Emilly
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2010 by mattwatt

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - A repost of my Emily story with some proof reading done.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Reluctant   Sister   MaleDom  

Emily didn't move immediately. She stayed there; stayed actually on her knees kind of mesmerized.

What he'd said, swept over her, as though she had no choice in the matter:

"That's where you belong, Mrs. Gallagher, on your knees at my feet!"

The sound of it bounced around in Emily's brain and her mind played the scene over and over again:

"That's where you belong, Mrs. Gallagher, on your knees at my feet!"

"That's where you belong, Mrs. Gallagher, on your knees at my feet!"

"That's where you belong, Mrs. Gallagher, on your knees at my feet!"

Every time the strange, biting words were replayed in her mind, Emily could see the look on his face, as he gazed down on her.

Always there was that kind of superior look on his face, a look that said to her that he knew what was best for the two of them, and how it was going to be.

And always, seeing that look, Emily inwardly agreed that he did indeed know what was best for them and how it was going to be. She didn't try to deny that.

And then there was a reaction.

Emily was on her feet but found herself weak in the knees and needed to lean against the wall. Only now, as the little scene played again in her mind, she heard the voice of her rage filling her mind and her whole being:

"Who the hell does that little creep think he is?" she blustered, first mentally and then out loud:

"Who the hell does that little creep think he is, saying that? On my knees indeed! Where I belong indeed!"

But even as she stood there almost in shock, with the rage of it playing inside her head and in the air around her, she felt the thrill of it again wash over her.

Emily, despite the angry voice in her mind, still felt the thrill of it deep inside herself. She still felt the wetness that had gathered between her thighs because of what he said, the way he said it and the way he looked at her, almost like a possession that he wasn't claiming just then but would be in the future.

It felt like those damn Dickmann brothers all over again, and the scene was that tangled cemetery and she was caught, like she was supposed to be caught, by pirates, or by indians, or by gangsters, or by a rival gang in the city, and they'd taken her clothes, left her in only those pretty pastel panties and tied her to the tree again.

But that was the strangeness of it: always tied to the tree and never really fulfilled. Those damn Dickmann's never seemed to know what to do. But Emily had the sense, if she allowed herself to think about it now, that Josh Evans did know, did know what to do, and this time would be different.

"Enough!" her mental voice chided, almost yelled at her.

"Get the little arrogant shit out of your mind! What the hell were you thinking, girl?" The voice was nothing if not insistent.

"But it was an accident," she whined back at her mental voice.

"An accident! Balls!" the voice shot back at her.

"Yes, an accident," she continued the mental debate. "I just dropped the money that's all! Just dropped it!"

"Because you were so smitten by a teenager's ass! How dumb is that?"

"But it was, I told him, I said it; that I just dropped the money that's all. I never, I never collapsed onto my knees in front of him ... never on purpose!"

"Balls!"

The debate this time, which had so often helped Emily to get through threatening situations and maintain that precious sufficiency, wasn't helping.

She finally shook her head to clear it of the voice and decided that she needed another shower, if only a very symbolic gesture. She went up the stairs and in a casual way, not normal or natural for her, shed her clothes as she went, arriving at the bedroom naked and ready.

She made the shower hot and embracing and stood under the spray letting it wash over her and felt the enjoyment of it, letting it wash away the scene, the ugliness of it, the need of it and the way it titillated her still.

She washed it away and decided to get on with her day.

When she was finished, it was lunch time and Emily took care of herself with a light lunch. She found that she wasn't remotely interested today in going out, not to the club or shopping or anywhere.

After lunch she went back to the shed to make sure that everything was taken care of and put away properly. It was. She realized that he was good that way.

In the semi-darkness of the shed, the little tempting voice whispered to her:

"You're lucky that you didn't fall to your knees in front of him here, Emily! Here in the dark, Emily! You'd have been at his mercy then."

She tried to shut the voice out or off and not listen to it; she waited for the strong voice of disapproval to wade into this part of the debate but it was strangely silent.

She whispered frantically to the shadows:

"I didn't fall to my knees in front of him it was an accident!"

The resounding 'hah' that lit up Emily's mind stopped her in her tracks.

"You don't want to admit it that that's what you did, wanting to get on your knees before Josh Evans; you don't want to admit it but that's the truth of it."

Emily went to her knees now in the shed and put her head in her hands and simply began to cry.

"Not true, not true!" she wailed into her hands but finished that series of denials with a whispered:

"Is it?"

That last question filled the shed and her mind and threatened to overcome Emily totally with its reality.

She stayed where she was, kneeling and sobbing until the urge to cry passed and she was calmer. She was calmer but still left with the horrible 'Is it?' that ended the most recent debate with herself.

She didn't have the answer. It flashed into her mind that maybe the Dickmanns, and she did chide herself for thinking about those boys too much these days, were close to the what the problem was; that is the Dickmanns not knowing really what to do for her or to her.

And then another thought invaded her thinking:

That she was probably close to the answer too when she'd swore to 'him' that she'd do 'anything', if he wouldn't leave her. And from then on she knew that the tragedy of her own thinking, feeling and acting was that 'anything' hadn't been enough.

The small voice returned and this time with a kind of solace that Emily had never thought of:

"Well this time, with Josh Evans 'anything' will be enough and he'll know what to do with that 'anything', girl, he just will!"

Emily stopped her sobbing, stopped her crying and there and then stopped this almost crippling debate about whether she'd fallen to her knees on purpose or not.

She simply accepted, for whatever it was worth, that intense whisper about 'anything' and Josh Evans. She put it in the back of her mind, got up, brushed herself off and left the shed to get on with her day.

She never did really recall very clearly or distinctly what she did for the rest of the afternoon. It all seemed a kind of a blur to her but she go through it and, to her credit, she didn't continue the mental debate that had so shaken her in the morning.

In the back of her mind was the stray thought that maybe she should call Josh to make sure that he'd come next week and keep working for her or maybe she should call and say that she wouldn't need him any more, but she pushed it away, knowing that she had no idea at all about how she'd begin or continue a conversation with him at this point.

It was almost as if working or not, the schedule and all were simply up to him to decide and she'd be good with his decision.

This was the state of her peace throughout the afternoon and into the evening. She was fine with it and fairly calm about it, much in the same way as she'd achieved a bit of peace about the sex thing once 'he' was gone and there was no more sex. It took some doing but eventually Emily was fine with that, and no sex at all for her, except her periodic attempts to pleasure herself, between the ages of 28 and 35 seemed like just a normal everyday decision.

She was busy with various things through the evening and watched some television with a glass of wine, which put her in a mellow mood and also made her a bit sleepy.

Almost as the evening was finished, she had a call from Sam--they frequently checked in with one another during the day or early evening.

"Hi, Sam!" Emily said with genuine pleasure.

"Em, honey, how was your day? Get the lawn done?"

"Uh, yes," Emily said, trying to be guarded but not too guarded, "Josh Evans did come and do it; did a good job too. I was so relieved to get some one over here."

"Is he going to continue for you?" Sam asked next.

"Uh, I think so," Emily said, "I'm kind of counting on him, of his schedule's okay to be here next week also."

"Good," Sam said at that. "I know it was on your mind to be able to get someone to do that."

Then Sam asked: "Are you okay, Em? You sound a bit strange."

In fact Samantha bringing up Josh Evans had indeed pushed Emily's mind back in the direction of her kneeling in front of him and that scene had been playing in her head again. She pushed it away,

"Not wanting," she said to herself, "To bring Sam into this and worry her."

"No, I'm fine but a bit tired," Emily said. "Watched some tv and then had a glass of wine is all."

 
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