Dominance and Submission - Write Away, Sir

by Alexandra Noir

  He slowly pulled out of her, and she turned, sank to her knees, and took his cock into her mouth to clean him eagerly, as she always did when they had just finished. She could taste her pussy mixed with his seed on her tongue, and it thrilled her to know that she would be walking out of that bathroom with that all over her – and that nobody would know. When he looked at her across the room, it would be to relive the memory of this particular moment, just between the two of them.

  He drew her to her feet and caught her before she went careering over – her legs were trembling from the heels and the orgasm, and she laughed and gripped a hold of him. And, looking into his eyes, she knew she had to say it.

  "Let’s just tell them," she murmured, brushing her nose against his. He cocked his head at her.

  "Tell them what?”

  "Tell them about us," she urged him. "We could just go out there, be a couple-"

  "I don’t think they’d take too kindly to that," he reminded her gently, obviously seeing this as some post-orgasmic flush of enthusiasm, hoping he could talk her down.

  "Then let them be mad," she replied enthusiastically. "We could just go out there, tell them-"

  "And then get both of us fired for letting them know what we’ve been up to," he replied, a terse edge to his voice. "You know we can’t do that, not yet."

  "So, you just wanted to bring me here to-"

  "To play, you know that," he reminded her, and he reached out to touch her hand. Sure, he would do that in here, when it was just the two of them, but he would never have stepped out of his comfort zone and shown the world that he cared for her. She pulled it back before he could make contact.

  "And that’s it, isn’t it?” she replied. "That’s all this is to you, play."

  "It’s not like that," he assured her, trying to soothe her. "You know you mean more to me than just that. But our work, we can’t...I don’t want you to lose your job because of this, Stephanie. I don’t want to ruin your life over this."

  She looked at him, at the man she already knew she loved, and understood that what he was saying was true. And she knew what she had to do – how she could survive all of this, make it work, her job, her lover, everything that mattered most to her. Her thoughts crystallized, and she opened her mouth and spoke once more.

  "I can’t do this anymore."

  Part 8: All things Come to She Who Kneels

  Closing her eyes, Stephanie felt the memory of everything that had happened sweep through her at once. It was so much to take in – so much had happened these last few months, these last few days especially. And it had all start with that book, those stories, the words that she committed to the page without knowing a damn thing about what she was doing.

  But things were different now. Now, she was the one in control of her destiny – the one who had handed over control to someone else completely. She knew how this worked. She understood how this world functioned. And she didn’t need anyone else to guide her through it anymore.

  She could still remember the look on Cameron’s face when she had told him that she didn’t want to do this anymore. In the middle of the staff party, mere moments after the two of them had finished fucking. His face had dropped like his heart had been ripped from his chest, and he gazed at her, disbelieving, for a moment.

  "What do you mean?” he had asked quietly, the sound swirling around them; all these people, going about their night, unaware that something huge was going down only a few feet away from them.

  "I can’t do this anymore, Cameron," she continued, gazing into his eyes. She knew how this must sound to him. And she didn’t want to hurt him, not really. She wanted him to understand that everything had changed, and that he was the reason everything had changed. It was so profoundly strange to her, remembering the woman she had been just a few months before. All locked up in that apartment, with her boring boyfriend who did little for her except cause more mess that he expected her to take care of. And yet, she had felt as though she was so in control. She clung to this notion of being the one in charge because it was safer and freer than the thought of releasing the fearful grip she had on what was going on in her life.

  But being with him had changed that. Being with him had shown her that there was far more to life than just hanging on, with everything she had, to what little control she seemed to believe she still owned. In truth, and looking back, she could see that there was little in the way of actual power there. The woman she had once been had been tunnel-visioned, clinging to what little power she thought she had in an attempt to reject the idea that she actually had none. It had only been a matter of time until she ran out of patience with living that kind of life. And she felt like, finally, she had hit that wall, once and for all.

  And when Cameron had come into her life, the Cameron who she knew and adored today, she had sensed that it was over – the old version of her was dead, and she was ready to let her go. The new woman who inhabited her body was strong, sexy, curious, passionate, all the things that she had been too frightened to accept about herself before. But she wasn’t finished quite yet – no, there was one more thing she needed to do to make sure that she became the woman she wanted to be. Some control she wasn’t willing to give up, not quite yet.

  "If you want to end this, I understand," Cameron continued, keeping his voice low so nobody out there could hear them. His face was written with pain, and she ached knowing that she had done that to him – but he didn’t understand. That wasn’t what she wanted, not in the least.

  "I don’t want to end this," she promised him quickly, and she reached down to take his hand – for a moment, he wasn’t her master, but her man, the man she had given herself to completely and utterly. The man she never wanted to be apart from. The man she...loved. The thought seemed to jolt in her mind, and she pressed her lips together, knowing it was too soon to say it out loud, but believing it with every fiber of her being.

  "But I can’t do this anymore," she explained, gesturing around to everything that surrounded them. He furrowed his brow.

  "What are you talking about?”

  "I can’t work for this place anymore," she explained. "I can’t work for you anymore."

  He stared at her, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth. She smiled at him, trying to bring him along on where her mind was headed.

  "I don’t think mixing work and pleasure is something we’re going to be able to get away with for much longer," she confessed. "And I don’t want to have to worry. I don’t want to have to think about getting caught anymore, and I don’t want any of this to be caught up in your work, either."

  "So..."

  "So I’m saying I want to quit this job," she replied, and a smile cracked over her face as the words came out of her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was saying it out loud, but she knew it was true. Yes, she had loved this job, and yes, it had given her the financial security she’d needed to get herself set up in the world of writing. But she was ready. Ready to strike out on her own and start something new.

  "But how are you going to...?”

  "I figure that you’ve given me plenty of practice," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows at him. "I should start writing something of my own."

  "Like the stories you’ve been writing for me?” he asked, and he seemed to be wrapping his head around what she was suggesting. She grinned and bit her lip, then nodded.

  "You think I could do it?” she asked nervously. "I mean, I know it’s a jump, but I want to get out there and write stuff of my own. And this is the best way I can think of..."

  "I think you’ll kill it," he replied at once, squeezing her hand tight. She felt so grounded when he was holding her like this and didn’t care that someone might have noticed their intimate conversation. She was going to be leaving this place soon enough, anyway – and why not gift everyone with some primo office gossip before she stepped out the door? She smiled at her man, and she knew she was making the right choice. She
had been thinking about it for a while, every time she turned in another one of those stories for the company. She was getting good at this. So why was she doing it for anyone other than herself? That was the question she was having a hard time answering. She was going to make her name writing the most outrageously dirty stories that the world had ever seen, and she was going to make it big.

  "You really think I can do this?” she asked nervously, and he reached up to touch her face. The way he looked at her, with such certainty in his eyes, made her feel safe, even when she knew she was about to do something crazy.

  "I think you can," he promised her. "I know you can."

  And with that, everything changed. All over again.

  The job had been the last thing that had tied Stephanie down to the woman she had been before all of this had started, and she wasn’t sad to bid it farewell; in fact, there was a kind of relief to letting go of all of that, of the person she had been when she had just been churning out stories for other people. When she had turned in her final project, she sat down at her computer and hovered her fingers over the keys, a big smile on her face. She could write about whatever she wanted. And she had a good idea of where she was going to begin.

  She made sure it was cool with Cameron first, but as soon as she had the go ahead, she decided to let herself bring their story to the world. A few changes first, of course, to make sure that she didn’t reveal anything about who they actually were. When she wrote about what they had done, it was like the words were flowing from some deep, primal place inside of her, a place she had never known even existed before. She adored it. She couldn’t get enough. Her fingers flew over the keys, and she came up with stories that were better and bolder than anything she had written before in her life.

  And, before long, she attracted the attention of a few publishers. Cameron had urged her to put them out there herself, and she decided that he was right – she had to give it a go, to see what the world at large made of her stories.

  She wasn’t sure anyone would give a particular damn about what she had to say on the subject, but she was inundated by responses in a matter of days after she sent out the stories in the first place. People seemed to love what she had to say; the slow development of the relationship from professional to personal to physical, the way her mind widened to take in new worlds with every chapter. She knew what she had written was good, but she’d had no idea that it would earn that kind of reaction when she put it out into the world at large. People loved it. People loved her. And she was only just getting started.

  During this time too, her relationship with Cameron evolved into something far greater than even what they had shared before. Without the fear of getting caught, the two of them threw themselves head-first into what they felt for each other, what they could do. Now that she was working from home, and making a decent amount of money from her books, she was happy to spend hours curled up in bed with him or slipping over to the room she had playfully nicknamed his “torture chamber” for some fun. And, of course, some research – that was what she kept telling herself, that every time they tried something new, every time he sent the jolt of a new sensation or emotion through her body, she could find some way to translate it on to the page and bring it to the readers who couldn’t seem to get enough of her writing.

  "You don’t mind that I write about this, do you?” she asked, after one of their particularly intense sessions. She always made sure to use what happened between them as more of a basis to raise her writing out of, but still – he was her inspiration, her muse, and he always would be. He shook his head.

  "Of course I don’t," he assured her, and a wicked little smile flickered up his face. "In fact, I think it’s kind of hot."

  "Really?” she exclaimed, eyes widening.

  "Yeah," he replied. "I mean, all those people, reading what you write, getting off to it..."

  "You know, sometimes I forget just how far into the depths of depravity you’re willing to go," she teased him playfully.

  "Yeah, I need someone to keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t go over the edge," he replied, and he smiled at her. She knew that smile. It was the smile he had on when he had a plan in mind, something he wanted to share.

  "What is it?" she asked curiously. He took a deep breath and looked up at her, and her entire system jolted with excitement.

  "I thought you could move in," he replied finally. Her jaw dropped. They were in his apartment when he asked, and she had to admit she had been feeling more and more at home there recently; apart from missing her little cat while she was away, she could have stayed there all the time. And now, that was just what he was inviting her to do with him.

  "You mean it?" she gasped, and he nodded.

  "I could make you an office in the spare bedroom," he suggested. "I know it sounds crazy, maybe it’s a little too soon, but-"

  "But there’s no way in hell I’m saying no to this," she replied at once. The version of her that had existed before might have second-guessed this and spent days trying to figure out if it was a really bad idea or not. But the Stephanie who existed now? She knew it wasn’t. She knew she could do this.

  She moved in a week later, and he cleared out the spare room for her office space and to make room for everything that came with her cat. He helped her organize the van across town, and she paused for one last moment in the door of the place that had been hers for so long – she was giving it up to be with the man she loved, once and for all. It was scary, yes, but in the best way she could possibly imagine it being scary. The same kind of fear she felt when she was letting him take control of her, the way he loved to the most.

  And so, with that, they became a cohabiting power couple. He still spent most of his days at the office, editing, but that didn’t mean he was ever too tired to come home and give her a hand with whatever she had been working on that day. He was as passionate about her career as she was, and she was grateful for that; without him, she might never have gained the confidence to really throw herself into her work, to find what she was truly good at and make it her own. She knew she could do this. She knew she could make this work, as long as he was there to keep pushing her and providing her with all the inspiration she needed.

  And living with him took their submissive-dominant dynamic to the next level too. With him out at work most of the day, they had to find other ways to make sure their games stayed alive even with them living together. Sometimes, she would spent the day cleaning the apartment and surprise him with dinner ready on the table while she was kneeled beside his chair, ready for him to feed her bites of food and have her service him any way he saw fit.

  But what she particularly relished, even after all this time together, was when he suggested taking her into the room that he had set aside for her torment; all the whips and chains and toys in the world, ready and waiting for her to plead for him to use on her. Those encounters were special, just for them. She knew that her readers would have loved to hear about them, but she decided to keep most of what happened in that room specifically for the two of them alone. She couldn’t get enough of having him right there, whenever she wanted him – she could roll over in bed in the middle of the night and touch his shoulder and he would know just what she wanted, what she needed. She was so lucky to have him, and she knew it.

  But it was more than just luck. It was hard work too. She’d had to change so much about herself to become the kind of woman who could keep up with him in this relationship – stuff that she’d wanted to change, sure, but change nonetheless. And they would both keep embracing that change as long as they were together, as long as there was still space for them to explore the new sides to themselves that came out when they were around one another. Her books were love letters to him and the way he made her feel, and she wanted those feelings preserved in amber for as long as she could. When she was a hundred and looking back over her life, she could cast an eye to these books and remember what it was like to be with a man as
magnificent as him.

  This particular evening, she knew he’d had a busy day at work and had planned a special surprise for him that night so he could blow off a little steam. When things were tough at the job, there was nothing he liked more than coming back to the apartment they shared together and taking out some of his frustrations on her – and how could she say no to that, when they always turned out to be such a smoking-hot treat for both of them?