She follows the picture up with a text.
I’m doing some research. Have you ever used one of these?
I scrub my hand across my face and force myself to breathe before replying…
You should be sleeping.
And no, I have not. I am not into impact play.
The text bubbles pop up before her response.
I’m googling impact play.
I let out a groan. This should feel wrong, leading her into this lifestyle. But she’s an adult. Everything is consensual. I’m not forcing her into anything she’s isn’t interested in. With a shake of my head, I carry my phone to bed with me and climb under the sheets, trying to talk my cock into giving it a rest for the night when I get another alert.
I don’t think I’d like that either.
I have a question…
What is it?
Everything is really…sexual. Is it even possible to do this without sex?
I’m about two seconds away from tossing my phone across the bed in frustration. My cock seems to think it was invited to something because it is aching in my boxers, flinching at the sound of each new text that comes through like a puppy waiting for a treat.
I think about my response for a long time. The problem is that I’m not quite sure if Charlotte is asking this because she wants there to be sex and is hopeful it will happen or if she’s genuinely afraid of sex being involved and wants to learn about the lifestyle regardless. She is so blunt and open with her questions, but so guarded with her emotions.
Finally, I decide to be honest…and careful.
It is possible. It just means our options are limited. Yes, the Dom/sub activities are mostly sexual in nature, but the dynamic is not. And the dynamic is what I like most.
She’s typing out her response almost immediately.
So you didn’t have sex with your last “secretaries”？
I groan again. Does she even know what she’s doing to me? Does she really understand how much I want her and how hard she makes it to deny myself when she asks me stuff like this?
Answering this question is painful, and I hate that I have to be honest.
I had sex with most of them.
Her reply takes a moment longer.
Oh.
There’s tension on the line while I wait for another message. I wish I could just tell her how badly I want her, but I can’t. Finally, when she does respond, the message nearly breaks me.
I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I like being submissive. I just want to be enough for you. I want to make you proud.
Even if we can’t… :（
The words on the screen course down my spine like a slow drip of lava, and my cock is more than ready for round two. It might actually be the sad face emoji that does me in. The tiny little frown on my screen that makes me want to say fuck it and drive over to her pool house right now so I can force her to her knees, slide my cock between those perfect, wide-set lips, and make her beg me to fuck her. I quickly type out my response before I can overthink it, choosing to ignore the last message she sent altogether.
You made me very proud today.
And you are more than enough.
You are perfect.
The throbbing organ in my chest swells as I hit Send. This is more than arousal. More than wanting to fuck her or hear her call me Sir. If I were twenty years younger, she’s exactly the kind of girl I’d want. Why Beau let her get away, I have no clue. But I’m finding myself more and more addicted to this girl with each passing day.
And when my phone chimes again with another text, I’m almost too afraid to read it because I’m pretty sure I already know what it’s going to say.
Thank you, Sir.
God, I’m so fucked.
RULE #18: WEAR A REMOTE-CONTROLLED VIBRATOR AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Charlotte
It’s a no-fun day. Which is what I’ve come to call the days that I have to be just Charlotte and he’s Emerson, not Sir. There’s no good girls. No yes, Sirs. Just a regular secretary. Blah.
We do it every other day, and I find myself more and more disappointed on days like this.
Luckily, we’re at the club today. Emerson has a meeting with some sex toy suppliers to stock the store, so I guess I really can’t complain about today, after all. When we arrive at the club, I follow him to the right where everyone is gathered—Garrett, Maggie, Hunter, and even the construction worker, Drake, who’s no longer in his dusty clothes and hard hat but dressed nicely in a pair of tight jeans and V-cut T-shirt, showing off a patch of dark chest hair. My gaze lingers on him for a moment, and he catches me staring, sending me a wink that makes me blush and look away.