The following excerpt is from Open House, which is available exclusively for purchase on Kindle.
“Long time, no see.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Look, I’d prefer to keep this strictly business, if you don’t mind. I’m not the same person I used to be when we—”
Jordan took slow steps toward me. My voice trailed off as he got closer. He had no more than three or four inches on me, but his attitude might as well have added another foot. He firmly clenched my chin and forced me to look up at him.
“If I remember correctly,” he whispered, “we kept things strictly business back then, too. And you fucking loved it.”
My cock started to rise in my pants. I hated what Jordan was saying because it was true. He took from me, and I loved it. I had wanted it more than anything, and even though I was happy in my relationship with Kyle, I’d be lying if I didn’t think about those heady days more often than I cared to admit.
“Be that as it may,” I said, my attempt at asserting control coming off as desperate and pretentious, “I’d rather we left all that in the past.”
“You sure?” Jordan was so close to me now that I could feel his body heat. “I don’t believe you.”
“I mean it, Sir,” I said, then quickly corrected myself. “Dammit. I mean it, Jordan.”
“I’ll bet you’ve got a wallet full of cash that needs to be cleaned out.”
I sighed with a mixture of frustration and lust. Findom had been the best thing that ever happened to me. It turned me on like no kink ever had before. Giving up control over something so tangible to a Sir who knew what he wanted and how to get it from me was the thing that had been missing from my life. Even in the depths of my humiliation when my wallet had been drained dry, it was still hotter than any sex I’d ever had.
“I-I don’t do that anymore,” I said, my voice wavering.
“For old times’ sake,” Jordan said. “You know you want to.”
I didn’t, but I did. The smirk and slow nod Jordan gave me as I pulled my wallet from my pocket only encouraged me to obey. I wanted to.
“Good boy,” he said. “Do it just like we used to.”
I pulled the cash out of my wallet and knelt in front of him. I kept a running total as I fanned the bills out. I had $218 in cash, and I was laying it at Jordan’s shoes as if no time had passed since we last met.
Fuck, I thought. This feels so fucking good.
“Please take my cash, Sir,” I said and then looked into his eyes. “You deserve to have it.”
|Want to read more works like this? Send Me a tip as a way to help support this and other writing endeavors.