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Aaron's Jewel -- Cris Anson

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Aaron's Jewel

Finding a position as corporate legal counsel in one’s middle-50s after being downsized sucks, so Aaron haunts his local dungeon to soothe his frustration. Feeling squeezed by work and family obligations, ghost writer Julia turns up at the same dungeon to do “research” for her current assignment.

The moment they meet, the dominant in Aaron recognizes the submissive in Julia.

He peels away the layers of her shyness along with her clothes. He gets her—his Jewel—naked and writhing against the cross and over the spanking bench. And she revels in his dominance and tutelage, discovering her wanton self whether tied to a bed in private or blindfolded and the target of many hands in public.

But real life isn’t all adult fun and games. Not when grown children, parents, careers and aging bodies conspire to challenge their burgeoning relationship.

 

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
An Excerpt From: Aaron’s Jewel
Copyright © CRIS ANSON, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

 

“So the guy really was a submissive. I wondered.”

They sat in a corner booth, he with black coffee, she with raspberry zinger tea, both of which were refills. Aaron smiled at her comment.

“You’d pretty much have to be from Antarctica not to figure it out. I mean, he sat there, not touching his food until Lady Lust—Deirdra, I think her name is—took a French fry and offered it to him.”

“Right, then he took a bite, stuffed the rest of it in his mouth then picked up his fork. Huh. So it was more than just being polite and waiting until everyone else was served and eating before he did the same.”

“I think she’s training him to be twenty-four-seven. And he seems to be enjoying it.”

“That’s one of the things that’s hardest for me to edit, the mind-set of a submissive, especially a male submissive. It seems like a difficult thing to do, give up your every ounce of free will to someone else.”

He’d been fascinated by some of her stories concerning interaction with authors, of arguing a point of plot or characterization, of where she thought she lacked accuracy and was trying to remedy that by coming to the eat-and-beat tonight. She had finally, he thought, circled around to what she really wanted to know.

“It all depends on chemistry. It starts slowly, just like in any relationship. The Dominant will give the submissive a chore, something simple, either sexual or not, and praise him or her on completion of the task. The next time it goes a step further, the gravity of the submission keeping pace with the emotional growth of the relationship.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “So if I were to ask you to go to the men’s room and remove your shorts or briefs and bring them back to the table for me…”

This time he couldn’t hold back a wide smile. “You could ask.”

Her gaze met his and he could have sworn he’d touched a live electrical wire, her eyes were so alive.

“Would you?”

“Would I what?” He wouldn’t make it easy for her.

A breathless “Take off your briefs and come back to the table commando.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sweetheart, I’m already commando.”

Her throat moved convulsively, as if she couldn’t swallow. Her eyelids lowered and a touch of pink suffused her cheeks.

“Jewel, look at me.”

She blinked several times then lifted her lids. He could see in her eyes the war she was waging within herself.

“You had to have noticed, downstairs in the dungeon, that I was way too aggressive to be a submissive.”

“You could have just been a Top,” she croaked out. “Co-topping, I believe the term is.”

“I could. But I wasn’t. I’m well known in the scene as a Dominant.”

“Oh.”

“And there’s another lesson for you. Looks are deceiving—Exhibit A being the male submissive at the table—but that works two ways. I might have been sadistic with a pain slut—”

His voice dropped an octave. “But I can be gentle under the right circumstances.”

She shifted in her seat, and he wondered if she were trying to ease a certain twitching between her legs. “It’s late. I think it’s time I headed home.”

“Don’t run from it, Jewel. If you think you have submissive tendencies—or hell, even if you have dominant ones—don’t subjugate them to some nebulous ‘what people will think’ mentality. If you’re afraid of me, you can always reach out to Peggy and Dave. Between them they probably have twenty-five years of experience in the scene.”

“I—I’m not running. I have a thoughtless older sister and a problematic mother to deal with tomorrow and I’ll need a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. If I’m lucky, that number will be five.”

He slid out of the booth. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry for your troubles, and I hope everything is resolved quickly.”

“Thank you.” She got to her feet as well. “And thank you for your time.”

“It was a pleasure, Jewel. I hope to see you again soon. If you have any questions about what you saw and learned tonight, or any aspect of BDSM, feel free to call me.” He handed her a business card printed with a pair of crossed floggers as a logo, the name “Warrior” and a private email. “Come. I’ll walk you back to your car. This is a good neighborhood, but it’s still pretty late.”

And all the while he wondered if he should just kiss her and get it over with.