The Best Domination Ever Contest

Penname: tiffaninichole

Title: Bella's Dirty Notebook

Summary: Bella Swan keeps a notebook full of dirty fantasies. One day, while in a hurry to escape her domineering boss, Bella loses her raunchy book and is desperate to get it back before it falls into the wrong hands. The person who finds it is the last person she expected.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, Jasper would be dominating the panties off of me right now. Well, no he wouldn't. I would have already been naked as soon as he entered the room. Trufax.

I want to have sex in a car while it's moving. Maybe going down a deserted road at night, to make thingsreally exciting. He would have to be the one to drive, of course. I want to ride him wildly while he tries to stay in control of the vehicle and not kill us. He wouldn't be able to touch me, I'd make him keep both hands on the wheel just to tease him—

"Miss Swan!" Mr. Whitlock, my boss, barks from the doorway of my office. I yelp in surprise, bringing my hand to my chest in an attempt to slow my heart rate. I look up at him as he continues his tirade. "May I ask what the fuck you're doing? Because, and correct me if I'm wrong, one has to be in a copy room to make copies, no? Or am I missing something—has an invisible, magical copy machine been transported to your office unbeknownst to me?"

"No, Mr. Whitlock. I'm sorry, sir. I was just—"

"If you're not going to finish that sentence with 'on my way to give you your copies,' then what you have to say is of no importance to me. I expect those papers on my desk in 11.7 minutes." He turns on his heel and is out of sight.

I breathe a sigh of relief before hastily getting up to run to the copy room. That wasn't too bad, could have been a lot worse.

Mr. Jasper Whitlock is COO of Whitlock Industries, a company that specializes in cutting edge technology. His father founded the company and offered Mr. Whitlock a job as partner, but he declined, opting to work his way to the top. Four years later and he's now COO, Chief Operating Officer, or simply, the president of Whitlock Industries. The only person he answers to is his father and when the big guy retires, there's no doubt that Mr. Whitlock will be the one to take his place.

It's pretty common knowledge that Mr. Whitlock is a hard ass who takes shit from no one. That was made perfectly clear the day I applied for the secretarial position of his floor three years ago. While I was being interviewed by his personal assistant, Mr. Whitlock was holding a meeting in the room next door. It didn't last very long. When the meeting was adjourned, three people, one of them a burly man, scampered out of the boardroom in tears.

Two days later, his PA was fired for screwing up some spreadsheets that were needed for an important client. That was the day Mr. Whitlock approached me at my cubicle and I had to concentrate on not pissing myself and/or orgasming on the spot. He looked so fucking good in his tailored black suit and reading glasses, blue eyes sparkling behind the Armani frames. Yeah, he was an asshole, but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate what a fine, fine piece of ass he was. Unfortunately, word around the office was that he was batting for the other team, since every woman that has thrown herself at him has been promptly fired for sexual harassment.

"Miss Swan, due to unforeseen events, you are now being promoted to my personal assistant. Be at your new desk in 14.8 minutes for your briefing. I do not tolerate tardiness. Bring your brain—you'll actually need it for this position."

He was gone in a flash and I was stuck with my mouth gaping for two minutes. Did he just promote and insult me in one breath? I snapped myself out of it and hurriedly grabbed all of my things before scampering to my corner office.

As soon as I stepped foot in the door, I was given two Blackberries, two laptops, ten memory cards and a 20,000 page synopsis on the way Mr. Whitlock runs things. On top of all of my eight billion duties, I was to read through the 20,000 pages by the end of the week and answer a "quiz" to make sure I had thoroughly learned everything. I got a B+ on the quiz which led to me being called, indirectly of course, an incompetent fool. The insults were followed by my being berated for the next hour and a half.

A lot of people have asked me why I put up with his bullshit. The answer is simple: I can't afford not to. Charlie was shot in the head while on duty and lost a life-threatening amount of blood. He was airlifted from Forks to the Northwest Hospital & Medical Center in Seattle, where doctors worked on him for eighteen hours before putting him in a medically-induced coma. He spent five months in that coma before waking up and then spent four years in physical therapy before he was able to fully function on his own. To say that his hospital bills were astronomical would be an understatement—and that's with insurance.

Before getting promoted, I was working three jobs trying to put a dent in our growing debt. My salary is now substantial enough to make payments and buy necessities like groceries and such. Renee works 24/7 as a seamstress and would never be able to make it without my assistance.

"Miss Swan, you're 1.3 minutes early, what a welcome and perplexingly rare surprise." Mr. Whitlock quips as I hand him the papers he demanded. That's as close to a compliment as anyone will get out of the man. I inwardly roll my eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Whitlock. Will you be needing anything else?"

"That'll be all for now, Miss Swan. I will be attending a board meeting in fifteen minutes, be sure to hold my calls."

"Yes, sir."

I hear him mumble something under his breath as I walk back to my desk. Probably some bullshit about my inadequacies.

When I get to my office, I pull out my notebook. I'll need a new one soon, this one is almost full.

Being dominated. Nothing that involves pain, since I'm a wimp. Maybe blindfolds and handcuffs and a teeny bit of humiliation. Hmm... I want to be dominated by Mr. Whitlock.

Having hot, sweaty sex on Mr. Whitlock's desk. Yeah. And on the copy machine. I want to scan his dick and frame the picture. I can even Bedazzle the frame myself. Maybe hang it on my mantle.

I want to be filmed having sex with my lover... if I can ever find a lover, that is. Make our own little home-made porno and have it play on the TV while we fuck.

Fucking on a golf course at night. Maybe while it's raining. And an elevator! Definitely an elevator... with Mr. Whitlock.

On a swing in a park, with me sitting in his lap, holding on to the chains for dear life. Oh yeah. I'd definitely need a skirt for that one.

The rest of the day passes without incident and before I know it, it's time to head home. I quickly throw all of my stuff in my briefcase before Mr. Whitlock can poke his head in and yell at me for breathing too much company air. Lucky for me, someone whose company I enjoy has decided to pay me a visit.

"Hey Ange! What's up?" Angela Cheney is an old friend from high school. She was the one who told me about the opening here for the secretarial position all of those years ago. I'll be forever grateful.

"Me and Zafrina are headed out to get a few drinks. Wanna come?"

"Hmmm... I don't know. I would hate to be fired for showing up to work with a hangover."

"Damn, I didn't think about that! Yeah, maybe you shouldn't go. How's Charlie doing?"

"He's getting better every day. His speech is almost back to normal and he can walk without assistance, now."

"That's great!" She pauses to look at her watch. "Oh, well, I should go. Don't want Z going all Crazy Amazon Lady on me!"

I chuckle. "No, we don't want that."

Zafrina is pretty damn tall, almost 7 feet tall to be exact. We like to lovingly call her Crazy Amazon Lady when she gets upset. She can simultaneously bed and scare the crap out of men with one look.

Angela and I catch the elevator together and wave each other off as we drive out of the parking lot. I wish I could go with them, but it's just not practical. Mr. Whitlock could call at any minute and I need to be alert and sober in case that happens. When he first told me that he could and would call me at any hour for any reason, I thought he was just messing with me. Oh, how wrong I was. The first time he pulled that shit was on a Wednesday, in the middle of my second week as his PA, at 3:38 in the morning. The reason? He wanted to make sure I remembered how he liked his coffee and to make sure I had it piping hot and on his desk at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Yeah.

I get home, kiss my parents hello and head up to the shower. I'm too tired to eat, I just want to shower, do my work and hit the hay. After showering, I dress in my pajamas and open my briefcase to make sure I didn't miss anything that needs to be done tomorrow.

After an hour or so of checking and re-checking tomorrow's schedule, I close my briefcase and snap it shut.

Wait a minute.

I jerk the briefcase open. I just wasn't paying attention, that's all... but it's not in its usual slot. I sift through all of my papers and don't see it anywhere. No. No. No. Did I leave it at work? Maybe I left it on my desk. What if someone finds it? Do I have my name written on it? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuck!

If Mr. Whitlock finds it, there will be hell to pay. His name shows up numerous times in my Dirty Notebook—at least once per page. He'll be livid! I'm so fired. I'm so fucking fucked.

I scream and yank my hair and scream some more, kicking my legs and flailing my arms on my bed, throwing a tantrum like the mature twenty-six-year old that I am.

"Bella, honey, are you okay?" I hear my mom's concerned voice filter through my door from downstairs.

"I'm fine!" We're just gonna have to forgo eating for the next few months, is all. You know, 'cause I'm gonna get fired for sexually harassing my boss in theory in my Dirty Notebook.

I turn off my light and lay down, pushing my pillow into my face. If I suffocate before morning, I won't have to face Mr. Whitlock's wrath. Sadly, the pillow doesn't kill me. It just makes my breathing air really fucking hot and stuffy. Stupid, useless pillow, won't even freakin' suffocate me properly.

I toss and turn all night, hardly getting any sleep at all. When I do sleep, it's nightmares of the "Holy shit, I'm totally gonna be fired!" variety. Can one die of exhaustion? If so, Death, here I come!

When my alarm goes off at 5:45, I'm already awake and my eyeballs hurt from lack of sleep. I slap the clock in annoyance and then knock it to the floor for good measure. Why? Because I can. And because I'm totally getting canned today.

I go through the motions of getting dressed. While brushing my teeth, I glance in the mirror and cringe. I look like a Zombieland extra.

I forgo any makeup. Maybe if I look like hell, Mr. Whitlock will show mercy on my soul. I put on some super sexy underwear, just so I can feel a modicum of power as Mr. Whitlock rips me a new one. After dressing in attire that would make a nun beam with pride, I throw my hair back in a half-assed, sloppy ponytail secured with a big ol' brown newspaper rubber band.

How will I explain myself? Maybe I can say it's for a book I'm writing? It's not mine? It was a joke? No, none of those will work. Everyone knows I can't lie worth a damn. FML.

I arrive at the building twenty minutes early so I can scavenge around my office. There's still hope... After ransacking every surface of my office, effectively making it look like a hunger-crazed grizzly bear ran through it, I give up. I sit at my desk and drop my head on my arms, fighting back the tears. How could I have been so careless?

"Miss Swan?"

I yelp in surprise and immediately begin picking up papers and shuffling them around. "Yes, Mr. Whitlock?"

"Normally the personal welfare of my employees is of no concern to me, but considering the fact that you're my assistant, I have no choice but to inquire about your well-being."

Is this his asshole way of asking me how I'm doing?

"Umm... I'm fine, Mr. Whitlock. Thanks for asking. I'll be fine. I'm fine. I, uh... I just lost something important and I really need to find it before someone else does."

"If it would be advantageous, Miss Swan, I will gladly call our head janitor, Royce King, to help you recover it. Perhaps he discovered your secret during clean up last night."

My blood chills when the word "secret" comes out of his mouth. As if he knows something. Or am I just being paranoid? Please just let me be paranoid. I cross my fingers under my desk.

"Tell me, what is it that you displaced, Miss Swan?"

"Um, you don't wanna know. Kind of a long story, Mr. Whitlock." I continue zealously grabbing and straightening papers, attempting, and apparently failing, to appear busy.

"Humor me." He lifts himself off of the doorjamb and slowly stalks to my desk, placing his hands flat on the surface before leaning forward and licking his lips. "Perhaps I can be... of service, Miss Swan."

His gaze drops to my well-concealed chest before lifting back up to my eyes. His lids hood and he licks his lips again, slowly dragging the tip of his tongue across his full bottom lip.

Um, holy fuck. Is it possible to have an orgasm from being eye fucked? With the way he's looking at me, I'm totally almost there. I cross, uncross and re-cross my legs in an effort to get a little friction to keep from making a fool of myself by dry-humping my boss' leg. Don't be ridiculous, you're reading way too much into this. His lips are chapped, that's all.

"Miss Swan, it would be sapient and propitious of you to be in my office in 4.9 minutes."

He's gone before I can respond. Okay, deep breaths, Bella. Hyperventilating won't help. He knows. He definitely knows. The more exorbitant the words, the more riled up he is. Exorbitant? He's definitely rubbing off on me.

I get up and take a few cleansing breaths before briskly walking to my doom. I look at my watch, 1.4 minutes to go. I'll be early! Yes, that will work in my favor!

Although Mr. Whitlock knows I'm coming, I still knock. The last person who dared to enter his office without knocking first was never heard from again. Some say the Mafia was involved, others say the guy spontaneously combusted. I say that fire and witch's brew beamed out of Mr. Whitlock's malevolent glare, killing the poor sap on the spot.

"Come in."

I slowly peek my head in before hesitantly willing my body to follow. I close the door behind me and jump when it clicks shut, as if I've just sealed my fate. He's sitting ominously behind his desk, fingertips tapping together as he stares me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Punctual for two consecutive days, Miss Swan? I'm stupefied."

I know he's not expecting an actual response, so I keep my mouth shut.

"I'm sure you're inquisitive as to why I've requested your presence at this time. Allow me to elucidate, Miss Swan." He reaches into a drawer behind his desk and places something on top of his desk. After a few seconds, my eyes focus enough to see that it's my Dirty Notebook! NOOOOO! Deep breaths. Don't let him see you cry and snot and bumble like a fool. Save that for your mom!

"Due to a strange turn of events, this salacious find ended up on my desk last night. At first glance, it appears to be your non-assuming, every day notebook. Imagine my acute bewilderment when I discerned such lewd content."

He sits back in his chair and props his size thirteen leather-clad feet on his desk.

"I had no inclination as to who these erotic writings could belong to. But my inquest was resolved when you adduced that you lost something of importance. Naturally, I put two and two together."

He lifts his brow and smirks devilishly. "Do you have anything to say, Miss Swan?"

If I open my mouth, I'll no doubt break into tears, so I just shake my head and lower my gaze.

"Do you find me... attractive... Miss Swan?"

I gulp. Really loud. He knows I can't lie. Might as well be honest, you're getting the boot, anyway. I nod my head in confirmation.

"Lock the door, Miss Swan."


"I will not repeat myself."

I turn around and slowly click the lock into place. What on Earth is going on?

"Turn around, Miss Swan."

I sluggishly obey, dismayed over what's about to happen. Just fire me already, no need to draw it out!

He unhurriedly removes his glasses and stands away from his desk, loosening his tie as he jaunts toward me. "It seems as though you have quite the imagination, Miss Swan. You have been surprisingly deceiving in your virtuous façade, but I have been deceiving as well."

"What do you mea—"

"You will not speak unless I tell you to do so. Do I make myself clear? You may answer." He is now mere inches in front of me. He takes off his coat and throws it over the back of a nearby chair.


I'm pushed against a wall and his mouth is at my ear, lips brushing against my lobe as his hand gently grips my neck. "Yes, what?"

"Ummm." My voice is shaky with nerves. "Yes, Mr. Whitlock?"

"You may call me Mr. Whitlock or Sir. But you will scream Jasper when you come. And you will come, Bella. Multiple times."

My mouth drops open as realization hits me. He's dominating me! And he called me Bella! Holy fuck!

"I've wanted you for so fucking long, little girl, and today, I will have you in any way I see fit. Understood? You may answer."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. On your knees."

On my knees? What? Is he serious?

He smacks my sex through my skirt. "You will not hesitate again, Isabella. Now."

I drop to my knees and he begins unbuttoning his trousers. I can see him swelling beneath the thin fabric. He finally frees himself and I gasp loudly. The thing is massive!


I don't know if I'm allowed answer or not, so I decide to just nod my head while gaping at the beautiful cock before me.

"I must warn you, Bella, that I have an abundance of stamina. You will have very little downtime in between orgasms. Do you like the sound of that?"

Promise? "Yes... yes, Mr. Whitlock."

"I've had fantasies about those delectable lips of yours. Don't disappoint me."

I lick my lips and eagerly take him into my mouth, licking the tip, swirling my tongue, nibbling. I can't believe this is really happening!

"Yes, Bella. Just like that." He fists the hair in my ponytail and begins thrusting into my mouth. "Yes!"

I moan around him and lower my hand under my skirt to play with my clit, desperate to relieve the pressure.


I immediately stop and look at him in confusion.


I stand up to face him and he grabs my skirt, roughly pulling it off of my body. He lowers himself to his knees in front of me, face right where I want it. "You are not to touch yourself unless given permission, am I clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Whitlock."

"This," he leans forward and gently bites my clit through my panties, "is mine and mine alone, Bella. Your body belongs to me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" I'm panting. He's so close.

He leisurely lowers my panties and I kick them off when they reach my ankles. He puts his hand on my torso, pushing my body back against the wall and lifts one of my legs over his shoulder.

"I want to hear you, Bella. These walls are soundproof. There is no danger of anyone hearing you."

Yes. Yes!

He brings his mouth to my clit and kisses it softly before circling it slowly with his tongue.


He continues his ministrations, switching between soft and slow, fast and hard. He slides two lengthy fingers into me, curving them slightly. I can't stop the moan that erupts out of me.

His fingers stop and my eyes snap open to look at him. "Whose pussy is this?" His voice is dulled by my sensitive skin as he continues licking me.

"Yours. Only yours." Please don't stop! So close!

His fingers resume and my orgasm sends shockwaves through every cell of my body. I gasp at the intensity as my body doubles over in climactic felicity. "JASPER!" I yell breathlessly. "Oh God, Jasper!"

My legs give out and I gradually lower myself to the floor.

"On your hands and knees."

I comply and I feel him pushing his swollen head into my entrance. "I will not be gentle, Bella. I've waited too long for this. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be ruined for any other man."


He grabs my hips and thrusts into me roughly. My nails grasp desperately at the carpet when he's fully sheathed inside of me.

There is no reprieve, he's instantly pulling out and slamming back into me. Stretching me, reaching undiscovered places inside of me. I'm helpless, only able to yelp and scream and moan as he mercilessly, deliciously pummels me.

He smacks my ass. "What's my name?"


Harder. Rougher. Deeper. His hands are digging into my hips as he drives in and out of me.

"Again!" he growls, smacking my ass, the resounding sound being instantly absorbed into the walls.

"Jasper! Jasper! Oh my God, Jasper!"

Harder. Harder. Harder.

My body is blazing, aching, burning. "Harder!" I beg frenziedly.

He grunts loudly into the air. "You asked for it..."

His pace hits a feverish pitch, our slick bodies loudly slapping against each other. I scream hysterically, losing all sense of sanity as he plunges impossibly harder and deeper than before. My blood is boiling, raging through my body.

"Whose is this? Whose?" he rashly demands, voice gravelly with lust.

"Yours! Jasper's! Only yours!" I cry passionately.

"Come for me, Bella. Make me yours."

On his command, my orgasm hits me with a barrage of rapture, euphoria, shattering me before thundering through my body, his name the only intelligible sound coming from my lips.

His body shivers and I feel his thrusts become erratic as he loudly grunts and moans. Erupting into me in warm, sticky bursts.

My arms give out from under me and I just give up, letting my body drop onto the carpeted floor.

Mr. Whitlock leans over my back and kisses his way up to my neck while his fingers caress my skin.

"That was better than anything I could have imagined, Bell—"

He's interrupted by his phone beeping.

"Mr. Whitlock?" The secretary's voice floods the room. "It's Tanya from the front desk. Mr. Volturi is on line one and says he's been trying to reach you—"

She's cut off by Jasper picking up the phone. Damn, he moves fast. Mmmm, look at that ass! I bite my lip and fight to hold back my giggles, thinking about what's just happened.

"Tanya, I assume you comprehend the English language, since it's at the top of the list of requirements for your position. So, please explain to me why you are blatantly and imprudently, I might add, infringing upon my elementarily simple demand?"

He pauses.

"I requested you hold all calls, did I not? Now I heartily suggest that you get back on the phone and explain to Mr. Volturi your inadequacies as a secretary and ask that he call back at a time that is more apropos!"

He slams the phone down then smiles at me… softly? It hits me then that he's a man who's worked hard to get where he is and just wants the respect that he deserves. He might be a hard ass on the outside, but inside he's a teddy bear.

But now I can't help but snicker.

He smirks at me and my girly bits shudder in excitement. "Miss Swan, is there a problem?"

"No... kind of... it's just that..."

He lies next to me and begins playing with one of my nipples, making it pucker under his touch. "Well, spit it out already."

"Your vocabulary is ridiculous. Why the hell do you talk like that?"

He lowers his head and takes my nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue a few times before looking up at me and answering. "It scares people."

He chuckles into my skin and I laugh at how much of an asshole he really is. But he's my asshole. That thought causes a smile to break across my face.

"Get your clothes on, Miss Swan."

Does he want me to leave? Does he not want me anymore?


He reaches his hand down and slides his deft fingers through my slit before slipping them into me. I moan and throw my head back, panting for more. He stops and kisses my neck before moving to peck me on the lips.

"I believe we have an elevator to visit, Miss Swan."

So... yeah... no words.

coachlady1 beta'd because she's all awesome and kickass and shit.

Leave me some lurve and maybe I'll share Jasper with you...

Until next time! Smooches! ^_^