An Online BDSM Tale Ch. 01

"Okay, Mike Watson, let me explain to you what I understand." My confidence had returned. I envisioned myself in one of those awful 90's movies, with thick glasses, turning to my heist compatriots and proclaiming with quiet surety: "We're in."

"Not only do I know where you work, I've got your parents' names. Loretta and David, very sweet. This woman next to them, is she your sister?" I didn't wait for a reply. "Here's your gym, clearly. Your house, too? Congrats on the big purchase last May. You've even got the street sign in the photo. This can't be that hard to find, there are only so many places and Pensacola, Florida just doesn't look that big." I Googled quickly. "Oh, no, like 50,000 people. Itty bitty. Very findable."

I waited. Triumphant. Take that.

"You done?" he asked pointedly.

"I mean...yeah?"

"Good. Put a finger in your cunt."

I told myself it wasn't my fault his words sent a bolt of lightning through me. The body wants what it wants and I'd been psyching myself up for some phone sex. My brain just hadn't quite told my nether regions that we were in crisis mode quite yet.

"No," I responded slowly, mimicking his condescending tone from earlier. "I have your information. I know who you are. This doesn't work both ways."

"It does though. Because you care a great deal if people find out that you are a cum-guzzling whore." He paused. "Well, that you want to be a cum-guzzling whore."

I guffawed. "And you think that this language is going to sit well with your employer?"

"Let me make this clear." If he were sitting across from me, and if he wasn't the type of guy to put a car as a profile photo, I could picture him leaning on his tan, veiny forearms as they perched on his knees. He'd clasp his hands together and pin me down with a dark stare. Oh, how I loved a dark stare. "I have two degrees. I work in IT. I've got job options. Tell my boss that I like to have my dick wet by horny sluts on the internet. He'll probably give me a high five."

I was an intelligent woman with aspirations and goals. I tested well. I was at the top of my class. So why did him mansplaining this messed up situation to me make my stomach tingle?

"Well, your fam—"

"Knows I'm into kinky shit. This isn't my first rodeo. You're from Kansas, right? They have rodeos, I bet."

What the fuck was happening to my life right now?

"Sure, it was a little bit of a shock when dad walked in on me with a girl cuffed to the shower rod the first time, but the second time we had a good laugh about it."

"Cuffed to the shower rod?" I squinted. "That can't be comfortable for her."

"It's not."

My mind was flooded with an image of myself, cuffed to a shower rod. Trying to keep my balance and not slip on the wet bathtub floor, while angled at a terrible 45 degrees. Shoved in the corner, so that the curtain could close fully, freezing from the spray of the shower hitting my body but not encasing me, leaving me cold and my nipples hard. Waiting to be used. It sounded horrific. Why was it kind of turning me on?

"So," he continued, "is your finger in your cunt?"

"No, it's not."

He sighed theatrically. "Do you want me to CC you or BCC you on this email? I could just make you a recipient, I suppose."

"Fuck! Fine!"

I didn't know what else to do. I shimmied out of my loose pajama pants and panties, the phone sitting on the couch.

"I'm waiting."

Now it was my turn to let out a beleaguered sigh. I grabbed the phone in my right hand and gently touched my left-hand at my pussy's entrance. Slowly, I inserted my pointer finger, the warmth of my wetness easily encasing me. I was shocked at how wet I was. Whatever. I wasn't ashamed of my body's reaction. If he wasn't such a blackmailing, life-ruining moron who didn't understand the concept of one and done phone sex, this would be pretty erotic.

"Okay, it's in."

"Good. Fuck yourself."

"You're the boss," I snipped. Sure, he had the control, but I didn't have to make this easy. Or fun. Perhaps if I was horrible to have phone sex with, he'd leave me alone.

I moved my finger in and out of my body, slowly at first, then gaining speed. I curled it up a little and jolted in my seat. Whoa, that felt good. I took my finger out to do a slow circle around my clit and came back to my center, fucking myself deeply, letting out a groan.

"Good girl."

I bristled a little at that. But I also creamed a little. The war inside me was raging, but my focus kept getting pulled back to my finger curling so nicely into myself.

"Two fingers, Sarah."

I whimpered in acquiescence, slipping two fingers inside myself, hips rolling off the couch, giving me access to reach even deeper. Maybe being blackmailed wasn't so bad. Maybe this is a good thing. Finger fucking on my own never felt quick like this. All the joys of knowing my own buttons to push and all the raw, hotness of a man directing my pleasure.

My fingers slipped in and out of myself, picking up the pace, and my chest rose and fell faster. I stuck the phone on speaker and groped my breast through my t-shirt. I could hear his breathing pick up.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a breathy voice. I hoped it sounded sexy. Dammit, you don't want to sound sexy. You want to sound revolting. You want him to leave you alone.

"Driving home. Three fingers."

"Ha, you're funny." Two fingers was doing just fine. "I'm good right here. I'll be there soon."

"Not a question, Sarah."

"Look, I know you're into the whole dominant deal, but three fingers is too much. It's been a minute s-since—," I stuttered and my training of thought was gone. My core was tightening as something pleasant built inside of me.

"Fuck yourself with three fingers. Now."

I jammed a third finger in my cunt and my back just about broke as I arched off the couch. Holy hell. Ow and...not ow?

"Describe to me what you're doing, Sarah."

"There's three fingers inside me." I gasped, moving slightly. The burn was sweet as my body adjusted. "I'm giving myself a second before I move them. It's a lot. So fucking full."

"Don't wait. Fuck yourself hard."

"Mike, fuck, you are such a prick. I just need a second."

"What part of ruining your entire career do you not understand, you dumb whore?"

On an indrawn breath, defeat and desire curling through my veins like fire, I withdrew my fingers and pushed them into me steadily, curling them into myself. Faster, faster, faster. I felt myself clench. I was so fucking full. I had no doubt if Mike was here, he would have been ruthless on my cunt, but it was hard to move past my instinct to self-preserve. It's hard to ignore your own pain. A small part of me wished he was here to ignore my pain.

"Oh my god," I whimpered, making sounds each time I tapped my g-spot with my three fingers. I was good at this. He was good at this. "I'm going to come."

"You think so, slut?"

My body clenched hard as he called me slut. Something about knowing that I definitely wasn't a slut sparked my need to defend myself and that, like an endorphin Rube Goldberg machine, sparked my desire even more.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered. Everything pulsed, throbbed, in my center. I was sucking my own hand into my body, wishing for a thick, hard cock to replace my hand. The wet sounds coming from me were fucking sordid. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chanted softly.

"Sarah?" he said, huskily. Damn, that voice.

"Yeah?" I mewled, winding myself up higher and higher.

"Take your hand out."

"I'm going to come. I'm so close."

"Did I fucking stutter?"

"Please, no," I begged. "I need to come."

Now, I could hear his harsh breathing. A wave of satisfaction rolled through me. I was glad to know he wasn't as unaffected as he appeared. I wondered if his hands were clenched on the steering wheel. Knuckles white with the control it would take to not reach down and touch himself. I wondered if he was hard. My orgasm was seconds a way, my muscles coiling, like I was preparing for an excellent stretch.

"Screw it, I'm just sending the email. This is too much fucking trouble."

"No! No," I ripped my hand out of my cunt, feeling empty immediately. My pussy gaped, reaching for something, anything. My stomach clenched. I needed to come so badly. "They're out. I stopped. Fuck you."

"Good girl," he whispered followed by a low, guttural moan. My brow knit. Why was he moaning? Had he been stroking himself? Realization dawned on me.

"Did you just fucking come?"

I had no proof. I didn't know this man from Adam. But I swear I could fucking hear his shit-eating grin through the phone.

"I'm home. I'll talk to you later."

"That's it? No order to not touch myself? You clearly haven't had much practice at this," I jabbed, furious that my dripping pussy was left wanting.

"I'm not worried about it. Touch yourself all you want."

"You're a fucking idiot," I snapped.

He laughed, smug. "If you think you can come half as hard without me, then you go ahead. Have fun. I'll be in touch."

The phone beeped. He was gone.

Fucking dick.