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Force Me To Obey - eBook

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Force Me To Obey! by Lizbeth Dusseau bdsm fiction

“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.

The sexual antics soon begin, even though her submission to this man is nothing like she expected. The anonymous master forces her to perform risky, dangerous sexual acts. Exhibition, self-bondage, semi-public masturbation fuel her lust, all required by a man who remains no more than an email address. Though she understands the peril, she cannot stop herself.

When she learns her master’s identity… when she discovers he’s a man she once detested… can her loathing turn to love? Even Skye can’t understand why her need for these kinky sex game defies all reason, why and her body rules and she obeys, and why a curious jealous streak threatens to reveal the surprising truth behind her sexual obsession.








“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.

Artist Credit

(c) Tony Ryan

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