Friday, June 1, 2012


~Chapter 49~
It seems like a month ago that we were away from here, in our own little bubble of checklists and collars and leashes, but it's only been two days back in the city. And already, I see a problem.

When am I supposed to write?

Edward's solidly put the kibosh on any workday posting, not that I should be spending my Swan Enterprises hours writing porn or journal entries anyway. Post-coital composition is completely out of the question. I have about three minutes maximum between the last moments of connection and sound, blissful sleep.

So, between the end of the work day and the beginning of sexy time? Yeah, that moment is defined by the space it takes me to ride the elevator down to the lobby, where His Scrumptiousness awaits. Because whether we're grocery shopping, studying opera, or actually intertwined in some stage of undress…it's all foreplay. And I can't see sacrificing a moment of it, even for writing.

Which explains why I'm up at 5 am, sequestered in "my room,” though I think of it more as a large storage closet for my stuff, already dressed for work and tapping out my second journal entry.

Is it wise to stir up memories of Master's leash before the work day? Seriously doubtful. But it's an irrefutable fact that the only time I feel I'm not missing something is when Edward is sound asleep.

LEASH/Journal Entry Two
January 3, 2012
Master's assignment: Write how I feel about one of Master's toys

My hands aren't nearly as shaky over the keyboard this time, and I owe much of that to those of you who wrote in with your support. After my lonely and painful journey getting here, I can't explain how much it means to me to feel truly understood. And I hear the warnings in your words…slow down, overzealous, precarious. I understand even better now from Master's perspective how fragile we are, not just as Master and submissive, but as two people sharing a loving relationship. So I thank you all for your acceptance, your encouragement, and your sound advice!

Master's leash. Yet another contradiction to reconcile. The leash is a proxy for direct contact with Master. The cold, harsh links of metal are a cruel substitute for his warm hands. There's an imposed separation, the distance of which is absolutely controlled by Master. And then, there's the obvious, the leash is a physical extension of my collar, that ultimate outward symbol of his possession of me. And Master doesn't miss the opportunity to reinforce the concept by referring to me as “pet” during our scene. Our 'rigorous training' scene.

So I suppose I should hate the leash… but of course, I don't.

With the human end wrapped around his hand and the cold buckle snapped into the hardware around my neck, we're tethered. He leads, I follow. He commands, I obey. Our connection is sealed, and the distance between us is limited to the length of that chain. In some kinky high school, kids would be learning about equal and opposite reactions. I'm owned, but he's bound as well. Okay, it's not equal; he can let go any time. Here's the thing: he doesn't.

How do I feel about his leash, then? Do I resent the cold links as they slide through my wetness, gathering evidence of my eagerness for my Master in lieu of his warm, skilled fingers? Am I humiliated when he lays the length of it down along my back, leaving the handle to dangle between my legs like a tail? Does it make me shiver to catch the steely glint in his eyes as he solicitously stretches that leash in front of me while he supervises my toilet visit?


And more, please.

I'll try not to get ahead of myself this time and project into the future. I trust Master to lead me where I need to go.

By the way, I'm writing again. The link is in my profile. Come say hi…here or there.

With deepest gratitude for you, Master,
~your princess

Isabella's already out of bed by the time the alarm rouses me…well, wakes me. Isabella's taken care of the rousing, as usual, even in slumber.

Jesus, Cullen, twice on a night off and still rock hard in the morning? I throw the covers off and rub my hand back and forth over my engorged cock before spinning onto my feet. My dick twitches in aggravation.

Sorry, dude. I need to get my ass to the gym this morning.

He's unimpressed.

I step through my bedroom doorway to let Bella know to go on without me, and she barrels into me, all purposeful and corporate. I settle her with a firm hand on her arm. "Y'okay there?"

"Oh, shit! Sorry, Edward…I—"

Her lips twist into a smile as she takes in the very naked wall she just encountered. "You're not quite ready to go…to work, I mean."

Her eyes land on my readiness, stirring my cock anew, opportunistic bastard. I almost feel sorry for him.

"No," I chuckle. "Not quite. I need to work out this morning before I start my exciting round two of software updates. The most exercise I got yesterday at work was rubbing shoulders with the suits upstairs."

"Yeah…we didn't get around to talking about that, and shoot, I really have to go."

She reaches up to peck me on the lips. Her face pinks up and she asks the beginning of a question. "So…later…?"

"Your Master will send instructions."

"Okay," she pulls away, just flustered enough to warm the dom in me. A little extra effort is required to tuck myself into my gym shorts after our encounter, but it's well worth it.

As I check in at the front counter of the rooftop gym, I inquire about purchasing a guest membership for Isabella. One signature later, I'm handed a laminated plastic card with Isabella’s name in bold letters. 

The automatic charge on my credit card will continue as long as I wish, up to a year. After that, she'd have to be on the lease to continue. A year. Seems like enough time to decide if she wants to be on the lease with me.

I start with a slow jog on the treadmill, working up to a faster run once my muscles warm up. There's a bank of televisions and a lively crowd of people filling the smallish room, but my head space is fully occupied with preparing our scene for tonight. The details present themselves to me like plump, juicy offerings of ripened fruit, swirling around until each falls into place. By the time I've finished my last bench press, I know I'll never make it to work without relieving the tension.

Alone in my shower, I lather my hair and body efficiently so I have time for a quick tug. In my mind's eye, I'm crisply dressed for the opera in black tie.

Polished from head to black patent leather slide-ons.

Black onyx studs defining the midline of my pleated shirt.

Classic black satin bowtie taking the place of black velvet this time around.

On my arm, my sweet Isabella, a gorgeous vision of elegance.

Hair expertly twisted into a graceful updo I can clearly picture unfurling just after the show.

Eyes enhanced with liner, mascara, and enough shadow to be able to tell she cares.

Lips embellished with a deep, classy shade of crimson and topped with a wet sheen of gloss just begging to be licked off.

Ivory satin gloves cover her modestly from fingertip to the beginning of the bulge of her bicep.

A single strand of pearls bends at her collar bones and plummets between her naked breasts, falling open again to encompass her navel, and resting delicately such that every stride of her five-inch silver-heeled stilettos causes the creamy discs at the base of the "U" to slap against her bare pussy.

I steer her deftly through the milling crowd, pinching her gloved elbows together behind her back as the greedy onlookers "accidentally" brush against her, sampling what only I possess. Men and women alike bump their rough fabrics against Isabella's soft skin, sequins scratching her nipples and rough wool trousers chafing her bare thighs. She suffers each indignity with an inner serenity born of the knowledge that she does so for my pleasure.

We don't even make it to the other side of the lobby before I burst into my slippery hand, bracing myself with my forehead against the shower wall.

"…If you could drop this off to her at your earliest…"

My ears perk up as my open door and tenuous concentration have allowed strains of female discourse to enter my consciousness. I move to investigate, and when I reach my doorway, two pairs of surprised eyes turn my way.

"Bella, sorry to disturb you. Alice was just—"

Alice turns to Jessica, stunned at her impropriety. "Jessica," she hisses, "it's Miss Swan."

"No, Alice, it's fine." And because Jessica has now turned a dark shade of red, I repeat to her, "Jessica, it's fine. It's good. It's what I want."

Alice leaves it alone and grabs the pile of mail from Jessica's desk. "Your mail. Jasper asked me to bring it down. He said he didn't want to disrupt you…again." There's a definite bitter note to her voice.

"Thank you. That's very kind…of both of you. Sorry, the holidays got away from me, I'll take care of that change of address as soon as possible."

A look passes between Alice and Jessica, and I believe Alice has just ordered Jessica to the post office.

"Also," Alice continues, somewhat less forcefully, "Jasper wondered when you could come by for your things. At home, I mean."

Home? Our home? His home? Their home? Realizing her gaffe, she looks away just for a second, but it's enough to tell me everything. Well, whaddya know? They're shacking up!

Though I could do well without her possessive attitude right now, I have to say I'm actually really happy to learn that things seem to be progressing between them. A mated Jasper means a less guilty me. Plus, I'm truly happy that the two of them are finding happiness together.

On a smug side note, I feel a certain satisfaction at having helped shove the two of them into each other's paths.

"Sure, Alice. We can't tonight…" because my Master will be doing all kinds of dirty things to me, "but tomorrow evening might work."

"Just get back to me when you know."

Oh, Alice is going to play gatekeeper to Jasper now. "Will do, Alice. Good to see you," I answer back as sweetly as I can. Sweet really isn't my thing. I set my mail in my inbox and reflexively pull out my phone.

E- Jas is bristling about getting my stuff. Gotta get there soon.

He answers over an hour later. Sry it took me so long to get back. One of the updates blew up. Did u want to go tonight and just do a shorter scene later?

Hmm, uncomfortable scene with ex or steamy scene with Master? Lemme think... No, not tonight!

:) OK. How about tomrw on our way to Ang & Gar?

Didn't want you & J to clash- was going to ask Ang to help

No don't. J & I are good. Talked yesterday. Besides, you'll need muscle

Wow. Great. Thx! Gonna fill me in?

Sure. At some point. He just wanted to make sure I'm treating you right. Speaking of- what time can u leave today?

You are. 6

K. Onto the next machine…lifestyles of rich & famous!

I pass the intel along to Alice and try to remain focused on Warwick while awaiting Master's command.

I stop by my desk after lunch to check my work emails and trouble reports. It's still quiet as the holiday coma persists. There's a natural lull after year end before all the earnings reports start flying in. Every quarter, the information is gathered more efficiently and the lull gets shorter.

Ever get the feeling you're cutting off your nose to spite your own face?

Emmett is just cleaning the remains of lunch off the side table in Rosalie's office when she notices me. 

Leaving Emmett to his cleanup detail, she makes a rare visit to my cubicle. With the ease of the player enjoying the home team advantage—despite our relative positions—I relax back in my chair, heels hitched up on the steel legs above the casters, and lock my hands together over my stomach.

"How are the updates going?" she asks, though I know it's not important enough to warrant her visit.

"I'm ahead of schedule, even though Brewster's machine decided to freeze up on me."

"Good," she says tightly, almost smiling. "Then you have a few minutes to spare?"

"Sure. Now?" Let's face it. She's still the boss.

She peers through the glass to check on Emmett's progress. "In five?"

I nod and she turns on her heel and retreats.

I scroll through my emails, no fewer than forty-seven of which are on the topic of Swan Chat. The villagers are sharpening their pitchforks, an amusing development but not one requiring technical support.

"Rose says to go on in," Emmett informs me as he drops into his chair with a loud sigh.

"Not looking too zippy there, buddy," I say, clapping him loudly on the back as I pass behind his chair.

"Friggin' updates," he mutters.

I'm still chuckling as I round the corner to her doorway. "Shut the door behind you, please."


She gestures to the same chair I sat in yesterday and minces no words. "I read your proposal, and it's good."

"Thank you," I say cautiously, waiting for shoe number two to drop on my head. Or kick me in the balls.

Suddenly, she takes what seems to be a ninety-degree turn in the conversation. "What do you want, Edward?"

"What do you mean?" I sit up in my chair so I don't miss anything important.

"Are you gunning for my job?"



"I respect you, Edward. I respect your work, and I respect that you don't tolerate bullshit. So please, show me the same consideration. I know you'd been with this company six years when they recruited me in from the outside, right over your head. That must've stung."

Jesus. We are being direct, aren't we?

Had I wanted the prestige of the promotion? Sure. Could I use an extra forty to sixty grand? You bet. 

Would it have felt good to be recognized by the muckety muck powers that be? Absolutely.

But did I want her job and all the political bullshit of being a department head? Hell to the no. So I can answer with a perfectly clear conscience.

"I wouldn't mind your salary, but no, I have no aspirations to be the head of IT."

She laughs at my answer, one she clearly wasn't expecting. I have no idea what she thought I'd say.

"Okay," she says, the first genuine smile I've ever seen gracing her face. She's actually not bad looking when she lets down her guard and disengages her fangs. "So I'm asking you again," she repeats. "What is it that you want?"

"I want the lead on this project. I'd really like to do one-on–one mentoring with some of the old timers who might have no clue what they're missing and run workshops where I can enhance people's understanding of some of the powerful tools that we're not utilizing nearly enough throughout the company. I want to hear the challenges out there and help solve them. And if that all includes a raise, I'd be even happier."

Rosalie nods in what seems to be agreement. "Okay. Let's float the plan, with your name on it, of course, and see how it plays upstairs."

Wow. No petty jealousy or attempted thievery of ideas. I think Rosalie and I have just reached a critical level of understanding. She stands and offers a hand across her desk. "Thank you, Edward. I hope you'll get support for this plan. I think the company could really benefit , and this could be a model for a new type of corporate IT department."

Her hand shake is firm and confident. She no longer seems to feel threatened, and that should make working together a whole lot more pleasant.

7:00 -On your knees
Naked, hair down
Outside the Master bedroom
Show me eager

"Just one passenger this evening, Miss Swan?" Domenic looks slightly forlorn at not seeing Edward at all today, and I wonder for a moment whether it's on my behalf or his own.

"Yes, Domenic." I find myself compelled to explain, "Edward will be making his own way home tonight."

"Very well, ma'am."

I pull my phone out automatically and scroll through the messages. My hand shakes for a second over the entry:

[Comment on your Journal] Entry 2: Leash

It takes a bit longer to log in through my phone, but I finally get into the account. The name is familiar, and I already know I'll find support in her message.

Hello Princess

I am relieved that you have taken heed of the sage advice offered by the respondents to your first Journal entry. It looks like I was not the only one concerned about your seeming instinct to break out into a cross-country run instead of checking the route first and taking a more carefully considered hike through a more leisurely and enjoyable trail.

With your comment that you are trying not to get ahead of yourself and project into the future, and you trusting your Master to lead where you need to go, it sounds like your Master's leash is definitely helping you with that. A wonderful insight there for me.

Your author's profile is one that I am very familiar with, and I'm pleased to see you have started writing again. I look forward to reading and reviewing your next updates of both erotica and Journal.

Please continue to keep your head, and stay safe.
Less Than Vanilla

Ah yes, more warnings to stay safe, be careful, hike slowly. I'll do my best, LTV, but with a man like Edward…? I tap out a response to that effect.


There's an additional response and I open it eagerly:

Well Princess...I can honestly say, you make me want to head to Petco and find a leash.
“…the handle to dangle between my legs like a tail…”?
Um...the visual is excellent. Maybe next time he can find a butt plug with a tail attached for you :)

Desperately wishing I was puppy dog instead of kitkat :)

Holy shit! This one is a firecracker! A butt plug with a tail? I squirm in my seat. How long before Master decides to spring this "pleasure" on me? I love her breezy tone and decide to answer her as well:

KK- TBH, I'm kind of a…novice (back there) and I'm starting to feel like I might be the only girl left on the planet who's not exactly keen to change that fact. I do trust Master, but….gah! Thx for the chuckles! ~p

Traffic is light and Domenic delivers me with plenty of time to spare. Still, I rush upstairs and peel off my clothing in haste. Wrapping my hair inside the shower cap, I scrub and shave myself clean. My laptop beckons me, and I check to find that I've got fifteen minutes till Master will be home. Anxious for more feedback, I open my first review on HEA 6:

Oh thank f*ck, OMK! I thought for sure you were gone for good. I came to read chapter 5 the other day and "Poof" it wasn't there! It was like you had disappeared off the face of the earth! I was so worried that our favorite DP and his little sub-princess would not get their HEA. So thanks so much for coming back to repost your fic and adding a new chapter to boot. It made my day. But can I be honest, OMK? EWWWW on the whole kingdom trying on the panties! Trying on the glass slipper was bad enough, but wet panties? Are you kidding me? Let's hope that Dark Prince really knew who he was after and sent the soldiers straight to the one house. And seriously, I think the bumpy ride to the palace probably got her even more soaked if you know what I'm sayin'! Great stuff, OMK! Can't wait for more! -Beans

I don't recognize this reviewer's name but I'm thrilled that she actually noticed I was gone for a while! I respond:

Beans-Yes, passing a pair of wet panties throughout the kingdom is DEFINITELY gross (not to mention they would most likely have hardened and cracked by this point) but isn't that the fun of the fantasy? The extra slice of humiliation? Thanks so much for your support! Hope I'll see you in my inbox again soon. OMK

I scurry into place outside Master's room. Recalling my training, I sit back on my heels, making myself as tall as I'm able, and clasp my hands together behind my back.

Show me eager. I force my knees apart and relax my jaw open as he taught me. I need only picture him walking through the door to find myself wet and ready. My heart pounds as I hear the ding of the elevator.

"Sir, may I help you with something?" Andre asks.

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks."

"Of course, sir," Andre answers. It's no wonder he's wary of me; I've been pacing the lobby of my building for the last twenty minutes. One can't pop in on a sub before the appointed time, so here I am, circling, vamping, and looking pretty darn ridiculous with a big bagful of dinner from Boston Market to boot.

Finally it's almost seven, and as I ride up the elevator, I remember the last time I met Isabella this way. She'd had a minor screw-up in the car that threatened to derail our night. I promise myself to be highly vigilant of her demeanor.

My apartment is quiet as I click the door shut quietly behind me, and I'm reminded briefly of the way life used to be before Isabella. Empty and lonely…surviving, but not living.

The room is still, but there are subtle clues. Isabella's keys rest on the entry table, for starters. The dining table is adorned with last night's candlesticks. Though I can't see down the dark hallway just yet, I feel her presence immediately. Shedding my messenger bag next to the door and our dinner on the kitchen counter, I slip into Master mode.

Isabella comes into view as I step around the couch, and my eyes don't leave her profile as I approach. She feels me getting closer, but she doesn't turn; instead, she sits up even taller, forcing her chest forward. She's exhibiting eager.

I sense a quickening in her breath as I come to a stop between her knees. Her eyes focus straight ahead, at the base of my fly. Her mouth forms a relaxed oval. She's remembered everything.

I reach down and skim my hand from her forehead back, gathering a handful of hair and tipping her head up to face me. "Good evening, princess. You look beautiful tonight."

"Hello, Master," she answers with an easy smile. I don't see any need for damage control.

"Set the table for one while I change." I release her and pass into my room, shucking my work clothes as I head straight to my closet. I pull on my cargos with nothing else, and fill the pockets with all kinds of goodies from my supply cabinet. I have some ideas, but it's a fluid scene. I wash up quickly and grab her collar.

She's not only done as I'd asked, but she's also relit the remains of the candles left on the table. Classy.

"Nice touch," I compliment. "Are you ready for your collar, Isabella?"

"Yes, Master."

I meet her behind my chair, collar her, and send her to her knees. I set out the rotisserie chicken and all the side dishes, and fill my plate with a bit of everything. Settling into my chair, I place my napkin in my lap.

"Thirsty, sweetheart?"

"No, Master, I'm okay."

I slice off a piece of thigh meat, drag it through mashed potatoes, butternut squash and creamed spinach, and draw it into my mouth. The first bite's always the best. Salty, sweet, smoky…mmmm. I cut a piece for Isabella, take it between my fingers, and place it into her open mouth. While she's chewing, I reach into the mashed potatoes mounded on my plate, and pull off a dollop with my fingertips. She opens again when I present the food to her, and I settle the potatoes into her mouth and leave my fingers to be licked clean.

“I hope you appreciate that I've traded in corn for spinach tonight, knowing how you feel about the demise of America and all.” I scoop a portion of dark soggy leaves marbled with white, knowing full well the overly creamed vegetables wouldn't count as a serving of green vegetable in Isabella's book any more than the forsaken corn. It's a little harder to transfer the spinach without dribbling some along her chin, and I swipe up the excess with my thumb, again presenting it to her for cleaning.

"Tell me when you've had enough," I instruct, pushing a glop of squash in her mouth. "So tonight, your training continues," I tell her, pausing to take in a forkful of food for myself. She waits patiently until I continue. "In a very short time, you have already proven yourself to be a phenomenal worshipper, and you've clearly soaked in the finer points of how to give to your Master."

"Thank you, Master."

"You are most welcome," I answer, settling another slice of meat onto her tongue. "So tonight is going to be about taking."

Spinach in.

"Taking food from my fingers."

Fingers rolled along tongue.

"Taking pleasure from these same hands." She glances hungrily at my fingers as I slide them out of her mouth.

"And taking whatever else I choose to mete out..." Her breath hitches as she looks at my fingers poised between us. "…to suit my own amusement."

Potatoes in.

"You probably think that taking will be easier than giving, but you might be surprised before the night is through."

"I've had enough to eat, Master," she says.

"What's the matter, princess, did I kill your appetite?"


  1. Evening once again Born. Last chapter I did not touch base on that last reply to her journal. I was wondering at the beginning of this chapter if it wasn't Alice. Now I don't think so. What a bitch. It makes sense now that we know they are shacking up but still? Does she think there are unresolved feelings for Bella from Jasper? Is she that insecure? I wonder how she feels about Jessica calling Bella, Bella? I'm betting that burned her ass a whole lot. If Alice is just understood at this point that's fine but right now she is not rating very high on my list.

    Something else that has been bothering me and I pushed it aside is checklists.....{It seems like a month ago that we were away from here, in our own little bubble of checklists and collars and leashes, but it's only been two days back in the city. And already, I see a problem.} That was my reminder. Bella made a comment a couple of chapters back that she had not seen Edward's checklist. He commented back that she wasn't going to. Shouldn't he show it to her? I thought that was standard? It almost feels like some of the facts have been left out. There is not a complete picture.

    Her second journal entry....{ So I suppose I should hate the leash… but of course, I don't.

    With the 'human end' wrapped around his hand and the cold buckle snapped into the hardware around my neck, we're tethered. He leads, I follow. He commands, I obey. Our connection is sealed, and the distance between us is limited to the length of that chain. In some kinky high school, kids would be learning about equal and opposite reactions. I'm owned, but he's bound as well. Okay, it's not equal; he can let go any time. Here's the thing: he doesn't.}For starters, she sounds like a dog. LOL. Second, she makes a comment about him leaving, she could too. They both chose this. She was right with the whole ying and yang thing. They both have equal footing.

    His shower fantasy was hot and pretty spot on as something Bella would enjoy. There is just enough humiliation there to keep her on edge. Or at least I think?

    This was funny.....{"What's the matter, Princess, did I kill your appetite?"} That got her squirming. LOL. I know how much she loves to talk. I'm thinking he is referring to her being on the edge, ready to fall off the cliff when he starts asking questions. LMAO.

    Thanks for sharing. Take care and peace. T.

  2. so much to comment on this chapter....Rosalie is direct in her quest to determine if Edward is friend or foe. I like that. She supports him once she sees he's not a foe. I like that more. Alice needs to get that stick out of her ass and realize if Bella hadn't let Jasper go so that she could be free to be herself with Edward, then Alice wouldn't have reaped the benefit of having Jasper for herself....sheesh! it's not her business what Jessica calls Bella, now is it? and oh the starts out in a very tantalizing way and I am eagerly going right on to the next read....can't wait to see how he ups the ante next!!

    1. Yeah, the Bella -Alice relationship was a real mess in this one, wasn't it? :P I felt sorry for all three of them (including Jasper).