The Unexpected Dom: The Complete Series (BBW Fem Dom Novel)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 42,000
0 Ratings (0.0)

When Jennifer and Declan MacIntire decide to let their marriage fall apart, a last-ditch effort by Jennifer -- involving a dog collar, handcuffs, and a Coke Can dildo the size of Nebraska -- leads to some very hot secrets spilling over. Add Miss Sally, Declan's domme, and Jennifer's chat sex partner, John, and the result is The Unexpected Dom -- 42,000 words of fem dom, male submission, Sybian erotic romance and more!

This collection brings together:

The Unexpected Dom #1: Jennifer's Revenge The Unexpected Dom #2: Dominating the CEO The Unexpected Dom #3: Core of Pleasure

in one big, steamy bundle, value priced for more story, more erotic encounters, and more orders than you can imagine.

The Unexpected Dom: The Complete Series (BBW Fem Dom Novel)
0 Ratings (0.0)

The Unexpected Dom: The Complete Series (BBW Fem Dom Novel)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 42,000
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Excerpt

“So, Jennifer, let me pull out the contracts and explain.” With a precision that made engineers seem like Grateful Dead stoners, the dominatrix slid perfect manilla envelopes from her black leather brief bag. It was as if she were conducting a legal transaction.

Which, in a way, she was.

Miss Sally was as intimidating in real life as she had sounded on the Internet. After discovering Declan's emails, Jennifer had skipped over to the browser on Declan's phone, quickly finding an autofill for the address to her club. For some reason, that autofill feature – knowing that her husband visited the website often enough to have Google remember it – filled her with more disappointment, rage, and anxiety than the past day's events had. It made everything so real in a way that even making Declan fuck an arm-sized dildo hadn't.

When she'd seen the price tag for Miss Sally's services, she'd done a double take.

$400 an hour. Whoa.

And here she stood before Jennifer, the clock ticking away, Declan's business credit card being charged for the four hours she'd contracted by phone.

Oh, shit, Jennifer thought. She really had done all this. In less than twenty-four hours she had changed her hair, gotten a makeover, bought and worn a Dom outfit, handcuffed her husband, turned him into her sex slave, learned he had a kink for it, and hired a dominatrix to come to her house and...

And what?

Miss Sally cleared her throat. The look on her face made it plain and clear that she was not accustomed to being ignored. “Jennifer? Let's sit over here.” Miss Sally moved with the fluid grace of a black cat over to a small table with chairs that were nestled in a tiny solarium off the living room. Jennifer adored the room, a small hothouse where she had tried – and failed – to grow orchids over the years.

“Now, I don't have a standard contract for the services you have purchased.” A sly grin spread across Miss Sally's face, the look quite startling, stripping ten years off her face and making her seem like a fresh-faced teenager with a very deviant secret. “Your request is quite...unique. And I do not use that word lightly.”

Jennifer tensed. “Is this OK?”

“Of course! You're the boss, after all. Or, rather,” Miss Sally added, “I am the boss, and I will teach you how to be the boss of Declan.” Her long, elegant fingers spread papers before Jennifer, all legalese she never understood. “I have to thank you, in fact.”

“Me?” Jennifer squeaked.

“Yes. This could prove to be the beginning of a new niche in my business. Giving Dom lessons. It never occurred to me, frankly.” She arched her eyebrows, going from virginal teen to prim schoolteacher in a fraction of a second.

“Really?” Jennifer's eyes pored over the words on the papers, but her mind couldn't decipher it. She trusted Miss Sally. Whatever the documents said was fine. Hastily scribbling her signature, she noted the credit card statement printed from a computer somewhere. $1,600. Declan's company could deal with that.

“Ahem.” Both women looked up, surprised by the sound. There stood naked, filthy Declan, shoulders hunched over. They had forgotten about him.

Miss Sally looked him up and down, shaking her head slightly. “What a great mess you are, Declan.” Her words carried a tone of disapproval.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You need a shower.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He stood in place. Jennifer expected him to leave.

Miss Sally looked pointedly at Jennifer. “He will only act when given express permission to do so.” She nodded toward Declan's crotch, which looked like his penis had attempted to eat a vanilla soft-serve cone. Jennifer's face pinkened.

“Declan, for God's sake, go take a shower,” she ordered him.

His face brightened. “Yes, Mistress!” He scampered upstairs, his naked ass rippling with muscles as he disappeared around the landing. The dog collar was still around his neck and Jennifer giggled at the sight of it.

Still shaking her head, Miss Sally simply said, “That man.”

Now Jennifer could really get down to business. She had a million questions to ask the dominatrix, even at $400 an hour. She could take the first half hour to satisfy her curiosity, and the other three and a half hours to satisfy...something else.

Miss Sally looked at her smartphone and typed out a quick text. Within ten seconds, Jennifer heard footsteps outside her front door, and then two burly movers walked in, carrying a large wooden box.

“Where does this go, Mistress?” one guy the size of Lou Ferrigno asked.

Miss Sally turned to Jennifer. “Where shall we set up?”

“Set up?”

“For lessons. I have props.” She said the word “props” as if it were completely normal, like asking where to put a bag of chips one brings to a bar-be-que.

“Uh, I guess in the family room. Over there.” Jennifer pointed to a large sliding door on the other side of the foyer. The movers turned that way and over the course of the next ten minutes deposited four similar boxes. Miss Sally made another text, and then Jennifer heard the sound of wood splintering. What the hell were they doing in there?

And what kind of props would they need? A bag of sex toys was one thing, but this...?

The sound of a shower filled in a background noise from above; Declan must finally be washing himself off. Good. She liked musk, but not that much musk. And the next few hours would be filled with raunchy sex. She, too, needed a quick shower. Hmmm....maybe she should go upstairs with –

“Jennifer?” Miss Sally spoke as if she had been trying to get her attention for some time.

“Oh, sorry. Yes?”

“First of all, stop that. Don't apologize for inconsequential matters. It makes you seem weak.”

“Oh – sorry!” Miss Sally's brow furrowed and Jennifer clapped a hand over her own mouth to stop herself from apologizing again.

“So many women seem to apologize for their own existence. How often does Declan apologize for mistakes?” The dominatrix crossed her legs, giving Jennifer a glimpse of a well-manicured, nude crotch. The landing strip glinted; clit ring? Jennifer felt herself flush. Did Declan like it? How often had he gone down on Miss Sally with that magic tongue, slid between her well-groomed pussy lips, stroked her – She shook her own head to clear the thought. Time was a' wasting.

“He doesn't. Ever.”

“Right. So you need to stop.” Miss Sally's words were finely clipped; was that a faint British accent? Spanish? She couldn't tell.

“So how long has Declan been visiting you?” Jennifer asked, ready to hear it all.

Miss Sally pulled her head back slowly, as if Jennifer had just asked her what color her morning shit had been. “Jennifer, I do not talk about my clients. I have a strict confidentiality clause.” She tapped the contracts Jennifer had just signed. “That is true for you as well – as my client, everything we say and do here today during our contracted hours is completely safe. And completely locked away in my memory, but never told by my lips.”

A plume of shame rolled through her, making Jennifer embarrassed and angry at once. All this money, all this effort, all this time and all she would get out of this day was the knowledge that her husband had been fucking this woman for years and now she, Jennifer, was paying this woman even more money to teach her how to meet her own husband's needs?

Bullshit. “Bullshit,” she spat, the word hanging in the room. The same anger that had driven Jennifer to yesterday's antics with Declan rose within, making her hate the very woman she'd just hired.

The dominatrix's left corner of her mouth twitched. Jennifer wasn't cowed anymore. Hell, she was actually the boss, right? The paying client? She could understand why Declan was so enamored with Miss Sally; the woman oozed sensuality and control. Right now, though, Jennifer was a ball of anger, hurt, frustration and pain, and Miss Sally was going to help undo some of that.

Whether she liked it – or not.

Silence. Jennifer continued. “I got desperate yesterday and did something that I never, ever, in a million years thought would work. My goal was revenge. Or just getting Declan to stay in one place long enough to listen to me, for fuck's sake. Do you have any idea how hard that is? To get your husband to listen to you when he decides not to?”

Miss Sally watched Jennifer with rapt attention, her face neutral as a stone wall. It unnerved Jennifer a bit, and then a flash of self-consciousness hit her as she realized she, like Declan, was wearing the residue of their lovemaking.

As well as a Dom outfit. Or, at least, her idea of a Dom outfit. The fishnet stocking had torn at her right big toe and the leather was creeping up her ass cleft. Willing the sensations and the embarrassment aside, she continued.

“Of course you don't. You have people paying you $400 an hour for your attention. Four hundred dollars! You must be rolling in it.”

For the first time since Jennifer began her little tirade, Miss Sally spoke. “Actually, $400 is pretty low. It's not how I make most of my income.”

Seriously? The woman finally opens her mouth and this is what she's willing to share? Jennifer gaped like a fish out of water, but she took what she could get.

“So you earn more than that? Doing what?”

The bright red lips parted, showing perfectly-even teeth, a show of a childhood and adolescence that involved some fairly expensive orthodontics. Her teeth were gleaming white, so perfect that not even cosmetic dentistry could buy this kind of improvement. Miss Sally's nose was symmetrically planted on her face; a less severe haircut and she would look like a supermodel.

She stood, then straightened her slim skirt, seemingly irritated by the few, light wrinkles caused by their sitting. “I'm not privy to say, Jennifer, but let's just leave it at this: I help very, very flawed people to get what they really want. And need. And people will pay more than you ever imagined to get what they really need.”

Jennifer snorted. She couldn't help herself. “Yeah, right. People pay you to have sex with them.”

The speed with which Miss Sally closed the gap between them was breathtaking; her face was inches from Jennifer's, suddenly, her arms by her side. “I have one rule, Ms. MacIntire.” The change in address terrified Jennifer suddenly. “I never, ever touch my clients. And they never, ever touch me.”

Miss Sally stepped back, eyes dark and cold. “Whatever you think I do with my clients, think again. Your ideas are so off base that you can't even imagine the world I create for them. Frankly, you won't let yourself.”

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