oh.

  That’s about all I can think right now.

  Oh.

  This is what it feels like to be taken care of by a wealthy man whose only desire is to turn me on and fuck me hard as I submit to his sexual fantasies.

  Why the hell have I been fighting him? I drop my towel and comb out my hair in the nude. I feel so dirty, in a very sexual way, right now. I feel filthy and I want to be naked. I want to do that walk back to the bungalow again just so I can be braver. So I can flaunt my body in public and make him appreciate my boldness, the way I want to please him. And it’s not because he bought me expensive presents, but because what he’s asking for is something I want.

  I want to surrender. I want to let someone else take care of the details for once. I want to be cared for. It’s been so long since I’ve felt cared for.

  Bebe always cares for me, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She’s a friend. And her family was my family after the incident with my parents. But I was too old to nurture like a real daughter would’ve been..

  Vaughn is not nurturing me, but he is caring for me in his own way. And even though I’m excited—I love these presents, I want to go meet him now and continue to say yes to all his requests—I also feel a little… sad. Sad that this is the first time in my life I’ve experienced this kind of emotional reaction to a man’s attention.

  He’s giving me something I want so badly. In a very specific way, yes, but is it wrong to enjoy it?

  It’s not wrong, I decide as I finish my hair, dust my face with a light powder, apply some pink lipstick, and drag some mascara across my lashes. Once that’s done I stand in front of the mirror and appreciate who I am and what I look like. I’m not sophisticated and dark, like Bebe. But I’m pretty. And yes, cute. But naked I’m so much more. I’m sexual. I can see the lust in my eyes, the glow of my skin as I think about how he makes me feel, how he turns me on.

  I put on my matching lingerie and immediately feel a hundred times sexier. I look at it from every angle in the mirror. And then I slip on my skirt and tuck in the blouse. I cinch the black belt high up on my waist and then buckle the incredible stiletto heels on my feet. Inside the box is also a small black clutch that looks like it matches the shoes, and I transfer my room key and a credit card inside.

  I take one more look at myself and realize I have no idea what I’m supposed to do once I’m dressed. I fish around inside the box until I find a small white card.

  Meet me in the restaurant lobby at one thirty. I check the clock and let out a breath of relief when I see that it’s only one twenty, and then step outside, pulling the door closed behind me.

  It hits me then.

  I’m having a date with Vaughn Asher.

  I have to bite my lip to stop the grin. I walk into the restaurant knowing full well that heads are turning. But the only person I have eyes for is Vaughn. He’s standing at the bar off to the right, talking to Dewain, wearing a delicious black suit tailored to every curve of his body.

  Dewain nods in approval as Asher gets up and walks towards me. He holds out his hand and I take it.

  “You look lovely, Grace.”

  I smile back, but before I can say anything, he guides me over to the hallway where the restrooms are located. “Come with me, girl,” he says in his master voice, and I gulp down my apprehension.

  He holds the door open to the men’s room. I pass through and then he closes it behind us and locks it.

  “Take off your panties, Grace.”

  Even though he’s calling me Grace, I know I have no chance of talking my way out of this. He gave in back at the bungalow and let me win. Now it’s his turn.

  I lift up my flirty skirt that could blow up and expose my private parts with the slightest wind, and slip my panties down my legs, step out of them, bend over and pick them up. And then hand them over to his outstretched palm.

  He brings them to his face and inhales. My eyebrows go up and he smiles.

  “Fuck, that’s intoxicating. Now listen, g
irl. I let you have your way but now it’s time to perform. You owe me a public orgasm, Grace. And I want it here in the restaurant.” He produces a small bullet vibrator from one suit pocket and a remote control from the other. “And I’ve got everything you need to be successful this time.”

  “No.” It comes out so fast, we are both equally stunned. I take advantage of his pause, because this is the only chance I’ll get. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I’m not masturbating in a restaurant. I won’t do it.”

  He scowls at me. “You will do it. You already promised me.”

  “So? I didn’t know that what you wanted would get me arrested for being a public whore!”

  “Would you just trust me, please? You haven’t even heard what I want yet.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t we just have lunch?”

  “I’m adding that fuck to your list. And to answer your question, because I gave you an order and you didn’t want to follow through. This was the agreement. You do as I say and you get rewards. You disobey and you get punishments.”

  “But why can’t you just say, Grace, you look lovely. Let’s eat some fucking food?” I smile at his scowl and have to cover my mouth with my hand to stop from laughing. He’s so easy to mess with.

  “I don’t appreciate that, Grace. Now bend over so I can get you nice and wet first.”

  “You’re insane. I’m not bending over for you, and you are not”—I shake my head at the vibrator—“using that on me here in this restaurant.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not.” I actually stomp my foot and raise my chin.

  “Then you’re released.”

  I flick my fingers at him in a mocking wave and walk out the door.

  He follows me out hissing, “Grace, Grace,” as we walk towards the maître d’.

  I stop to beam up a smile at the very tall man standing at the podium. “Table for one, please.”

  “You can’t afford to eat here, Grace. Charles, we’re eating with my parents, thanks.”

  I whirl around and point my finger up at his face. “Who the hell—”