Surrender: Guilty Pleasures #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (13 page)

I thought about this for a
minute. There didn’t seem to be a down-side. We’d get a different perspective,
see how others acted. I nodded.

“I think it’s a good idea. We’re
kind of in our own little bubble here. Seeing others… meeting others…yeah. I
think it would be good.”

Jake’s face relaxed, a broad
smile on his face. “Good. I’m glad. I’ll make the arrangements. From what I’ve
heard about of the club, you need an invitation. I’ll take care of it and let
you know when we can go.”

***

Jake and I fell into a routine
over the next couple weeks, while we waited for an invitation to the club. We’d
have dinner during the week, spend the evening at Jake’s, in the bed in the
tower room, and he’d drive me home later. During the week the bed was dressed
in soft linens and blankets and pillows, a stark contrast from the plain black
sheet of the weekend.

***

It was during one of these
dinners that Jake presented me with an elegantly wrapped box. We weren’t in
session so I was free to oh and ah as much as I wanted…and to question what it
was.

“Open it, Abby.” Jake was
patiently waiting for me to untie the cream colored satin ribbon. The black
wrapping paper fell away from a black velvet box. I opened it cautiously,
peering beneath the cover.

“It’s not going to bite you, Abby.”
Jake was laughing at my trepidation. “It’s not alive.”

The box held a necklace, a length
of interlocking rings that looked like a miniature piece of chainmail. It was
beautifully constructed, weighty and solid as I held it in my hand, but sinuous
and sensual as it flowed over my fingers.

“Jake, it’s beautiful.” I looked
at him. He appeared to be waiting for me to say something else.

“Thank you.” After a beat of
silence he took the chain, turning it in my hands until the clasp faced me. I
looked closely; it was a tiny pair of interlocked handcuffs.

“It’s a slave necklace. I thought
it would be more comfortable—and prettier—to wear on a daily basis
than the leather collar. We’ll save that for sessions.”

I looked down at the necklace,
and all that it represented, the weight it carried, not just in its solid
silver links but between Jake and I. I closed my eyes for a moment. While this
wasn’t a traditional relationship, the necklace seemed to represent a
commitment of some kind. Did I want that commitment, and that responsibility?

I looked up at Jake. There were
so many emotions playing across his face, but the biggest one was something
akin to fear. I held his gaze for a moment and then held the necklace out to
him. He almost flinched away from me, but took the chain.

“Would you put it on for me?” I
turned on the banquette, lifting the hair from my neck. After a moment, I felt
the cool silver against my skin, the weight settle on my neck. There was a tiny
click as Jake fastened the clasp, a soft sound but it seemed to echo through
the restaurant.

I turned back to Jake. The look
of relief on his face was so palpable, I would have laughed. But I didn’t think
that was the right thing to do at the moment. Instead I leaned forward, kissing
him gently, brushing my lips over his, my tongue catching a hint of the bourbon
he’d had before dinner.

Jake was attentive and gentle
that night in the tower room, the sex long and slow. He approached me almost in
an attitude of gratitude. I wasn’t sure, afterward, lying in the dark, if the
necklace was really for me, or for him in some way. I fingered the silver,
counting the links with my fingers, almost like a tiny set of prayer beads.
Or
worry beads.

***

“We’ve got an invitation to the
club.” Jake’s voice on the phone was excited. “A week from Saturday. We’ll be
guests of the club’s owner, Chase Thomas.”

Even though I was expecting the
news, my heart did a little stutter-step. A bondage club had never entered my
mind until Jake suggested it. But I was also very excited at the prospect of
going. And, as usual, I panicked over what to wear.

“Relax. Chase said there’s no
real dress code; you’re not required to wear latex or anything. Just be
comfortable.”
Latex?

“Although, if you’re going to be
a sub and join in any party-play, you’d probably want something appropriate…you
know, sexy and with easy access. Then again, pretty much anything you wear
looks sexy, but I’m biased.”

“What are you wearing?” I tried
the typical girl turn-around; ask someone else what they are wearing to the
party. It didn’t work.

“I’d like to choose an outfit for
you, Abby. I can, as your Dom, do that. You will be in submissive role and I’d
like you to be in something of my choosing.  It would be my pleasure.”

I could hear the smile in his voice;
almost see the glint in his eyes as he contemplated me in various types of
bondage gear. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You want to take me shopping?” I
detest shopping.

“No, there’s no need for that.
I’ll have a selection sent to your apartment and then you can decide. And
surprise me.” There was a definite lascivious tone to his voice.

“Fine. I’ll agree to
that…Master.” There was a laugh from the other end.

“I know you’re nervous; I am too.
But it’ll be fine. If nothing else, you’ll end up with a new wardrobe for
session play and we’ll come away with some good stories. But I think it’ll be
good for both of us.”

There was a large box waiting at
my apartment door when I got home from work the next evening. It was
appropriately wrapped in plain brown paper. I dragged it into my bedroom,
gingerly opening the box, not quite sure what to expect.

And I was unprepared for what was
inside; some of it leather, all of it black. Much of it, as I looked at it
lying on my bed, made no sense; there were straps and buckles and widgets.
Nothing seemed remotely like something a human body would wear.

But then I saw it, an outfit I
could…
would
wear. It was a black leather corset that laced up the back,
with a zipper up the front.
Easy access, Jake. You’ve got it.
And it
fit. I put it on.

There was a short black skirt,
something shiny, very short. I cringed but put that on as well. It had a zipper
that went from hem to waistband. I thought about it for a minute; I wasn’t sure
if the zipper went in the front or the back. But then I realized it didn’t
matter. Either way would have the desired effect. I put it on with the zipper
at the back.

There were at least a dozen pairs
of thigh-high stockings in the box: fishnets, lace, sheer…all black. I found a
garter, figured out the straps and clips, added a pair of lace-patterned
stockings.

My own shoe fetish provided a
pair of black heels, ‘fuck-me pumps’ as Leslie was fond of calling them. They
added at least four inches to my height and gave me the illusion of having
longer, thinner legs… or I hoped they did.

I stood in front of the
full-length mirror, something I rarely did. But now, I almost couldn’t walk
away.

It was me, only it was more
me…and in a good way. The corset pulled me in and pushed me up and out, giving
the curves I had more definition. The skirt hugged my hips and ass, and somehow
didn’t make them look huge.

And yes, the shoes did make my
legs look miles long. Covered in the black lace, they looked pretty damn good.

I wanted to call Jake and tell
him, but I really wanted him to be surprised.  While I was putting away
the assortment of items I was confused about, the phone rang.

“Did you get the box? Did you
find something you like?” Jake’s voice was Christmas-morning excited.

“Yes, Jake. I did. And I’m not
telling you what I picked out. You’ll have to be surprised.” I was actually
going to enjoy this.

“Alright. I guess I’ll have to be
patient.” There was a pause, and what sounded like a resigned sigh. “I have a
bit of bad news though. My board of directors has scheduled a shareholders’
meeting for next week. I’ll be out of town until early Saturday morning…the
morning of our club date.”

My heart sank. “Oh.”
Crap.

“I’m going to miss you, Abby,
miss our dinners and talking with you.”

Miss just dinners and talking?
Not miss our sessions?

“I’ll miss you too, Jake. And
I’ll miss our sessions.”

“Yes, I’ll miss our sessions too.
I had all kinds of devious things planned for you. But, they’ll just have to
wait until after our club date.”

“When are you leaving? Can’t we
have a session this weekend?” I detected a hint of panic in my voice.
Where
was this coming from?

“I’ll have to spend the weekend
here, or at the office, prepping for the meetings. There’s some policy changes
at the local and state level that’s gotten the shareholders nervous. But I
don’t want to bore you with the details. It just means I’m not going to be
around before the club date, except by phone.”

“Oh.” There was nothing else I
could think to say. My heart was tripping along in my chest, a funny syncopated
beat.

“Abby? Are you okay?” There was
concern in Jake’s voice.

“Well, yes…no, I’m not sure. This
is…whatever I’m feeling is a bit scary. I’m not sure how to explain it.” And I
didn’t think I could explain it to myself at the moment.

“Listen, Jake. It’s fine…I’m
fine. It just took me off guard. And sometimes I don’t respond to change very
well.” I forced a smile into my voice.

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “I’ll
just play dress up with all these new clothes, spank myself and think of you.”
There was a brief silence and a subdued laugh on the line.

“You have a really unusual way of
putting things into perspective, Abby.”

After he hung up, I sat down
among the welter of leather and fishnet and Pleather. My panicky feelings had
subsided somewhat. I tried to decide just what I was feeling. Normally, when
some guy said he couldn’t see me, I took it as rejection, he didn’t like me
anymore, and I’d have cried myself to sleep. But with Jake, that wasn’t it. I
believed him when he said he’d be working and I had no doubt he’d be back.

It was something deeper. I was
going to miss him; our routine had become something stable in my life, our
dinners and sessions something I looked forward to.

I shook my head.
Maybe it’s
the submissive in me.
Was I going to miss Jake as my dominant? Was that the
reason hearing about his absence sent me into a tailspin?

This was more than I cared to
think about at the moment. I finished packing up the box of clothes and tucked
it into my closet. I hung the skirt, corset and stockings on a hanger, leaving
it hanging on my closet door, where I could look at it. And I did want to look
at it; it was a really erotic outfit. And I was going to be wearing it.

I curled up on the bed with the
cat, trying to rekindle my dampened enthusiasm. I really was going to miss Jake.
A week seemed like an eternity.

***

On the Saturday of our club date,
I was beyond excited. I’d booked a facial, waxing session, and pedicure and
manicure. After all that attention, I felt sexy and confident, actually pretty.
I wasn’t sure this feeling would carry me through the whole night, but starting
out on a positive note couldn’t hurt.

Looking in the mirror, I deemed
myself ready. I’d used far more make-up than I usually wore, playing with
dramatic eye make-up and red lipstick. Even though it was over the top, it
looked pretty good with the new outfit. It may end up all over my face at some
point, but at least I’d look good in the beginning.

Jake came to pick me up at ten
o’clock. I’d had a nap in the afternoon and managed to eat a meal, even though
my nerves had destroyed my appetite. I’d even put out an extra bowl of cat food
for the cat, just in case things ran late. When I answered the door, I was
breathless, both from nerves and because I hadn’t seen Jake in over a week.

I had a glimpse of him, in a
tight black t-shirt and dark jeans, looking understated but enormously sex. But
he had me in his arms before the door was even closed, his kiss full of the
same longing I had felt all week. I melted against his body, letting him claim
my mouth with his, settling some of the butterflies in my stomach.

It was a long time before we came
up for air. Jake held me, looking down into my eyes, running his fingers
through my hair.

“I’ve missed you, Abby.” And then
his eyes slid lower, widening a bit. He held me at arm’s length, his eyes
taking in my outfit, turning me in a slow circle.

“Wow.” The word was barely audible,
more exhaled than spoken.

“At a loss for words, Jake? That
doesn’t happen very often.”

I smiled up at him. “I take it
you approve of my choice?”

“I approve very much. You look
amazing, Abby.” His hands had started roaming over my body, trying to pull the
various zippers up and down. I slapped his hands.

“No, no…not for you, or not now.
This is for later.”

He laughed, pulling me close
again. “Are you topping from the bottom again, or do you want to switch roles?”
He tried kissing me, but I ducked out of his arms.

“We need to go, Jake. Seriously.
But first I need your help with this.” I picked up the slave necklace Jake had
given me, holding it out to him.

“Please put it on me, Master.” I
watched his face, his expression changing from his excitement at seeing me to
the realization that I was now in my submissive role. I briefly wondered if
that was disobedience, but I didn’t think so. Apparently Jake didn’t either.

“Turn around, Abby.” I obeyed. Jake’s
voice had taken on that tone he used in our sessions, the velvet-over-fire tone
that affected me deeply. I felt my heart skip a beat and knew from now on, I
was in charge. There was something highly erotic in knowing that, along with a
profound sense of comfort. It felt right.