This has always been one of my favorite fantasies...“Wannabe submissive woman looking for men who excite me… strong, patient, creative, determined men who won’t put up with my BS. I don’t know what I like, but I suspect that I’ll do anything you ask, as long as you’re the right man for the job. I’m not sure about pain, because I’ve never had the experience, so go softly to start and help me feel my way through. But, please, please, force me to obey!”
Skye Sinclair has no idea what she’s asking for when she places a personal ad on an Internet B&D website. All she understands is her obsession…the naïve innocent knows nothing of the real S&M underworld she’s discovered. She thinks the game is just a tease—until a man from her office recognizes her picture and replies. His thinly veiled threat to expose her only intensifies her need to satisfy her dark dreams. But once this relationship begins, she's determined to see it through...she can't help herself.
An excerpt from Force Me to Obey
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His messages were always brief, sometimes incisive, and growing increasing sexual, increasingly graphic.
Find a sizeable, but comfortable dildo to wear in your pussy. Insert it in the morning, fasten it in tight and wear it to the office tomorrow.
No! No, absolutely not! Was my immediate reply.
But then my resolve crumbled like so much dust. How could I not? How could I dismiss the rumbling in my tummy, the wetness between my thighs, the aroma of sex emitted from my pores as the brilliance of this next assignment seized my imagination?
My body shuddered in advance, then shuddered more as I combed the nearest sex shop for the right equipment for the task. I found a five-inch dildo and a smooth silk rope, and dwelling on the lure of this assignment, I even tried on a black lace corset in the dressing room, becoming so aroused I wanted to masturbate. But my master’s orders stopped me. I left the shop with bag in hand, dildo and rope inside, leaving the corset lying on the dressing room floor.
I couldn’t imagine wearing the weighty piece inside me all day, but I would. For him, if not for me. ***
It had been three days since my last orgasm. My body was raw, exploding every hour in reminder of the pleasure denied me. But I was true to my word, too hooked on my master’s game to disobey an order.
I left my apartment the next morning, attired in a denim skirt, a bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of summer sandals. Standing in front of the mirror, I made certain no one would ever know the secret beneath the skirt, as the heavy weight of the fabric covered any evidence of the ropes and dildo underneath. Afraid the dildo would slip out, I’d bound my groin so tightly that the ropes cut and every move was a reminder of this gross absurdity. Sitting became a dicey situation: some positions were excruciatingly painful, while others, I could hardly tell there was something lodged inside me. Regardless, I never forgot the strain of the ropes wrapping my waist, bisecting my crotch and tied off behind me. I wouldn’t bend over, I wouldn’t brush up against anyone, and if I could safely hide in my cubicle all day, I would.
For a time I ignored the effect the bondage was having on me. It was an annoyance, not a pleasure. But all that changed during lunch, as I was taking bite of a salad, sitting primly as if the dildo was an anchor keeping me in place when my computer pinged, alerting me to a newly received message.
Think about what you’re doing, Skye. And think about why.
More orders, these were simple ones, and I let my mind drift to thoughts of him… Niven, Lockhart, McNary, and Lloyd, the strange composite of the four gentlemen in the office and everything else I imagined the man to be. Of course, I could be way off base and my email master was none of these men, perhaps someone much less attractive, much more mundane, much more approachable, much less exciting than I hoped for. I let my imagination drift away, and soon the effect of the dildo and ropes became more than an annoyance, more than irritation, more than just another assignment. It worked on me like the fingers of a lover, tempting, taunting, revealing the truth about myself. My belly swelled with desire, as my thoughts were captured, poised on the unknown man who demanded this of me. I was at his feet, naked but for this simple gear, waiting for his touch, waiting for the revelation.
The phone suddenly jangled, knocking me out of my dreams.
“Research Department,” I answered.
“Face the window, Skye, and pull down the blind. Close your eyes and wait for me. Do it now.”
Now? Here? Inside this half hidden cubicle? But what if…? I tried to blurt out, but it was too late. The phone clicked and the dial tone buzzed in my ear like a buzz saw.
I swiveled my chair, reached for the mini-blind ropes and tugged until the slats dropped down. Afraid to move from there, I closed my eyes and waited, feeling him near, feeling the ropes, the gnawing dildo in my pussy and my arousal soar far beyond its previous bounds. My body ached for his physical touch.
In minutes, my obedience was rewarded as I heard the crisp sound of shoes in the corridor and then the shuffling of feet behind me. Feeling the presence of a body hovering over me, I mentally sifted through the images, the men, the possibilities, and the ones I’d already dismissed. The cuff of his shirt brushed my cheek, while the scent of his cologne wafted toward my nostrils. He rested a palm on my shoulder and squeezed firmly.
His voice was low and muffled as it had been on the phone, so unlike the four men I knew about… or so I believed.
“The demands become serious from here on, Skye.” His fingers caressed my face and my body trembled scared. “Play with yourself for me. Eyes closed, hand inside your crotch.”
“Here? Now?” I croaked that old refrain.
“Here. Now,” he softly confirmed.
I lifted my skirt and parted my thighs, while the energy of sex burst from me in a raging torrent. For days I hadn’t come, so it only took a minute of frantic play to have me at the edge.
His hand gripped my throat hard. I was sure I’d suffocate. “Come!” he ordered, bending down to whisper in my ear. My body seemed to rip apart, with the end crashing in around me. My ass lifted off the seat, then my bound groin rocked back and forth as it settled down, making the chair squeak with each jarring movement, certainly telegraphing my state of being to the whole goddam world. I forgot myself, the place, the time, the company, and groaned because I could do no less.
“Hush!” I heard his imperative firmly remind me where I was. Then as the spasms ceased to shake my groin, he released his grip. He backed away, saying, “No one’s going to bother you. Pull yourself together and get back to work.”
The sensations lingered with me long into the afternoon, along with the memory of his scent, the feel of his hand, the warmth of his skin, the gentle firmness of his voice. If only I had turned around and opened my eyes, I’d have seen his face. But he remained, instead, my mystery, the man without a face, without a name.
The ropes remained in place and the dildo in my pussy until the end of my workday. There was not another word from my master in that time; I suppose he believed he’d said enough. At home that night, I washed the dildo and rope and placed them in a silk bag in the bottom of my lingerie drawer, there to wait for other orders, another time. There to haunt me, I suppose.
Copyright ©2005 Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission.
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