Did you know that September 22 is Dear Diary Day? Me either. At least, not until I saw this really cool display at my local library advertising Dear Diary Day with a group of reads that feature diary entries as part of the story line. Which reminded me…
I have a story that falls into this category!
My short story Her Dominant Boss starts with a steamy diary entry. Read on for the heart-racing goodness!
Then the journal goes missing and she worries it might have fallen into the wrong hands. When a chance after hours encounter at the office turns into a night of the hot sex her fantasies are made of, she realizes her dominant boss has a few fantasies of his own and he has every intention of acting them out.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he commanded.
I turned then rested them above my bare ass. I thrust my hands toward him, and allowed him to bind my wrists together with an extension cord. Once he’d wound the device around several times, I tested my restraints. I couldn’t move my hands. He had me right where he wanted me.
I was under his complete and total control.
My clit pulsed and my pussy went wet at the submissive position. I was topless, clad only in my black lace thong, thigh-high stockings and black leather heels. He on the other hand was fully dressed, further demonstrating our roles.
Dominant and submissive.
I shifted my weight and I felt the wet lace material glide against my smooth, hairless cleft. God, I wanted him. I wanted him inside me, fucking me hard, pounding into my slick cunt with sure, powerful thrusts.
I did as he commanded. He was still standing behind me, the solid wall of his chest pressed against my shoulders. Through his trousers I could feel the hard length of his erection digging into the soft flesh of my ass cheek. His cock was fucking huge. And I wanted every inch of it.
I whimpered as I got a visual image of what I knew would be happening sooner or later. I pictured his big cock gliding in and out of me, his hips slapping against mine. I rolled my lips inward, to try to stifle my frustrated cries.
From behind me I heard the rustling of fabric and my pulse raced. Thank God, he was finally starting to undress. Not that I didn’t love this game, of not knowing when he’d disrobe and fuck me, but my patience was starting to wear thin.
Of course I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t even let my actions show my impatience, or else he’d just make me wait longer.
His arms enveloped me from behind. He held his silk tie in his hands. My breath caught at the sight of it. Would he wrap it around my throat, like a leash? Would he force me to walk around the floor of his office like a well-trained pet?
When he placed it around my head and proceeded to cover my eyes with it like a makeshift blindfold, my skin prickled with lust. The element of surprise would only heighten my experience. Once he’d secured the tie, he slapped my ass. The sting his palm left behind would only intensify my pleasure. At least it would, once he decided to fuck me.
“Bend over and grab the edge of my desk.”
Even though I couldn’t see, I knew the object was directly in front of me. I bent at the waist until I felt the cool surface of his desk make contact with my flesh. The hard points of my nipples pressed against the unyielding wooden desk.
“Spread your legs.”
I widened my stance. I heard the jingling sound of his belt buckle and then he unzipped his pants. He gathered my G-string and shoved the thin material to the side. A thick finger swirled at my entrance. The shallow penetration caused the walls of my pussy to clench. I craved to be filled by him.
“Mmmm, nice and wet for me.”
He notched himself up to the entrance of my pussy. The thick head of his cock spread my delicate folds.
“Brace yourself. You’re about to be fucked, and I mean fucked hard.”
“Oh, yes,” I moaned when he pressed into me.
He slid in an inch, maybe two. My cunt clenched around him, as though greedily wanting more. He pushed in deeper and held himself still a moment, giving my body time to stretch around his impressive girth.
“You’re so tight and I’m not even all the way inside you yet.”
I tilted my ass up slightly, to adjust our fit. He slapped my ass, making me grow even slicker around him.
“I’ll have none of that, miss.”
As though to punish me, he slid into me, balls deep.
“Last stop, West-Field Office Complex.”
The bus driver’s voice cut into the fantasy I’d been furiously scrawling in my journal. Damn it, I hated it when I was in the middle of a good sex scene and my commute ended before I had time to finish writing it down. It was the equivalent to getting all primed up to get fucked only to find your partner had already pre-ejaculated in his jeans.
I closed my leather-bound journal and threw my pen into my big leather messenger bag. I stood and prepared to exit the bus and let out a sigh at the distance I’d have to traverse to make it into the office building where I worked. It wasn’t that far of a walk—only about thirty feet—but it might as well have been three hundred feet.
A bolt of lightning flashed across the darkened sky and a few seconds later thunder clapped so loudly I felt the boom in the center of my chest. I tossed my journal into my satchel and felt around in the bag’s interior for my compact umbrella.
A clear picture entered my mind of my blue umbrella with the little yellow daisies on it sitting on my kitchen countertop. Of course I’d forgotten it.
“Ugh, do I have to run out in that?”
“Sorry, darlin’. I can’t help you. This bus is headed back to the station. You know the drill, you ride every day.”
“I know, I know,” I muttered and braced myself for the rain.
With no umbrella, I had to improvise. I pulled my messenger bag off my shoulder and used both hands to hold it above my head. Even though it was leather, I didn’t mind if it got soaked. I’d gotten it at a thrift store. The more scuffs and rain spots it accrued the more character it developed.
I dashed down the bus stairs and ran haphazardly toward the office tower where I worked. No doubt I’d begin my day looking like a drowned rat. I loved living in Florida, but the fucking monsoon rain storms were a giant pain in the ass.
If I hadn’t forgotten my umbrella, I wouldn’t have used my bag as a shield. I probably wouldn’t have run into the office building. If I hadn’t run, I probably wouldn’t have dropped my journal.
If I hadn’t lost my journal, I might never have discovered my boss’s sexy dominant side…
About the Author
Ariel Storm believes that fantasies are meant to be explored, on the pages of her manuscripts, and beyond. Ariel fell in love with all things paranormal, magical and mystical at a young age. Her obsession with the dark, dangerous and forbidden began in her teen years as a way to rebel against her strict religious upbringing. Her stories can range from contemporary BDSM to new adult to paranormal. One thing will never change, and that’s writing scorching hot erotic romance with unconventionally sexy alpha heroes.
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