The Final Chapter
Bradley waited outside of the cafe where Jessica sat, in his line of sight. She was waiting too, but she was waiting for Drake to show up. Bradley had to hope that the despicable, disgusting blackmailer hadn’t wised up or figured out what they were up to in regards to his extortion attempt. He had pushed aside some valuable business to make sure they were able to take care of the asshole before Thanksgiving; he wanted to make sure that it was handled before their long weekend, so it wouldn’t weigh on Jessica.
After their talk in his office, he’d gotten to work, bringing together the elements he’d been holding in reserve ever since Drake had started harassing Jessica, and in particular since the public assault a couple of weeks before. He’d gotten in touch with a private investigator he’d met a few times through other friends, but never used, and got the man to work with a friend of his who did “ethical hacking” and software development.
Between the two of them, they’d found out that Drake was actually the new employee that Bradley had confirmed the hire for--the one who’d had problems with HR, who he’d wanted to keep an eye on. As it turned out, Drake was the man’s middle name; his first name was Eric.
Bradley had been tempted to fire him right away; according to John Havers--the investigator--and Nate McCarrity, his hacker friend, they’d found out that that was how Drake had been able to get at least one of the pictures he was holding over Jessica’s head.
At some point, he’d gotten a janitor at the company to install a camera under Jessica’s desk. Bradley’s anger hadn’t abated ever since he’d found out that he’d been part of what had enabled Drake to harass the woman he loved.
But he’d been wise enough to know that if he fired Drake immediately, he would tip the man off. Better by far to let him think he was succeeding in his blackmail, and then use that opportunity to catch him. If their little sting operation worked.
He had Nate nearby, to be close enough to hack into Drake’s phone, assuming that there wasn’t as much security on it--or at least that it would be security features that Nate was familiar with. The whole thing hinged on Drake being confident in his ability to blackmail Jessica and with her unwillingness to risk being exposed. As long as he believed in that, it should go off without a hitch.
Bradley sighed and settled in to wait. He’d set himself up at the Ace Hotel so that he could watch over Jessica next door at Stumptown. It was only about another five minutes until Drake was supposed to arrive, and Bradley heard the crackle in his earpiece that told him that Jessica had turned on the device he’d given her. He’d gotten it from John, who had given Nate another receiver. It also automatically recorded, so everything that Drake said would be captured.
He felt a little anxious about the fact that Jessica was the one making the showdown, the one out on a ledge for the sake of their plan. Bradley pressed his lips together and tried to keep his patience. It was going to be a while, though he told himself, probably not that long before he got confirmation from Nate about his end of things. Jessica was supposed to keep Drake talking as long as possible, as well as to convince him to give her a copy of all the pictures he had.
They had a signal in case something went wrong, but Bradley didn’t think anything would--at least not so much so that the basics of their plan wouldn’t work. He took a deep breath and checked the time again. If Drake was late--which he thought the man might be, just as a petty show of power--he might have to make different arrangements for his dinner with Jessica.
Finally, a few minutes after the time he’d agreed to meet with Jessica, Bradley heard her over the recording device. It was a little muffled, but it would--hopefully--suffice in court proceedings. She would have to tell Drake that she was recording, since it was in-person, but Bradley was counting on the fact that Drake thought he had her.
“Drake,” Jessica said. “Just so you know, I’m recording this on my phone.”
“Fine,” Bradley heard Drake say. “Doesn’t much change anything.”
“Show me proof that you have pictures. I want all of them,” Jessica told him. Bradley smiled to himself. Drake had officially--on the record--approved of the recording. It would be admissible in court.
“I already sent you a couple of them,” Drake said. “You sure you want to see them all? Wouldn’t that--I dunno--trigger you or something?”
“I want to know what you have, so I can decide whether I want to risk the outcome you threatened me with.”
“Threatened? Oh, you want to go to the cops with this, maybe get me for blackmail? Is that what you’re doing, Jessie?”
“I want to have this recording for my own purposes, to make up my mind.”
“I’ll show you the pictures, but you can’t take them with you. They’re on a secure server, and unless I go in and tell the server not to send them out on Sunday night, they’ll go to all the publishers I contacted.”
“Unless I drop the charges against you,” Jessica said.
“You know, recording me like this isn’t going to help you,” Drake told her. “Nobody’s going to put any effort into tracking down blackmail against some piece of shit whore like you.”
“Whatever, asshole,” Jessica said. “Show me the pictures.”
“Fine,” Drake said. The line went partially silent for a while, nothing but background noise, as Drake--hopefully--showed Jessica the pictures. Bradley took out his phone and pinged Nate, seated not too far away in the same cafe Jessica had installed herself in. I’m in, Nate wrote back.
The plan was for Nate to capture the pictures off of Drake’s phone, as well as backtracking to find the sources for them; it was something that he had promised he could do--fairly typical work, in his words. They’d found the device that Drake had used to take pictures of Jessica from under her desk, which would also be evidence.
Brad listened as the conversation went on, with Jessica dragging it out as much as she could: trying to get him to tell her what publishers he’d gone to, which websites he intended to spread the pictures to, and so on. Drake--intelligently--didn’t give her any leads on that end, but Brad was confident that Nate would be able to retrieve the information. He would also count on his friend to diffuse the “bomb” that Drake had mentioned in the conversation.
At his cue, Brad got up, took his earpiece out, and stepped out of the hotel to go into Stumptown. He had already signaled the police officers that he’d asked to be ready to go into action, and he sent them another ping to their phones as he stepped along the sidewalk, and then opened the door to Stumptown.
“You are not nearly as smart as you think you are, Eric,” Brad said as he approached the table.
“Oh yeah?” Drake looked at him angrily. “The big, bad billionaire here to swoop in and save his piece of ass?”
“The police are on their way right now,” Brad told him matter-of-factly. “We have the recording device you illegally installed under Jessica’s desk, we have your emails, we have everything. I do think you’re probably going to find it very difficult to get out on bail again.”
“In that case, you’re going to be all over the tabloids as a deviant,” Drake said. Bradley just smiled. Drake looked at Jessica, finally realizing the extent to which she’d betrayed him--at least in his own view. “You set this whole thing up,” he said angrily. “You fucking cunt!”
“You abused me, you degraded me, you tried to harass me in public when I wouldn’t respond to your stupid messages, and then you tried to blackmail me, Drake,” Jessica said firmly. “I’m not the addict you could manipulate into doing what you wanted. I’m healthy now, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that you don’t get out of jail for years. And if you try and come after me again, I will make sure that you go to jail again.”
The police came into the coffee shop then, and several of the people--who had already taken an interest in the scene Drake was causing--became even more intrigued. “Eric Drake Johnson, you have the right to remain silent,” the first cop said. Drake--showing his stupidity again--tried to argue, tried to struggle, and the police hauled him bodily out of the shop while continuing to recite his Miranda rights. Once they had him in the car, they came back into the shop to talk to Jessica, who had--Bradley noted--turned off the recording device.
“We are going to need statements from both of you, and the DA said she needs impact and evidence you were able to collect,” the first officer said. Bradley nodded.
“You can tell her that we’ll have everything delivered to her by the weekend,” he told the cops. “We’ll come in tonight to give the statement--unless there’s some kind of time factor.”
“No, he’s under arrest; we’re not just holding him. The preliminary charges will be filed tonight, and he’ll be processed once we get there. Apart from that, there’s not a lot we need from you--just enough to convince a judge not to give him bail.” Jessica smiled wryly at the two men.
“I’m pretty sure the conversation we had would convince any judge with sense that if he’s out of jail between now and his trial, he’s just going to go on to do more law-breaking,” she said. The cops both chuckled.
“Yeah, that would be a good argument against letting him bail out,” the second one said. “Give us a call when you expect to come by to give your statement; we’re both on overnight, and we can come down to the precinct to take your statement.”
They left, and Brad leaned in close to Jessica. “You did amazingly, Jess,” he told her, before kissing her lightly on the lips.
“I’m just glad we’re one step closer to it being over,” she told him before kissing him back.
*
Jessica kicked off her shoes as she stepped into Bradley’s apartment, reaching up to let her hair out of the tight, professional bun she’d put it into for the appearance before the judge. It was the day after Thanksgiving, and they’d interrupted their long weekend of activities in order for her to go to court to explain why Drake shouldn’t be allowed out on bail. He would stay in the jail until his trial, which was exactly the outcome they had both been interested in, and Drake himself had been as angry as a poked rattlesnake.
“I believe I promised you some good punishment and a reward too, if you made it through the hearing,” Bradley said from behind her. Jessica grinned and then wiped the expression off of her face, falling into her “submissive” role.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, her heart already beating faster. She could feel the heat starting to bloom between her legs, coming back after the long, sobering and definitely un-sexy hearing she’d just gone through.
“Finish taking your hair down and then join me in the bedroom, naked,” Bradley instructed her, going into the master bedroom as soon as she nodded her agreement to that order. Jessica took the pins out of her hair, the elastic, and combed her fingers through the locks to loosen them completely, shaking her head to relieve some of the tension from the tight style. She began to strip off her clothes quickly, since there was no Master there to watch and enjoy the sight, and since she was pretty sure that Brad wanted to get down to business as much as she did.
Once she was naked, Jessica followed Brad into his bedroom, where she found him standing in front of the “toys dresser,” as she’d come to think of it, stripped down to his boxer-briefs. “Remind me again why it is that you need to be punished?” Brad had the faintest trace of a smile at the ends of his lips, and Jessica resisted the urge to giggle herself.
She was so excited, so thrilled to get into the play session with him--especially after the stress of taking Drake down, and the follow-up stress of the police and the court--that it was hard not to laugh, even when she was slipping into the subservient, obedient state of mind that seemed to come with their sessions.
“I got myself off without permission last night,” Jessica reminded him. “While you were cooking dinner.” Brad tsked.
“That’s right,” he said. “You confessed right before we had to leave, so that’s more punishment for not telling me immediately.” He shook his head, pretending to be disappointed in her. Jessica tried not to laugh.
She had ceased to feel even the slightest fear in front of Bradley--not even fear of falling into her bad habits, of trying to manipulate him into using her the way she had grown accustomed to when she’d been actively feeding her addiction.
Instead, she felt completely and totally at ease with him, even fully naked, and even knowing that he was going to tie her up, and--at least on the surface--take away her control of the situation.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, nodding solemnly.
“Legs spread, arms behind your back,” Brad commanded, and Jessica immediately obeyed, feeling the kind of electric tingle spread through her body, lingering at her breasts and her pussy and even--surprisingly--her ass. She knew to some extent what Brad would do to “punish” her, but he always changed it up just enough to keep her from getting bored, from being able to anticipate which specific things he would do.
Brad stepped towards her, his hands full with the spreader bar and a long length of rope; it wasn’t the silken rope that he sometimes used, but something a little rougher, though none of the bindings he used would actually damage her skin. She stood still as he tied her wrists tightly, the slightly rough cotton rope digging into her skin just a little bit.
Then, Brad sank down, knelt at her feet, and attached first one and then the other cuff to her ankles, immobilizing her completely. Her breasts, her pussy, and her ass were all readily available to him, and as Brad’s hands slid over her, caressing and teasing, Jessica fidgeted as much as the bindings allowed, letting out a soft moan of anticipation.
“I think we should start with the paddle; you’ve been warned about getting yourself off without permission before, after all,” Brad said.
“Yes, Sir,” Jessica agreed. He helped her to shuffle gracelessly towards the foot of the bed, and when she would have bent forward, he stopped her.
“I don’t think that’s all we need to do here, though,” he said. “These gorgeous breasts deserve their share of punishment, don’t you think?” Jessica nodded more eagerly, curling her toes a little at the thought of the clamps being applied.
She watched as Brad went back to the dresser where he kept his gear, and opened one of the smaller drawers, searching in it for a moment before coming back towards her with the clamps in hand. They were delicate-looking, long pieces of metal with a bead around the two “legs” of each clamp that would let Brad tighten them as much as he liked. The bottom of the clamps held a little ring with two bells each, which would make noise every time she moved--possibly even whenever she breathed, if she breathed hard enough.
He set them aside for a moment and cupped Jessica’s breasts, squeezing them carefully and then pinching and rolling her nipples until they hardened into firm little nubs. Jessica moaned in pleasure, arching into his attentions, savoring the gentler contact that she knew would end all too soon.
He picked up one of the clamps and positioned the two ends around her left nipple. The bells tinkled as he pulled up on the bead slowly, tightening the clamp around her nipple, just at the base of the hardened nub, until it wouldn’t budge no matter how she moved or shifted.
The bells tinkled, and Jessica moaned at the throbbing ache that started up in her nipple, little pulses of sensation travelling seemingly straight to her already-wet pussy. Then, Brad repeated the process with her right nipple, giving her a moment to appreciate the pain and pleasure caused by the clamps.
“Now,” Brad murmured. “Now, you can bend forward and present your ass for the spanking you so richly deserve.” Jessica let out a half-whimpering moan of anticipation and carefully bent forward, until her face was against the thick comforter. She turned her head so that she would be able to breathe and speak, and watched as Brad selected a paddle from one of the drawers. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, giving herself up mentally to the experience.
She heard the sounds of rustling and faint, plastic clattering, and then the softer sounds of Brad’s steps moving towards her. She twitched when she felt Brad’s hand slide over the curve of her ass, caressing her. “I think we can start with twenty, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, breathless with anticipation and delight.
“Count down from twenty, then--and make sure you thank me for each one,” Brad told her. Jessica nodded her acceptance of that rule.
The first blow fell across both buttocks, and Jessica gasped, feeling the heat explode against her sensitive skin, tingling through to her pussy, making her wetter already. “Twenty! Thank you, Sir,” she said as soon as she could speak.
The next slap of the paddle--a little harder, but not the maximum power that Brad could put behind it--landed against her right buttock. “Nineteen! Thank you, Sir,” Jessica said, breathing a little harder. As the blows came a little faster, a little harder, and she continued counting them, Jessica found herself fidgeting, instinctively pulling at the bindings at her wrist, moving her body as if to avoid the blows she knew would continue to come.
She didn’t use the safe word, she didn’t ask him to stop--consciously, she didn’t want him to, even as the heat settled into her buttocks, transforming from a sharp, edged pain mingled with pleasure and into a deeper kind of fire, tingling through her nerves.
The closer she got to one, the more Brad spaced out the blows, and Jessica was sure that the last five took almost thirty minutes, even though she knew that wasn’t possible. He waited until she was completely still, until her guard was down, to strike her again each time, and no matter how Jessica tried to keep her guard up, tried to keep her body tensed in preparation for the blows, he was patient enough to wait for her to relax against the bindings, against his bed.
It would have been easier if she could forget the pain in her nipples from the clamps, but every time she moved the little bells tinkled, mocking the little jolts of pain that spiked out from the epicenters of the throbbing, pleasing ache.
After the last of the hits from the paddle, Brad stroked and caressed Jessica’s reddened buttocks, making her back and shoulders twitch as she struggled between the pleasant feelings and the overwhelming sensitivity. “Do you think that was enough punishment for breaking such an important rule, Jess?” Jessica tried to slow her breathing, tried to make herself think; it was so difficult.
“No, Sir,” she said.
“Do you want me to punish you more?” Jessica smiled.
“Yes, Sir, please, Sir,” she replied. She heard him chuckle, and opened her eyes to watch him leave her, headed back to the dresser with all the toys he’d accumulated.
“I think that gorgeous ass of yours can get a little redder, don’t you?” Jessica nodded.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
“And I think you also need some pretty little red stripes on your thighs to remind you why it’s a good idea to obey the rules--do you agree, Jess?”
“Oh—oh yes, Sir,” she said, fidgeting within the confines of the spreader bar and the rope around her wrists, keeping her helpless. Bradley picked up a flogger--not the worst of the ones he’d bought, which he still hadn’t actually used on her, but an impressive one nonetheless, with long, leather straps and a handle that Bradley had used more than once to tease her pussy--smooth, thick, and easily warmed in his hand.
She closed her eyes again and listened as Bradley approached her once more. “This time, I want you to count up,” Brad informed her. “If you can’t take anymore, you know what to say, but I’m going to be watching you too.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jessica agreed. She shifted her weight slightly; the pain in her nipples was beginning to dominate, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. She took a slow, deep breath and tried to steel herself for the first blow, even though she knew that Bradley would wait until she was fully relaxed, until her guard was down.
A rustle of leather straps was the only warning she got before an explosion of fiery pain lit up her buttocks, in all directions at once--so many that Jessica couldn’t even keep track of where all the straps from the flogger had landed. “One! Thank you, Sir,” she said with a gasp, trembling. Almost as soon as she got the words out, another blow exploded, concentrating on her left buttock. “Two! Thank you, Sir.”
The blows came hard and fast, occasionally pulling the breath out of Jessica’s lungs as she cried out, yelping. Bradley had become quickly efficient with the floggers, and he varied his targets: one buttock or the other, and then--when she least expected it--her thighs, the delicate skin of her inner thighs just below her pussy or the slightly tougher but still sensitive flesh of the backs of her legs, between the crease of her buttocks and her knees. She kept counting, Bradley giving her time to catch her breath, not chiding her for not giving the response quickly enough.
Five, ten, fifteen blows rained against her already-sensitive skin until Jessica’s bodily instincts took over, making her dance and fidget within the bindings. She whimpered helplessly between blows that came fast and slow, and then--when she was certain she couldn’t take any more--Brad paused, one hand cupping her hot, throbbing pussy, rubbing against her wet labia. One of his fingers slid between her folds, finding her clit and beginning to rub her there. “You like being punished for being bad, don’t you, Jess?”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, pushing her hips back into his touches. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Do you want more punishment, Jess?” Jessica considered that question, but it was so difficult with the tingling fire in her buttocks, along her thighs. It was so difficult to think when Bradley slid two fingers inside of her, working them along her inner walls, rubbing her so intimately. She was so turned on that she was pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to her in that moment, and she knew that he knew that. He wanted her to push past that addictive need, to tell him honestly what she wanted.
“M-m-maybe a little more, Sir,” she mumbled.
“Do you want me to make you cry, Jess?” She nodded. She needed that release--after all the stress of the week, of the hearing, she wanted to be taken all the way to the edge, and then wanted to be held.
“Please, Sir,” she murmured.
“I’ll keep going until you use the safe word,” Brad told her. “Or until I think you’re trying to violate our rules about the safe word. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, nodding to emphasize her agreement.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Brad instructed her. “I want to change things up a bit, and you look so sweet, so trusting like this.” Jessica smiled.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her breath and pulse finally slowing. She heard him step away from her, heard him open a drawer, and resisted the temptation to open her eyes and see what he was going to use to punish her next.
Bradley approached her again, and Jessica felt her skin crawling, anticipating the first of the blows to come. “I don’t want you to count this time, but you will thank me for each one. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jessica replied. She whimpered softly, tugging at the ropes on her wrists, hearing the bells on her nipples jingling and tinkling as she fidgeted.
The first blow hit her right buttock, and Jessica yelped in surprise; it was more painful than the previous flogger, and not just because the effects of getting spanked were cumulative. Brad had chosen something with heavier--maybe braided--straps, and they hurt indeed. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, as soon as she could remember.
Brad flogged her carefully, and Jessica was glad that she wasn’t expected to count; she would have lost the ability to remember which number they were on after about three. Before too long, she was dancing within the confines of her bindings, her body trying to move itself out of the way of the blows, and Brad continued, raining the straps down against her buttocks, against her thighs.
Jessica felt the tears heating up her eyes, and then rolling out from under the lids, soaking into the comforter on the bed. Brad didn’t stop until she was truly crying, until her body shook not just from tremors of anticipation but from the cathartic sobs pushing their way out of her.
She didn’t realize how far gone she was until she came back to herself, the sobs easing, and realized that the bindings were all gone, that Bradley had her in his arms. “You did so well, Jessica,” he murmured, dusting her wet face with kisses. “You’re so good. You took that punishment so beautifully.” She whimpered, more out of a sense of overwhelming gratitude and the inability to form words than anything else, and cuddled closer to him. “My beautiful Jess,” Brad murmured, kissing her lips. “My beautiful little submissive.”
“Thank you,” she said, kissing him back. Brad’s fingertips slid over the inflamed skin of her buttocks, sending a shiver through her--composed not just of sensitive nerve endings reacting, but desire as well. She wanted him inside of her.
“How do you want to be fucked, Jess?” It was as if Brad had read her mind. “Tell me.”
“Show me how good I am,” she murmured, desperation in her voice. Brad laid her gently on her back on the bed, and Jessica realized belatedly that he’d put a pillow under the small of her back, keeping her over-sensitized buttocks from pressing against the bed. He spread her legs, and she shivered, knowing what was coming next.
But instead of thrusting into her, Brad slipped down below her hips, nuzzling her reddened inner thighs before delicately parting her labia. Jessica closed her eyes and moaned out as he buried his face against her pussy, sucking and licking, worshipping her with his mouth.
“Oh--oh, fuck,” she cried out as she felt the tip of Brad’s tongue slithering up and down along her inner labia, as she felt him suck her clit between his lips. He worked her as if he intended to devour her, as if he intended to enjoy every last bit of her drenched flesh, wriggling his tongue inside of her and then sliding it out to swirl the tip around her clit.
She arched and twisted, pushing her hips down for better contact. She gave herself up to the pleasure that Brad created, just as fully as she had the punishment he’d meted out to her at her request, letting the sensations light up her nervous system.
She was on the edge of orgasm when he pulled back, making her groan with frustration. “Do you want my dick, Jess?”
“Yes--oh, fuck, yes, please. Please, Sir, please give me your dick,” she cried out.
“Do you want me to come inside you, Jess?”
“Yes, please,” she said with a moan. It was as if every nerve in her body was on fire, and the only way to extinguish it was the orgasm that Brad had brought her so close to and then denied her. “Please, Sir.”
She felt the thickness and heat of Brad’s cock against her slippery folds and moaned in pleasure as Brad thrust into her slowly, filling her up inch by inch. He pushed deeper and deeper into her, until his hips met hers, and held himself absolutely still as Jessica’s body tightened around him in little convulsive spasms, as if her pussy itself couldn’t bear to let him leave it.
Then, he pulled out almost halfway and thrust into her again, and Jessica wrapped her legs around his waist, reaching up to pull him closer to her. She grabbed at his face and kissed him hungrily, falling into the rhythm he created, pushing her hips down to meet his thrusts.
She was hungry for him, hungry to feel him inside of her, to feel his orgasm and her own. She tried to hold back the climax she could feel building up in her hips, so close she could taste it, but after a few moments, she couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Please can I come, Sir?”
“As many times as you want,” Brad told her, kissing her lightly on the lips. “Come as much and as hard as you want, Jess.”
She cried out in pleasure as the tension broke at Brad’s permission, snapping deep down in her hips and sending wave after wave of sensation through her body. Jessica grabbed at him, clinging to him as if she were drowning, panting and gasping as the orgasm ripped through her, lasting so long that it almost scared her. Brad kept moving inside of her, keeping pace with her climax, slowing down as the waves began to ebb, just enough to let her recover.
Then, as he sped up again, Jessica felt herself becoming turned on all over again, arousal stirring and then building up between her hips, through every nerve in her body. She kissed him everywhere her lips could reach, pushing down to meet his thrusts, caressing his back and shoulders as they fell into the same tidal rhythm once more. Once more, she felt the arousal building up inside of her until it reached an almost feverish tension, and she remembered that she was allowed to come as many times as she wanted; she didn’t have to hold back.
The second orgasm hit her, not as strongly as the first, but with a deep sweetness that warmed up her body from the inside out; Jessica gave herself up to it, kissing Brad hungrily as it washed through her, and felt the satisfying, delicious sensation of his body tensing on top of her and inside of her, of his cock twitching. He groaned against her lips and thrust into her hard and fast as he came, the wet sounds of their fluids mingling in their movements filling her ears.
They both collapsed on the bed, tangled up in each other, and Jessica couldn’t help but smile in spite of the lingering pain in her buttocks and breasts from the punishment she’d received from her Master. She wasn’t “cured” of her addiction--she knew she never would be--but it felt so amazing to be loved, to be respected and cared for, to know that the man she was with would fight for her, would give her what she needed.
“I was thinking of something,” Brad said, once they were both recovered from the intense climaxes.
“What’s that?” Jessica curled up against him, feeling so satisfied she couldn’t even imagine needing anything more--needing another fix. She knew the itch would come again later, but Brad would be there to scratch it.
“How do you feel about tattoos?” Jessica frowned in confusion.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Brad smiled and looked down into her face.
“I was thinking that since you enjoy being my sub so much, and I enjoy being your Master, we could both get a tattoo,” he explained. “It wouldn’t be names--nothing like that--but something to mark us belonging to each other.”
“You want to get a tattoo for me?” Jessica stared at Brad in amazement. His smile deepened into a playful grin.
“I want us to both get tattoos,” he said. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and then on her lips. “And I’d love to watch you get a tattoo where only I would ever see it. Maybe on your hip, here,” he caressed the ticklish flesh, and Jessica squirmed, smiling. “I would say your ass but then I’d have to avoid punishing you there for at least a few weeks until it healed.”
“Where would you get yours?” Brad shrugged.
“Probably the same place,” he said. “We could pick each other’s designs.” It would be--if not a marriage, if not an engagement--then some way of marking each other for life. Jessica considered it. Brad was prepared enough to commit to her that he was willing to mark himself for the rest of his life, in her honor.
“I love it,” she said. “Let’s do it.” Brad kissed her hungrily, and Jessica knew that whatever happened to Drake, she had overcome the worst of the worst of her downfall through addiction. She could count on Brad to be there for her, to hold her, to care for her, and to always treat her like a person, like someone of worth. She didn’t know how she had earned the privilege of being so blessed, but she wasn’t going to question it anymore. She was just going to give into it.
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