As She's Told Anneke Jacob

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.Winner Of The National Leather Association's 2008 Pauline Reage Novel Award!Take two caring, thoughtful individuals with some highly unusual sexuality, let their paths cross, and watch how far their obsession takes them.That's the essence of this story about an intense bdsm relationship: extreme, loving, creative, steeped in imagination, embedded in the real world.What emerges is a passionate, private sexual reality, in which the balance of power tips only one way.Maia and Anders want nothing less than total power exchange, without games, negotiations or safewords.Any pretence is out of the question; for both of them the power relationship has to be as genuine as it is absolute, but Anders is more than aware of the risks to inexperienced Maia if she should be wrong about what she can handle.Early on, he steers a careful line between games and gobbling her up.His ownership is established step by step through conditioning, painful consequences, humiliation and constant bondage, and before long, Maia finds walking away has become inconceivable.Anders keeps his slave increasingly 'like an animal on a very short tether'something to which she struggles to adjust, in a continuous state of terror and joy, his love of technology takes some interesting turns, particularly around orgasm control, teasing and denial.The intensification of Maia's enslavement is balanced by the pair's affection, sense of humour and intelligent conversation, and by the real world of work and friends.Some of these friends become integrated into the meage one way and another, and help Anders create the setting in which Maia's uttermost submission can flower.Graphic BDSM content.As She's ToldAnneke JacobA Pink Flamingo Ebook PublicationCopyright © 2008, All rights reservedWith the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.For information contact:Pink Flamingo Publicationswww.pinkflamingo.comP.O.Box 632 Richland, MI 49083USAPhoto courtesy of Istock.com © gremlinEmail Comments: comments@pinkflamingo.comAs She’s Told – Anneke JacobChapter OneShadowThe flotsam on the front desk didn't need any more rearranging.I'd done that three times already, with hands more tense and jittery by the second.Each impatient tick of the clock nudged me; I wanted to heed the exit sign's word of command and get out the door.At last my colleague of the afternoon shift arrived to relieve me.Dear Vera.Five minutes late, again.Before her coat was off I had her filled in: assorted information requests, a new student coming in at three, and that shipment of energy-saver kits only half processed.I hoped she'd put my breathlessness down to irritation.If she did, there was no flicker of an apology; there never was.She just nodded her imperturbable head and went to hang up her coat.I struggled a little awkwardly into my boots, straightened, took a couple of much-needed breaths and flung my coat on.Then I was through the door; under the clock and exit sign and into the snowy street.The sun was glittering on patches of brilliant white on the roofs and windowsills.The snow at street level was the colour of car exhaust.It was ten after one and the temperature had inched above freezing.I just avoided a wet attack from the tree branches above me.Later the sidewalks would be pure ice.Not my problem.I heard the streetcar before I saw it – that unmistakable metallic roar accelerating through the traffic noise – and cursed under my breath.The spreading puddles around the curb were ankle-deep.No time for circumnavigation; I splashed through regardless.Luckily the light turned red and caught the streetcar for me.I searched with a little edge of panic for my token, the one thing in my possession resembling money.Oh, I couldn't have lost it…no… Then I felt it, wedged into the furthest corner of my pocket, and the red tide receded.At that time of day there were empty seats; I perched on one with care, trying to pant quietly.My ribs strained against tight bands, leather pressing into my flesh.But I wouldn't be late.Research questions and collegial irritation trailed after me for a block or two, and then fell behind in the slush of the streetcar's wake.My covert body inventory took over instead: a check on each hidden place held captive.Held 4As She’s Told – Anneke Jacobas if by hard, untiring, single-minded hands.The heat under my usual simmer turned up a notch, and then another.I sat quietly, looked out the window and hoped for the hundredth time that no one on the streetcar could read minds.The three blocks from the streetcar stop had to be taken more easily; I didn't want to be sweating when I walked through the door.Traffic noise receded behind me; I threaded through quiet residential sidewalks, between snow neatly piled or left in slushy ridges, past the driveway and up the walk.I let myself in, and closed the door behind me.Then I sank to my knees.***Anders got into his pickup.In the house behind him was a deconstructed kitchen, half a truckload of cabinetwork, and his crew sprawled on tile boxes, eating their lunch with the radio cranked to Q-1-0-Zeppelin.He pulled his laptop out from under the passenger seat and booted it up, angling it so that passers-by couldn't see the screen.Sandwich in one hand, he pressed some keys with the other, stroked the mouse, and made a careful check on his property.The phone on his belt bleeped."Thygesen," he said."Hey big brother!""Hey Svend! Are you back? How was Greece?""Really good.Fantastic, actually.Invite me to dinner and I'll tell all.The guy who sublet left the place in a nightmare – ""Let me take you out.You want Italian?""Ugh, no, I'm sick of restaurants.Haven't you got some new dishes to try out on me? Or this new girlfriend of yours, does she cook?""Um – no, actually." Anders looked at the figure on the screen, retreating out of range.He switched to a different image, and watched her breasts framed between her arms as she passed through a doorway into brighter light."Svend – not tonight.""Oh, come on.I'll even do the shopping.Don't you want to show me this house of yours?""There's something I'm going to have to explain before you come over.""What? What's wrong?""Nothing's wrong; it's just –""Wait a minute….Something tells me… [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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