Opening pandoras box new.., p.1
Opening Pandora's Box (Newroom PDX short stories, #1), page 1
Opening Pandora's Box
Newroom PDX short stories, Volume 1
L.J. Breedlove
Published by L.J. Breedlove, 2021.
Opening Pandora’s Box
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By L. J. Breedlove
Published by L. J. Breedlove
Copyright 2021 L. J. Breedlove
ISBN:
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the work this author.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. While place descriptions and news events may coincide with the real world, all characters and the plot are fictional.
Contact Information
For more information about this author, please visit www.ljbreedlove.com. Email address is lois@ljbreedlove.com.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Introduction
In This Collection
When Ruby Found Ryan
When Sir Came Back
Pandora’s Box
Postscript
Further Reading: Choose
Also By L.J. Breedlove
About the Author
Introduction
Newsroom PDX is a suspense series featuring the students who run Eyewitness News in downtown Portland. They’ve got rules — not many, they aren’t very good with rules, but some: Stay safe. Get the story. Come back.
But Ryan Matthews, editor-in-chief, has other rules he plays by. Chief among them? What happens in the night world, stays in the night world.
Ryan Matthews is a player. Well, he was a player.
Even in the day world, Eyewitness News knew Ryan was a player. He was the newsroom’s longest running soap opera ever.
But in the night world — the kink world, party circuit, BDSM clubs, whatever you called it — Ryan Matthews was well known there too.
He was the chameleon. He could dom, he could sub. He played with women and men, straight, gay or fluid. But the person who he played those kinds of games with the most was a woman named Ruby.
If you like these short stories that tell you about Ryan Matthew’s private life, check out the series too: Newsroom PDX. You can get book 1free by signing up for the Telling Stories newsletter. While the short stories stand alone (as does the main series), you’ll enjoy it more to read both the series and the collections together. This collection of stories is best read after Newsroom PDX Book 4.
Watch for collection 2 of the short stories!
In This Collection
When Ryan Met Ruby
When Ruby Found Ryan
When Sir Came to Town
Opening Pandora’s Box
When Ryan Met Ruby
A Newsroom PDX Short Story #1
Caution: This short story is considerably more sexual than the series itself. You’ve been warned!
Ryan Matthews celebrated his 18th birthday on his knees wearing a collar and a leash.
He wasn’t unhappy about it, although he had intended to play the dominant that night when he headed to Embers. He was going to dance until he found someone he wanted to be with for the evening. Then find a party that would take things further than was allowed on the Embers dance floor — and a lot was allowed there. But not everything. Not the things he craved.
The woman who cut in on a promising dance was wearing a deep red dress that curved her body, more 1940s than 2013, Ryan thought. It had a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, and a seamed fit through the torso and hips, and stopped just short of her knees. Her legs were covered in black hose, silk, and suddenly he thought she might have a garter belt on.
And the thought of that turned him on. He’d never seen a real garter belt.
She was wearing high-heeled black suede shoes that zipped up the arch to form almost a bootie. A matching black suede mini-purse was slung across her body.
“I’m Ruby,” she said, her voice sounded like she was smiling even though her face was still.
“Ryan,” he said.
She smiled and danced closer to him; he held his ground. The music seemed like it had gotten louder, a driven, pounding rhythm that thudded through his body and pooled in his groin. She met his eyes and didn’t look away. Her knowing half-smile mesmerized him. She moved closer, closer.
Now just her nipples, erect and visible through that damned dress, touched his chest. He started to grab her arms and pull her up against his arousal. She shook her head and danced back just enough that they were no longer touching.
He lowered his eyes, and she laughed. His eyes widened, and he met hers again in shock. She moved in again just touching, just her breasts brushing against his chest as she danced. She wasn’t a tall woman, although she stood straight and proud. In her heels her head came almost to his chin. Her breasts teased his abs, and they tightened in response.
“Nice,” she murmured. “Very nice.”
His arousal reached almost painful levels with the sound of that amused, knowing, throaty voice. He closed his eyes.
“Eyes on me,” she said sharply. And he obeyed. She danced back just enough that they didn’t touch, and he missed it, wanted it back. She tipped her head consideringly.
He wondered what she saw.
Ruby wanted to play this evening, and her favorite place to find promising toys was Embers. A. didn’t much care for the place, so he dropped her off, confident in her abilities to take care of herself, and with a commitment to reconnect at a friend’s party later.
She liked the seediness of Embers. It had once been the heart of the late-night scene, but that was decades ago. It still allowed a person to dance to pounding music, to flirt and to check out promising partners. And there was the partner she wanted. She’d seen him before. He was a magnificent young man, over 6 feet tall, broad shoulders, narrow through the waist and hips. He was wearing dark trousers, and a white shirt, open at the neck as if he’d come from a more formal venue. His brown hair and brown beard framed startlingly blue eyes and a mouth that said fuck me. His name was Ryan, she thought.
“Looks like a celebration tonight,” she said to the bartender with a nod in his direction.
“Birthday,” he said. “But don’t ask me which one. I always believe the ID.” He smiled at her. He knew Ruby, and he liked her. “But he’s not jailbait any longer.”
She laughed and watched Ryan speculatively. Stories circulated about the young man who partied hard and played it all: a chameleon they called him. Dom or sub. Women or men. If he chose, he would play your game however you liked it.
And he was beautiful.
Ruby cut in front of the young woman he was dancing with, confident in her abilities at seduction that made the younger woman no competition. She would see how good he was at the games that made it worthwhile. She could already feel the heat build at the thought of the challenge of taking him past choice, past his control, past the game, to the point where the senses were tantalized and teased, and the person was left to hunger for the touch of one person. To the point where the world narrowed down to one person who controlled all the pleasure, and only gave what she wanted to give, when she chose to give it. She smiled.
Ryan wasn’t sure how long they danced like that. Her breasts, no, really just her aroused nipples brushing against him, teasing him to the point that he couldn’t think of anything but wanting her; it was driving him crazy. All he wanted was to pleasure her, to take control and force those breasts against him, to force her to dance groin to groin, so that his arousal, obvious even now, would find release. But her eyes met his, and he couldn’t force her to look away, couldn’t make her submit.
That hadn’t happened to him in a long time and rarely. Oh, he had chosen to submit before, to let another control the pace and the games, but Ruby was asserting control, and it had fuck-all to do with his choice.
And she was doing it with her eyes, that damned voice that promised him dark pleasure, and that seductive touch of nipples against his chest. She was in control, and he submitted to it.
And he saw her smile change to satisfaction when she knew it. He glared a bit, but then looked away, submitting, before returning to meet her eyes as she’d ordered him to.
“Good,” she said, approval in her voice.
He shivered.
She moved in closer and touched him at the waistband of his trousers with the palm of her hand, slowly smoothing her palm downward toward his erection. He arched a bit, pushing into her hand. She stopped, looked at him, and he stilled. She nodded in approval, and continued the slow pressure down until her hand covered his cock, and she grasped it.
“Jesus!” he said. He hadn’t planned to celebrate his birthday by getting thrown out of Embers for having sex on the dance floor. He looked toward the back exit, and the hallway to it that had such nice dark corners for something like this.
“Un-un-uh,” she said, with a shake of her head. “This belongs to me,” she said with a light squeeze to emphasize what this was. “My toys. My rules. Yo
He nodded.
“Good,” she said. But she didn’t move toward an exit. Instead she danced, and letting go of his cock, she ran both hands upward, smiling her approval of the tight abs, and then raking her nails across his nipples. And he sucked in air at the sensation.
“You’re going to make me come right here,” he warned, half laughing, half desperate.
“You don’t have permission to do that,” she said matter-of-factly. She looked at him, that damned half-smile. “And you will wait until I tell you to.”
Ryan looked at her, considering whether he should make the attempt to top her. He thought he could. Maybe. It would be fun to try. But she was already giving him more pleasure than he’d expected to find tonight.
And the night was young.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She laughed.
Ruby watched him out of the corner of her eye as he drove. She didn’t touch him. Those car games were for kids, and she wasn’t a kid. She’d been amused when he took her to an older model Prius, but he drove confidently and smoothly to the directions she gave. He parked on the street.
“Now listen to me,” she said, pleased when he stilled. “You’re a known player, but you’ve been in the kiddie pools until tonight.”
He said nothing.
“What is your safe word?” she asked.
“Elephant.”
Interesting word, she thought. “Here? There are no safe words,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’ve never used it.”
She smiled. “It’s different when you don’t have one. You may open my door for me.”
He got out, went around the car, and opened the door. She got out and he offered her his arm. Good manners had been instilled in him by someone, she thought with approval.
“Give your keys to the valet,” she said. “But be forewarned. He won’t return them without my say so.”
Ryan hesitated. Ruby hid a smile, wondering if he would do it. If he could do it.
He handed the man the keys. The valet nodded.
“Does he know the rules?” the valet said.
Ruby smiled. “He will,” she said.
She took a gold collar out of her purse. “Bend down,” she ordered. He did, and she slipped it on. Locked it. She let him see the key and put it in her purse. She watched with interest as a shudder went through him. Ah.
“You will obey my commands,” she said. “You do nothing without my command. You will be punished for infractions at my discretion. Most importantly, you will not come without my permission. If I walk away and leave you aroused and don’t come back for an hour? You will still be erect when I return. If I send you home aroused, you will not seek release without my permission.”
He looked puzzled, and she smiled. “A text message, perhaps.”
He nodded.
“Do you accept those rules?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Good. Then take off your shirt and tie. Please me.”
He did, slowly. His eyes didn’t leave hers. She approached. “I’ve wanted to see this tattoo up close for a long time,” she murmured.
“You could have at any time,” he said.
Using one fingernail, she traced the dragon that curled on his shoulder blade and the peered over his shoulder. His sleeve was like that of a chinoiserie fabric. A Chinese bridge, a plum tree in bloom, a path. It went almost to his wrist. At the top the plum tree spread onto his pectoral muscle. The dragon lorded over it and peered out at those who dared face it. She smiled at her whimsy and traced it all, slowly, marveling at the work. She felt the evenly spaced scars underneath, but they’d been worked into the design so well, they were hardly visible even at this close range.
“Magnificent work,” she said. “What caused the scars?”
He hesitated. “A car accident when I was very little,” he said finally.
She moved in front of him. She teased his nipples, then stroked downward over his abs. More scars. And down to his belt. She took off the belt and put it in the car. She didn’t think she’d need to use it tonight.
“Do not lie to me,” she said. “What caused the scars?”
He paused, then said quietly, “I can’t remember. A car accident satisfies the curious.”
She nodded.
She walked around him as if she were studying a sculpture she might purchase. He remained still. “Put your shirt, tie, socks and shoes in the car. Remove anything from your pockets and leave them there as well.”
He obeyed.
She rummaged in her purse. Even as small as her purse was, it always seemed one clip hid in the bottom, she thought with exasperation. She found it. Approached him. She studied the tattoo again, and put the second nipple clip away. She teased his right nipple until it was hard, and then she slipped the clip over it, tightening it. It looked right poised below the tattoo, a pirate ring for a dragon tattoo. A pierced nipple ring would be even better, but this was a game for the evening, not for the future. But if he were hers? It would be pierced. But a clamped ring had its virtues. She watched his face and tightened it more until she saw him flinch. She met his eyes and smiled. And then she tightened it once more.
“Do you like pain?” she whispered. “Does it turn you on to know that I control your body? That I determine whether you feel pleasure or pain or both?”
He started to answer; she put her hand over his mouth. “I doubt you really know the answer,” she said. “But you will before we’re done tonight.”
He swallowed.
“Come,” she said. And she took his arm again.
As they approached the house, Ryan could hear chamber music, a quartet, he thought. And that brought up memories, some he could do without. He could see people ahead, dressed in tuxes and evening wear. He hesitated. His first play party had been set up so that the front had live music — a chamber quartet, actually — for the wealthy of Portland’s cultural community. It hadn’t been until you got to the back room that you found the real party.
She looked up at him quizzically, and took a step forward. He moved in sync, but he wondered if he would be the only one partially undressed and exposed. Collared and with that damn nipple clamp that circled the base of his nipple and kept it erect. She was right, it was more pain than he usually allowed, and it turned him on that she knew it and didn’t care.
“Whatever is bothering you, let it go,” she said. “You are mine. Your only task is to please me. And I am pleased to do this.”
“Ma’am,” he said with a slight nod of his head.
He moved forward and into the house. At first, he thought his worst fears were true, that she’d humiliated him by taking him to a normal’s party with the accoutrements of a sex-play party. But as he looked closer, he saw others who were semi-dressed, some with collars. Mostly women, but still. He relaxed.
“Interesting,” she murmured. “I will try that with you some day.”
He was disconcerted that she was reading him so closely, and then the meaning sunk in and his whole body tightened in anticipation.
“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” he said.
She laughed. “Of course, it would.”
Ruby led him over to a buffet, controlling him with the fingers that rested lightly on his bent arm. She filled a plate and picked up a goblet of champagne. She spotted A.; he quirked an eyebrow, and she smiled slightly. He would watch over her, and that turned her on. And it turned him on to stand as protector. She smiled.
She found a couch, took a seat, and gestured to the floor. He settled on the floor on his knees. She considered the picture he made, and smiled. “Rock back on to your heels,” she ordered. She stroked across his pectorals, enjoying the feel of his chest hair, and following the narrowing arrow of hair down his belly. She unzipped his trousers. He held still, but she could tell it was getting harder for him to do so.
Wasn’t the only thing that was getting harder. She touched him gently, teasing him until the very tip of his cock was now visible, framed by his unzipped pants.
“I like the picture that makes,” she murmured. “I would be unhappy if you can’t keep it there.”
