My mind fills with images of women sprawled lewdly on satin sheets, blindfolded and handcuffed. Images of collars, whips and, paddles crowd out any ability to think rationally. Then out of the haze one image crystallizes in my mind. I am kneeling on the ground, my arms are tied behind me with thick coarse rope, my pencil skirt is hiked up to my waist, my bare bottom exposed as Mark presses his rigid manhood against my heated lips, stretching me open.
I can’t do this. Something inside me wants this too much, and it scares me.
He rests a warm hand on my shoulder, “There is more than one way to be strong, Julia. You know one of them, I can teach you the other.”
The silence stretches. The door handle is slippery and cool from my sweat, but I can’t let go. It’s my only root in reality right now.
“Can you really do it? Can you get Lynx back?” I ask quietly.
“I think that I can. But I need your help. I won’t be able to tell you everything, and you must accept that. I will ask and teach you to do things you never imagined doing, and you must accept that too.”
Mark opens his door and puts a long leg out onto the pavement, “I will give you some time to think about it. But I need your answer tonight.”
He walks around the perimeter of the parking garage with his hands in his pockets staring out at the starry sky.
I could keep pressuring my lawyer. I could try to get this ‘evidence’ on my own. I could sell the Wall Street story to another magazine to scoop Ladies World. That would surely bring me a lawsuit, but at least I’d get the last laugh. Or, as my slit begins to moisten, I can take Mark’s offer.
Sexual submission? Total trust? Even if I could get my body to cooperate, how would my mind ever fall into line? And what did he mean by teaching me another way to be strong? Yet, everything he has told me has been true. Every place he touches on me catches afire and ignites a craving within me that only he can satisfy. He was right about Lynx. He was right about me. If I had just listened to him and not gotten involved in a street fight with Ladies World, things might be different now. What more do I have to lose at this point? I have the power to stop it. He has the power to make it work.
I unlock the door and push it open, finally loosening my grip and wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt before walking over to him.
“Well?” he asks with a slight smile.
I swallow hard and speak as if I’m before a board of directors.
“I accept your proposal.”
In elementary school, I had a ponytail that reached halfway down my back. My mother would comb my hair every morning and braid it carefully, fixing it with a purple elastic band. It had to be purple because it was my favorite color, and the only color I was willing to have in my hair. I don’t know who started it, but there was one year when all the boys thought it would be funny to yank on the girls’ hair during class. First it was Maria. She went home crying. The teacher gave all the boys in the class a stern talk, but that didn’t stop them. Next was Carolyn. Her mother had to come pick her up. When Brian Carter yanked on my ponytail, he ended up bawling on the floor with a bloody nose. We both went home that day, but none of the girls in the class ever had their hair pulled again.
I don’t have a ponytail anymore, but sometimes I still check behind me, to catch the boy who thinks that I’m an easy target.
The empty parking lot seems larger, though nothing has changed. Mark and I walk back towards his Escalade.
“So, um, when do we start?” I ask as we reach his car.
“Now,” there is something hard in his gaze that sends a twinge of pleasure between my thighs. “Kneel.”
Why did I even ask? I take a deep breath. I had agreed to his proposal just moments ago, but I’m not sure that I’m ready. I look around the empty parking lot, the fluorescent lights creating shadows of the thick concrete support columns. What if someone sees us here? What will Mark think of me if I submit to his will so easily? Maybe I should have put up more of a fight. Maybe I should have run away. But where would that leave me?
Mark watches me, his bright eyes piercing into me as if he can see my doubt. One look at his face and I know that it had not been a request. Bending down in my heels, I awkwardly lower myself to the dirty concrete. There is something comforting about it. Just giving in to his demands and letting him lead for the moment. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and my thighs feel slippery.
“Beautiful,” he says and reaches out to brush my cheek with his hand. His other hand slowly unzips his pants and brings out his erect c**k for me to see clearly for the first time. His hand leaves my cheek and grips the back of my neck pulling my face toward his member.
I stall as he brings me forward. Is this what I just agreed to? I’ve got my job to recover, my dad’s hospital bills, my sense of dignity and pride to think about and I’m going to achieve these things by sucking Mark’s beautiful, rigid, cock? My mouth waters in anticipation, the tingling of my clit undeniable and yet it is so hard to bend to his will.
“One minute in and you’re already resisting,” Mark says solemnly. “I see we have a lot of work to do. And, we only have thirty days to do it. So let’s get started.”
“Mark, I want to, it’s just—”
“Open your mouth,” he says firmly, his hand once again guiding my face forward. I open my mouth and take his c**k into it; first kissing the top then moving my head so my tongue can run along the bottom of his shaft. I open wider to take more of his c**k in me, shielding my teeth with my lips and bobbing my head up and back as the ridges and bumps of his c**k glide over my tongue. My tongue flicks at the base of his shaft as I reach farther. His hips begin a slight movement and he leans his head back clearly enjoying the sensation.
I try to move my head to guide his c**k to my cheek and not down my throat but he will have none of that, instead guiding my head with his hands. He starts to push farther and I gag on his cock. He withdraws it just enough to let me breathe then gags me with it again. Tears form in the corners of my eyes. I desperately try to move my head to keep up with him, but the gagging and retching continues until he withdraws. His wet, red c**k is now swollen and pulsing.
He pulls on my arm and guides me out of the car, leaving the passenger door open. I stand before him and he kisses me deeply.
“You have a beautiful mouth,” he coos. “Mine.”
Before I can respond he turns me around facing the seat and pushes my back down with his hand. Instinctively, I realize he wants to bend me over the car seat the way he had me on his desk that very first night. My brain buzzes with excitement when I feel him lifting my skirt and lowering my underpants. How I long for him to fill me again.