**** This is an excerpt from my latest novel, Under Order *****
Heather Green is a young workaholic lawyer with no time for a relationship. Until she meets Mark. Mark's dominance, his commands, and his expectations soon lead Heather down a path she never dreamed possible. As Mark and Heather grow to know one another, Heather learns pieces of the lifestyle Mark is leading her towards. Will a BDSM intentional community make a slave free?
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The walk went quickly. Ralph's was just a block from my apartment. All of my work to disguise myself was for nothing; hardly anyone was outside.
Mark was dressed very casually in old blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Instead of his usual BMW, he had a brown, dented Honda. He kissed me when I arrived, then stood back to look at me.
"Didn't I tell you to wear the dress and nothing more?" he asked.
"I'm not wearing anything else," I said.
"Take off the sunglasses and the hat."
I took them off sheepishly, knowing I hadn't done as he had asked.
"Wait here," he said. He went into Ralph's and I waited impatiently. It was still very light outside and I was worried that I would see someone I knew.
Mark returned. "Follow me," he said. He led us around to the back of the store and unlocked the men's bathroom door. He pushed me inside and locked the door behind us.
"Bend over and put your hands on the sink, Heather."
I looked at him, then at the sink, then back to him. "Really?" I asked. The sink didn't appear to be very clean.
Without a word, Mark pushed me forcefully down to the sink. I used my hands to catch myself and he covered them with his. I felt his whole body around me, his strength and power so obvious. His hands were so much bigger than mine, holding me down.
"If you move these fucking hands before I'm done, you will be a very sorry little slave," he growled softly into my ear. I shuddered under him. I was scared.
"Did you think that I wanted you to wear a little disguise along with your outfit, Heather?" he asked, standing up and positioning himself behind me.
"No," I admitted.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice that you disobeyed?"
"I... I didn't know. I didn't know if you were serious," I said. I looked down at the sink and saw rings of mineral deposits. I decided I did not like men's bathrooms.
"Look back at me, Heather," he said. I looked at him and was relieved to see he had a small smile on his face. "You can rest assured, my dear, for any future commands that I give you, that I am always very serious."
He reached to his back pocket and produced a wooden spoon. "This," he said, "is something I usually carry when I'm going out with a slave or submissive girl. In public, it is very difficult to discretely give a naughty girl a proper punishment. But I can use this quite effectively without producing a lot of noise. As long as you keep quiet, Heather, your neighborhood shopkeeper won't be the wiser. You may face forward now."
I looked forward, a bit annoyed. I didn't want to be punished. It seemed so unfair that he would spank me for a simple misunderstanding.
Mark pulled my dress up over my ass, bunching it up at my waist. He wasted no time and used the spoon to pepper my butt with a series of spanks.
I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. It was worse then his hand, and maybe even worse then the paddle Jasmine used to spank me. It stung. I clutched the sides of the sink as hard as I could, not knowing if I would be able to keep myself from using my hands to block the blows. Before long I was hopping from foot to foot, moving my ass around to try to avoid his spanks.
He stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief. His hands grazed my skin softly. "Do you think you've been punished enough, Heather?" he asked.
"Yes," I said quickly. Definitely.
"I disagree, but I prefer a change in venue. Wash your hands."
I washed my hands thoroughly. Mark pulled my dress down and led me back out to the parking lot.
"Get in. I'll return the bathroom key to Ralph," he said, unlocking the door to the car.
We drove for over a half hour. I realized he was taking us to one of the sketchy parts of town. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been to this area. He pulled into street parking and gestured to a restaurant across the road. It was a diner that desperately needed new siding. On the glass door entrance was a neon 'open' sign.
"Do you think a lot of your colleagues go to restaurants like this?"
"Um, no," I said.
"Or friends?"
"Nope."
"Or estranged Mormon relatives?" he said, looking at me and smiling.
"More likely scenario, but no. I don't think so."
"Good. Let's go."
"Like this? Here?" I asked nervously, looking down at my outfit. My dress barely covered my tits and my ass, and my boots and makeup just made the outfit over the top. In this part of town, I'd be assumed to be an actual prostitute wearing this kind of thing.
"Ah. Your hesitation reminds me that you still deserve a little more punishment. And I love embarrassing you. It's so easy. Come on, follow me. I have an idea."
I reluctantly followed Mark as he quickly walked across the street and into the restaurant. It was crowded, to my disappointment, and I felt the eyes of the customers on me as we entered. Mark signaled a waitress and asked to speak to the manager.
Seconds later, a man around 50 years old with a bit of a gut sauntered up to us.
"What do you want?" he grumbled, glaring at Mark and eying me with lust. He spoke with a bit of an accent that could only be described as 'rural'. I stepped behind Mark a little bit more, trying to hide from the man's gaze.
"Hello, sir," Mark began, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "Listen, I have an odd question for you. Do you have an office where we can speak privately?"
The man looked Mark up and down and asked, "Is you a cop?"
"No, sir."
