Like spring, the sun shone hot, but when the breeze blew the air was crisp. One gust raced right up Jocelyn’s skirt reminding her that in addition to being a bruised and battered business consultant she was a sexual being. The delicious tickle made her stomach grab, and reminded her of her unspent sexual energy. She walked three blocks away from the office in heels that should have made her legs and feet ache after the first block. However, Jocelyn was used to dressing in high-fashion statements of power that not only looked authoritative but also added sensuous to her list of personality traits. Jocelyn Killian Harold’s allure couldn’t be anything less than sexual; especially since Reggie had refined the seductive charm that had always been natural to her.
The aroma of fresh baked bread, Italian spices and cheese poured from a café she passed on her way to nowhere. Slowing her furious retreat from her office, she lingered in that fragrant space of sidewalk letting her nostrils feast on the smells. The jolt the breeze had fostered between her legs was only augmented. She remembered then the silk she was wearing on her breasts. Now sliding against her nipples it caused those sensuous rounds to draw into buds that any man would tongue with glee. A desire swept through her mind, one that would have taken her into an alley, where with a hand at her crotch she’d need little time to get off. Even in this marginal part of town she considered slipping into a private corner where she could take a moment to climax. But then she spotted the intriguing shop across the street.
Darting into the empty avenue, Jocelyn spent several minutes standing in front of the plate glass window looking inside a leather store. It must have cropped up overnight. Dozens of times down this street she’d never noticed the place. Since Reg, her mind was instantly tuned to spy such sights. Being so close to her office, she should have found this place before. Still, the storefront business looked ancient and well used. There was even dust on a few leather tooled bustiers displayed in the window, and the smell of incense was so strong it poured out onto the street even with the shop door closed.
Naked underneath her lime colored suit skirt, Jocelyn’s labia were easily tickled by the fabric brushing against them as she moved. Even standing still, she couldn’t stop the gentle sway of her hips that eroticized them even more. A banister, a railing, the arm of a chair would have sufficed to generate an orgasm. But having none of those, she took her arousal as an invitation to enter the sleazy establishment, nearly choking as she did from the plumes of patchouli and sage-scented smoke.
Behind a counter, a woman with a nose ring, purple spiked hair and silver rings on every finger perked up with the entrance of the redheaded business woman in the lime green suit. There was a sparkle back in Jocelyn’s green eyes, the mood of decadence overpowering her gloom. She could almost feel Reggie’s warm palm on her ass, massaging a rear cheek. She would push back against his fingers encouraging more. He’d slip his hand under the hem of the short skirt and probe her anally.
Peering inside a case displaying a good two dozen dildos, her eyes rested on an enormous anal plug that would be much too big for her to handle—despite her cravings that desired otherwise. Reggie had spent some energy and time making her ass as usable as her vagina for sex, and she could open that anterior orifice wide to accept a generous erection. Still, this plug was one of the largest she’d ever seen, which only reminded her of how long it had been since she’d indulged in an anal assault. There’d be pain the next time Reggie entered her ass, though she’d probably want that too.
“You want something?” the clerk asked. She looked like a girl on second glance, too young to be the proprietor of such a place. Young as she was, however, she looked like she knew what she was doing—at least as much as Jocelyn knew what she was doing in her late teens when Ian Pennywhistle absconded with her the summer she bummed around Europe. There was the thought of him again. When she hadn’t brought the man to mind in two years, here he was appearing twice in one hour. The girl with the spiked hair was a sister in rebellion, obviously planted by the gods to remind her of her other life. A life much less reputable, but much more fun than the one she was escaping now. Reggie was fun sometimes, but he wasn’t around.
“I don’t know what I want,” Jocelyn said sighing. The girl squirmed on the stool behind the counter—Jocelyn only then noting that this nymph was sitting squarely on her pussy, her skirt pulled up so her thighs and ass cheeks showed. With Jocelyn staring at the obvious exposure, the girl did nothing to change her pose when she realized she was being watched.
“I’m horny,” she explained.
“So am I,” Jocelyn replied, her voice dipping into a huskier tone much more mellow than her speech just a half hour before.
“You look like you could use a good screw.”
Jocelyn acknowledged the comment with a smile.
“Got a favorite fetish?” the girl asked.
“Hummm,” was the redhead’s answer as her eyes perused the array of bondage and discipline equipment in the cases before her. Reggie had as much at home, though that was so familiar to her that it hardly gave rise to much sexual titillation anymore. Together they were much less prone to using toys than early in their relationship. Reg kept the bondage simple, the domination as much mental as physical. Being able to mesmerize her with magical words evoked the stimulation that made such moments soar. “Frankly, I have this intense desire to be spanked right now,” Jocelyn admitted, finding it as easy to talk with the girl as it would have been to confess her thoughts to Alexandra, her best friend and sexually deviant female lover.
“I’d spank you if you like,” the girl replied, looking quite serious even though the suggestion almost made Jocelyn laugh.
“I need a man for that.”
“You want to buy a paddle or strap, I can arrange that, too.”
Not expecting to be so easily accommodated, Jocelyn backed off. This was just an innocent exploration of a sex shop, wasn’t it?
“Which one do you like?” The girl pulled her pussy off her seat so the short leather skirt managed to cover her sufficiently. A case on the opposite wall displayed leather paddles and short straps that Jocelyn knew from experience made a sensuous smack against bare flesh. Reggie’s store of implements had been collected before she met him. Jocelyn always wondered where he found these especially designed wares that had such a devilish purpose.
Noting that each tooled piece of leather made her body’s lust acute, she recognized the signs of sexual obsession urging her to some alarming choice. She pointed to a slapper inside the glass case, ten inches long, she estimated, and three inch wide with marble sized holes in the stiff rectangular hide. She imagined stern sensations in just a smack or two of the awesome thing.
“I want that one,” she said, at first thinking she’d take it home and use it on herself. Hungry for the stimulation, passionately in need of something dark to set her off, the obsession was moving swiftly along to a rightfully sane conclusion. But that ended when a man walked out from the room behind the shop. An ass kicker. Like Gus, Reggie’s foreman at their country estate, or like one of the burly Germans that she’d seen top submissives in German clubs. He loomed over her like god’s wrath incarnate, and she was sure that Reggie would smile to see her first alarmed response. Bald head, goatee, he should have been wearing leather, but was dominant enough in black jeans and a black shirt that draped his muscled chest.
“You say you want to be spanked?” he asked her.
“I said I wanted to buy that slapper,” she answered.
“Not if I don’t get to use it.” He eyed her gravely.
As if to suggest that he was being too presumptuous, Jocelyn drew up in a pinched expression that came from annoyance and puzzlement. All that was ignoring the gnawing need between her legs. Her bottom burned before even a strike was landed. There would be no question whether to submit if Reggie had been right there; but with her husband due home from Japan any day, the risk to her monogamous agreement with him posed a dilemma.
The burly man placed his hands on either end of the counter that separated them and stared down at the leather implement. “You don’t look at all content, lady, if you don’t mind my observation. Let’s just say I warm your ass the way you want.”
Dominant men make assumptive proposals, and Jocelyn’s obsessive need was basking in that kind of mind control.
“And you’ll take pictures?” Jocelyn asked, noting a camera behind the counter. It was an impetuous request, but it suited her mood.
“We can do that too. Libra here gets off on photographing sessions,” he nodded to the girl.
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