A Message of Love

How does a Dominant go on after the untimely death of his submissive? Jacob is trying to rebuild his life after being shattered by the death of his wife Mara. His beautiful friend Sierra is giving him signals that she wants to take their relationship to a deeper level. Could the warm and willing beauty be the key to bringing the grieving Jacob back from the brink? He's made his decision, ready to embrace an uncertain future when Elira, a strange, alluring woman shows up on his doorstep Halloween night.

Jacob cannot help but be drawn to the woman's unearthly beauty. Her charms call to his darkest desires and he succumbs to temptation. Soon it becomes apparent that the gorgeous woman is much more than she seems.

Can Jacob go on with his life or will this visitor end it once and for all? In this paranormal erotic tale one man will discover if love can indeed transcend even death.

Warning - This paranormal erotic novelette features the following themes: explicit sex, spanking, Dominance/submission (M/F), bondage and the pain of lost love.

12,438 words

Copyright © 2012, Trent Evans

Revised Version Feb 26, 2012

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.

For mature readers only.

Thank you for downloading this e-book. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without express written permission from the author, Trent Evans, at
[email protected]
.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (See
http://www.fbi.gov/ipr
for more information about intellectual property rights.)

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons-living or dead-or places, events, or locales is purely accidental. The characters are reproductions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Jacob couldn’t wait to get home. It wasn’t because of his new promotion. It wasn’t to read a new book, play a new game, or to hang with his friends. It was because of her.

His wife.

He couldn’t wait one more minute to see his lovely, gorgeous Mara.

Jacob had thought about her all day long while at the office. As he sat in a crowded conference room, a client droning away on a call about the design of his new stator, Jacob was staring at the windswept firs outside the windows. He dreamed about how Mara’s soft breasts would feel in his hands, her nipples hardening against his palms. He longed to have her in that very conference room, just the two of them. Would he take her hard and fast, the table creaking as her hips bumped it in time with his eager thrusts? Or would he take his time, directing the ministrations of her tongue, dictating the depth of her throat he’d need to reach his ultimate pleasure.

His Mara lived to please him. She loved nothing better in life once Jacob had introduced her to the joys and agonies of serving her husband, her lover, her Master.

He parked the truck a block down the street from their house. He knew she was using a vacation day from work today, so he wanted to surprise her with his early arrival. She loved surprises, especially when they involved his hard cock and her screaming orgasms. He intended to give her plenty of both today. He felt such joy to be home that he had to consciously avoid dashing down the sidewalk like an overeager little boy.

Jacob managed to slip through the front door silently, mentally patting himself on the back for his ninja-like stealth. He was stopped in his tracks by what he saw in the kitchen.

She was standing with her back toward him, her hips canted against the island counter. She had on one of his shirts, a blue and white striped dress shirt that reached down to mid-thigh. He knew she favored them because it allowed her some covering. Early in their marriage he’d decreed that while in the house she was allowed to wear only a shirt, with no pants or skirts. She was allowed only panties in the winter, and not even those during the warmer months.

She was reading, holding up a paperback in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back. She scratched her hip, pulling the tail of the shirt up in back enough to see her luscious bottom was sporting a rather skimpy pair of black lace panties.

He smiled, creeping toward the kitchen. It was a warm late May afternoon, and that meant she was in trouble now.

He walked up behind her, clasping her around the torso, and placing a hand over her mouth.

Mara let go a muffled yelp, her head twisting around to look at him, eyes wide. He felt her loose breasts under the shirt shake against his forearm. At least she’d followed one of his clothing rules.

She relaxed a bit, realizing it was him. She muffled something against his hand and he shook his head, his gaze locked with her green eyes. He turned her around to face him, taking his hand away from her mouth once he knew she wouldn’t speak. He plucked the thick romance novel from her hand and dropped it on the table behind him, the cup of tea following suit. She straightened, her eyes lowered, clasping her hands at the small of her back, knowing what he expected of her.

He put his hands to the open collar of her shirt, and ripped downward, the buttons flying, making her gasp. Her eyes met his, her gaze mirroring the fire he felt. He yanked the torn shirt away, throwing it to the floor, his eyes dropping to her breasts. Her chest was heaving, and he adored the movement of those heavy globes, her dark nipples standing up under his regard. He lifted a breast, squeezing its firm weight in his hand. She murmured something, but a quick shake of his head silenced her.

His fingers snapped the lace of her panties against her hip, and he shook his head, affecting a disappointed look. Mara blushed, then looked away. He could resist no longer, and clutched her lush body to his, taking her soft lips with his. His tongue plunged into her mouth, seeking, exploring her. He crushed her to his body in a brutal grip, making her gasp, her soft breasts rubbing against him. He reached down to clasp a firm buttock in his hand, his nails digging into her skin.

He turned her once more to face toward the island counter. He pulled her head back with a fistful of her silky hair, his mouth and tongue feasting on her throat, kissing the tender flesh below her ear. Her breath rasped out hard and fast, and he could smell her arousal on the air. His hand moved down her taut belly to cup her lace-covered mons, claiming that which was rightfully his. He worried the hard clit through the fabric, knowing just where to touch his wife, his slave. She moaned, her hips rolling against the erection he pressed against her soft buttocks.

He pressed her forward against the counter, her hips hard against the edge, then bent her over it, her generous breasts flattening against the countertop. She inhaled sharply at the coldness of the tile. He tapped her hip, and she reached back, hooking her thumbs in her panties and slowly moving them down to bunch at mid-thigh. Knowing his requirements well, she spread her legs as far as the lace panties would allow. He placed her arms up by her head, and she laid her cheek against clasped hands.

He knelt behind her, enjoying the view of that gorgeous ass. He smacked a plump cheek hard, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. She keened at the sting, but obediently stayed still as he watched the handprint go from nearly white to a deep pink. How he loved marking his wife’s bottom. His fingers delved within the dark purse of her pussy, thrusting deep within to gather her juices as she murmured her pleasure. He rubbed her wetness on her plump lips, slickening the curls he still allowed her to grow on her prominent mound.

She cried out as he thrust two thick fingers into her sex to rub downward on that bundle of nerves inside, while roughly frictioning her swollen clit with a thumb. She moaned repeatedly as his fingers delved knowingly within her pussy. Early on in their relationship, she’d confessed to him that stimulation of her g-spot was so intense that orgasms wrenched from her by that method made her feel like she was peeing herself. Needless to say, Jacob soon made a regular habit of taking her to orgasm in that way, loving the feeling of desperate helplessness that came over his wife as she came.

He kept at her, leaning close to get a better view, and inhaling the intoxicating scent of her sex. He marveled at how hard and swollen her clit had become, the sensitive flesh rasped over and over by the rough pad of his thumb.

She cried out again, her hips banging against the counter to the thrusts of his fingers. He allowed her no respite, pushing her to the edge, enjoying the feelings of both power and possessive lust he felt every time he forced Mara to come this way.

She shrieked, her hips writhing, thighs clenched tight, and moisture flooded over Jacob’s fingers. She panted as he stroked his fingers into her a few more times, making sure all of her spasms were wrung out of her. He withdrew his glistening digits, wiping them on her trembling thigh. He finished with a long, slow lap of his tongue through her sex, licking from the curls of her mound all the way up to the tender perineum. She shuddered, murmuring.

He could stand it no longer and stood up, unzipping his fly to release his long- denied cock. It jutted out, inflamed and steel hard, the head nudging the soft petals of her labia. He clenched both her buttocks in a harsh grip, and knelt over her, his teeth biting into a plump cheek. She hissed at the sting.

His cock plunged within her still spasming pussy. She was so wet, for a moment he wondered too if perhaps she really
had
peed herself after all. The thought made him pound into her hard, dragging a groan from his wife. She scrabbled for the far end of the counter, holding on as he rocked into her, his roughness increasing with every stroke. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the kitchen were the rhythmic slaps of his hips against her vulnerable bottom, his labored grunts, and her staccato moans. He occasionally pulled back in order to land a hard swat to a round buttock, only to drive back into her to the hilt, making her whimper. Soon he was panting, his balls slapping against her clit with a wet smacking sound.

He could hold back no longer, bellowing and gritting his teeth as he pushed as deeply as possible, pouring his seed within her. When he finally came down, his thighs shaking, and his throat raw, he laid over Mara’s back, crushing her to the unyielding counter. She was forced to lay still beneath his weight, knowing she had no choice but to endure until he chose to rouse himself from his post-orgasmic exhaustion. He had the whole evening to look forward to, so he took his time, finally letting her up with a tender kiss to her ear.

“Bedroom,” he growled, with a tap to her soft bottom. “I want you on the bed with that ass in the air.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, scampering away immediately.

Now, he just had to decide if it was going to be a spanking or the cane.

***

Mara knelt on the bed between Jacob’s spread thighs, tenderly cleaning his half-erect cock with her tongue. He’d bound her hands in front of her to facilitate the use of her clever fingers in attending to his needs. He stroked her hair back from her forehead, combing through its thick weight with his fingers.