Franny was discouraged by the slow progress. Never had she wanted anything so much as she wanted Jack to want her. Time spent with him had not changed that desire, though it didn't seem to change his desires, that's if he had any.
And no, she didn't want to manipulate him. She'd done that to enough men in six years of being sexually active. Jack Brando was a different sort, one she hadn't figured out, perhaps why he came with such high recommendations from Penny, but then too, Penny had known him at a different time in his life. Now, he seemed so old and set in his ways, was there still that wild man simmering in his psyche's underworld?
She would think about carnal underworlds when the gray haze of day was about to hit her bedroom, when it was still dark enough to see shadows and think that something would be rising out of them to take her on her long desired journey.
Tethered, held in bondage, bound with leather, confined by ropes, this was no mere trifling fantasy, but one that rocked her loins, made her belly burn, her heart pound and every aspect of her being quake with a hearty appetite that never seemed to be given its full share of sustenance. Imagination, taking her on savage excursions only seemed more potent over time, as one journey in her tethered mind topped the next in severity. Grim dominants would bare her body, tie her to objects of remarkable description and leave her, torture her with waiting and tentative caresses, and the indescribable feeling of being hopelessly helpless . . . but cared for. Immobility gave her power.
A thousand times it seemed her ruthless imagination gave her pleasures that her body took with ease, but it was never the way she wanted it. Her poor hand might be busily engaged between her legs bringing herself off, but it wasn't to the tune of a lover's demand, or a lover's hand, but her own forced play.
If Jack Brando would end the endless speculation, just once; then she might be satisfied with the creations in her mind, and not desperately long for the thrill of reality.
Franny overslept one morning, just two weeks into her job, because she was up nearly all night thinking of Jack and her plans. In typical form she went through dozens of possibilities for their relationship to play out, but not settling on anything concrete, she decided to let the matter rest for a day.
It wasn't her day off, but she was taking it anyway. The sky was blue, the air crystal fresh at nine o'clock. She swore she could smell the sea breeze even though she was miles away from the nearest beach. Waves and sand were the perfect elements to soothe her anxiety, put her at peace, make the mounting fear subside for a while so that she could think straight about the relationship she was trying to have with her gorgeous man of mystery.
Ah, Jack Brando, you're a scoundrel underneath your reserve! She shivered letting her hands drop between her legs where her perpetually wet pussy was waiting for some attention. The sensations were so deep within her, she grabbed her dildo beside the bed and shoved the thing inside her, thinking all the while that it should be Jack's perfect cock pleasing her there. Why did he make her so raw! Why was she putting herself through this ungodly test of sexual appetite with so little reward? She hated waiting for the prize. Would he be worth it when she finally had him?
With fingers pinching her clit, drawing her labia apart, she was thinking of the nastiest things, like being his submissive on display, like being bound and teased, and taken up the ass.
A sharp shot of painful pleasure made her whole sex tighten around the filling dildo, and for just an instant, as the sensations dwindled into nothing, she passed out, loosing consciousness altogether until her body woke to the shock of the ringing phone.
"Damn, it's Jack," she thought to herself.
"Franny here," she answered lan