by Susan Sass
Owning Her:
Beautiful Domestic DISCIPLINE
Susan Sass
Copyright © 2015 by Susan Sass
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
Book 1 Owning Her
Book 2 : Lost & Taken Part 1
Book 3 Lost & Taken Part 2
BOOK 4 Lost & Taken Part 3
Book 5 Lost & Taken Part 4
Book 6 Lost & Taken Part 5
Book 7 Taught To Submit
Book 5 The Bad Boy Wants it All
Book 6 Exploring The Fantasy
BOok 7 Seduction ARRANGEMENTS
Boook 8 Owned By The Coworker
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Chapter 1
I was out alone one evening, in an upmarket part of San Francisco. I went to one of those swish bars... you know the kind, low lights and smooth Pat Metheny-style Latin jazz, tinkling through the speakers. The day had been frustrating. I’d had a succession of meetings to attend, mostly with difficult, demanding clients. Sometimes, I’J thinking in those meetings, when some overbearing suit says something arrogant: ‘Ya feel lucky punk...’ (Dirty Harry: always a good tension release).
The bar wasn’t crowded, so I sat back and sipped at a glass of Merlot, occasionally dipping at a bowl of olives. I was reading a book, The Outsider, by Albert Camus. I’d got to the execution scene, where the anti-hero is facing imminent death with existential fearlessness. Although this may not strike you as light after-work reading, I’ve always found the compelling courage of the narrator in The Outsider, very uplifting. I was smiling at the wit, discipline and rhythm of Camus’ deadpan prose when a really great looking black girl came in and caught my eye right away. She sat near the bar, at an angle to me. She ordered a cocktail and started sipping it. I was careful not to make it obvious that I was looking at her, so I glanced up surreptitiously every now and then while holding the book up over my face. She looked very desirable in a red silk dress, low cut at the neck where an impressive cleavage peeped out. Our eyes suddenly met and we kept staring at each other until my cell-phone suddenly started up, the ring-tone playing the opening of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D-minor: ‘Dah-da da, Dah-da da.’ (I have that tone because I’ve never heard anyone else use it).
‘Fuck!’ I mouthed silently. The black girl smiled, obviously having read my lips. The call was a business thing and I finished the conversation as quickly as I could. I gestured to the black girl at the bar to join me. I kind of expected her to refuse, but to my pleasant surprise she got up, put her jacket and bag over her forearm and came and sat in the semi-circular booth beside me. I stood and offered her my hand: ‘Hi, I’J James Stephens,’ I said. She took my hand and shook it lightly, but her grip was strong.
‘Hi James,’ she said, ‘I’J Leah, Leah Williams.’
Leah had an erotic charge about her, with nicely styled shoulder-length (straightened) hair, refined facial features, intelligent brown eyes, a cute nose, super-large pink lips and big pearly teeth. She was really striking and pretty. What I liked about her was she was really black, not one of those cappuccino girls you see in the movies, the kind of girl who could easily be a Latina or an Italian. No, Leah was really ebony. Her skin shone like black leather. I liked her immediately. She was one of those girls who just had ‘it’ - whatever ‘it’ is.
We both knew there was an affinity between us from the get-go and chatted for ages about everything imaginable; the state of the world economy, movies we liked, arts we were into, our respective backgrounds, little flirting probes at each other’s sexuality; that metal dance you do when you meet someone you instinctively fancy for the first time. Leah told me she was a lawyer, originally from Boston, said she’d studied Law at Yale and had worked her way up in a firm specializing in intellectual property rights, here, in San Francisco.
‘I might make Partner one day,’ Leah mentioned.
I smiled at her. ‘You certainly have the charm,’ I said.
Leah giggled. ‘Why thank you, kind Sir,’ she replied.
I asked her: ‘So what brings you in this place.’
Leah told me was on her way home after an evening out with some colleagues. They’d been to a theatre to see ‘Starlight Express.’ Leah said she didn’t like the show, because it was, ‘Too damned cheesy!’
I laughed: ‘I hate stuff like that, it’s kitsch. With all due respect, Leah, you don’t look like the kinda girl who goes to Lloyd-Webber musicals. How come you ended up going to that corny load of ol’ pap?’
She smiled at me. ‘Oh, I didn’t book it. I much prefer real opera.’
My pulse raced. I thought, hot cultured woman... It doesn’t get any better for me.
‘I’J a huge fan of opera,’ I told her, ‘Puccini’s my favorite.’
‘What a coincidence. Puccini’s one of my favourite composers too,’ said Leah, then she added:
‘Wagner’s my other big love.’
I said: ‘Don’t tell me... Tristan’s your favorite?
She smiled. ‘Are you telepathic?’ she asked.
I grinned at her. ‘Most women who like Wagner, I’ve found, absolutely love Tristan,’ I said.
‘Tristan’s so erotic,’ Leah sighed, fanning her face with her hand.
‘My goodness, no wonder it was banned when it first came out, in Europe.’
I laughed. ‘You obviously know that the upper class Germans thought their innocent little daughters would get corrupted just by listening to the music in the Love Scene.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’ve read a couple of Wagner biographies where it was mentioned. It’s true too. Eye witnesses talk about “society’s total shock” when Tristan arrived on the scene in the 1860s. It was as if the establishment regarded it as a pornographic work.’
I nodded. ‘That’s true. Wow! You know your stuff!’
Leah looked down at her glass. ‘Oh, I always go intense over things that move me. I wanna know everything about the subject. Are you like that, James?’
‘Yeah, I’J quite obsessive when I feel moved by something,’ I told her.
She got the innuendo and smiled at me. (I wanted to lick her teeth).
‘So James,’ asked Leah, ‘what’s a suave guy like you doing here on your own. I suppose you came here to pick up a woman, huh?’
I laughed. ‘It wasn’t top of my list, but how am I doing? I asked.
‘You’re doing fine,’ she said suggestively, sipping her drink after.
I upped the ante. ‘You dazzled me when you came in, truly you did.’
‘Dazzled? How nice, James. Thank you,’ she said.
‘I mean it, Leah, you’re amazingly beautiful.’ I told her.
‘Really,’ she asked ‘you really think so. Why?’
I smiled. ‘Where to start...Do you have all night for me to tell you?’
‘I mig
ht have,’ she said.
I nodded. ‘Good,’ I said.
‘Go on then,’ Leah urged me, ‘tell me what you see in me. Be honest. I won’t be offended if you say something about something you don’t like about me, my nose, or my hair or my teeth, or whatever.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I thought, amused at the contradictions inherent in the female psyche, even in one as bright as Leah. Say something detrimental about a woman’s looks or body – even if she tells you to - and she’ll hate your guts forever!
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘First, I’d describe you as exotic, because you’re really black.’
She nodded. ‘Ebony, you mean?’
‘Yeah, that’s it... ebony,’ I said. ‘But it’s more than that. You have magnetism, Leah, it’s quite mesmeric. And, of course, you have a figure to die for. You’re totally captivating.’
She smiled. ‘Keep going, James. I’ll tell you when to stop!’
I ordered a couple more drinks. We were flirting outrageously by the time we’d finished them.
‘So,’ Leah asked, ‘I take it you’re horny for me?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, of course I am.’
‘Is there a chance for me, you think?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I would say you’re definitely over the fifty-fifty mark here.’
‘Wow! That’s cool,’ I said. ‘In that case, maybe we should try a kiss?’
She looked into my eyes; her head angled slightly to the right. After a brief pause, she said: ‘Yeah, cool. Kiss me.’
I leaned over and embraced her, cupping her face with my left hand and our lips touched. Leah sighed and the tip of her tongue came out and flicked against mine. I teased mine over hers and she sucked it deep into her mouth. Her passion surprised me. I expected her to be more tentative for some reason. Her hands roamed over my back and shoulders and mine brushed her breasts through the red silk dress. We kissed really hard for about a minute and then sat back looking at each other, a little dazed, our randy thoughts obvious.
We both felt the buzz.
To my intense surprise, Leah proposed we meet again at the weekend. She suggested Friday evening at her place and she made it quite clear that it wasn’t going to be merely a platonic visit.
‘Er...yeah, cool,’ I stammered. ‘Love to, Leah... love to.’
She regarded me, seriously. ‘Just one thing I need to know. You’re not married, are you, James?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope,’ I answered. ‘I’J completely single.’
‘Good,’ she said, ‘I can share a man physically, but not emotionally.’
I looked at her. ‘Share a man? Are you bisexual then?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Yeah, totally: I like cute white girls. I find them a real turn on.’
She asked. ‘Are you bi too? I’J cool with it if you are.’
‘No.’ I said. ‘I respect bi-men, but a penis just doesn’t turn me on the same way a pussy does.’
‘That’s cool,’ she said. ‘Talking of penises, James, do you have a large one?’ Her question was accompanied by a sly grin.
‘Well,’ I replied. ‘I haven’t had any complaints. Feel it. I’J as hard as a cucumber after that kiss.’
‘Wow! You’re bold,’ Leah said. ‘I like that in a guy.’
She reached down and her elegant red-nailed fingers stroked my suit crotch for an all too brief moment.
‘Mm, that’s a very impressive bump you have there,’ she said, mischievously.
‘...You should get that looked at by a lawyer, a bump that size could get you a lot of compensation. We’ll have to discuss it, in private, on Friday.’
I laughed. ‘We most definitely should,’ I told her.
I could hardly believe it; this amazingly bright and sexy black woman was throwing down innuendo like it was going out of fashion.
‘What kind of sex do you like?’ I asked.
‘...Romantic, raunchy or rough?’
‘Guess?’ she said.
‘Raunchy, I reckon,’ I told her.
She paused a moment. ‘You're almost right. I actually like my sex really hard.’
‘How amazing,’ I said. ‘I like rough sex, too.’
She laughed. ‘You’re kidding me! Next you’ll be telling you’re into the Fetish scene.’
‘Actually, I am,’ I told her. ‘I’J Dominant, sometimes a Switch, but mostly Dominant.’
‘Fuck no! Get outta here, James! This is getting better and better. I love to submit to a Dominant guy, if I fancy him.’
I was astonished at this turn of events. ‘No! Seriously, Leah, are you really into the scene?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she said. ‘I have been for years. I go to a lot of the hardcore clubs, here in Frisco.’
‘Am I gonna wake up soon?’ I joked.
‘You’ll see on Friday that I’J completely real,’ Leah told me.
Soon after, she got up and I helped her on with her black leather jacket. Before she went, she handed me a business card with her details on it: “Leah Williams, Attorney at Law, Miller & Lowenstein.” On the back of the card she wrote her street address and cell-phone number.
‘Call me on Friday morning,’ she called out, as she left.
I watched as she got into a waiting taxi.
I studied the card and my heart beat like a drum. Was the raunchy talk all real, or was it some weird hallucination I’d had after a very stressful day? Was I drunk? Was Leah putting me on? No, she wasn’t. Here was the evidence, the business card.
I finished my drink and went home. My cock was hard when I got into bed and I masturbated, thinking about Leah, imagining her huge pink lips pleasuring my cock and me cumming over her foxy face. I shot my load quickly and then drifted off into a contented sleep.
Friday arrived. I called Leah’s cell-phone at about 11:00 a.J.
She answered. ‘Leah Williams,’ she said in a businesslike voice.
‘How can I help you?’
‘Hi Leah,’ I said. ‘It’s me, James... from the bar the other night, remember?’
My heart raced as Leah paused a while.
‘James,’ she said in a delighted voice, ‘Oh, I was so hoping you’d call. Are we cool for tonight?’
‘Definitely,’ I said.
‘Good,’ she said, ‘can you get to my place at around eight?’
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘no problem.’
‘Cool,’ she said. ‘We won’t waste time with preambles, life’s too short. I need some hard action tonight, so be ready to rock as soon as you arrive.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘You certainly know what you want, Leah.’
‘Yes, I sure do,’ she said. ‘You’ll be amazed at how nasty I can be.’
I thought with admiration: ‘I bet you are... you dirty bitch!’
Leah rang off.
The day flew by and I felt myself getting increasingly excited as the afternoon and evening wore on. I got a cab and arrived at Leah’s place precisely at eight, carrying a bottle of iced champagne in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Leah answered the door and led me by the hand into her plush apartment. ‘Through here,’ she said and I followed her into a big bedroom that was off a lengthy corridor. She thanked me for the gifts, ‘How sweet,’ she said, ‘you know how to make love to a woman. I wasn’t wrong about you, James.’ She went out of the room to change and told me to sit on the bed and wait for her.
‘Oh, one thing,’ she said. ‘Keep your suit on, please.’
‘I’J horny for guys in suits.’
I said I would and she left the bedroom. I looked around. The tasteful decorations showed a woman of considerable design awareness; striking modern art prints on the light blue walls contrasted nicely with the white silk duvet cover and crimson pillow cases on the very large Victorian-style bed I was sitting on. My eye was drawn to a glinting metal object attached to the bed head. It was a pair of handcuffs attached to a long chain. I glanced at the foot of the bed and there was another pair of cuffs on an equally long chain. This
looked promising. Leah had obviously gone quite deeply into kink. My prick stirred in my suit trousers at the thought of her being available for use by me.
I was suddenly aware of a light knock at the bedroom door.
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘Sir,’ Leah said softly. ‘May I enter, please?’
‘Yes, come right in,’ I said, in a cool tone of voice.
The door opened slowly and Leah crawled in on all fours, smiling and staring up at me. She was totally naked, apart from a pair of shiny high-heeled shoes. Her ebony skin glistened with perfumed oil that she’d obviously applied in the bathroom: Looked incredible.
