His gaze lifted from my breasts and held mine. “Touch them,” he ordered as someone jiggled the door handle behind me.
This time, I ignored the person trying to get in. “Yes, Master.” I touched my nipples and teased them and his hot stare was my reward.
“Good,” came his approval (another reward), but it was followed by what felt like punishment. He stepped back, putting more space between us, then leaned on the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Make yourself come.”
“I can’t here,” I gasped, and the floor just about fell out from underneath me. “People want the bathroom.”
“You can and you will.”
The door jiggled again. “I’ll be out in a minute!” I snapped impatiently. He arched an amused brow at my outburst, seemingly unaffected by the intrusion. But then, he wasn’t the one who had to make himself come while people demanded entry.
“The sooner you come,” he told me, “the sooner we walk out of here.”
I’d never masturbated for a man before and surely not in a public place, but as panicked as I felt in that moment, I never doubted I was going to do what he wanted. I’m not sure what that says about me or how about he affects me. Not only did I know I was going to do it, I was so damn aroused by the idea that I was burning up, hot and weak in the knees all over again. I knew we couldn’t get caught. We might get yelled at for being in the bathroom, but no one could prove we had done anything but talk. That comforted me. I could be naughty with him, for him, but I wasn’t going to get in trouble.
I drew a breath, issued my “Yes Master,” spread my legs wider, and slid my fingers down to my clit to stroke. I watched him watch me, encouraged by the darkening of his eyes, as I explored the silky wet heat of my arousal. His watching me made me wetter, hotter, more needy. Pleasure overtook me, lowering my lashes, and I let it, ripples of sensation weakening my knees, and I orgasmed with amazing speed. When I finally opened my eyes again, he was standing in front of me.
“You’re meant for this, Rebecca, and you looked exquisite, coming like that.” He slid a finger between my legs and then sucked it into his mouth. “And now I’ll have you on my lips the rest of the day.”
He reached for the door and I quickly pulled my clothes together, but by the time I did he was gone. I snatched my purse up as a woman walked in and gasped when she realized I’d been inside the room with a man. I hurried out into the hallway and to my table, expecting my “Master” would be waiting. But he wasn’t there.
I gathered my coat and sandwich and quickly headed for the gallery, where I spent the afternoon excruciatingly aware of my pantyless state. That was what he’d planned, what he wanted.
I don’t buy into me having all the control just because I have a safe word. I have no control where this man is concerned. That should make me run for the hills, but I know I’m not going anywhere except where he leads me. I hope that isn’t a mistake, but I can’t find the will to care.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Lunchtime at my desk . . .
Ricco was not only fine with the private showing, he didn’t seem upset at all, which is a relief. I hope the client calls me back soon, because I’ve left Ricco in limbo about when we are coming by. He is tolerant now, but how long will that last?
Okay . . . Mary just popped into my office and asked if I needed anything while she was out. This can’t be the same woman who all but called me a whore. Have I entered an alternate universe where she got some sort of fairy wings handed to her?
Almost time to go home . . .
Seven o’clock and it’s time to pack up to leave the gallery. No call from my client about visiting Ricco’s gallery. To top that off, there has been no erotic “Master” encounter today and I am disappointed. But then, I guess he’s not my Master yet, so I shouldn’t expect a daily demand from him. Should I once he’s my Master? I mean IF he’s my Master. The contract makes me think he pretty much intends to dictate to me daily. Hmmm . . . this makes me think, and I don’t like where my head is going. Does he have another submissive right now? Will he have more than one when he’s with me? The contract does talk about sharing me with others. Oh, God. This idea upsets me. I have to text him. Or should I call him? Texting is less intimidating. I’ll text. Maybe. I need to go home and think about this.