Rhiannon stilled, as if to let the admonition land. When she started on the roll again, Britt flanked the full dorsal curve of her foot against Rhiannon's crotch. An involuntary tightening around her foot told Britt that the little sub was turned on. The warm dampness she felt through her pantyhose also told her what she needed to know.

“Silky, isn't it?” Britt asked rhetorically.

Rhiannon lifted her head and glared at her. Mouth full of cinnamon roll, she was unable to answer the question anyway.

Britt smirked at the thornless glare, which she would have to address later. “Don't talk with your mouth full, pet. I'm just getting started.” Sure, Rhiannon mentioned she didn't like humiliation, whatever that meant. Who knew exactly what the boundaries were unless Britt pushed? The gray areas were way too vast and delicious to go untested. Besides, it wasn't like Britt was using the word pet in a derogatory manner. If anything, it dripped endearment when she said it.

Britt gave Rhiannon a nudging glide in the nether region, delivering a liberal teasing friction by foot. “I can tell these lips like what I'm doing. Coupled with the gush coming out of them and my silk pantyhose, doesn't this feel like a long slick tongue lapping up your juices?”

She watched the irritation in Rhiannon's eyes fade to a glaze of blazing lust, the cinnamon roll quite forgotten. So the pet liked dirty talk, eh? That she could deliver in the next however many minutes left, and set aside the polite reminders she had given of the time limit. No more niceties from the Mistress, even for a newbie. After all, including the last bit of cinnamon roll Rhiannon had eaten, she should have enough energy by now for the rest of the session forming in Britt's mind.

“I don't think you came here for pain, pet,” Britt continued. “I think you came here for pleasure.” 

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“Mariah?”

Her eyes instantly flicked open in a haze at the husky masculine voice that had dominated her masturbating fantasies eons before. Disoriented, she found her wide-eyed stare steadying on the familiar chestnut eyes of a suited man she thought she had once escaped months ago. Could it really be him? How the heck did he find her?

Mistress V spun around, waves of electric fury rolling off of her. “You don't interrupt a scene.”

Orgasm on hold, Mariah could hardly breathe. In fact, she had stopped breathing. The man really was here, in the flesh. She wasn't delusional. If anything, he looked more chiseled than before, the suit as crisp as their prior meetings in the board room and beyond. His once over was as penetrating as it had been before.

With a slight nod, to Mariah's relief, he excused himself. Still, she felt too frozen to track his departure. All she could do was force herself to fill her lungs with air and release the stiffness that had taken over her body. As she started to breathe and relax again, she noticed Mistress V's penetrating regard of her.

“Interesting.” Mistress V's narrowed eyes drew up warning flags within Mariah. “You gripped me extra tight when he interrupted. Makes me want to push—”

Mistress V struck a deep place within her, and Mariah couldn't help but buck her hips forward and moan.
“—that hard limit of yours on public humiliation. You like it when you go all animal on me in public? Let the world know how sweet a cunt you have, what a whore you are, that you like being fucked like a slut?”

Oh, god, that was furthest from the truth. What the heck was Mistress V doing, still stroking her and talking dirty? Fucking her pussy as if it was some sort of lie detector? Breathless form Mistress V's relentless probes, Mariah shook her head.

“Hmm. Perhaps you like being watched by a third party? How about sex with a handsome stranger who chances upon two copulating females? Still not your cup of tea?” The dips and glides quickened in pace and pressure, and she couldn't resist squeezing those fingers. “Ah, there we go, a bit of that clench again, but not as strong as the one you gave me when caught in the act by that handsome man. Tell me, would you like me to invite him over to play with us?”

Her heart stopped at the absurd notion. She wasn't a doormat or a play thing! She fervently shook her head and cursed herself when she felt her pelvic walls tighten around Mistress V's fingers.

“Interesting,” Mistress V muttered, her eyes narrowing. “You shake your head but your pussy liked that idea. So do those beaded pebbles on your chest.”

Mariah's breath hitched. Oh, god. No!

“Not to mention the catch in your breath and those flushed cheeks …” Mistress V's lips curved with sinister intent. “However, some more alone time together would ensure that this pussy is mine.”

​A few quick jerks of those fingers coupled with several swivels of the thumb to her clit sent her flying. She came, screaming into the wool stocking as Mistress V continued stoking the fires of her orgasm.

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Mariah stepped through the door and saw a corridor of security monitors with live feed. The sound of her heels reverberated through the hall. Farther along, Britta stepped through another door and kept it open for her. Mariah quickened her pace and caught up to Britta, who closed the door promptly behind her. Her eyes widened when she scanned the room. The place would have looked like a lounge space, if it weren't for the four poster bed at the far corner.

Mariah had assumed that they would step into a more private conference area. This was way too private of a room for a discussion over to-do items, even if the current campaign had to do with further extending the reach of the company's new medical line. They could have stayed in Britta's office, couldn't they? A foreboding wave of nausea gathered in her belly. Just what did Britta have in mind?

“Let me see what's still on your list,” Britta said.

Mariah handed over her clipboard. Britta took one glance, then set it down on the kitchenette counter before opening a drawer and extracting a couple of items, including what looked like doctor's headbands with much shorter straps.

“I'd like to product test these,” Britta said, handing the mini-headbands over. “Wear them on your wrists so that the discs face out and are over your pulse.”

Mariah inspected the product, which was heavier than she expected. The straps were about two inches wide and felt and smelled like leather. Attached to each strap was a thick circular metal disc with a flat surface that accounted for the weight. She secured each strap to her wrists and looked up at Britta expectantly.
Britta walked her over to an armchair near the coffee table and padded the back of the chair. “Sit and rest your arms so that the discs face the ones built into the chair.”

At first glance the armchair looked like any other, except the wooden arms did have circular discs the same size as the ones she had on her wrists. Unlike the flat surface found on the discs strapped to her wrists, the built-in discs in the chair had a depression in the center and a black ring outside of it. Mariah sat down on the leather cushion and positioned her wrists in place.

“Keep them there,” Britta said. “For this exercise, I'll need to blindfold you as well. No objections?”

​Mariah swallowed, the feeling of dread rising in her stomach. Just what kind of product testing was this?

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“Wow, you look sexy!” Geneva raved via video chat Saturday morning after brunch. “You should keep your hair black like that, Mer! Nice Cleopatra bob you got there. If I didn't know better, I'd take you to be a Wiccan priestess. With a touch of black lipstick, you'd pass for a Goth too.” 

Vampires and witches? Nah. She never got into the paranormal stuff. “A little early for Halloween, don't you think?” Mariah raised an eyebrow, eying the June sunshine in Geneva's backdrop in Seattle. She remembered staying at Geneva's for about a week after her condo sold. The light streaming through the patio doors reminded her of the secret garden she frequented past those double doors, the little patch of earth she left almost a year ago.

“Where's your sense of humor?” Geneva giggled, then lifted her mug to toast Mariah and said, “Congrats on getting an interview by the way. Sorry I didn't have much time to talk last night. Friday evenings are usually reserved for Frank. How did it go anyway?” Geneva then sipped her favorite: chai tea. Mariah could almost smell it through the monitor.

Slightly envious and desiring a comfy beverage of her own, Mariah picked up her laptop and moved it to the kitchen to make a drink for herself: hot chocolate. Wished she had thought of using her lightweight iPad to Skype instead. Filling a pot with milk, she fired up the stove and then frowned. “She got into my business, didn't trust the little I had on my résumé and dismissed me.”

“Girl, I could have put you in touch with people in my industry for any admin job you needed,” Geneva said.

“But that's the point of my job search process! I need to keep a low profile and drawing on any contacts of yours or mine from the past will make me too easy to trace.” Mariah grimaced at the thought of Clark on her trail. Scooping a heavy measure of cocoa into a mug, her mind instantly switched to relishing the aroma from the tin can.

Geneva sighed. “Yes, I know. You actually have good reason to continue doing so.”

Mariah's ears perked and her stomach dropped. Dread tingled up her spine. “What do you mean?”

“Your Dom came looking for you,” Geneva said.

“What?” Mariah exclaimed, dropping the scoop mid-measure. How did Geneva know about Clark? Did Clark really hunt Geneva down to ask about her? And what was all this stuff about her Dom? She stayed quiet, pointedly ignoring Geneva's reference. She was so not going there.

“He came to my office and I told him that you'll contact him when you're ready.”

Mariah groaned. “Good god, I'm sorry about that, G.” Recalling how Clark took up her office space as if he owned it and had his way with her, an involuntary shudder of both pleasure and anxiety moved through her. “He can be very, for lack of a better word, domineering.”

Geneva giggled. “Yeah, Dom. Domineering. Get it?”

Mariah rolled her eyes and pushed the thought of him out of her mind. She had just recovered—mostly—from losing her mother not long ago and had little reserves left now to deal with the Clark issue. She was ready to talk about the interview, though. 

“Anyway,” Mariah said, thinking of the appointment she had with Britta, “I tried to save my interview by proposing several ideas I thought would be helpful for diversifying and strengthening the company—based upon the news I found on them for the past six months.”

“That's way above and beyond an admin, isn't it?” Geneva asked. “You sure that won't pique your prospective employer into poking into your past life?”

Mariah sighed, thinking of Britta's shrewd gaze. Nothing slipped past that woman. Plus, the business world was small—even smaller for successful businesswomen. Applying for the admin job was the best thing to do for her to keep a low profile and Akerman Enterprises was the perfect place to be … if she got the job.

Purr Scent III: The Mistress
Submissive Awakening

Trying to figure out her penchant for pain and pleasure, a new and disguised Mariah Olsen caves in to exploring her thresholds for submission at the hands of a well-trained Dominatrix, Mistress V. Their scene does not last for long before an unexpected Dominant drops by not once but twice. 

Clark Mannings, on the cold trail of the submissive woman he desires as a mate, visits an old friend to relieve the ache. Instead, he gets a rude awakening that throws him back to that one fateful afternoon in Seattle months ago. 

Britt Akerman, irritated from filling the last open position in her company, goes to a BDSM club to relieve an itch. Only, the itch finds her and the fun—and punishment—begins. 

Purr Scent III: The Mistress is a 21,000-word Purr Billionaire M/F/F (MFF or Male-female-female) BDSM Erotic Romance written by Purr Erotica Romance author Jacintha Topaz. This erotic read takes place mostly in a BDSM club and has bondage, riding crops, and F/F action (kissing, butt plug, strap-on). Although the three protagonists meet in this story and the girl-on-girl action heats up for the female leads, the three will meet for their first M/F/F menage in Part IV: The Mastered.

The book contains mature content that is only suitable for 18 and over.

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Britt glanced at the time on her computer screen. Five fifty-five. Only five more minutes until she'd call it quits. She already stayed nearly an hour past her clock-off time. Manhattan was too much fun for a young lady like her to be in the office past six o'clock.

She regarded the spreadsheet before her and checked the calculations again. Everything matched, every cent.

Still 5:55. What a long minute. She wasn't into numbers, numerology or some other hocus-pocus like that, but she couldn't help noticing three fives in a row. Numbers—what a cosmic joke to be working in the finance department. Well, she did like practical stuff, so yeah, in a way, this job was a good thing. However, finance was tedious and time-consuming. If Zack—correction, Mr. Humboldt—hadn't given her a shitload of work to do before tomorrow's meeting, she would have been home by now.

Actually, she could have been home by now. After all, she was the daughter of Nikolaus Akerman, founder and CEO of Akerman Enterprises, and Mr. Humboldt was only one of the CFOs in the company. She didn't need to stay, but she had also refused preferential treatment after graduating Cornell with her MBA two years ago. No one could say that she had the silver platter offered to her. She had worked her butt off from a lowly entry admin position in sales to be where she was today—in the executive offices.

She sighed and checked some more numbers before saving her work. A slight movement caught the corner of her eye. Shifting her gaze beyond the monitor, she noticed Mr. Humboldt himself. His salt-and-pepper hair framed shrewd dark gray eyes. Although his black pin-striped suit seemed harmlessly sterile, something in his demeanor prompted her to be on guard.

She faked not seeing him but decided she had enough for today—a couple minutes shy of six o'clock be damned. Switching off her computer, she bent low to open the drawer for her belongings. As she stuffed her phone in her purse and straightened in her seat, Mr. Humboldt had advanced to her desk.

She didn't need to feign shock at the invasion of personal space. He was too close for comfort. Recovering quickly, she forced a polite smile and said, as she stood up to leave, “Have a good evening, Mr. Humboldt.”

“Ms. Akerman.” He nodded to acknowledge her greeting, a thin smile failing to reach his eyes. “Are the documents ready for the meeting tomorrow?”

“Yes, they are,” she said, trying not to breathe the overwhelming cologne. It smelled awful, especially on a guy at least twice the age of the targeted market. Apparently, he felt immune to the company's scent-free environment policy. “I double-checked everything, Mr. Humboldt.”

“Will you print them out?” he asked, his voice low. “I'd like to check over dinner.”

She stifled a groan. Really? Did he expect her to turn on her computer again when he had access to the very same documents on his? “The documents are on the server, Mr. Humboldt.”

“Yes, I understand. My computer froze, and I need your help.” His jaw tightened, eyes darker and nostrils partially flared.

Damn. Was he turned on by this weak ploy of his to get her to stay that much longer? That power-tripping son of a bitch. He was in no way sincere.

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Part of a five-part serial, Purr Scent III: The Mistress will be published in August 2014. Stay tuned!