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HIS SUBMISSIVE: BODY WORSHIP
     
    by
    Erika Masten
     
     
    KINDLE EDITION
    Copyright © 2012 Erika Masten.
    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
     
     
    Erika Masten
    [email protected]
    http://erikamasten.com
     
     
    Published by Sticky Sweet Books.  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
     
    This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely coincidental.
     
    Warning: Explicit content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.
     
    This is a work of erotic fantasy. In real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always practicing safe sex.
     
     
    TABLE OF CONTENTS
     
    His Submissive: Body Worship
     
    Excerpt From
    Bridled: Bitter Creek Doms #1
     
    Excerpt From
    Domination Sex: Conditioned Response
     
     
    HIS SUBMISSIVE: BODY WORSHIP
     
    Even as I’m getting ready for the night, I know it’s a mistake to attend Donna’s party. It’s always a mistake. Across the dim, silent bedroom, my laptop is open on the writing desk in front of the broad window overlooking the lights of the city. The unnatural glow from the screen plays along the overly clean, sterile lines of the modern furniture, finding little color to soften the artificial hue. The display flashes persistently with notifications that I have messages waiting, clients and projects and deadlines demanding response.
    Attention: Julia Ingram. Change to Project Scope.Urgent.
    Mine is the life of a freelance grant writer in an economy with government programs dwindling, venture capitalists going underground, and philanthropists dropping like flies. Everyone needs me…for what I can get them.
    I turn away with slow deliberation, slipping into the blushy beige sheath dress before deciding it’s too drab for a pale redhead, then settling on the navy blue wrap dress with white piping. Not my style, really, but the style I wish was me, sophisticated and sexy in a relaxed, self-possessed way. The material is cool and soft and arousing against my bare white skin. It’s almost like wearing a silk robe out in public, with the way it hangs and hovers, dipping into a moderately deep V between my full, round breasts. Normally, the dress would be too bold a statement for me, but I don’t want to be colorless and unobtrusive tonight. For once, I’d like to be noticeable, remarkable, memorable.
    Hence, I skip the neutral makeup and neat ponytail in favor of red lipstick and using the curling iron to put a bit of an Old Hollywood wave in my long hair. Studying my reflection in the vanity mirror, the wide round eyes that at turns appear light gray or faded blue or pale green but always hollow and sad, I wonder if I’m being too critical. Do I look as desperately lonely as I’m starting to feel?
    That’s the big reason I try to keep myself penned up in my apartment, working as much as possible, venturing out only for hurried coffee runs or grocery shopping when the pantry is bare. If I stay buried in work, I can keep my loneliness at bay. When I go out to see friends, at one the lively dinner parties my gregarious social circle so loves, I come back starving. Ravenous for the type of companionship I see between the couples I grew up with from grade school through college. Jealous of the off-hand caresses and intimate glances as they circulate through the crowd.
    I’m intimidatingly intelligent, competent, observant, astute, but also painfully shy and easy to