Author Comments
I want to thank everyone who has read this series and/or taken the time to leave a comment. I appreciate the words of encouragement and the feedback on the details.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
The series starts as lesbian nonconsent/reluctance. A lesbian goes off the grid for vacation. She seeks shelter from a storm at what is assumed to be a seldomly used cabin but is caught when the owner shows up unexpectedly. The years of suppressing her submissive tendencies bubble to the surface as she is forced to accept punishment for trespassing and settling the tab for staying in the cabin.
If this is offensive to you, please find another story. If you read on, please enjoy and comments are always welcome.
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Back to Reality
The trail was rocky and required full attention when running. One false step and the bone in your ankle would snap. It was why I chose this route, to give my mind something else to focus on. After several days of silence, of dwelling on things best left at the cabin, I forced myself to leave the house, to stop looking at the empty inbox.
Sweat rolled down my back as I crested the ridge. I'd hoped the run would not only get me back into my routine but banish the memories which plagued my dreams every night since being released.
I panted, stopping to stretch my legs. The back side of the path would be more challenging with the downhill slope as there was a higher risk of rolling rocks and slick pebbles. Tomorrow would be my first day back at work. Running would help to focus on sleuthing.
Twigs snapped to my right, and I squinted into the shadows to find the source. I didn't see anything, at least there wasn't anything resembling a human lurking in the trees. I was on top of it. Nothing was going to catch me off guard this time.
"As if," I muttered before taking quick sip of water from my pack. Some investigator I was. Never heard her coming to begin with. Such much for my Spidey senses.
I set off down the trail which would led back to the orange stone parking lot. I made mental note to take on work that would get me back out into the field. Too much time spent behind a desk looking at numbers. If last week was anything to go by, I was rusty.
The birds singing to each other usually made me relaxed and happy, but today it was just annoying. They took me back to the cabin, to the walk through the woods by my pussy. Heat flared up between my legs at the memory.
"Oh, for fucks sakes!" I ran harder, fighting against the images which kept me horny for the better part of the weekend.
This would not do. I could not show up at work distracted by my throbbing pussy and aching tits. I needed to stop the memories from taking up space in my head. Unfortunately, forcing the images away allowed the questions to fill the vacuum.
Why had I let a stranger take me prisoner and make me her slut? Why had I not immediately gone to the cops to report the incident after she let me go? Why was I checking the email she'd left in my bag every day?
I pushed harder as the path merged onto a wide gravel road.
Almost four days and the inbox was empty. I was so distracted by her playing with my ass that I couldn't remember which email options I provided her. Maybe that was for the best. At least I couldn't make a bigger fool of myself by begging for a due date.
The fact she gave me only one email option, confirmed she had some type of internet connection at the cabin. How else would she have chosen an available email address for me? She was always in control, even now, she knew how to contact me while I was left in the dark wondering what was next.
It didn't matter. I wasn't going to follow through on it anyway. Even if she did email, I would ignore it. This whole thing was insane.
Tomorrow. Monday morning. I would start fresh. A clean slate. No more checking the email account, no more thinking about her.
I nodded, picking up speed. That's right. Debt cancelled. I wouldn't be making any more payments. Final answer.
*****
"Feme Charlie," the blonde bimbo at the café called out.
Normally, I would just wait and make coffee at the office, but I'd slept so poorly last night, I made a detour for a double espresso.
The girl who looked twelve would never think to use my name. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember a time when I was rude to her. There was no reason for the creative name calling.
Hell, from what I could tell, she was straight as an arrow and young enough to be my daughter. So, I know I didn't flirt with her or vice versa. There was no root cause for this name bashing.
I ground my teeth, retrieving the cup before escaping back onto the busy street. I stepped to one side of the outside patio and carefully took a sip.
The hot caffeine hit rushed to my brain and I heaved an internal sigh of relief. Maybe I could forget the vacation.
"That's not what I wanted," a warm rich authoritative voice cut through the hum of conversations. "You know what I meant."
I froze. My heart stopped. It couldn't be. She couldn't, there was no way to trace me.
"Look, Roger, just do it
exactly
as I said."
I scanned the area to my right.
A tall blond with bright red lipstick and almost alabaster white skin, gripped a phone to her ear. "It better be done by twelve. Or I'll cut that fee in half."
The pressure in my chest released as I met the stranger's gaze. Her eyes were a hard dark brown not green. There was no hint of amusement, just pure anger. I shuddered at the similarity in accent though. Whomever Roger was, he was not having a good day. I only hoped mine would be better.
After another sip to calm my rattled nerves, I weaved my way through the crowd toward the distraction of work.
Agnes's desk was empty when I walked in. She must have been on a cleaning spree last week as nothing was out of place on her desk. The hard top shone with a new coat of polish.
The small lobby with one tan love seat and several cloth guest chairs were neatly pushed against the walls. The small coffee table was perfectly centered and decorated with a handful of popular magazines, artfully spread semi-circle. The blinds to the dark conference room at the back of the lobby was smudge free.
