Kept Women: Two Fertile Submissive Stories by Nicole Snow

snatch it seemed too sexual, reminding her of the
position for giving oral sex, and she wouldn’t bow. Instead, she
reached behind her back, unfastened her bra, and let it drop.
    There was nothing sexy in the way she
undressed. She didn’t tease by taking her time. She simply slipped
her thumbs under the lace of her panties and drew them down passed
her ass, and released them. While stepping out of the small pile of
clothes, she pinched her eyes shut, not wanting to suffer his
assessment of her body.
    She was excruciatingly aware he took
liberties; gazing at her plump exposed lips that barely covered her
inner budding flower and the pink rings that encircled her erect
but petite nipples. She held her breath, hoping he saw her as a
woman. But at five foot two inches, she looked her age.
    Suddenly emotional, Jane covered her face.
Eager to be alone, she was thankful when she heard him stand. But
instead of leaving, he draped a blanket around her shoulders, and
unexpectedly hugged her. He squeezed her, gently drawing her cheek
to his chest by brushing his fingers through her hair.
    Having his arms around her instantly melted
her discomfort. By accepting her, he silenced her insecurities.
Relief washed over her. With a tender embrace, he made her feel
wanted. Jane was certain she’d endure a lot for his affection,
because when it was all over, his comforting made submitting to him
worth the moment of anxiety no matter how challenging. He gave her
an opportunity to be daring, and in the end she loved it and felt
closer to him than before.
    She relaxed against his soothing heat,
pulling on his lapel. And she had no shame when he asked with a
calm, low murmur, “Are you a virgin, Jane?”
    “My parents sheltered me, and then I moved
in here with you.”
    He kissed the top of her head and stepped
away, holding the corners of the blanket until she took them. “Then
we can be done here, Miss Jane. I had no idea, and won’t make the
mistake of pushing you so hard again.”
     
    JANE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT happened in her
room or where that put them once he saw her naked, especially after
he easily went through another week as if nothing happened; he
never let her keep the lingerie because he told her she didn’t need
them to be sexy. His response confused her, but like Mr. Callaway,
she ignored the encounter.
    Their roles went back to normal. They
attended a white-tie affair, and met for lunch a few days after. As
an employer, he scolded her, and Jane as usual tried to appease
him, but she showed backbone, too. She explained her habit of
multi-space parking when he became irritated she forgot to mention
a parking ticket; she told him she was protecting the new car from
scratches and scrapes. He had the audacity to spank her, bent over
the hood of her Porsche; if she hadn’t felt his hard bulge when he
leaned close to whisper a warning to remember next time, she’d have
been livid. Then he called her into his office, accusing her of
watering his liquor, which she didn’t do.
    “Why would I lie about that?” she asked
defensively, when he narrowed his eyes skeptically. From behind his
desk he threatened to spank her again while oozing his vast power
that she grew increasingly attracted to by the day. His
interrogations made her wet. But there was no way she’d get in
trouble for something she didn’t do, and challenged, “You order
wine for me any time we go out. If I wanted your Scotch, I’d drink
it. I wouldn’t hide it like I would if you were my dad.”
    “Don’t sass, Miss Jane. It’s not
attractive.” When he slid a thick, stapled document and dropped the
subject, she considered the argument a victory or at least a truce.
“Read this carefully, and give it back in the morning. It’s our new
contract.”
    “I’ll sign it now.”
    She reached for a pen, about to scribble her
signature when he cautioned her by first putting his hand on the
cover page, and then saying, “You’re not reading this first?