My Darkest Desire

By J P Philips

My Darkest Desire is a collection of five erotic short stories, each one sharing the central theme that is a female character forced to surrender her body to the will of another.

Do Not Disturb tells the tale of a hotel chambermaid who finds herself forced to pay in the most outrageous of ways when she’s caught spying on a hotel guest who she foolishly assumes to be sleeping.

In My Sweet Degradation, a young woman confesses the events of one hot, summer evening when her brother’s handsome, yet arrogant, friends take it upon themselves to make use of her body when they believe her to be sleeping.

Tormenting Rebecca recounts the story of how badly the narator suffered when her step-brothers-to-be took it upon themselves to pin her down, to tickle her and then so much more.

A Little Lesson in Respect sees a spoilt brat of a girl tied up and punished when her short temper gets the better of her and she makes the foolish mistake of pushing the wrong man too far.

In Room Service, a young woman’s fantasy of having her body used and abused becomes a reality while on a weekend trip to Prague. Who it is that takes advantage of her when she’s bound, gagged and blindfolded, however, may not be who she first assumes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J P Philips
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310559259

J P Philips

J P Philips describes himself as, "A perfectly ordinary, happily married, forty-something-year-old man who accidentally stumbled upon a talent for erotic writing." It began back in 2006 while, on a wine-fuelled whim, he decided to write a fictitious 'girlfriends' confession' in an attempt to be published by a certain mens' magazine. As a bi-product of that experience he discovered a strange thrill in writing erotica, and so he went on to create more stories, publishing them online in an amateur capacity, where he was awarded several prizes and quickly amassed a considerable fan-base. An early attempt at a personal website then followed, a professional publishing contract was duly signed, but in the end he decided that he really wanted to go it alone, and so he now publishes all of his short stories and novellas independently. Asked how best to describe his writing style, JP has come up with the snappy title, "Slightly-larger-than-life-story-led-hardcore".

Book preview

My Darkest Desire

by

J P Philips

My Darkest Desire

Copyright © 2015 MDD Publishing

http//www.mydarkestdesire.com

All rights reserved. eBooks and eStories are non transferable. No part of this work may be used or transferred without the prior written permission of MDD Publishing (excepting circumstances where short extracts amounting to no more than 100 words are quoted in promotional material or critical review). Unauthorised reproduction of this work is illegal. No part of this story may be scanned, uploaded or distributed by any means, print or electronic, without the express permission of the publisher.

This story contains themes of a sexual nature and is to be read by persons aged eighteen years or over. In owning a copy of this story, readers must also make sure that they are adhering to the law of the country of their abode. MDD Publishing takes no responsibility for illegal behaviour resulting from the acquisition of this story.

This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidences are the work of the author’s imagination only. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is coincidental only.

Published in the UK by MDD Publishing 2015

Introduction

My Darkest Desire is a collection of five erotic short stories, each sharing the central theme of a female character forced to surrender her body to the will of another..

Do Not Disturb

Emma swiped the key-card in the lock and, turning around, she pushed the door open with her behind. Enough morning sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtains that there was no need for her to reach for the light switch. She moved further, resignedly pulling the trolley in her wake, passing by the bathroom and on into the main body of the room. With a hiss followed by a soft, metallic click, the door swung shut and Emma was alone – or so, at least, she believed.

She took a cursory scan of the room in search of the remote control so she could have MTV blasting away while she set about her work, but on turning towards the bed, Emma suddenly gasped – her hand quickly reaching up to cover her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the tiny cry that had already left her lips. How could she have been so stupid? How could she not have noticed him before? Admittedly, there’d been no "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging from the door handle, but really, it was a major breach of procedure for her not to press the buzzer before entering. In her defence, this was to have been Emma’s ninth room of the morning and so it was perhaps understandable that her concentration was waning a little.

Nervously, she peered down at the man’s face. His head was turned sideways on and facing away, his eyes held tightly shut. She thanked her luck that he was clearly still sleeping and prepared herself to sneak back out of the room when something caused her to falter.

You see, Emma had a naughty streak. She’d always had it. Even as a little girl. It told her to do bad things just because she could, and it exerted itself now.

Studying the sleeping man a little more closely she saw how he was rather handsome – early to mid-thirties she’d have guessed – his hair dark, well groomed, yet tousled through sleep. His morning stubble pricked across a strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones, and his ever-so-slightly chapped lips were parted so that Emma could make out a row of perfectly white teeth below. Clearly, he was a man who took pride in his appearance, but that was nothing particularly strange given the hotel’s usual, exclusive clientele. Emma’s eyes moved lower.

His chest lay naked and fully revealed. She felt a tiny, electrical charge tingle through her body, and if she’d only stopped to question it, she might have realized it heralded trouble. The man looked good, there was no doubt about that, and she peered a little closer still, trying to work out if he might be someone famous. He was slim and well toned, his muscles subtly sculpted rather than being overly bulky, and Emma chewed against her lip as she watched his upper body rise and fall with the rhythm of his slumber. Her gaze slid lower still.

A single, white, cotton sheet lay draped across his abdomen. Her eyes followed the wispy line of dark hair that led down from his naval to hint at what lay beneath. She observed the outline of his legs – one straight, the other bent at the knee – and then on. It really wasn’t her fault – it was there for anyone to see – but as Emma’s eyes finally fell upon the outline of his thick, sleep engorged cock resting against his thigh she swallowed awkwardly and stared.

With her heart racing, the rational part of her mind screamed at her to leave, but it was far too late for that. Mischievous Emma was in control now and she just knew that she had to take a look – maybe even take a little photo with her phone, just in case he did turn out to be a celebrity.

Creeping to the side of the bed, Emma carefully bent forwards. It was almost as though she watched as a passive observer as her hand slowly inched its way forwards, her thumb and forefinger delicately pinching a fold in the luxuriously soft, hotel sheet in readiness to lift it away.

She could smell his naked body now – thick and warm; no obvious cologne, just a simple, clean scent mixed with the heat of sleep, and it caused her pulse to quicken. Clearly he’d showered before bed, but he smelled of… well, he smelled like a man and Emma liked it.

Lower still she drew the sheet, revealing the naked flesh of his lower abdomen. She swallowed hard and licked at her lips as she followed the strong, defined line where his pelvic muscles led down in a discernable ‘V’ before she went on to expose the very beginnings of a dark thatch of hair.

Emma allowed her imagination to run wild. She wondered if he’d enjoyed sex the night before, if he’d hired a call girl – as she knew so many lonely guests did – and fucked her hard like the whore that she was before sending her on her way £1000 the richer. She wondered if he’d picked up some slut at one of the nearby nightclubs and encouraged her to suck on his dick before calling her a cab to take her home.

She blinked and released a tiny, involuntary gasp as she finally exposed his cock. It was quite beautiful really, lying there all heavy against his thigh. It looked so wonderfully smooth – a single, strong vein running along its underside – and she examined its entire length from base to tip with the studied gaze of a connoisseur. Emma couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it might feel like against her fingertips if only she dared to touch it – what it might look like when fully aroused. She even went on to consider what it might taste like if she were to take it in her mouth, and her body throbbed with a sudden yearning. Unfortunately for poor Emma, she was given no time to imagine how it might be to have the stranger’s stiff prick thrust into her.

With a yelp, she suddenly let go of the bed sheet and tried to step away, but it was no good: the hand that gripped her tightly by the wrist meant escape was now impossible.

Emma hadn’t been working as a hotel chambermaid for very long, and she certainly had no intention of making it a long-term career. The job was no more than a necessary evil – a way to pay the bills while she waited for that perfect position she’d studied five long years at university for to arrive. The fact that almost nine months after leaving full-time education she still hadn’t found the employment she felt she deserved meant little to Emma. It was only a matter of time and she knew it. For all that hotel work was unglamorous and often boring, the money was actually okay. And besides, there’d always been something of the voyeur about her, and she rather enjoyed being able to take secret peeks into the bedroom antics of the rich and the powerful.

Home for the time being was a rather modern, rather chic and rather pretentious boutique hotel in central London. It was the kind of place where the famous and the infamous could carry out their numerous indiscretions in an atmosphere of absolute privacy. The hotel was sexily styled and, in keeping, so too were its employees. By way of reward for their good looks, the staff were paid a much higher wage for comparable work at most other establishments, which Emma thought a little shallow, but as she was one of the lucky ones, she chose not to question it.

Upon taking up her position, she’d been issued with a set of uniforms: a rather traditional-looking, black, linen-cotton dress that buttoned down the front, a simple white apron and a pair of black stockings that finished just above the knees. At first, she assumed she’d accidentally been given the wrong size dress, as it seemed a little short in the leg and felt as though it had been tailored too tightly across the chest, but as she observed the other girls with their tits proudly jutting out and the naked flesh of their thighs so clearly on display, she accepted there was an intentional, understated eroticism about the way they were expected to present themselves, and in the end decided she actually quite liked the way her uniform made her look.

On the morning of her little adventure, Emma had woken with an arousal nagging deep within her body. Perhaps it stemmed from something she’d dreamt, yet could no longer remember, she really didn’t know, but as she stood in white, cotton panties and bra only, her hair still damp from the shower, she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and counted out the depressing number of weeks since she’d last experienced a man. She twisted left and then right, studying her profile and wondering if she’d put on a little weight before deciding that even if she had, it only suited the Italian genes she’d been lucky enough to inherit from her mother’s side of the family. She thought about being naughty, about removing her underwear so that she’d be naked beneath her uniform – her nipples rubbing tight against the fabric of her dress, her pussy so easily revealed if she wasn’t careful with how she bent – and the idea of it caused that familiar tingling sensation to swell tight between her thighs – and to a point where she actually wondered if there might be time to do something about it before work. Turning around to check her alarm clock, however, she discovered that she was running dangerously late as it was and so, she quickly pulled on the rest of her clothes, blow-dried her hair, and headed down to the kitchen to grab a quick cup of tea and a slice of toast.

Poor Emma tried to pull away, but it was no good: she was held fast. Whimpering, she looked down at the man who stared back at her while hoisting himself up in his bed, two cobalt blue eyes boring into her and an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

‘Please, Sir; I’m sorry. I – I didn’t know you were here,’ she pleaded. ‘I was just going to clean the room when I saw you and – and I was just about to leave and…’

The man’s smile broadened. ‘That’s not exactly all you were about to do, now is it?’ he said, his voice calm, controlled and with an accent that betrayed an expensive education.

‘Really, I’m very sorry, Sir, honestly. Please let me go. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll – I’ll go away and I’ll come back and clean later. Please,’ she garbled, her cheeks burning with the humiliation of being caught red-handed while her heart beat hard within her chest.

‘Relax,’ the man said as he blinked his eyes softly towards her and his grip remained vicelike around her wrist. ‘What’s your name?’

Emma