Dominating Jess: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella (7 page)

I hesitated again, an
inch away from the leather.

“Taste it now or I
push it into your mouth the same way I shoved my cock in.”

A strong twist of my
right nipple had me gasping and reeling forward, giving the shoe one long lick.
The hands touching me grew more assertive, as if watching me humiliated like
this gave them additional license.

“More,” encouraged
Jake, holding the shoe directly in front of my nose.

I pulled back the
slightest bit, and I knew Jake felt it. “You can do it,” he said, and I
remembered a time perhaps five years before. We’d been in the bar for hours
with a large group of friends. They’d been drinking all night, and they were
all singing along to the jukebox, but I’d been drinking hot tea because I’d had
a cold. Jake had been nursing the same beer all night, and I’d caught him giving
me the look that confused me so much when I’d caught his eye unexpectedly.

“What?” I’d said.

“Nothing,” Jake said,
moving his glass in a small circle on the table top.

“No, what?” He
couldn’t be interested. Not now. Jesus, I’d just gotten together with someone,
a nice guy who liked me, a guy I was meeting later in the evening when he got
off his hospital rotation. Of course, I hadn’t missed the irony that as soon as
I’d become serious with someone, Jake had finally broken up with his girlfriend
of three years, the woman who’d prevented me from ever making a move.

“I was just wondering
if he’s enough for you.”

I raised my eyebrows.
“Steve? What do you mean?”

“Is he man enough to
satisfy you?”

I laughed. “I’m
not
talking about my sex life with you.”

Jake didn’t smile. “So
he’s not.”

I glanced to my left.
All our friends were done singing and were busy shouting something about how
Wendy had cheated at dice. “He’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, he’s
great.”

“Is he man enough to
keep you in line?”

I should have laughed
at such a ridiculous statement. I should have instantly said,
No man can
keep me in line.
That was the truth, after all. Wasn’t it? I took care of
myself. Hell, I’d taken care of the last three men I’d dated, giving way more
than I received, and that had been fine. Up to a point. At my gym, if a student
came at me wrong, with a poor intention or inflated ego, I used the opportunity
to correct them. I wasn’t always gentle. It had been something my last
boyfriend had complained about, actually. “You never let me be the man.” I
hadn’t understood what he meant. When we had sex, he
liked
me to be on
top. He’d told me that a hundred times. He liked the way I took charge of where
we ate, what we did, when we fucked. My new boyfriend reminded me of my ex,
actually, in the way he deferred to what I wanted. I liked that in a man. “A
considerate man is something all women look for.”

Jake only gave a nod.
His smoky gray eyes had lifted to the blinking neon in the window over my head,
and I’d had the feeling I’d disappointed him. I didn’t know how.

Now, though, as he
held the sole of the shoe to me, as if it were a gift, I knew one thing: I
wasn’t disappointing him. The glow in his eyes, the genuine smile on his face,
told me he was proud of me.

Using my tongue,
carefully keeping my lips from touching the shoe, I licked along a seam. The
taste, surprisingly, wasn’t unpleasant—dust mixed with the warm smell of
old polish. I ran my tongue along the heel and then to the toe. I made sure I
wetted every part of the upper, laving it (eagerly now, I was shocked to
realize) as Jake twisted it in front of me. My hands stayed perfectly still and
flat on the seat of the chair. I think if someone had wrapped their arms around
me and tried to carry me away, I would have fought them, just to keep my hands
flat. It was important, as important as the job I was doing on Marco’s shoe.

“That’s my good girl.”

I was right. He
was
proud of me, proud that I was here, proud that he could show me off, proud that
I could take the crowd of eyes staring, the fingers touching. His gaze was like
a kiss, one I’d been waiting years to receive.

I licked the shoe
again, the same direction, cleaning it harder now. Thank god he wasn’t making
me lick the sole. I’d make this fucking rest of this thing shine for him, using
only spit for polish.

Behind me, another
small finger—it had to be a woman’s—gently touched my asshole. I
gasped and choked for a minute on the juices in my mouth. The finger tested me
for just a second, pushing at my tight door before retreating, to my vast
relief. I’d never done anal, had never let a man I loved touch me there, let
alone a stranger I couldn’t see. I’d told Jake I could take just about
anything, would try to do all of this, to see it through to the end. Just not
that
end, I hoped. I took a deep breath and finished cleaning the sole.

Jake said in my ear,
low enough that only I could hear, “You’re devastating.”

The heat of my pride
filled me so fast I felt sweat break at my brow.

He stood, holding the
shoe above his head. “Look, friends! Isn’t she a good whore?’

Shouts greeted him.

“She probably deserves
a reward, doesn’t she?”

More assent came from
the crowd.

“And with such a good
mouth, I think there’s really only thing to give her, am I right? Shall we show
her our favorite game?”

There was a shuffling
as the crowd rearranged itself. Something was happening, something I didn’t
understand, but it was obviously something they did here, that they knew to do.
The few women moved to stand behind me as the men came forward, to flank
themselves around Jake.

And as if
choreographed, the men all opened their flies, taking their cocks into their
hands. Jake’s cock was as huge as it had been when he’d put it away earlier.
This time I knew enough to open my mouth as wide as I could before he even put
the tip in. I was greedy for it now. I wanted to swallow all of it, all of him.

He slid down my
throat, and I waited for my gag reflex to calm, less scared now that I knew it
would. He rammed into my mouth, taking long, steady strokes. He knew I wasn’t
going anywhere. He knew I was here for him, and the feeling of elation that
flooded me made me believe I could take all of him. So I did, my nose hitting
his pubic bone as he pushed down my throat. I breathed like I was
swimming—breath, stroke, breath, stroke—and found a rhythm that
matched his. Keeping my eyes open, I gazed up at him. Instead of keeping his
head back, grunting at the ceiling as past men I’d been with had done, he kept
his eyes down, looking at me. He put his hand on top of my head, not using it
to pull me forward—he didn’t have to. Instead he kept it there, a
welcome, heavy warmth.

To either side of me,
men were getting close to coming. They pulled and jerked and brought their
cocks as close to me as possible. In the process, several of them whacked each
other. Instead of jumping away, they didn’t seem to notice or mind. Knuckles
rubbed against knuckles as the members battled for space, and my ears were full
of the sound of busy flesh.

In my mouth, Jake was
getting harder, ramming the back of my throat harder. He groaned above me but
when I looked up, he still had his gray eyes fixed on mine.

I needed to taste him.
I needed him to come in my mouth, to flood my throat. I shifted my tongue, pressing
it down into the base of my mouth to give him even more room.

As if they’d practiced
it (and maybe, I realized, they had), all the men seemed to get closer to
relief. Their moans were louder, their breathing faster now. Slaps of flesh and
groaning drowned out the classical music again. I heard the women whisper to
each other, small satisfied chuckles. I wished for a moment I was one of them,
watching a girl get her mouth fucked while her man got ready to come on her
face.

Then I realized that
it was a million times better to
be
the girl at the center of this cock
attention.

Jake shifted his hand
to the back of my neck, and even though I thought I couldn’t deep throat him
any more than I already was, he pushed into me harder. I could barely breathe
now, and I saw dancing white lights at the edges of my vision. As his movement
stuttered, as his muscles contracted, I heard him say gutturally, “Now.”

As he shot his hot
load onto the back of my throat, as he pulled me toward him and held me there,
cutting off my breath even more, I felt again that pressure at my ass.
Something cold and liquid dripped on me, and then before I could pull away, a
slim, very cold object was shoved in my asshole. Even though I could tell it
wasn’t very big, it still hurt like hell, tearing at a place that had never
been touched before. The cold pain behind me combined with the hot, salty come
in my mouth, and at that moment the other men started to spurt, as if they’d
just been waiting for Jake to give them permission. I felt come hit my cheeks,
my hair, my exposed neck, my breasts. I closed my eyes for a moment as one man
aimed for my temple and jerked his cock up, milking it six, seven times. The
smell of come filled my nose, and I pulled away from Jake long enough to take
in a choked breath, to push back those dancing white lights. Then I
deep-throated him again, his own liquids lubricating my now-open throat.

Above me, he laughed
in what sounded like complete joy. Even though I was consumed by the pain at my
asshole, I felt something cold at the base of my spine, and the sound of a
chain rattled. As the last remaining men came on me, raining thick white
streams onto my skin, the small red-haired woman who had been staring at me
earlier came forward, the chain in her hand. She gave it to Jake, who slid out
of my mouth unceremoniously. I remained forward over the chair, gasping,
pulling in breath, closing my lips as Zee shot his load directly at my mouth.

Jake said, “Oh, my
whore, you are
covered
in come. You’re dripping.”

It wasn’t the only
place I was dripping. Even with the fire in my ass (now easing a bit as I
breathed into it), I could feel my pussy was inflamed and as wet as my face.

“You deserve
such
a reward, whore.” And with that, Jake tugged the chain.

I toppled forward,
folding at my stomach over the top of the chair. The chain was directly
connected to the steel hook in my ass. As he pulled, I would have followed him
anywhere, if I hadn’t been hobbled at the ankles, if I hadn’t been stuck where
I was. My hands, though, I hoped he’d be pleased to note, still hadn’t slipped
on the seat of the chair. Even though the pain was intense as he teased and
tugged on the chain, I kept my hands in place. He’d told me not to move them,
and I would make him proud.

“Stand, my little
slut,” said Jake.

I did, stretching my
back as I did so. The man nearest me was standing stock-still, openmouthed,
staring at me. With one leg swipe, I could have brought him down. Just
imagining doing it made me feel better.

Standing seem to drive
the anal hook farther in and even though I clenched and relaxed, I couldn’t
shake the feeling of being stretched, inside and out. Come dripped from both my
nipples and I started shaking as if I were freezing, though I wasn’t. I was hot
as hell.

Around me, most of the
men had lost interest in me completely. They backed away, zipping their flies,
chatting as if they were in a cafe, drifting back to their cards. They’d just
come on a whore, and now they were going to have another drink.

My cheeks flamed as
much as my ass did.

Jake slid the chair to
the side so that I was facing him. He still held the chain. He affixed it to
the back of my collar and tightened it somehow, so that when he pulled on my
leash at the front of my collar, the hook in my ass behind me went in deeper.
He tested it twice, and seemed satisfied by my gasps. The woman handed Jake two
more thin chains. He affixed them to the front of my collar, then draped them
toward my breasts. The nipple clamps came out from his pocket, and I silenced the
inner groan I felt. My poor nipples, sore to the very air, couldn’t take much
more.

Maybe Jake could read
the doubt on my face. “Can you take a little more playtime?”

I nodded.

“You can talk now.
Tell me, Jess, did this satisfy your curiosity about yourself? Did you realize
that you hate this, and that you’d rather go back to the hotel and call your
boyfriend? Tell him what to do?’

Frowning, I didn’t
know what he wanted me to say. And besides, I’d broken up with my boyfriend the
week before we left. I just hadn’t told Jake.

“Because I can do
that. Take you back. This can be the end. Tomorrow we can go to the natural
history museum. Or we could go eat crepes. You can take pictures to show your
guy what he’s missing. And honestly, Jess. That would be more than fine. I’m
proud of what you did today.”

I could hear it in his
voice. This was my friend, the Jake I knew. I could choose to go back to the
hotel, and if I wanted to pretend none of this had ever happened, he would go
along with it. We’d go back to exactly the way we’d always been. I’d keep
telling my boyfriends where I wanted to eat and how to make love to me.