Living a lie book 0 5 in.., p.1
Living a Lie (Book 0.5 in The Lie Series), p.1J.W. Phillips
Copyright © 2014 J.W. Phillips
All rights reserved
Published by Black Heart Club
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of events to real life, or of characters to actual persons, is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.
My dedication is too Liz Stephenson. She was my Sir in so many ways.
However she is no Sir, but one Hell of a Madam.
“You didn’t find your husband with his dick shoved up your best friend’s ass.”
Holy hell. I slapped my hand across my mouth and turned a bright flaming red. Did I really yell that out to my boss no less? Yes, I did. I was sick of people telling me to cheer up. That I was better off without him. It was his loss. No, it was mine. I had been married to that bastard since I was twenty years old, and spent the last twenty-one years in total bliss with who I thought was my soul-mate. How was I to know he had spent every one of those years shoving his dick into every hole that was open and willing?
“I’m sorry, Amy. It’s just I feel . . . lost . . . I’m still raw.” I tapped my fingers across the steering wheel and blew a wayward strand of hair off my face.
“Listen, he has been doing everything with a pussy for years and treated you like shit,” she chimed into the telephone. “Hell, he was crazy. You are the sweetest and most giving person I know.”
But never the prettiest. That was my ex’s problem with me all along. I was never good enough for him. “Back on the subject at hand. I’m already trying to find a way out of doing this article on Sir. I mean who in the hell only gives Sir as his name?”
“An extremely hot and fuckable ass. Now, you are doing this assignment. Maybe he will even give you a demonstration.” Amy said before the phone line went dead. Yeah, like a fuckable ass wants to fuck a big lard.
I threw the cellphone onto the passenger seat and screamed. I had not done an interview for The Biz, a local magazine for places to go and people to meet, since I left my husband two months earlier. Luckily, Amy, the editor, had understood. But why she thought an interview with the most talked about Dom in the whole city of Knoxville was the perfect get-back-the-groove was beyond me.
And just my luck, it was pouring rain. Great, my limp brown hair will be even frizzier. I pushed the pedal to the floorboard. I had thirty minutes to get to the other side of town and the warehouse district. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. James, my soon-to-be-ex, would have had a come apart at the thought I was running around alone in that part of town. On top of that, I was meeting with the town’s most elusive Dom. I didn’t even know his name. All Amy gave me was a time, an address, and that this man had the ability to control even the strongest lady.
I pulled into the parking garage outside an old warehouse and my heart pounded. I stumbled out of my car unsure of what laid ahead for me that day. The side of the building was covered with graffiti, but the front was all curved glass and steel. I glanced down at my watch. I had made it with ten minutes to spare. Amy warned me not to be late. It took her nine months to arrange that particular interview and she warned me to not mess it up.
I walked in and was immediately greeted by a stunning brunette. She had on a form fitting charcoal-grey suit. I was surprised and a little satisfied that a sex club would have a brown hair beauty as the greeter. After all, James always said no man in his right mind would want to sleep with anybody other than a blonde.
“You must be, Amy Richardson.” She reached out and firmly shook my hand.
“Actually, it‘s Cherry Black. I’m here to see . . .” I went blank. I had no idea what his name was other than Sir.
She chuckled. “The Master will see you.” She stood up and I realized why any guy would forget the brown shade of hair. Damn, she was hot and oozed of confidence. “I’m Amanda by the way. I’m one of the main submissives around here.”
My mind started to be bombarded with so many questions. The utmost one being why a woman like her, so beautiful and self-assured would allow any man to abuse her. She handed me a badge that clearly stated visitor in bold print. Surely it was beyond obvious that I didn’t belong in a place like that. James was correct. I would never be any man’s fantasy.
She escorted me to a set of elevators and hit the up button. The door slid open and as I stepped in I was greeted by a security guard that was dressed in a well-cut black suit, black shirt, and black tie. I was getting even more nervous about meeting Master as Amanda called him. If his security looked that sharp and well put together, I could only imagine what he would look like.
The elevator reached the top floor and opened. I found myself in a rather large lounge with what appeared to be two king beds mushed together. They stood proud and took center stage in the middle of the room. The North and West facing walls were floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a spectacular view of downtown Knoxville. It was a stunning view, but was soon eclipsed when he walked in the room. He commanded the room like no one I had ever came across. He was dressed in a tailored three-piece suit. That suit was hot, but it was the tall, lean, and powerful body inside it that sent a pickling across my skin. Still as magnificent as that body was, it wasn’t until my eyes traveled up to his face that I went weak in the knees. His smokey brown eyes flamed with an unwavering force that knocked the breath from my lungs. A man that was so perfect, it was almost painful to look upon him. My head automatically lowered and focused on his luxurious oxfords. Oh, damn, he is . . . devastating.
“You’re not Amy.” He snapped causing my nerves to shatter. I took a step back, tripped on my heel, and tumbled flat on my ass. Damn, he is going to kick me out now. He extended out a thick, manly hand and I placed mine in it.
“But, I think I’d rather have you. She is rather how can I put it nicely. A bitch. You on the other hand, look like you can be fun.” and very succulent.
Clasping a small, fragile hand, I pulled her to her feet. She was embarrassed, her milky-smooth skin flamed. The image of what that skin would look-like striped by the bite of a cane crossed my mind. I needed a diversion from everything that was going on around me. I’d thrown myself into work a little too much lately. Anything to get my mind off life. I was restless, but that sweet lady was there for business not my pleasure. I could at least have a little fun while she was there.
“A lot of fun,” I added, trying to use my amused tone to put her at ease.
It took a few seconds for her to finally find her voice to speak. “I’m Cherry Black, and I’m so sorry for the rude entrance, Sir.”
I was highly aroused and entertained by that submissive little look she was giving me. I didn’t believe her eyes had looked higher than my knees since she tripped over those red six-inch heels that showcased those long legs of hers. The loose-fitting skirt, however, did nothing to flatter her. She adjusted her white blouse to cover the small smidgen of the top of her breast she was showing. She’d been hurt. Every move she made screamed that she believed she was less than. Some man, I was positive, had hurt her and had taken away her worth. I slipped on my impassive expression. I could never let her know how she affected me. I wanted to prove to her that she was a beautiful treasure. Make her believe in herself and be proud of that amazing, curvy, hot body. I hit the button on the remote in my pocket
I motioned over to a large circular, black-leather sectional. The gleam that sparkled from her eyes let me know she knew that space was entirely too spacious for one person. Because it was not used for one person but an orgy of people. It was a sex club after all.
She arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Before I sit, what all has happen on that couch?”
I laughed. Oh babe, if I told you all of that you would be running for the nearest exit. “I slept on it last night. Want to massage out the crick it left me with?” I wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and kneaded my fingers into it.
A ghost of a smile darted across those luscious, lickable lips of hers, before she composed that professional journalist face. She took a seat and glanced up to see that I had moved directly in front of her. I placed my groin in line with her face. She unconsciously licked her lips.
I tilted my head and judged her expression. I was getting to her. Her eyes were fixed on my obvious semi-erection as a pale rosy-pinkness crept up her neck and across her cheeks. I pushed my fingers through my messy blond locks and sunk down on the couch across from her. I stretched out my long legs in front of me as I reclined, making sure my foot tapped against hers. I propped my elbows on the back of the couch. Her cheeks flame as she started to fumble in her purse until she pulled out a digital recorder. She wouldn’t look at me.
“Stand up, Cherry,” I said making sure I rolled each letter of her name off of my tongue. She didn’t move. “Now, Mrs. Black.” I wanted her to look at me, but in all honesty, I simply wanted to look at her.
She stood without thinking and started fidgeting with her ill-fitting blazer. I would fix those nervous jitters. I crock my finger and motioned for her to come closer. She bent at the waist and brought her face within inches of me. Her eyes caught mine and halted me still. They were downcast and the depth of sadness in them was mind-blowing. Only one other person had pulled at that part of me, the part that wanted to make someone happy at any cost. I couldn’t bring that other sweet lady happiness. Maybe, if I brought a few moments of bliss to Cherry it would make up for a small portion of my sins.
“Green, the color of fertility, nature, money, envy, and lust,” I said then scraped my tongue along my top teeth. Please smile.
“What, Sir?” She asked, still leaning over me. I was dying to actually touch her.
“Your eyes. They’re green. They match the caramel tones in your hair.”
She stood up and combed her hands through her thick mane of hair. Something about that statement bothered her.
“Turn around,” I said and cupped my own chin, trailing a long index finger over my lips. She stared at me and then fell back onto the couch.
“I’m here for an interview, not a modeling gig.” She slid a pen out of the top of a notepad and opened it. She still had a spark in her. I wanted to show her the tremendous value and power she held within herself. She was after all extremely beautiful. She was older than me, but could hold her own against any woman. Yes, she was affecting me. A true submissive, one who needed to learn her value.
I had to rein in my thoughts and remind myself why she was there.
She finally raised her eyes, but not her head. I pictured her naked at my feet giving me that same heart-stopping stare. Fuck, get your mind off of her and onto this god-awful interview.
“Do you prefer blonds?” She blurted out before she even had her recorder set up. But it caused her to hold her head up.
I bit my tongue not to laugh. That question meant something deeper to her than my preference in hair color. “Your first question is about hair color?”
“Just curious.” She blinked, her eyes appeared even more lost. I couldn’t stand the fact I had put that look on that exquisite face.
“No, I don’t. I think blond is highly overrated. My personal favorite is red.” Awe damn, she quit looking at me again. She had tucked that beautiful face against her shoulder. “But a close second is brown. There is something about a brunette. They are dark and mysterious.”
That smile I had been hoping for slowly ran across her face. She hit the record button on the digital recorder and pulled out a set of questions.
“What is your real name?”
Oh no, beautiful, I don’t trust you enough for you to know that name. I only give out my name to those I care about. “Sir.”
“No, not what you want me to call you, but your real name?”
“I’d love to have you call me Master, but Sir will do for now.” I glared at her. “Do to my real job and personal life I’m not willing to entrust my name with anyone.” Didn’t you do your homework? That was my first and only rule I had in relations to this interview. Her eyes widen, and I witnessed her wither under my stare. She slumped deeper into the couch cushion she was sitting on, and that exquisite shade of pink spread across her face. Oh, yes, you would be so fun and easy to control.
She rattled the sheet of paper she was holding out of nerves. “What led you to this lifestyle? Why did you choose to become a Dom?” she asked in a soft and shy voice, but arched that perfectly etched eyebrow at me.
“I didn’t choose it. I found who I truly was through it,” I answered, knowing that was the truest answer I’d ever given. Charlie, my brother, introduced me to this life, and I’d never looked back. It was the one place where I could freely give myself over to someone and not worry about the problems in my life.
“Is it a power thing?” she continued expeditiously. She adjusted the collar on the shirt she was wearing. Oh, babe, I want to stop that fidgeting. You should walk in a room and own it. Why do you feel so bad about yourself? You have all the power. If only you realized it.
“It’s a power thing, but I’m not the one with the power. It’s the submissive who holds it all.” I simply stated. Her mouth flew opened. “Don’t look so shocked. My girl holds all the power. It’s my job to bring it out in her.” I shrugged my shoulder and winked. “Then I get the fun of molding that power to fit my will.”
She didn’t look down at her long list of basic questions, she let her heart lead her instead. “How does beating someone give them the power? It sounds like abuse to me.”
“I do enjoy the handcuffs and whips, but it’s simply a tool to show the submissive how much power she has in her.”
She shook her head fervently. “How? I still don’t understand.”
I’ll gladly show you, babe. But I’ll settle with trying to explain for now. “The best part of a BDSM relationship is total trust. Everyone involved knows where each other stands. It’s the ultimate freedom.”
“I don’t understand,” She moved to the edge of the cushion and started to stroke her hand over her thigh, working the hem of her skirt up to expose a sliver of that sensual upper leg. I licked my lips. She let the paper holding her questions fall to the ground. I had her complete and undivided attention.
“A true Master is not a man or in some cases a woman that likes to fuck hard or control. People like that are asses. It’s also illegal and called abuse. A proper Dom is a person that no matter what will be there for you. Not just sexually, but emotionally and physically. He’s not a subs abuser, but her ultimate comforter. Likewise with a sub, she has an inner need to please her Master. No matter where they are or what they are doing, the simple tone of his voice makes her body alert and willing to obey his every wish. Whether it’s to pour him a glass of water or suck his cock.” I paused as she flinched. I leaned over and for the first time brushed my hand over her soft skin as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “There is nothing abusive and controlling about BDSM. It’s no more than two people trying to discover what makes their soul soar.”
“You wouldn’t force me . . .” She coughed and corrected herself. “You’ve never f
“I’ve never forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want to do. I’m just very gifted at getting her to do whatever I desire.”
Living a Lie (Book 0.5 in The Lie Series) by J.W. Phillips / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes