Sugarplum: A Holiday Romance

by Angela Blake

  As soon as I got into my car I locked the doors, rolled my windows up, took off my blouse and unzipped my skirt. I didn’t care if people saw me naked… I just wanted to wear nothing but the choker and finger myself. I masturbated in my car until I came.

  With my fingers digging in and out of my pussy, the only thought I had was that of Dylan plowing me with his cock while smacking me with his hand. I wanted him to yank my hair, to shove his cock deep into my throat and to blow his load in all of my holes.

  I must have lost my mind because I didn’t remember when I came but I did. I was exhausted, perspiring and horny. I put on my blouse but I didn’t bother putting my pants on, deciding to bottom-naked even when driving into town. I stayed that way all back to the apartment.

  ***

  Back home I had nothing to do. Ysa was still at work. I could only watch movies for so long before getting bored and I didn’t want to drown in porn. Despite my best efforts, however, social media was getting boring.

  Ring!

  I picked up the phone. It was a landline. “Hello?”

  “You’ve been a naughty little bitch,” Dylan said on the other line. I was a little shocked to hear him. Was he calling me from his office number? Aren’t those calls recorded or something?

  “D-daddy?” I stuttered. I was not expecting this call.

  “I saw your post,” he said. Fuck, I forgot he’s on Facebook. “You at home? Mind coming here to my office and giving daddy the treat of your presence?”

  Let it go before you lose control of your life. “Dylan… I have to stop seeing you.”

  There was a pause on the other end for nearly a minute. When he finally did speak it lacked any of the warmth he previously exhibited. “Olivia,” he said. He never fucking called me by my real name. “Do you really mean to just stop?”

  “Banana,” I replied. Wow, that sounds so fucking ridiculous. “Yes, I do mean to just stop.”

  “May I ask why?”

  I took in a deep breath and chose my words very carefully, “Because I love you, Dylan. This whole thing is starting to take over me. I don’t want to get addicted. I even forgot to take off the damn choker you gave me and now my fucking supervisor knows I’m a late-bloomer slut.”

  Dylan laughed and for the first time I found it insulting and a little degrading. “Olivia,” he just sounded flat and too serious. “You’ve used our safe word - not exactly in the way I thought you’d use it - but I’ll consider it anyway. This means you want to stop, we’ll stop. If you ever want to resume, you know my number.”

  “Don’t expect me to call,” I told him. “Just… please don’t. Don’t make this hard for me, I honestly don’t want to say good-bye but if I want to regain some kind of control over my life I just have to. I’m going too deep.”

  “I’ll respect that decision,” he said solemnly. I think I felt a trace of pain but I couldn’t be sure. “I hope we get to meet again. If one day you see me in a restaurant or something, I just hope you’ll at least acknowledge me instead of ignoring me.”

  “Good bye, Dylan,” was all I could say. I was trying hard to fight the tears welling in my eyes. I didn’t want to prolong this and make it harder on either of us. “Thank you for waking up the true me.”

  Click.

  I took the initiative and just ended the call. I tossed my phone off the bed and just laid back. After a long, deep breath I took off all my clothes and decided to take a nap. Fuck everything. Fuck the world. Fuck Dylan.

  ***

  The rest of the days began to blur. Everything was beginning to fade into the background as I tried to just move forward with work. I barely even got to talk to Ysa and Matt. I just went through the motions from day to day.

  By two weeks after breaking up with Dylan I was getting into a self-imposed madness. All I could think of was sex, BDSM and fucking cocks. Even when I went out to do normal things like shopping I’d stop by the sex store and just peer inside. I even managed to buy a damn dress that was way too revealing but I wanted it anyway.

  Damn it, Dylan, what did you turn me into? I want to live a normal life, damn it!

  Distraught, I decided to file for leave. I needed a vacation. All I wanted was to spend time alone, in the house, and just have some time to myself so I could think and rediscover myself without the added burden of work or the sight of Michael prowling through the office.

  Ugh, Michael. He just won’t leave me alone. There was one time where he left a note on my desk, inviting me to suck his cock in the elevator or in his office. He even texted me - how he got my number is still a mystery to me but I do doubt Ysa had anything to do with it - and invited me to sleep with him for a few days at his place.

  I just ignored every advance he made on me. I had no time to deal with Michael. I wanted someone to make love to me, not a guy to fuck me then leave me.

  So why then was my mind so stuck on Dylan? He treated me like a slut… no, he treated me like a fuck slave. I willingly let him do it, too.

  There was a need to do something else. Instead of sleeping and being lazy at home I decided it was time to go out, meet other guys and see if I could turn this crazy addiction around. By eight o’clock in the evening I was already all set to leave, drive out to nowhere and just walk into the most appealing bar or club I could find.

  Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to find one. A simple drive through some of the streets along the outskirts of town landed me a good look at the most infamous of bars. In the end, I settled for a small establishment called The Drunken Sailor. If that wasn’t an obvious place to get wasted then I must be dreaming.

  It was pretty neat inside too. I thought it was just going to be another drinking dump but no. It had these nice purple and dim yellow lights, a couple of pool tables, a dart corner and even a pretty cool band playing some music in the corner.

  There were a few patrons here and there. It was a little bit of a busy bar. I spotted a jukebox but no one was playing it since there was a live band, after all. With no one familiar in sight, I just scooted up to the bar and waved for the bartender, a man about as old as Dylan but definitely not as hot. He had a large beer belly and his hair was starting to be more grey than black.

  “What’ll you have?” he asked me.

  “Got a Blue Hawaiian?” I wanted something strong but really, really flavorful.

  The bartender nodded, “Four dollars.”

  I just raised my eyebrows in approval and handed him my credit card. He came back with a large glass filled with a blue, frosty drink and he handed me my card back.

  The band was playing Waterloo by Abba. I freaking love that song. Even while I was seated by the bar I couldn’t help but sway and dance a little bit, just sipping my drink a bit while watching them perform.

  “You like their music?” a man suddenly asked from beside me.

  I opened my eyes and found myself looking at a guy in his mid-forties, I guess, standing by the bar holding a bottle of beer. He had dark hair, a light tan and a trimmed beard and mustache. The stranger had on red and black plaid and ripped skinny jeans. He looked like a trucker or a grunge rock star.

  “I do,” I answered and gave him a flirty wink of the eye. “I listen to a lot of old songs. They kind of turn me on.”

  What the fuck did I just say? Shit, that sounded so damn slutty. I thought I was here to get away from that and relax?

  I looked at him and worried that he might take me for a whore. He just had this really bright fire burning in his eyes. It reminded me of how Dylan looked at me the night we met in the restaurant.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” he told me before he took a sip of his drink. “I feel that way from some songs too. Others get me mad and others still just make me want to dance. Music works that way.”

  Whew. Okay, he saved me from myself.

  “That’s sort of deep,” I tried to sound cool. “What kind of music do you really like?”

  “Loud stuff you might not
enjoy,” he told me. “I’m into a lot of genres, so anything from classic jazz to country is all good for me. I don’t pick a genre. However, to be specific on what gets my mood going, I do have a thing for doom metal.”

  I raised an eyebrow in question, “Huh?”

  “Think Black Sabbath’s style but with a more playful rhythm. It ain’t too loud and it focuses more on deep, poetic lyrics, playful rhythms and heavy sounds.”

  “I’d love to give it a try, sometime,” I answered and hoped that it would let him know I was aiming for a date.

  “That’d be pretty awesome,” he said and offered his hand. “I’m Nick, by the way.”

  I nearly spilled my drink when I realized we had been talking and flirting without even know each other’s names. I shook his hand and said, “Oh, I’m Olivia.”

  He had a really firm grasp. I wonder how it would feel to have him slap me around, yank my hair and pound his cock deep into my pussy. What the fuck was I thinking?

  “Cute name,” he commented. He then scooted up closer to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. I could smell his aftershave. It was cool, minty almost, and his cologne was so alluring I almost just scooted up to him. It was tempting.

  “You always here?” I asked him.

  Nick nodded and drank again, “From time to time. Depends on who’s performing. Depends on whether I’m single or not.”

  I laughed at that. “So are there days where you’re not single?”

  “Depends on whether you’ll go with me or not tonight.”

  Fuck. I looked up to him and bit my lip. Again, that was probably not the smartest move. It may have looked like I was trying to seduce him. I didn’t want to send the wrong message here!

  I tried to look away, curse at myself silently, and then I looked at him one more time --

  I felt him pull me in closer and before I knew it he was kissing my lips. Mmm… that tasted so good. I could taste a little of my Blue Hawaiian and his beer but it all blended so well. His tongue was a little playful for a first, surprise kiss but who the fuck cares? God, it was so damn good.

  “F-fuck,” I muttered as soon as our lips parted. I looked around. The bar was too busy for anybody to mind us flirting there.

  “Wow, you’ve got one hell of a kiss,” he told me. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re so sweet?”

  My eyes slightly narrowed and I smiled at him. Fuck it, flirt. Have fun. Have a damn one-night stand.

  “Only one,” I answered, slightly shocked that I was being truthful. “Thank you though. I was a little caught by surprise there.”

  Nick laughed and hugged me closer. It felt warm and really, really damn good. He finished his beer, placed the bottle on the bar and then gave me another kiss on the temple. He was being really touchy and affectionate.

  Hmm… maybe this is the kind of guy I need. Someone clingy, sweet and knows how to make me feel special.

  I turned and nuzzled my nose into his neck. The smell of his skin was beginning to get intoxicating. I wanted to nibble him. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to feel him inside of me. I couldn’t stand it!

  Without thinking I hopped off my seat and stood up, facing him. Quickly I began to just press my whole body against his and Nick responded by embracing me and pulling me in close. I rubbed my chest against his body and in return I felt him pressing his cock against me. Even with those jeans on, I felt he had one big package between his legs.

  “Come here,” he whispered into my ear. “How ‘bout we ditch the music and the strangers and I take you in my car?”

  A grin popped on my face, mostly to myself, and I nodded back at him.

  ***

  Nick opened the door and I walked out of the bar, still holding his other hand.

  “Come on,” he said. I could tell his cock was rock hard and throbbing in anticipation. I giggled and followed suit.

  Guys are lining up. Why didn’t I fuck those boys back in high school or college? What the fuck was I thinking back then? Dignity? Honor of my virginity?

  When we reached the parking lot and his car I discovered it wasn’t a car at all. He owned a classic Volkswagen mini-van, the one that looked like the vehicle Scooby-Doo and the gang use in the old cartoons. It even had a psychedelic paint job.

  That got me even more excited. There was room in there for us to really play around. I started thinking about what kind of fetishes he might have and what kind of new discovery about my own sexuality I’d discover while fucking him.

  Turns out… not much.

  As soon as we got in he undid his zipper, took off his shirt and had me remove all my clothes. I was there, naked and ready, but all Nick did was pound his cock into me missionary style. All he made me do was lie there with my legs spread apart and he thrust his cock in a redundant manner until he came. There was no thrill. He just plowed in and then spilled his seed all over my belly.

  Boring.

  Of course I didn’t make it seem boring. I did lick his cock and tried to clean it afterwards, sucking on it enthusiastically before we had to get dressed.

  “Thanks,” he praised as he watched me put my blouse back on. “You’re really fucking good.”

  Don’t say that, you didn’t even fuck me so much. I just smiled and said “You too.”

  You know how they always joke about one-night stands getting awkward once the sex was done? Yeah, that’s how I felt right now. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know what else to do. We fucked. He was handsome. Despite that there was nothing exciting and I just wanted to leave.

  “Uhm, hey, I got to go,” I slowly said, trying hard not to sound too excited about ditching him there. “Will I see you here again?”

  “Hopefully,” he answered. “I can’t imagine having anyone else after having you.”

  Wow, that was kind of sad. He was really hot for a guy his age but he was no fun at all in bed. There was just no sort of thrill or excitement. He didn’t even make me feel engorged in the moment. I just faked my orgasm so he wouldn’t feel bad about it.

  “Thanks,” and I finally got to finishing my buttons. I sat up from the back seats of the van and opened the door.

  “Want me to drive you home?” he offered. That was sweet. This must be what a normal relationship might be like.

  I shook my head, “It’s okay. I still want to go around and buy some stuff for myself before I head home. Let me get your number.”

  That got him happy. He gave me his number and as I headed for the road he waved back at me with a big smile on his face. I watched as he went back inside the bar.

  When the coast was clear I crossed the street and got into my own car. I guess it was a good thing he didn’t know I had my car around because then he might get more creative and think of a way for me to spend the night with him.

  I kind of felt sorry for Nick. He seemed like a nice guy, the type of man who my old self would kill to be with. He was sweet, handsome, gentle and he had a deep, poetic side too. If I didn’t experience something as hardcore as I did with Dylan then I might have found Nick to be the perfect match for me.

  But that just wasn’t how things were. After sleeping with Dylan and Michael alike, both who were rough and dominant in their own way, normal sex, like the time I had with Nick, just seemed boring.

  Admit it, you can’t escape it. You want Dylan back. You want to submit your fucked up self to him and be his little daughter, his slut and his slave. You love him and you need to be his.

  I wanted to shut my mind up. I just needed to. Confused and slightly disappointed with my night out, I just decided to go get some coffee and head back home defeated.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hey,” Vicky called me as she dumped a small stack of papers on my desk. “How come you’re not wearing your little collar lately?”

  My cheeks flushed red. I looked up at her and answered, “I broke it up with my uh…”

  “Master? Dom?”

  “Y-yeah,”
I stuttered. Fuck, why was she asking me here instead of in her office, where no one could hear us.

  “Sad,” she commented. “Well, anyway, I need half of these done by today. One more thing too; Michael’s been asking for you. You don’t want to piss of a board member, much less so one of the big guns around here.”

  I reached forward and almost touched her, “Ma’am Vicky? What do you suggest I do?”

  “Spread your legs and let him fuck you.” She then walked away.

  Cold-hearted bitch. Well, at least she lived up to all expectations. She was a mean bitch, everyone gossiped about it and it was quite an accurate description for her, in every sense of the word.

  The only problem though was that I didn’t want to fuck Michael. Sure, my time with Nick was boring and lifeless but that just meant I was still too attached to the rough style Dylan introduced to me. It would take time before normal sex became exciting for me. If I go out and let Michael take me then he’d abuse it and soon I’d be trapped.

  If only it was that easy.

  I took a moment to get started on the documents Vicky sent me and to my surprise I discovered these were papers for a big deal between this company and Dylan’s. I even saw some of his more personal information, the ones necessary for character screening and such.

  Well, this sort of complicated things. It meant Dylan would be dropping by today or tomorrow for a business meeting. What if he saw me here? Would he even notice me? I promised I wouldn’t ignore him but wow it would be so awkward.

  There was no time to further debate the issue. I just had to finish these papers, hand them to Vicky, then disappear and head back home. That was it.

  What about Michael, then? Fuck. I needed to deal with him too.

  ***