Out of Control

Out of Control
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ISBN:  9781907753206
Author:  Chelsea Miller
Word Count:  70,833
Format:  eBook

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ObsessionObsession


Punishment. Yes. That would be a much more subtle pleasure. She wouldn't know precisely what they were going to do to her, but she'd have a pretty good idea. She'd be face-down, her creamy-white buttocks presented invitingly to them. They'd stroke her soft skin, almost preparing her. And then she'd hear the sharp swish of a cane through the air, hear the crack of the pliant bamboo against her flesh, and feel the line of fire across her buttocks. A sharp, tingling pain that eclipsed every other feeling, then slowly melted into a different kind of pleasure, a deeper and darker and ultimately satisfying throb...

Head of marketing, Marc Dubois is convinced that his boss, Sarah, is a sexual submissive behind her sophisticated ice-maiden facade. So when they argue about discipline in the office he hatches a plan to get his own way at work, and to find out the truth about Sarah's nature, breaking all his personal rules to take her on a journey of sexual enlightenment over the course of a weekend.

Under Marc's skilful hands, and with the help of his friends, Sarah confronts her deepest and darkest fantasies. Marc discovers what he really feels for her; and their desire spirals out of control...

'You bastard, Dubois,' she muttered. 'Where the hell are you?'
   It was sheer torture, lying there, with all these vivid pictures in her mind and not being able to do anything about it. What scared her more was how easily those pictures had arrived. She'd never thought of herself as the submissive sort, in work or in play. Now, she wasn't so sure. That vision of the men in their office taking her one at a time: she could imagine something far more graphic. Herself, taking more than one of them at a time.
   She'd be kneeling on the bed, wearing a stretch lace navy teddy - black was far too obvious - with the top pulled down to expose her breasts, a pair of matching lace-topped hold-up stockings, and navy stilettos. She'd be astride one of them, his cock embedded deeply in her sex, the lace of the teddy's gusset an extra friction against his cock.
   At the same time, another man would be kneeling by his shoulders, and she'd be sucking his cock; his hands would be wound into her hair as he urged her on, tilting his pelvis towards her as she took him as deeply as she could, sliding her mouth up and down his shaft. A third and fourth man would be beside her on the bed, squeezing her exposed breasts and rubbing her nipples while she rubbed their cocks, curling her fingers round their thick shafts and masturbating them in perfect synchronisation. And a fifth man would be kneeling behind her; he'd be pulling the lace teddy slightly to one side to expose the cleft of her buttocks. He'd watch as the other man's cock slid in and out of her quim, glistening with her juices. Maybe he'd dabble there himself, anointing his fingers with her nectar and then lubricating his cock with it. Then he'd rub his cock in the groove of her buttocks, judging her rhythm before fitting his lubricated cock to the tight ring of her anus, letting her push back onto him until he was embedded deep in her forbidden passage. And she'd be moaning as she sucked the man in front of her, wanting more - her words unintelligible as she had her mouth full, but her meaning very clear to them...
   She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. No. That wasn't her. She wasn't like that. She was Sarah Ward, and she was in control - not some sleazy tart so desperate for sex that she'd let any man, any number of men, do what they wanted to her and beg them for more. The minute Marc Dubois untied her she'd flay him alive for what he'd done to her.
   Liar, the voice in her head whispered. If anything, she'd wanted him to go further. She'd wanted him to do more than just slide his cock into her sex. She'd wanted him to make her suck him while his cock was still glistening from her juices, so she could taste herself on him as she licked her way down his shaft. She'd wanted him to turn her over, have her kneeling with her head resting on her bound wrists, and redden the cool creamy surface of her buttocks, his hand raining slaps on her soft flesh until her sex was weeping for him, swollen and puffy and...
   She swallowed hard. And just where had that idea come from? She'd never played those kind of games, ever. She'd read about it in a couple of cheap paperbacks, but the idea had done nothing for her, and she'd ended up throwing the books aside, half-finished.
   Before she could think about it any more, the door opened and Marc walked in.
   She lifted her chin. 'Untie me, you bastard.'
   'And good morning to you, too,' he said coolly. There was a slight glint of amusement in his eyes. 'Did you sleep well?'
   'Tied up like this?' But she must have done. When Marc had finally finished making love with her, the previous night, she'd fallen asleep within seconds, drained from the long series of orgasms he'd brought her to. She hadn't woken until this morning, until - whatever time it was. There wasn't a clock in the room, so she had no idea whether it was seven or eleven. From the light filtering through the curtains, she suspected it was nearer the latter.
   'Tied up, just like that.' He smiled at her. 'Good morning, Sarah.'
   'Just untie me, you bastard.'
   He shook his head. 'Oh, no. No, no, no. Particularly when you ask like that.'
   'All right. I'll ask you nicely,' she said through clenched teeth. 'Please untie me, Marc.'
   'No.'
   Her temper snapped. 'What the hell are you playing at?'
   'I'm not playing at anything,' he told her quietly. 'I'm deadly serious, believe me.'
   'So why have you kept me here like this?'
   'Because you need someone to teach you a lesson.'
   'A lesson?' Involuntarily, she thought of the spanking she'd been fantasising about, and her sex throbbed. She coughed to cover her confusion. 'What sort of lesson?'
   'You've been behaving very badly at work,' he said. His voice took on a kind of silky quality, she thought. 'Very badly. And behaviour like that needs to be punished.'
   'You're punishing me?'
   'Not at the moment.' He spread his hands. 'But I will do.'
   'What you're doing is false imprisonment,' she told him crisply. 'It's illegal.'
   'Really?'
   'You know bloody well it is.'
   He smiled. 'Well, last night you agreed to being tied up. You didn't make a fuss then. If anything, you virtually egged me on once you realised what I was doing.'
   She flushed. 'That was last night.'
   'You're making quite a fuss about it now.'
   'Are you surprised? How would you feel if someone tied you up and refused to let you go?'
   He grinned. 'That isn't the issue, at the moment. And your body doesn't seem to be quite so anti the idea.' He nodded at her prone figure, and Sarah was horribly aware of the erect state of her nipples. Her fantasies had aroused her, and it was very obvious to him.
   'What are you planning to do with me?' she demanded.
   He shrugged. 'Don't panic. I won't lay another finger on you, until you ask me to. Until you beg me to, to be precise.'
   'Untie me. Please.'
   'No.'
   She swallowed. 'How long are you going to keep me here like this?'
   'As long as it takes for you to admit that you're wrong about the office.' His voice grew husky as he added, 'And to admit to your true nature.'
   'My true nature?'
   'That you're a submissive, at heart.'
   She scowled. 'I am not.'
   'No? If I touched your quim, right now, I think it would be wet. Very wet. Because you're turned on by this, Sarah. You like being helpless. Just as you liked me talking to you, last night, telling you that someone was watching everything I did to you and the way your body reacted to the way I touched you. It excited you, didn't it?'
   'No.'
   'Such vehemence. And we both know you don't mean it. I can see how aroused you are, Sarah.' His voice was like melted chocolate, and it turned her on even more, to her intense annoyance. 'Your nipples are hard for me - I bet you're aching for me to touch them. Caress them, squeeze them, make that pleasure even sharper for you. You'd like me to use my mouth on you, suck you and lick you. To use my teeth on those hard little peaks, balancing that fine line between pleasure and pain.'
   'I would not.'
   'No?' His lips curled with amusement. 'So you're not in the slightest bit excited. I wonder why your sex looks like someone's painted you with honey then? Glistening and sweet, ready for me to touch you and tease you and taste you. That's a figment of my imagination, is it, Sarah?'
   She scowled again. 'You bastard. Just let me go.'
   'No.'
   'You'll have to let me go by tomorrow night. They'll miss me in the office on Monday. And you.'
   'Not at all.' He shook his head. 'I have the week booked off as holiday.'
   'Well, I haven't.'
   'I'll ring the office on Monday morning and tell the personnel department that you're staying with friends, in Cumbria, but you've come down with the flu and won't be in for the rest of the week.' He shrugged. 'No one will question me.'
   'You'll never get away with it.'
   'Won't I?' Marc smiled. 'We'll see on Monday morning, won't we?'
   'Untie me,' she demanded again.
   'No.'
   'You bastard.'
   'Temper, temper.' He wagged an admonishing finger at her, then turned away and left the room.
   Sarah watched him go, shocked. Surely he wasn't going to leave her there like that? He couldn't. But that seemed to be precisely his intention. To leave her there. Alone. And still tied...

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