“If you’re controlling my mind,” she muttered to Thorn, “I want you to knock it off. I’m not your puppet, got it? I’ll think what I want, when I want, and the number one rule is that erotica and work don’t mix. Rule number two, it’s my fantasy, not yours.”
Telling herself, perhaps not entirely successfully, that she’d gotten her point across, she finally gave herself up to her weary body’s demands. For a few minutes work issues, specifically whether she would go out on a shaky limb and propose a project spawned from what had happened between her and Thorn, kept her mind functioning, but that didn’t last long. Her last conscious thought was that she needed to do considerable research before taking the next step.
On her side on the floor, her arms behind her and anchored to the small of her back via rope around her waist. The secure tie kept her elbows bent and her shoulders back. Her ankles had also been roped together, and her knees were deeply bent. When she tried to straighten her legs, she discovered that a rope running from her wrists to her ankles were responsible. She was hogtied.
Lifting her head off the floor, she tried to look around, but the room or wherever she was was unlit. She was naked, but at least it was warm. A now-familiar fear mixed in with anticipation ran through her. Thorn had to be responsible. Who else—
Approaching footsteps stole her thoughts and, shivering uncontrollably, she waited. Sensing that whoever it was had positioned himself behind her, she tried to roll onto her back, only to be stopped by her bonds. A faint sigh served to let her know that the stranger had lowered himself to his knees. As for why she knew it was a man, no way could her body lie about that.
He was going to speak, he had to! His voice would identify him as Thorn and then she’d stop shaking, maybe.
A sudden snap followed by a sharp stinging sensation just below her breasts lifted her head. A moment later something struck her above her breasts. Furious and frightened, she tried to scoot away only to find herself anchored in place via a firm grip on her shoulder.
“I’m going to whip you. As for the reason, it’s because I want to and can. Doing so brings me pleasure, and by the time I’m done, you’ll feel the same way.”
Was that Thorn’s voice? Unfortunately, dealing with the stings now raining between her breasts and her thighs distracted her. He’d released her shoulder, and although she didn’t want to and knew it wouldn’t do any good, she writhed about. No matter how she turned or wiggled, what she’d determined to be a multistrand whip found flesh to attack. She couldn’t say it hurt; it was more like never-ending assaults on her nerve endings. What soon had her moaning was knowing she couldn’t do anything to stop him. She kept twisting, sweating, burning, experiencing.
When the whipping ended, she managed to turn her upper body so she was looking at the man the darkness hid from her, only maybe he’d disappeared because she no longer sensed his presence. Every inch of skin the whip had touched put her in mind of a fresh sunburn, tender and sensitive. Maybe she should be surprised by the amount of heat between her legs, but hadn’t sex been why she’d developed and refined her fantasies?
What was that? By the time she realized the man had undone the rope between her wrists and ankles, he had her fully on her back with her body arched over her trapped arms. She put up no resistance when he pulled her knees apart so her cunt was exposed. Neither did she cry out when he whipped her mons. Instead, starving, she struggled to lift her buttocks off the floor and open herself even more.
Yes, her reward! Fire blooming over and over again along her labia. Flames building and threatening to burst.
And when he ran his fingers into her, she sobbed and came.
A week later, Evi stood so she could meet the gaze of everyone seated around the meeting table at Intellectual Properties. Her heart was going double time and her palms were sweating, but her condition had nothing to do with being stared at by the company’s decision makers. Since coming onboard the better part of a year ago, she’d presented her plans for three video projects and had had two of them approved. The first, which had sprung from her frightening confrontation with an at-large dog and the owner’s legal responsibilities, was already being shown on the local educational channel while the second, about the decision making necessary before new city streets could be built, was going through final editing. Via overheard conversations and a couple of out-and-out compliments, she’d gathered that she was now seen as an important member of the team, but what would they think of what she was about to say?
Wondering against everything that was sane if Thorn might be listening, she took a deep breath. Getting a decent night’s sleep would have helped, but she hadn’t had anything approaching one since he’d turned her into his personal bondage slut. Hell, just doing the necessary research for today’s presentation had sent her running for her sex toys more times than she dared admit.
And that wasn’t all. How many times had she spun fictional scenarios starring her and Thorn and featuring caves, dungeons, collars, ropes, nipple clamps, gags, blindfolds, and her mouth or cunt filled with his cock?
“Before I get into things,” she began, her voice sounding labored, “I want to make it clear that it’s all of your faults that I came up with this concept.” Her attempt at humor apparently hit the right note as witnessed by the curious looks she was getting. “Remember when I was asked to inventory the contents of Dungeon Dames?”
“Yeah.” Stan Harper who fancied himself a rebel against the establishment of the day said, “What I couldn’t figure out was why you got that assignment instead of me.”
Deliberately not allowing herself to get sucked into that argument, she indicated her copy of the handout she’d passed around. “You’ll see that I began with some statistics and trust they give you a hint of where I’m going to be going with this.”
“Hard not to get it.” This too came from Stan. “Psychologists are pretty much full of shit, but are they right, only five percent of people don’t have sexual fantasies?”
“That’s the conclusion several psychologists drew following extensive studies. As a result, most professionals now believe it’s pathological not to have such fantasies. Contrast that with what Freud said in 1908.”
Stan cleared his throat and read from his handout. “‘A happy person never fantasizes, only a dissatisfied one.’ I don’t know about anyone else in here, but all I have to do is look at a number of movie stars to start thinking about them and me—”
“No one’s interested in that,” fifty-six-year-old Roberta Waylan interjected.
Evi shot Roberta a grateful look. “If anyone’s interested, I have information about the methodology the researchers used to gather their material, but I’d prefer to have you ponder this.” She took a moment to calm herself, and if she wasn’t entirely successful, at least knowing what she was about to say distracted her a little from what was going on in her pussy. Damn it, did she think about anything except sex these days, specifically forced sex?
“According to another study conducted at a major university, some 51 percent of women’s fantasies revolve around being forced to have sex and another third get off on pretending to be a slave who must obey a man’s every wish.” She’d planned a deliberate pause here; what she couldn’t control were her flushed cheeks. Was this really her saying the things she was?
“That’s unbelievable,” Roberta said into the silence. “You can’t mean women truly want to be raped.”
“No, absolutely not. Remember, this is fantasy. When interviewing the female respondents who admitted that dreaming about ropes and chains turned them on, most made it clear that they have no wish for any of those things to happen in the real world and none wanted to be raped. In today’s world, women have to carry their own weight and fight their own battles, but they can and do turn that on end in their fantasies. Not only are they able to explore the thrill of being the object of a powerful and undoubtedly handsome man’s obsession, they’re also saying they’re granting said man, who exists only
in their minds, full and uncensored control over their bodies. In exchange for that surrender, they get the sexual experience to top all sexual experiences.”
“This is the project you want done here?” Roberta’s husband, Andrew, who was one of the company’s founders, looked as if he wanted nothing more than to find the exit. “We don’t do porn at Intellectual.”
“It isn’t porn.” Having anticipated Andrew’s reaction, she was ready with her argument. “I’m proposing that we be the first to acknowledge what over 50 percent of women are already imagining and hopefully help them realize there’s nothing dirty or sick about what they get off on. Lifting the Veil on Sexual Fantasy will be honest and direct. It’ll go a long way toward explaining why such sites as Dungeon Dames flourish, at least the ones that are well managed. If the world can openly discuss such crimes as priests forcing themselves on children, why not this?”
7
Having expected her proposal to be brought up at a later meeting once everyone had had the opportunity to study her supporting material, Evi had left the meeting feeling she’d accomplished everything she’d hoped to. She wished she could sense that her idea had been received in a positive light, but at least she hadn’t been laughed out of the room. The Waylans were a conservative couple and, although there were others with voting rights and responsibilities, the Waylans’ standards heavily influenced the others in large part because their money had helped found the company.
Would she have to take her concept somewhere else? Maybe, but at the moment she couldn’t think where that might be and she’d risk being fired by jumping ship. Why couldn’t she just let it go and let the chips fall as they may?
Two reasons: one, she deeply believed female submissive sexual fantasies needed to be lifted out of dark rooms so women like herself could stop questioning their sanity and morals. Two, without Thorn shaking up her body and world, she had to get her itches scratched any way she could.
She was still deep in mental ramblings by the time she reached her desk. Determined to accomplish what else needed to be accomplished today, she picked up her messages to determine if she needed to make some calls. Why was she looking for his name in the stack and why in the double hell couldn’t she get her mind away from between her legs? One simple session with the most mind-blowing man she’d ever met shouldn’t have this much of an impact on her. Maybe she should cave and agree to go out with Stan.
Not in this lifetime!
“Evi?”
Startled, she swiveled to find Roberta Waylan standing behind her. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Maybe you were distracted.”
Don’t tell me you can read my mind. “Just trying to organize my thinking.”
“Do you have a minute?”
Roberta was the consummate professional. Collected and intelligent, she guided by example. Evi envied many of Roberta’s qualities, maybe none more than her ability to look at every situation objectively. Yes, she had her strongly held opinions but never tried to push them down anyone’s throat. She paid close attention to Intellectual Properties’ bottom line and had become an expert at garnering grants for various projects. What intrigued Evi most was the sense that there were more layers to Roberta than came across during the business day. She dressed conservatively and conducted herself as a refined woman, yet loved off-color jokes. Victoria’s Secret catalogs came to her at work.
“Of course,” Evi belatedly said. “There’s no place for you to sit in here. Do you want to go into the break room?”
“Why don’t we go for a walk?”
Wondering if she’d crossed a line and was about to receive a dressing down or worse, Evi nodded and stood up. Saying nothing, Roberta led the way outside. Evi wasn’t surprised when Roberta headed for the street corner because there was a small park less than a block from the building in that direction. Their heels made firm clicking sounds as Roberta stepped onto the cement path that zigzagged through the park.
“It’s going to happen,” Roberta said without preliminary as they walked side by side. “You’ll get your video produced.”
“The decision’s already been made? How—”
“No, there’s been no vote yet, but I’m going to make sure it happens.”
Not sure what if anything she should say in response, Evi contented herself with matching Roberta’s pace. Moving her muscles in the out-of-doors was helping to pull tension out of her. Maybe that’s what she should do tonight. Instead of changing the batteries in her vibrator, she’d go for a long run.
Roberta changed directions, heading for a small picnic table under a large tree. When she sat on a bench, Evi chose the bench on the opposite side of the table.
“I’m afraid I gave you the wrong impression earlier,” Roberta said. “I’m sure you thought I was shocked by your proposal and might be wondering if I think less of you because of where your mind went.”
That had occurred to her. “The project is a total departure from what we’ve done so far. I can understand—”
“No, you can’t.” Smiling her perfect tooth smile, Roberta cupped her hands under her chin. “Evi, I’m one of that fifty-one percent.”
“Fifty-one percent?”
“Of women who fantasize about turning control of their bodies over to a man.”
Although she couldn’t say what she did next, Evi wouldn’t have been surprised if her mouth had gaped open.
“Two of my friends know that. Thanks to one of them I know where to go for the kind of reading material I crave. But you’re only the third person I’ve ever told about what goes on in my mind.”
“I, ah, I would have never guessed.”
“I’m not surprised.” Roberta smiled. “We all play roles after all; the one you see is the buttoned-down one. You, on the other hand, I’ve wondered about.”
Surprised that Roberta had ever given a thought about the hidden corners of her mind, she could only nod.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve been following you around checking on what you do after hours. You conduct yourself like a professional on the job, just like I do. But there’s something about you that tells me you aren’t quite sure what to do with the messages that healthy young body of yours is giving you. You haven’t jumped on the marriage bandwagon, and I compliment you on that. Also, I’m told you don’t do much dating. It’s because you’re searching, isn’t it?”
No more. I’ve found what I need. I just don’t know how to find him again. “Until recently I didn’t know what I was looking for.”
“Interesting. I think I’ve known since I was a teenager. It just took a long time to admit it to myself. Once I did, I became much more comfortable in my own skin.”
That was how Evi had felt since being with Thorn, as if certain pieces of her were coming together. “You weren’t embarrassed?”
“Of course. And to be honest, that was and still is part of the appeal.” Roberta winked. “Kind of like slipping out after curfew and getting away with it. My husband isn’t aware of this side of me; I trust you won’t say anything.”
“Of course not.”
Nodding, Roberta stared at her perfect nails. “Evi, what you presented is a dry and technical approach where there could be passion.”
Fighting to keep her mouth closed, Evi waited.
“I understand why you took the approach you did. You didn’t want to shock anyone or harm the company’s reputation, right?”
“That’s the last thing I’d want.”
“Which is politically and maybe ethically correct, but you’re going to miss the audience you most need to reach that way.”
Evi was still trying to decide what to say when Roberta started laying out what she had in mind. Instead of relying almost solely on study results and statistics, she wanted to begin with an example of a bondage fantasy, tastefully done, of course, which could be accomplished via shadows and carefully controlled camera angles. She foresaw no problem hiring people who were either into the sc
ene or portrayed that lifestyle on camera, possibly even former Dungeon Dames employees. Relying on narrative from the woman’s point of view would lift any veil of secrecy about what the female submissive was thinking and experiencing.
“Direct,” Roberta finished. “That’s what keeps running through my mind. Keep things direct and factual and real.” She winked conspiratorially. “Damn but I’d love to have one of my favorite kinks front and center.”
Damn? Had she ever heard that word from the older woman? “What do you mean?” was the best she could come up with.
Roberta leaned forward, and her eyes clouded over as if she was going deep into herself. “I’m on a pirate ship, not one of those leaky, stinky things that kept real pirates from drowning, at least most of the time, but one with hot running water and expensive, clean sheets. I’m a native woman who was living on a lush island when I was kidnapped. The lead or head pirate took one look at my naked and tethered and of course ripe body and knew he had to have me for himself.”
Roberta paused, but instead of simply waiting for her to continue, Evi mentally created the pirate ship and peopled it with strong, virile sea outlaws, although to be honest, she didn’t bother providing details beyond the captain or whoever now stood over her own tightly restrained body. He was blond, tall, strong, knowing.
“There are ropes running both over and under my breasts, which of course haven’t been touched by gravity,” Roberta said, winking. “I’m wearing a red ball gag and have on a crotch rope. My pirate grabs the rope, then starts pulling, which presses the strands against my labia.”
Lulled by the vivid image, Evi didn’t bother trying to meet Roberta’s gaze. Hell, for all she knew, Roberta’s eyes were closed.
Bound to Ecstasy Page 7
