Weeks. It had been building for weeks. Every day the touches seemed a little less casual. The looks a little more suggestive. Today it was definitely there though. That thing between them. It was clear that today was different.
At first, she thought she was imagining things. He was always so controlled. So disciplined. So fucking platonic. She had worked with him for almost a year, and had barely gotten past platitudes and the occasional anecdote. He was attractive enough, in a very clean-cut way. Not especially tall or remarkable, but witty and occasionally she would get a glimpse at a dark humor just below the surface. His eyes would occasional betray a subtle disdain for the more ridiculous coworkers, or a world-weary amusement at the banal HR emails. It was enough to keep her interested.
After watching closely for months, she finally detected the slightest crack in his reserve. She had always ridden horses. From some of the things he said, he had a passing familiarity with cowboy riding, and tack, but she never got details nor had he expressed anything more than a polite interest. Until the day he saw the dressage crop in her car.
It was new. Bright green, and springy. She had just bought it for use in a lesson with a new, more demanding trainer. She normally would not have had tack in her daily driver.
When he stepped into the car, she saw it. Just for a flashing second there was a hungry, animal, look in his eyes. For a moment, she was too shocked to really register what she was seeing, and before she could fully take it in, the shutters had closed behind his eyes again. But, he couldn't keep his hands from it.
The entire car ride, he held it lightly, as though he was just fidgeting with it while talking. Flexing it between hands that she suddenly realized were scarred and strong. Where had that happened? He was a lawyer. Soft handed by definition. There was nothing soft in his flexing of the crop. Something about it was very primal and made her stomach twitter.
It was weeks before she got another glimpse behind the curtain. This time though, it was deliberate. It was not so much an intention to lure him into something, or even really an attraction so much, as it was curiosity. Since the day in her car she had been looking at him in a different light. His movements. His posture. The way he disciplined himself to dissuade casual touching. He never hugged anyone, even in this hug-happy modern era. It made her wonder.
So, she left out some leather harnesses in her car the next time they went to lunch. In her opinion, which as not totally inexperienced, she thought they would be perfect for wrapping around wrists, threading over a beam in the barn, and putting the dressage whip to use on tied up party's now exposed ass. The idea thrilled her, even in its half-formed shape.
As soon as he saw the leather, she heard his breath catch. This time, she moved closer, and maintained eye contact. When he looked down, and into her eyes, it was her turn for her breath to catch in her throat.
Gone was the genial, urbane lawyer. Gone was the master of the office water-cooler joke. In his place she saw man's base essence; an intense passion, and almost overwhelming desire burned there. Eyes that are not seen in our polite, gentle world anymore. No, these were the eyes of a man who knew what he wanted and was prepared to take it.
Whatever the look, it elicited from her a deep, gut feeling of desire, mixed with more than a little fear, and a healthy dose of anger. The blend was intoxicating. For the first time in a very long time she felt her body react. It was involuntary. She knew her game was childish, and could do no good for anyone. They worked together. They had families. But that look made her lust, nonetheless.
There was no other word for it. Lust. That is what she was doing. From the moment they locked eyes, and she had seen him as his true self, she had wanted him. She had wanted him to use those suddenly strong hands on her. To grab her. To rip her clothes. She did not want him to ask permission. To be soft, and slow, and so cautious that any thoughts of sex were soon buried under boredom and thinly veiled disgust. She had had enough of that.
She also knew he could do it. You would never have guessed from meeting him during a business meeting, although he was undoubtedly charming when the need arose. Now though, she knew that he was perfectly capable of whipping a woman. Of leaving stripes on her ass, legs, and back. Of imposing his will and punishing disobedience.
It was counter to everything she had been taught since she was a child. Women were not supposed to give in to men! They were not supposed to be dominated! No, they had to be independent, strong, and prove they were just as good as a man! She believed that.
Then why did she want him to pin her hands over her head, in one strong, soft but scarred, hand of his, and choke her with the other while he kissed her lips so hard he left bruises? Those were the invasive thoughts that peppered her days at work now. She would see him through the door in his office, and all of a sudden she would see him standing, flexing a crop, and grinning with the evil look in his eye.
It made her as wet as Niagara Falls. And, now, it was going to happen. Today was the day. After much anticipation, she finally had him. Alone. Unsupervised. Without the constant, baleful, unblinking eye of the office. She had him alone, and in a place where he could take off the mask and just be. Be the animal. Take her with reckless abandon. To fuck her. To hold her in his power, and dictate when she could breathe, when she could move, when she could kiss, when she could cum. The conflict she felt only made the anticipation sweeter. She was ready to be taken for the first time, in a very, very long time.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/35msg0/the_animal_within_part_1_critiques