Misadventures of Oakley Ch. 02

Greetings Earthlings,

I'm labeling this chapter as reluctance, but will be moving new chapters to bdsm. Enjoy!

Absolutely nobody noticed when Oakley returned, giving her the perfect opportunity to snatch her purse, ditch this stupid sweater, and sneak past Anne from HR without getting any grief.

She threw on her jacket and left through the backdoor of the office, taking a deep inhale of the fresh crisp air.

Oakley puffed on the oil pen continuously on her walk. She knew she was in shock, and in a few hours the panic would set in. Getting as high as possible, as fast as possible seemed like a great way to think of literally anything other than what just happened.

Oakley made it to her apartment, an ancient building in the shabbier bit of downtown. She had not even noticed it had been snowing until she reached for the brass door knob.

Oakley swung the door open, relieved she had made a successful escape. Anne hadn't called her. Hopefully in the morning she wouldn't even remember. She kicked off her shoes and undressed as she made her way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind her. While soaking in the hottest water she could endure, she let herself slowly start to reevaluate the most recent events.

What the absolute fuck had he been doing when he left Veniceville? Whatever happened back there, that was not the real Jett. What the hell happened to him? And what did he call her again? Mistress. That's right. But she didn't exactly know what that was.

She searched 'mistress' on her phone. 'A woman In a position of authority and control' or 'a woman involved in an affair'.

Oakley highly doubted he was in any relationship. The flood of gossip that spread through town when he returned would have provided that significant piece of information.

Oakley mulled over it. 'So Jett put me in a position of control, eh?' she thought, giggling at the absurdity.

After a lifetime of snarky insults and constant teasing, the chances of him having been sincere seemed low.

Although, could that be why he teased her? Did he want her to retaliate? Is that why when she yelled at him he never stopped her? Or why he smiled every time she slapped him? And was she a complete fucking moron for not thinking this sooner?

"Shit," she cursed.

Although there was still a very high chance he was just toying with her, setting her up for another one of his sadistic tricks. Gossiping never stopped after school, it just became a lot more explicit. Who's to say pranks wouldn't go the same way.

Oakley tapped the sill of the bathtub with her nails and decided to do some online exploring.

She knew some men liked to be dominated, which is assuming what this could all mean, but because she had never experienced it, it still felt unreal, as if it could only happen in a galaxy far away. No one she knew had talked about partaking in this fetish.

"Okay this is fine," she said, scrolling through a webpage on the subject.

"This isn't so bad. That's fine. A little bit much actually. Wait- my GOD that is some nasty porn" she gasped and quickly exited the page. Her heart raced.

But she took a deep breath and kept exploring. With Jett in mind specifically, this kink was starting to become attractive.

Oakley thought of his smug face. She craved to unleash all her anger out on him. The best part was he wouldn't rat her out. This was all voluntary. He'd have to listen to her then. He couldn't be a raging jackass if she was in charge.

If this is what he was trying to get from her, she was more than willing. She wanted to hear him beg for her forgiveness.

All of this made her uneasy, as if just these twisted thoughts would send her to hell. It's not that any of it was inherently wrong, she respected the women that could do this. But she never thought she, of all people, would ever have these desires.

This was not like anything she'd done before, and even though it disturbed her, it was exciting. Giving him a taste of his own bitter medicine would be intoxicatingly satisfying.

The more she read, the more invested she became. Thankfully it was now Christmas weekend, and she didn't have to face him for the next few days. She spent some time with her family, and ran her menial errands. When she wasn't doing that, she was in bed with her laptop, doing extensive research on how to be a Mistress, and how to torture your victim.

She read forums, erotica, watched porn, anything she could find that would let her take out her anger on Jett.

Oakley always thought being a woman means needing to be submissive. She enjoyed being submissive. Never had she thought what it would be like the other way around. It was becoming fascinating.

It started seeming less and less far fetched as time went on. She had to know if this is what he wanted. She wanted this more than anything. Not for any sexual desire, the thought of that still made her sick, but for her long awaited revenge.

By the end of the weekend she already developed a plan. It was very loosely tied together, but nonetheless she desperately needed to know as soon as possible.

She sighed, bitterly aware of how uneducated she still was on the subject.

"I better be right, because if I'm not, I am never going to live this down. God this is embarrassing." She groaned.

On Monday Oakley put in her headphones and walked to work with excess confidence, sneakily smoking the oil pen on the way. It was lightly snowing again, but the cold didn't sting. It was just enough to keep her from sweating profusely from the anticipation of his real intentions.

She hadn't realized how early she had come in, because the aftermath of the Christmas party had not changed in the slightest. Her heart thumped in her chest as she began to pick up the scattered office supplies that littered the floor.

Every time someone walked into the office she felt herself holding her breath, but was disappointed repeatedly when it wasn't Jett.

While simultaneously trying to drink her cup of coffee, she stood on a chair and began yanking the folded paper stars out of the ceiling tiles.

When he did arrive, she could feel herself getting goosebumps, the hairs on her neck standing. But she had to keep calm. She had to ignore him until she had the perfect opportunity. Until then, act aloof.

It proved to be an extremely tasking endeavor. Ducking behind an aisle at the local grocery store was annoying, but having to be just meters away from him at all times was an impossible venture.

When it was lunch she walked by him in the tight stairwell on her way out. As he passed her he snatched the hem of her skirt and pulled it up momentarily to see her bare cheeks and the lacy blue thong hugging her delicate hips.

"Stop it!" She scolded, instinctively swatting at his hand and pulling her skirt back down. "Don't do that!"

Jett stuck out his tongue playfully and continued on his merry way while Oakley angrily left for the backdoor, wondering if that had been the opportunity she should have taken.

She didn't really eat lunch, but it was a good break for fresh air. Which she canceled out with smoking. But hey, whatever got her through the day.

Yup, it seemed everything was back to normal, and the whole experience had been a drunken mishap.

Or, he could be trying to provoke her. After her twisted online quest to find the knowledge she needed to crush him, she still had hope.

If this worked, Oakley was forever going to be ashamed she had been so oblivious for so long. She would be 'that' girl now. The characters in movies that are cripplingly dislikable because of how painfully obvious their situation is. The characters that make you cringe and quickly reach for the remote.

She managed to ignore Jett and her own beating heart until the end of the day, though it took a lot of dedication. Oakley found her perfect opportunity when she saw him go into the elevator alone. She'd been smart to wait.

Oakley did her best to be subtle while rushing to the elevator, but it was not necessary, as no one was paying any attention to anything other than their holiday hangovers.

They stood next to each other in silence. If Jett was skilled in anything, it was speed. That's how his pranks were almost always successful. In a moment she felt his finger slide down the back of her skirt and hook around the waistband of her thong.

Before he could snap it she turned and roughly pushed him against the elevator wall. Jett smiled devilishly until Oakley grabbed his tie and pulled with a stern gaze.

If she moved swiftly, she wouldn't doubt herself. She just had to wing it and not hesitate.

Oakley forced him to look her directly in the eyes, his tie starting to squeeze around his neck. The smile had dropped. Now he just looked nervous.

"Do what your mistress says," she said firmly. The words felt embarrassingly bulky as they came out her mouth, reciting the first line she had memorized from the internet.

But she shivered when he whispered, "yes Mistress," in her ear.

Oakley paused, the confirmation of his intentions took a moment to register. "Okay. Good," she said as she let the tie slip from her hands.

Oakley left the elevator without acknowledging him any further.

Now that she was alone she let herself react outwardly. "Hell yes," she yelled, punching the air.

'Wow, that was so COOL!' she thought. Just the way she said that to him so confidently. This was so exciting she couldn't contain herself. She had never felt so powerful. The opportunities to enact her revenge were endless now. He willingly set up his own trap.

She smoked the oil pen, more satisfied that she had deprived this from Jett than the pleasant effects.

Oakley sat on her couch and turned on the TV, but it was nearly impossible to concentrate. For about two hours she stewed, lost in her imagination, conjuring up hypothetical situations in her brain.

Cable had a Quentin Tarinto movie marathon, showing her favorite tales of revenge, but she couldn't even pay attention to that. A big part of her was now hating him for disrupting the movie without even being here.

"You know what, screw it," she declared to herself and dug out her phone from the plush blanket she was wrapped in.

She had no idea where he resided now, but there was a high chance he could be living at his old house. His parents had left for Michigan, but the 'For Sale' sign was still in the yard. It didn't matter how cheap the price of the house was, it was just a fact that people were leaving, not moving to this hobunk town.

Oakley still remembered his home phone number. She took a deep breath and called it. When she started to hear the ring, she immediately chickened out and hung up.

Oakley got off her couch and took a half finished bottle of vodka from her kitchen counter. "Just chill out. You've got the upper hand," she said to herself, trying to inspire some confidence while chugging the vodka.

She sprayed most of it into the sink, having overestimated how much she could handle. Which always turned out to be very little.

Oakley plopped back on the couch and summoned the courage to call again. This time she was able to wait until someone actually picked up.

"Hello?"

'Oh fuck,' she screamed in her brain. It had been such a struggle just to call, she didn't think of what she'd say if someone picked up. That should have been the first thing to worry about. Yup, she was 'that' girl.

"Hey, is this Jett, by chance?" She said extremely awkwardly. If it wasn't, which was very plausible, this would be very embarrassing.

"Oakley? What's up?" He responded. She sighed silently with relief when she clearly recognized his voice with his confirmation.

"Ah, well I thought your parents sold your house."

"Then why are you calling here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you calling if you thought the house was sold?"

Oakley took the phone away from her face to mutter a string of swear words under her breath. She put the phone back to her face and impatiently said "Just, get over to my apartment. It's the building on Caldwell street. The one next to the theater."

"Now?"

"Yes, right now."

For a moment there was silence, and then Oakley realized he had just hung up without a word. "Well, fine, fuck you too." Not fifteen minutes later there was a knock at her door and there he was, visibly nervous. She paused for a moment, feeling intimidated again, but quickly reminded herself he was the one who wanted her to have control.

"Come on," she said, letting him in.

Jett brushed the snow off his shoulders and stepped inside.

Oakley put her hands on her waist and tried to get used to the idea of this jerk being in her living room, but it was for a good cause. After scanning the apartment he looked to her with a curious expression, for what she assumed was waiting for direction.

Oakley snapped out of her trance and pointed in front of her tv and said, "get on your hands and knees right here." She knew she didn't have the tone down yet, her voice still sounded awkward and unconfident. Yet he didn't hesitate to obey, getting on the ground in the position she requested.

Oakley took the pen and turned the TV back on. She sat on Jett's back and continued to watch Inglorious Bastards. It turns out, it's much more fun to watch movies about revenge when you're enacting your own.

Oakley was very surprised with how long he could hold her weight, and stay almost completely still at the same time. He didn't complain or make a single noise, even when he started to shake.

She made sure to hit the oil pen frequently just to remind him it was hers now. She took it and there was nothing he could do.It was not only satisfying, but surprisingly comfortable. Under her skirt on her bare legs she could feel the warmth from his back. There was something very pleasurable about it.

When her body started to tingle her mind drifted to the vivid memory of what his tongue felt like inside of her. The movie was becoming less interesting again. Sex had been so boring and mundane, to the extent she was under the impression that the act itself was severely overrated.

But while enjoying making Jett weaker and weaker underneath her over such a long period of time, she certainly was not bored. She wanted to devour him, control him, make him beg at her feet. She was getting a taste of what it felt like to be powerful, and now that was all she wanted. She was going to eat him alive.

Jett groaned and flexed his back when Oakley stood up. "Okay," she said nervously, "so, you're just going to do what I say."

She made it sound like an order but it was a question. She needed verification.

Jett, now sitting back on his ankles, looked up and nodded eagerly. He seemed a lot shyer about this than from what she had seen on the internet.

Jett watched intently as her skirt fell to her ankles. She kept her shirt on, not happy with the idea of completely exposing herself to him.

Oakley sat on her low coffee table and pointed to the floor in front of her, which Jett took as his signal to move to. When he was settled on his knees before her, she saw the not-so-subtle outline of his cock through his jeans.

She didn't know if he was so hard because she undressed in front of him, or because she had been using him as a seat for an extended period of time.

"Show it to me," she commanded. She'd always had a sick curiosity about what his cock might look like, and here was her moment to do it without shame.

He bit his lip as he hesitated for a moment, but obediently replied "yes Mistress."

Oakley was starting to like when he called her that. In fact it thrilled her. Every time he said the word it made her feel powerful. She wanted to hear him say it over and over. The best part was she never had to tell him to do that.

Oakley could tell how nervous he looked as he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his hardened cock for her.

Jett had fantasized about this obsessively for so many years, and a symptom of that was having that dooming thought that maybe she wouldn't like it and he would forever lose his chance. He had never had anything but praise from others, but Oakley's validation was the only thing that mattered.

He panicked during a long pause as she continued to casually inspect him. He was terrified of her response but just seeing her looking at his cock was making it throb. It was a sweet cocktail of embarrassment, anticipation, and unbearable arousal.

Oakley let out a "hm".

Jett didn't know what that meant. Was it good? Or bad? Why couldn't she use words? Did she forget how to speak English when it mattered the most? Oakley was a tad perplexed and a little disappointed. His proportions were phenomenal, he was definitely on the thicker side. But his cock was unusually big, and to Oakley that meant boring.

Her experience with men who were well endowed was never very satisfying. She associated it with laziness.

Oakley diverted her gaze and said "I want you to tease me." That hungry look in Jetts eyes started to come back. "But only with your mouth," she added quickly.

She didn't care for him to touch her with his hands. But his tongue, whatever magic he did to her at the Christmas party, she needed more of that.

A part of her felt shameful for letting Jett of all people touch her, but no one would know. It was in Jetts better interest to not tell anyone what he was doing, so it was safe for her to get lost in her desires. This was just a dirty secret, but as long as no one found out, she could live with the guilt.

Oakley laid down flat on the table in a comfortable position, legs spread and hanging off the table.

This was extremely bold for her. She was more of a 'turn of the lights during sex' kind of person. Having someone stare directly at her most private and intimate parts was nerve-wracking, but she repeatedly assured herself it wouldn't matter to Jett.

She closed her eyes as Jett put a knee on the table and leaned over her body. his breath was warm on her neck. He hovered there for a moment, then began to leave a trail of kisses on her neck.

"Not there," she said, cringing at how unexpectedly intimate it felt for him to kiss there.

Oakley shuddered when he gently bit her nipple through the thin fabric of her cotton shirt. Even though there was a barrier, the motions of his tongue stirred a perplexing ache in her belly.

Having to restrain himself from laying his hands on her was maddening. But his need for her validation, and maybe a pat on the head, heavily outweighed his desire to flip her over and fuck her right there on the table.

When Oakley put her fingers through his hair, holding him close as if she let go he would escape, he knew he was doing a good job. He just wished she would verbalize that.

Jett started to become more enthusiastic, gently nipping and tugging her nipples with his teeth.

His stomach dropped when he heard her let out a laugh through her moans. He thought maybe he was doing something wrong, but in reality Oakley was drowning in pleasure. What made her laugh was how impossibly good his tongue felt, that she didn't even know these sensations we're real, and most of all because all of this resulted in not only Jetts torment, but her reclaiming her work desk permanently.

Oakley shuddered dramatically when he moved lower and lightly bit her inner thigh. She snaked her fingers through his hair, leading him closer to her pussy.

Her eyes crossed when his teeth pulled at the waistband of her panties. She lifted her back to let him slide them off of her.

She gasped when his tongue pressed against her pussy, tasting the juices that had started to leak out of her.

The best sex she'd had in years resulted in her paying more attention to the xfiles at the tv in the corner, than the man clumsily thrusting behind her. It felt good, but nothing special, nothing she actively longed for, and not nearly as enjoyable as the ending of the episode.