I never expected to be
standing almost naked in the middle of a square in Riga, my hands tied behind
my back, hobbles on my feet, a ball gag shoved into my mouth so far I could
almost feel the rubber pressing against my tonsils. If you’d asked me two weeks
ago what I’d be doing on the second Tuesday of October, I’d have told you I’d
probably be in my gym, teaching a Muay Thai class to fourth-graders. But
instead, I was down to just my black bra and lace thong, teetering on my high
red heels, displayed as if I were some kind of art installation. What I was
most embarrassed by was how wet I was. I glanced down, just once, to see if it
was obvious. I hated to move my head at all—any motion seemed to make the
people drinking coffee at the little tables dotting the square notice me all
over again. And yes, it was obvious. I’d dripped through the lace at my
crotch, and the concrete at my feet was slick. I’d never been more embarrassed
in my life. I glanced back up and caught Jake’s eye. He’d been drinking his
espresso and speaking to the shop owner in a language I couldn’t understand,
but now he stood.
Thank goodness. Maybe
this was all we’d do today. He would take me back to the hotel and let me put
my clothes back on, and we’d go down to the bar and laugh about this over some
strange Eastern European alcohol that I couldn’t pronounce. Jake and I went way
back, after all. We were friends. Sure, it was weird as hell to be here like
this, with him, but it would make a hell of a dinner party story someday,
right?
Instead of leading me
away gently, though, Jake touched the top of my breast above my bra, right
where I was most sensitive. If I could have moved my mouth around the gag, I
would have gasped, but as it was, I just sucked spittle around the rubber, my
eyes widening, tearing at the surprise. He leaned in and said low in my ear,
“How dare you drip like that? What were you thinking, whore? I should make you
get down on your knees and lick it up, only you’d like that too much.” He
smacked the top of my breast lightly, then harder, a solid slap that echoed
sharply in the square. I knew my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, and my stomach
was in knots. Quaking, I knew my juices were running even more. I couldn’t help
it. I couldn’t stop the reaction, that heated rush.
That was the awful,
wonderful part.
I was terrified.
MORE.
From Dominating Anna:
A gust heaved a wall
of water at the glass, and she had to get close to the window to see out into
the night, past her own reflection. Cabs patrolled below, gleaming yellow,
cutting through the reflective streets. A man stood on the opposite side, under
her favorite elm tree. He was large, taller than the men that hurried down the
sidewalks behind him. He was almost as big as Zee, actually.
Shit.
It was Zee.
What the hell was he
doing out there in the rain? Looking up at her apartment wasn’t an accident.
He’d tracked her here. Easy, he didn’t track you—you gave the company your
address.
His arms were folded,
and he didn’t hold an umbrella. He wasn’t even wearing a rain coat. The rain
sluiced over his leather motorcycle jacket, his jeans gone black with wet. His
dark hair dripped into his eyes. The eyes that didn’t break from hers, that
didn’t make any apology whatsoever for being caught.
Anna knew she should
step backward toward the darkened kitchen. She should at least hit the living
room light and take herself out of his view. Whatever the hell he thought he
was playing at wasn’t funny. Her hand trembled as she took a long sip of her
gin. Instead of stepping away or turning out the light, though, she didn’t
move.
She set the glass on
the table next to her.
There were only a few
ways to play this.
She could pretend
she’d never seen him and turn out the lights and go to bed. But really, Anna
wasn’t tired. Not yet. Not even close.
She could go outside
and speak to him, find out what the hell he was doing. But it was raining
harder now. It looked cold. It was nice and dry inside.
There was, of course,
a third way to go.
She could give him a
show. Prove to him that she was up for this.
Ridiculous. Anna
couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
Why, then, did she
reach for the hem of her dress? Instead of taking the time to unbutton it for
the second time today, she simply lifted it up and off.
She stood shaking in
her window, wearing just the bra and panties he’d already seen once.
Her street was narrow,
barely enough room for one car to pass between the parked cars. Even though Zee
stood on the other side of the street, she was close enough to him to see his
eyes narrow. Something that ran between them, through the glass, through the
heavy raindrops, something that ran from her fingertips to his mouth which
twitched as if she’d touched him.
Jesus Christ, what
Anna wanted most in the whole world was to press her lips against that scar at
the corner of his mouth. She didn’t care about the story that went with it. She
just wanted to touch him. It was a stupid desire, one she didn’t understand.
This was ridiculous, all of it.
She should know
better. She should turn off the lights and go to bed.
Instead, Anna touched
herself.
She slipped her right
hand into the top of her panties. Slowly, so slowly, she dipped one finger into
the wetness she’d had between her legs since she’d left Brooklyn. With her
other hand, she pulled down the lace of her bra, exposing her nipple to the
air. She tested it with her fingers, teasing herself until her nipple was hard,
pointing straight at him.
Zee’s mouth straightened,
as if he were trying hard to prevent himself from speaking. That was fine. He
could speak. He could say whatever the hell he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter.
Anna couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t tell her to stop.
She slipped her
panties down now, all the way off. Stepping out of them, she pulled the lace on
the other cup of her bra down so that now she was naked except for the bra,
which displayed, rather than hid, her breasts.
Anyone could see her.
Her neighbors across the street, the cab driver who paused and honked for his
fare to come out, the pedestrians that hurried down the darkened sidewalks.
Anyone could look up and see what Zee was staring at.
But so far, he was the
only one who noticed. He was the only one who looked as if what she was doing
to him physically hurt. And maybe, with that magnificent cock of his stuffed
into cold rain-soaked jeans, maybe he did hurt.
Good.
Anna lifted the first
two fingers of her right hand to her mouth. Slowly, she licked them, taking her
time as she slid them in and out, moving her tongue over her fingertips. Then
she trailed them down her body to where they wanted to be—at her cunt. She
slipped her first finger inside herself and gasped, astonished at how wet and
swollen she already was. Then the other finger slowly made its way inside.
Using her left hand, she touched her clit, gently at first, and then gaining
speed and rhythm.
Damn. This was something she did late at night, in
the dark, in her own bed. It was something she did when whatever boyfriend she was
with failed to get her off, something she did so quietly that they never woke
up, never knew that they’d left anything lacking.
It wasn’t something
she did while standing in her picture window.
Anna’s fingers moved
faster now, her eyes never leaving his. She barely blinked, although he did.
The rain was sluicing down again, and it acted like a conduit between them, as
if the electricity from the lightning in the skies were traveling between them.
Rain rolled from his hair and he should have been shivering, but she could tell
by the look on his face he was burning up just like she was.
A few more seconds,
that was it, that was all it was going to take...she was so close—so close...
Slowly, deliberately,
Zee shook his head.
Anna gasped. He
couldn’t really make her stop, could he? Her fingers flicked her clit harder,
her other hand pumping in and out of her pussy.
Once more, he shook
his head.
She could ignore him.
Anna knew she was only five or ten seconds away from coming. She could pretend
she didn’t know what he meant and keep going, which, God, she needed to
do.
Or she could prove
herself to him.
MORE.
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