On Becoming Her Sir (7 page)

“The last time I checked I wasn’t for sale. Oh yes, and if I were, I’d rather be eaten alive by tigers rather than obey anything you have to say. And I can tell you Luke would
never
allow you to touch me. Got it?” The words hung in the air.

“There is just one problem with your scenario,” Bart said casually as he pulled a similar bustier from the rack, crimson in color, fingering the bodice. He could tell she was fighting her curiosity.

Jessie cleared her throat and slapped the red corset back onto the rack. “Just what is that?”

Bart eased the lingerie over his arm and turned to face her, crowding her space and lowering his head. When his lips were close to hers, he finally spoke. “Because you actually would enjoy the challenge, my hard…training and…savage fucking.”

Exhaling, she kept her eyes locked onto his. As her arm snapped out, her aim on target, he grabbed her hand, wrenching her wrist. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t you ever…try and strike…me again. Is that clear?” Pulling her to him, he could smell the wetness between her legs, see the outline of her hard nipples. She wanted him.

The look on her face growing dark, she tilted her head back and tugged her hand. “Don’t.”

“You know what you want as well as what you have to have in your life. You have a very clear understanding of what needs to happen. You’re a woman lost to the longing to be owned. Aren’t you?”

Jessie opened her mouth as if to answer then looked away.

Bart gripped her chin, forcing her to look in his direction.

She hissed and pulled away.

“Don’t fight me, Jezebel. You
are
a submissive and I
am
a Dom, one much better suited for you.”

“My God how arrogant. You really need to tell me that. As if I didn’t figure out what you’re trying to be. As if I didn’t get the fact you have no clue about who I am,” Jessie cooed.

“Trying?” His anger flared. The woman had balls. Bart was more than intrigued. As he studied her face, the way her eyes showed how much defiance she had in her, he was ready for the challenge.

“Yeah. Trying. You have no understanding of anything but the size of your cock. You think you understand women but you’re just a typical man. Certainly not a Dom.” Jessie laughed.

“And you and I know better.” The words hung in the air. He wanted nothing more than to force her to obey him, push her down onto all fours. The thought was overpowering. Sweat beaded across his forehead and for a few seconds the vision of what he wanted to do to her - what he would do to her infiltrated his mind. “You want. You need. You refuse to take second best in a man who will own you, collar you, enslave you.” He loved the antics and the way her body was responding. He also craved the attention. They were attracting a group of women who had to see what he was going to do. There were so many thoughts – so many desires. He could fuck her right here and he suspected she’d fight him, but in the end his dick would slide into her pussy and she’d moan for more. Beg for a hard fuck like all women hunger. What they all needed.

Jessie snorted. “And you have no idea how to be a decent Dom,” Jessie hissed through clenched teeth as she took two strides backwards.

He yanked her forward by her wrist and brushed his lips across her chin before whispering in her ear. “Don’t fight me. Do not
ever
fight me.”

Every step calculated, he walked them both backwards and just out of sight to the crowd of curious gawkers. The last push was hard enough she grunted as he shoved her against the wall. Wrapping his hand around her throat, he tilted her head back, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You will never try and tell me what to do or even suggest. You may not believe I’m the only man who can handle a woman like you, opinionated and so completely untrained, but you soon will. You’re going to beg me one day to take you. Fuck you. On that day I’ll shout in glee just before I lock you in my cage.” Bart could tell he had her attention.

Jessie winced but kept her eyes locked on his. When she smiled and stood taller she slid one hand down to his crotch, cupping and squeezing.

Bart held the stance, refused to move his hand until she twisted and he moaned. Breaking the hold he growled. “One day you and I will share a bed.”

“Over my dead body.”

****

One day you and I will share a bed.
“Never going to happen,” Jessie whispered. Shivering, she checked her watch. Luke wasn’t due home for at least another hour. Just the thought about talking with Bart, actually having a drink with the man made her nauseous. What had she been thinking? Being polite hadn’t been the best choice with a man who had certainly helped her understand how much he wanted her. After the event she was going to tell Luke what had transpired between them.

When I take you and fuck you, then you’ll begin to understand what being a submissive is truly about.

The arrogance was truly creative. Rolling her eyes, Jessie laughed at herself. The jerkoff man thought she was really going to succumb to him after they’d shared one glass of wine and he’d purchased… For some reason she remembered the gift he’d insisted on giving her – the bustier in flaming red.

The color is simply perfect for the woman hiding behind a mask.

“Mask, my ass, jerk off.” The problem was she’d accepted gift. Of course she’d known it was a trinket from the Devil, but she couldn’t help herself. His charm. His shimmering eyes. His… Jessie placed her hand over her mouth. Had she honest to God almost fallen under his spell? “No fucking way. None.”

She groaned as she walked into the bedroom, glancing at the packages she’d purchased as well as the one that was a gift. Okay, so Bart hadn’t necessarily done anything overt, but every aspect of his basic behavior had been over the top. Bart wanted her and for a few minutes she’d fallen into his bullshit method of deceit, one she’d never forget. Sensual and full of darkness, the allure was powerful.

Jessie touched the single package that contained the corset. What had he told her? Glaring smugly, she remembered even the way he smelled.
One day you’ll wear this for me. Then and only then I’ll decide where and how hard I fuck you.
Of course she was shivering. Bart was pushy and powerful, conceited and in full control of the being he thought Dom. He repulsed her. He infuriated her. Gripping one arm with her hand, she dug her fingers into her skin and fought the series of emotions raging throughout.

Ripping the ugly corset out of the bag she… There was nothing ugly about the gorgeous piece. He knew what she was hungering for all the way around. Literally gliding toward the mirror, she held up the slip of lace and silk to her chest and preened. Yes, she would look hot in the dazzling outfit, even with her hourglass figure. “Mmm… One hot woman.” The color was perfect for her, the style. Even the bare slip of ebony lace was just so perfect. She studied the look again and almost ripped the sexy slip of nothing in half.

Jerking up the bag she’d purchased for herself she hissed.
You mean Luke.
“Oh God.” Guilt and terror remained just below the surface. She wasn’t certain how to handle any aspect of what she was feeling. The slip of silk was going to burn her into Hell. There was no doubt. She pulled out the flimsy piece and sighed. For a few seconds she fingered the lingerie, cognizant of the fact Bart had told her in no uncertain terms she’d wear the piece for him one day – without him asking. The thought finally made her laugh. “Dead body indeed.”

The laugh giving her courage, she shoved the corset back into the festive pink and red bag. Thinking of Luke wasn’t difficult. The thought was merely strangling at the moment. Was this betrayal? Yeah. It was by nothing more than having a drink with him. Bart. The fucking asshole that she hated. Loathed. Yep. She loathed him. Luke would be so angry. So furious. So…
Disappointed.
Jessie had to push back the horrendous thoughts.

Bart was a major player and had simply pushed all the right buttons. And she’d almost succumbed. She pulled out the ultra slinky and yet very eloquent cocktail dress and walked toward the dresser. Holding the exquisite piece in front of her, she gazed at her reflection and knew Luke would approve. The sky-high stilettos, garter and stockings would certainly entice. The bustier, the one she’s purchased for her Sir, would be for later. “Mmm…” A giggle erupted from her mouth as she slid her hand down the front. Days in her past she’d have been abhorred at the amount of money spent on a dress perhaps meant for one night. Now, money didn’t matter to her. That made getting the dress for a mere fifty bucks even better.

After hanging the dress in her closet, careful to hide the festive piece from Luke’s usual prying eyes, she slipped the rest of her recently purchased sexy creations and closed the door. She’d knock his and everyone else in the entire joint’s heads off.

Moving into the kitchen, she poured a glass of wine and sat down at the kitchen table. In the middle, just touching the beloved purple pen was her journal. After Luke had not only seen but also concentrated so much on the words about her fear, she’d been terrified to write anything else. This was her private space, a moment to reflect on what was happening and Luke had more than just encouraged her to write. He’d told her she was required to. Sighing, she took a sip of her wine and allowed her fingers to dance across the top.

Finally flipping the book open, she read several of her notations, smiling as how naïve she seemed in the beginning. She was certainly out of her element at least. Chuckling, Jessie moved to a fresh page and an intense feeling washed over her. What Aimee had said resonated with her.

Buying a dress. That pissed me off at first. Fucking pissed me off. Why didn’t he tell me I was going somewhere earlier? Why didn’t he just say where we were going instead of forcing me to guess? Why am I nothing but eye candy on this particular night out? Why? Why? Because I am his property. DAMN IT! And then the meeting with Bart.

God! Could she even mention she’d shared a drink, almost a kiss? No, it wasn’t at least a kiss she’d accepted. He’d pushed the moment on her, his fingers gripping her arm, her throat, grinding his groin into her stomach and… Lowering her head, the slight movement helped her realize how hard her nipples were. Jessie glared at the words and almost scratched them out. “No. This is what you’re feeling. Write what you’re feeling.”

He wants me to be by his side at all times dressed to the nines. Why? What am I to him? Yeah, I am being a girl with this and I know it’s a bit ridiculous. But I’m a woman who requires answers. Just tell me what and why and I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.

And why did Bart seek me out? What does he want? I can tell there’s such a heady competition between the two men. They are almost like little boys vying for the same woman, the same company. Why would Luke even entertain working with what I can tell is his rival again? Bart seems to have certain attributes but…

Jessie hesitated. Attributes? Bart was damn good looking with a hard body and sensuous lips – lips made for kissing. She rolled her eyes. Thinking lurid thoughts about another man hadn’t been on her radar since she’d met Luke. There had been no need. So why now? She flicked her pen back and forth, drawing a crooked star on the page.

Because Bart wants what Luke has. This has nothing to do with you. He only wants to make you succumb to one night of passion then he’ll toss you aside. Of course he’ll throw the nasty event in Luke’s face. Then what will you have? Nothing. You’ll lose the man you love, the man who owns you and the one you want to succumb to forever.

Her pen managed to leap out of her hand and onto the floor. She snorted as she bent over and picked it up then she grabbed her wine and took a gulp. Tapping the pen on the paper, she shook her head and thought about the text, the dress and the man. He was testing her. Sir Luke had to be. That’s it.

I hate when Luke tests me. I’m terrible at tests. HORRIBLE. Yeah journal, I know exactly what you’re going to say to me because we’ve been down this road about a million times. I’m not certain at all what I’m doing. There you go. I said it. I meant it. I have no doubt I’m clueless. I have no clue at times whether the woman I’m becoming is strong enough to handle the changes that seem to be occurring every day. I surprise myself how much I enjoy the learning process, yet I remain afraid. Saying the words I am afraid have had a profound effect on Sir Luke. For some reason he believes I’m afraid of him. I’m not at all. In fact quite the opposite. I find that he stills me with his gentleness, his patience. And God knows he needs a huge amount of patience around me. Did he send Bart along the way to challenge me? I hate asking that question but in truth I worry.

There are days I question me, the girl who remains pushing hard. At times I think I’m like a child, needing a firm hand. He is freer in his methods of discipline now, but I still feel him holding back. Perhaps I really am a complete handful. I spoke with a new friend, one who has been in the lifestyle part time, but at least longer than I have and we discussed the importance of letting go. Letting go of not only our inhibitions but also the notion that we will be judged or people will look down on us. I’ve never worried about what others said if they found out I am in a D/s relationship. Never. I never worried that I am a submissive to a black man, even though interracial couples are still looked down upon.

I enjoy stretching my personal boundaries with regards to sex and passion, obedience and understanding. But I realized something very important in talking with my new friend. I have been judging my Sir. Not that I meant to at all, but I have been. I guess I was thinking he knew every aspect of what he was getting into with our relationship. I seem to forget that just because he’s been in the same type before, each one is different, just like a vanilla relationship. We all worry and have fears, we cry and get angry, we long to be touched and held – told everything is going to be all right. Life is hard. Relationships can suck. I forgot the man has to play so many roles.

Sir Luke is not my protector and my friend. He’s my teacher as we move along in this lifestyle. He’s my disciplinarian when I disobey the rules – whether on purpose or inadvertently and he has to know when to push my limits or stop the level of punishment, knowing I’ve had enough. He also has to know when simply to be my passionate lover, taking me into his arms in such a heated embrace I am left breathless. He does all these things and he does them so well. I think I put him on a pedestal as if he were my hero, red cape and mask barely optional. He is my hero but not because he protects me or teaches me, but because of the man he is in general. Kind. Loving. Honorable.