Well, no wonder she’s a mess. She’s continued our story. Added on to the script that brought us together. She wrings her hands in her lap and looks anywhere but at me.
“You wrote this… for me?”
“Wow. That’s awesome. I’m really touched.”
She looks up cautiously, though she still looks like she could vomit at any point.
“Have you posted this?”
“No. I wanted you to see it first.”
I pull the pages to my heart and lean over to kiss her. “Thank you, princess. Can I read it now?”
She shrugs. “It’s your present.”
I eagerly flip the cover and find a highly artistic dedication. I suppose this is what happens when you’re dating an expert in product packaging. As beautiful as the stylized font and border may be, it’s her words that move me.
Dedicated to my very own Dark Prince
Whose every touch both fulfills me
And leaves me desperately wanting
~your most humble princess
To my caring mentor Black Velvet
Whose wise counsel continues to be a beacon
And whose loyalty is steadfast
~your faithful omkAnd last, but never least, my charming Edward
Whose stomach is never full
But whose heart brims over
I can’t help the quake in my voice when I respond. “It’s been far too long since I’ve read your words, Isabella. I’d almost forgotten their effect on me.”
She’s radiant under the bright light of my compliment.
I flip the page, where I find a reminder of where the story left off:
Previously, in Chapter 5:
"When I go, you may fix your dress, but leave the panties there. Go back to your Prince, but know this: I will not touch you while you're his. Understand? Look at my face this time, princess.""Yes, Master," I choke out.
Sitting next to him while he reads through the dedication is excruciating agony. I exhibit every physical symptom of anxiety and as usual, I completely lack the ability to hide any of it from him.
His reaction only deepens my blush. As he turns to the story, I long to jump off this seat and hide next door, or at a minimum bury my face with a pillow. But Edward has other ideas.
“Isabella,” he pauses and looks up from the page. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you wrote again, for me. Could I possibly prevail upon you for one more favor?”
“Read it to me?”
I take the offered pages from his hand with the greatest trepidation. I’m fully aware that I hide behind my words, my keyboard affording me the greatest liberation with my fantasies. But now, he’s requested that I actually vocalize my dirty desires out loud. No hiding. No whitewashing. He’s simply asked that I deliver his gift without my mask between us.
I unzip my boots and kick them off, scooting crab-style to the arm at the opposite end of the couch and folding myself into the smallest possible package. He pulls up the closer knee and tucks his foot under the opposite thigh, tilting his body to face me. His expression is open and encouraging. And oh so patient. He knows this is hard for me, but I so want to add this additional element to the gift. After all, anyone will be able to read online once I post, but this private performance could only be for Edward.
My voice shakes as I begin.
Chapter 6He vanishes as quickly as he arrived, and I’m left alone in the hallway, my crumpled panties the only physical evidence of his presence. Unless you count my spiky nipples and the pool of arousal between my legs. I stop in the Ladies’ Room and do my best to look normal, as if I haven’t just had an encounter with the man who owns me body and soul. It’s not working. Anyone can see I’m not the same person who left the dance floor twenty minutes ago.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” my sweet Jason asks, sweeping his palm across my chin line and back toward my ear. “You look feverish.”
“Actually, Jason, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” This is it. We’re doing this right here, right now.
“Sure. What is it?”
“I don’t want to hurt you Jason. You’re so perfect, just not perfect for me.”
“What do you—?”
"I’m sorry, but I have to say goodbye.”
“But you can’t—”
“Jason, I’ll always love you, but you’re just not my destiny.”
"You can’t mean—”
“I’m sorry, love.” Lifting the train of my dress out from under my heels, I turn tail and run toward the entrance of the ballroom. I’m Cinderella, and the glass slippers still adorn my feet. No, it’s my panties that are left behind.
I look up to gauge Edward’s reaction so far. He’s wearing a broad grin. “I love that part,” he says.
“I’ll bet you do,” I grin back.
“So what happened to her panties?” he asks. Perfect question.
He nods, waiting for me to continue.
“Take down your panties,” says soldier one.
“Excuse me, sir, but—”
"We’re on strict orders from the Dark Prince. You’re to remove your panties or we will do it for you.”
“Okay, then. Here,” I say, peeling down my thong and handing it to the humorless guard.
“Now pull these on,” says the other, holding out the still sodden panties.
“Oh no! You didn’t!” Edward exclaims gleefully.
“I did,” I sigh, succumbing to my inner kink factory.
“Continue, continue!” he says excitedly, rolling his hand between us to spur me forward.
I pull them up under my skirt. They roll their eyes at each other. “You have to show us.”
"It’s treason if you don’t raise your skirt. Now, Miss.”
I lift my skirt in compliance. They look at each other, astonished. “They’re a perfect fit.”
Oh sure, I think. They’re just the perverted guards, looking at every fair maiden in the village in these wet panties.
Edward laughs out loud and covers his mouth sheepishly. “Sorry. Treason. It’s just too rich.”
I roll my eyes at him, but truthfully, I’m so pleased he’s enjoying this and breaking the tension with his little comments.
“We must be sure,” says the other, reaching out a hand to test.
I quickly intervene. “What do you think the Dark Prince is going to say when he learns you’ve touched me there?”
“She’s got a point,” says the first. “He’ll have our heads.”
“If you’re lucky,” I add glibly.
“HA!” he snorts. “You got that right! No way I’d let those buffoons touch the goods!”
“Hmm, I had a feeling you’d feel that way,” I smile smugly.
“Tie her wrists behind her,” guard one says. “He said to bring her in bound and wanting.”
“Wanting? What does that mean?” I quiver.
The second guard wraps my wrists in heavy twine and knots them tightly behind my back. He swats my bottom for good measure.
I wish I could resist my undeniable urge to lift my eyes to his, but before I know it, that’s exactly what I’ve done. His wide smile slackens as his eyes take on that darker hue I’ve come to know and love. I feel the heavy heat of a fresh blush and I retreat to the pages again. They offer little cover.
The first soldier locates my nipples through my blouse and bra and tweaks my breasts with both hands. “Just like that. You’re perfect.”
I glare at him, and he smiles smugly.
"Ask her,” one reminds the other.
"Good thinking. I almost forgot.”
“Well, that wouldn’t do, now would it?”
“Hell no. It’s the most important part.”
“So do it already!”
“Ask me what?” I interrupt their ridiculous bickering. I mean, really, I’m standing here bound and tweaked and they’re having this inane conversation.
“Are you free of your Prince Charming?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What did she say?”
"I said, YES.”
“Thank fucking Christ for that. I wouldn’t want to have to deliver that news to the Dark Prince. Grab her.”
They pull me outside and toss me roughly into their carriage. They offer me no comfort on the bumpy ride to the palace.After a long, uncomfortable ride, I arrive at the palace of the Dark Prince.
They drag me by my elbows, between the two of them to the door, my heart pounding in my ears. The clandestine knock is produced, the wide wooden door is opened.
His voice chills and excites me. “Inside. Now!”
“Finally!” he interjects. “I was wondering if I was going to make an appearance in this chapter!”
“I hope you enjoyed your two words of dialogue. That’s all you get.” I smile broadly, enjoying what little control I have over this situation, and read the last paragraph.
They push me unceremoniously through the entryway. There, arms crossed in front of me, stands the Dark Prince. A wide devilish smile promises everything I want and fear.~ --- ~
Okay, not my most articulate moment. She sets the papers down between us and wraps her arms around her knees protectively.
“That was really hot, Isabella.” Um…thesaurus please? Anyone?
She smiles hopefully. “You liked it?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“Did it…move you?”
I chuckle, remembering our old joke. “Did you want to examine the evidence?”
“Not if it delays exploring the fun bag.”
Eager insatiable beaver.
“Mind if I ask when you wrote this?” We haven’t spent much time apart outside of work, and I’m pretty sure I put the fear of God into her about indulging in her fantasies on the Swan server.
“I wrote most of it on our night off,” she confesses.
“So that’s what happened to you!” No wonder she came into my room late that night all hot and needy. The puzzle pieces drift into place. I mockingly scold, “I thought you said you were working that night.”
“I was! Do you think it’s fun and games writing porn?”
I chuckle. “I do have some appreciation for inventing scenes, but crafting it into a written form that’s exciting to read adds a whole new layer. Is it hard for you?”
“Truthfully, no. It’s harder to hold back the stuff I know I shouldn’t write.”
Well, fuck me. The lady gets darker?
She looks up sheepishly. “I erase a lot.”
“No!” The idea is abhorrent to me, that she’d waste a single kinky plot bunny, but I realize I’ve overreacted just a wee bit when she looks up at me with a puzzled expression. “Sorry, I mean…next time…you have to promise me…instead of erasing it…send it to me.”
“You want my bloopers?”
“Hells to the yes, baby. Any and every glimpse I get inside that crazy head of yours is a privilege.”
“Fine. I promise,” she answers, grabbing a throw pillow and stuffing it into her lap. Hiding.
“C’mere, baby.” I raise one arm toward her and she nestles into my lap, still holding onto that pillow for dear life with arms folded across her chest. At least she’s looking up at my face. I take that as a win. “Are you ready for Black Velvet’s official review?”
“No,” she answers, and I’m deflated that she doesn’t want to play along. Or doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. “I mean, no I don’t need to hear from Black Velvet any more. I want to hear from you…as you."
Oh. Oh wow. Like Holy Shitfire wow!
She’s worrying her lower lip between her teeth waiting for me to get it. I gently brush my thumb across her chin, jiggling loose her tension. Clearing the hair out of her face with my remaining fingers, I connect us eye to eye and say, as clearly as I can, “I hear you. Okay. No more Black Velvet.”
I wait for her to acknowledge my acceptance of her terms. Her eyes take the lead, blinking up in soft recognition, and then her slight smile follows.
“All right. Here’s what I think,” I emphasize the “I” while scooping up her story. “This first part about leaving Jason…it’s swift and merciful.”
She snorts. “Yeah, and it’s also pretty much the way it happened.”
I do not want her turning morose on me, not now. “Well, look, you’re writing a fairy tale. You don’t need to dwell on the unpleasant realities.”
“No, let’s not,” she says, begging to move on. Point taken.
“These deputies you wrote, I find them fascinating.”
“Well on the one hand, they’re agents of your Dark Prince, doing his bidding. And in that capacity, your princess is 100% willing and obedient. Which is utterly delicious.”
I trace one finger down the side of her neck, drawing goose bumps and a smile.
“You see what you’re doing there, right? She’s submitting to the Master, by proxy. At the same time, you’ve crafted a delicious humiliation scene…your favorite!”
She pulls the pillow up over her face. Yeah, admitting that humiliation turns you on can be kind of…humiliating. But there’s a reason she wrote this chapter for me.
“On the other hand,” I continue, sliding the pillow down forcefully to reveal her red face, “the princess fully recognizes that the Dark Prince does not sanction all the activities of these overeager jesters. And where she identifies that shift, the princess recognizes that her Dark Prince’s devotion to her is her amulet, the super power that affords her immunity from their inappropriate behavior.”
“So the Dark Prince is some kind of super hero, then?” I cannot help but smirk at the thinly veiled implication.
He shrugs. “He’s been known to act chivalrously on occasion.”
“How nice for the princess.”
He grins, “Oh yes, she is a lucky girl.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s willing to…go through all that to get to his castle.”
“Yes, most likely. I have to say, that little game of matching the wet panties to the corresponding crotch was a compelling variation on the glass slipper theme.”
“Well, Find-The-Missing-Stud was already taken.”
“Indeed. I only have one problem with their execution.”
“Oh god, I’m afraid to ask.”
He snorts, “You’re wising up quickly. But you know I’m going to tell you whether you ask or not.”
“Lay it on me.”
“All right…here, where she pulls up the panties…” He finds the passage and reads, “’It’s treason if you don’t raise your skirt. Now, Miss.’ I loved that, by the way. A treacherous crime against the state not to raise your skirt.”
He looks longingly at my legs sprawled along the couch. “You’re so lucky you’re not in a skirt right now.” Then, clearing his head and refocusing, he continues reading, “I lift my skirt in compliance. They look at each other, astonished. ‘They’re a perfect fit.’ All right, right there, you missed out on a huge opportunity. I’d like to see her turn slowly for them so they can gauge the proper fit all the way around. Especially where it’s a thong and she’s so exposed.”
Good Lord, now my own panties are sodden. I knew this would be challenging but I certainly didn’t expect the face-to-face critique of every line. Thank goodness I have my clothes on, at least.
“All right, you have a good point there. I’ll add in a slow twirl.”
“Don’t forget to get her hands out of the way.”
“No, that wouldn’t do, would it? Okay, so what else ya got for me?”
“Just a whole mess of compliments, baby. ‘Bound and wanting’? That totally does it for me. The inappropriate nipple twist, the rope, the sack of potatoes treatment…it’s all primo. And that bumpy delivery straight to the feet of her dark savior just begs the question: What comes next for the princess? Now that he knows she’s unencumbered, there’s no more holding back. I’m dying to know what he’s thinking right about now.”
Edward’s eyes are dark and dangerous, and I think he knows exactly what the Dark Prince is thinking.
She answers me with her own question. “I don’t know. What are you thinking right about now?” Always a treacherous question to ask a man with a fun bag in the next room.
“What I think is that there is absolutely nothing else you could’ve given me that I would’ve loved more. It was the perfect gift.”
“Wow. You are one hell of a thanker, Edward Cullen. Has Hallmark ever attempted to hire you to write for them?”
“Not hardly. But I do hope this means you’ll continue to write and publish your stories.”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure I want to be giving you any more pervy ideas…Master.”
“I don’t think you need to worry that I have any shortage of ideas, sweetheart. I have a good sense of where I’m taking you, especially now that your checklist is done.”
There goes her blush again. So much fun!
“But writing helps you explore some of your darker alleys. There well may be some fantasies that remain just that. Just because you think it, or even write it, doesn’t mean we’ll act it out. I understand you’ve got a reputation, and so do I. I’m not going to slip a leash on you and walk you through the hallways of Swan Enterprises.”
“Well thank God for that.”
“No, princess, that will be something we do strictly in private.”
She mewls. Okay, that last was a bit of a low blow, I admit.
“Up you go, princess.” I slip my hand to the back of her head and lift her off my lap. “I want you to journal about your collaring before we move on to an entirely different scene.”
The laptop is conveniently still set up at the desk and I pull up a second chair. “Okay, there are a few sites I trust…here. It’s all a matter of style. Why don’t you noodle a bit in these three and pick the one you like best.”
I relinquish the keyboard and observe, crooking my elbow next to her and resting my head in my hand. Isabella the writer, at work. I like it. “Damn, you look hot at the keyboard.”
She snorts. “Spoken like a true geek!”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Okay,” she turns to me, eyes shining. “I choose this one.”
“Go ahead and set up your screen name.”
She taps the keys quickly and confidently.
“Wait, you already picked your screen name?”
“Yup…‘your princess’, like that, right? Lower case for subs?”
“Oh, you have done your homework. Brilliant. Hold on, you’re not using your work email, are you? Don’t you have another email account?”
“Unh-uh. Gimme that.”
She swivels the keyboard and shakes her head while I set her up with a gmail that matches her user name. “Okay. Now check the privacy settings. For now, you can leave it open, and we’ll watch your traffic carefully. Any weirdness, we’ll clamp down on the security.”
She turns to me. “Okay, so now what?”
“Pick a scheme … You can always add a photo later. You know, one of your favorites from that special little secret folder on your laptop?” I wink.
“Okay, I’m good. Now, go away and let me compose. I can’t think with you sitting next to me being all sexy and geeky.”
“Oh, the geek turns you on, does it?”
She snorts again. “Puh-leez! Everything about you turns me on. Now, git!”
It’s hard to argue with that logic.
“How’d it go?” he asks, closing his book and setting it on the nightstand.
“It was scary pushing the post button but not nearly as scary as submitting my checklist.”
He chuckles heartily and climbs off the bed. “All right, I’m going to ask you one more time if you’re really, really sure you are ready for another scene so soon after the last. Because this is going to be—”
“Rigorous. I know, I know. Yes, I’m ready. Besides, didn’t we agree we were going to start doing one overnight every weekend? I’ve got to practice, don’t I?”
He cups my chin and kisses me. “You know, you can be very persuasive when you want to be, princess.”
“Likewise, I’m sure,” I tease back.
“Okay, come on then. This is a limited time offer for you to have a sneak peek into the Master’s bag of tricks.”
He pulls the duffel up onto the comforter and unzips the zipper. I am riveted to that bag. I know exactly what happened to Pandora and the curious cat, but still, I just can’t help myself.
“Oh, did I forget to mention you’ll need to take your clothes off first?” He hops onto the bed and watches me get undressed. Leaning over the bag, he retrieves my collar and motions me closer. “Are you ready to begin your rigorous training, my little sub?”