argyle_s: (Default)
Title: The Diary of Jane
Author: Argyle_S
Pairing: Jane/Maura
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: NC-17
Length: About 27,000 Words
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance.
Warnings: Explicit sex. Pregnant Sex. BDSM. Branding. Mentions of sexual assault.
Summary: Three weeks after the incident with Dennis, Maura has to fly to D.C. for the weekend to consult on a case, but she leaves something behind for Jane. Her journal, which contains a series of letters she's written to Jane over the months since the two settled their argument over Doyle's shooting. Letters she's been too afraid to show Jane.

A/N: Really explicit content. May be triggery for some people. Serious themes of D/s and power play. Mentions of Branding. For anyone who doesn't know, the American Express Centurion Card is also known as an American Express Black Card. It's made of solid titanium, and has no spending limit. I've seen one swiped for upwards of one hundred grand.


I turned off the alarm and sat up, stretching slowly. It was 8:00 AM. Normally, I'd be cranky after only getting five hours of sleep, but that morning, I felt like I'd slept for a week. I was excited. I couldn't wait to get back to the journal. I was hoping I could finish it before Ma brought Tony over at 10:00 AM.

I stretched one more time, then grabbed the journal and flopped back on the bed, smiling as I flipped it open to the last place I'd marked.

My Beloved Jane,

I promised myself I wouldn't do this. After the last letter, I took this journal out of my purse and locked it away in my bedside table. I was so proud of myself when a week passed, then two, then three. I told myself I'd done it, that I'd kicked the habit. But like I'm like an alcoholic who tries to quit while still going to the bar with his friends every night.

You’re my drug, Jane, and I'm hopelessly addicted, and I've fallen off the wagon.

Did you know that Fenway park has wedding packages for up to five thousand guests? It was all I could do to stop myself from requesting an information packet.

I can't stop imagining it. Standing across home plate from you, holding your hands in mine, looking into your eyes as was we recite our vows. Sometimes I imagine something we've written ourselves. Other times it's a variation of the ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer, omitting the promise to obey.

Once, I tested that word. Obey. The idea of promising to obey you sent a shiver up my spine and made it difficult to breath. I wrapped my arms around myself and imagined they were yours, and as I sat here, pretending it was you holding me, your breasts pressed against my back, your breath hot on my neck, I thought of something else.

It must have been brought on by the case, because I've never thought about anything like it before. I've never been even remotely submissive.

I could feel you, my love. You pushed aside my hair, and trace the brand on the back of my neck with the tip of your tongue. Four raised letters, burned into the skin, spelling out a single word. Jane. Your mark. A stamp of ownership and possession.

I imagined the way you bought the suit you were wearing. You walked into the Armani Exchange like you owned it. The salesmen fell all over themselves to help you, because they could feel the power radiating off of you as I followed you meekly through the door. I sat quietly and watched as they measured and fitted a magnificent charcoal pinstripe three piece suit to your perfect form. And when they were done, you added a matching tie and a starched white button down shirt to the order before they led you up to the counter. You didn't even ask me when you reached into my purse, took out my wallet, and handed them my American Express Centurion Card, and when they handed you the credit card slip, I watched as you signed it with a single word, written boldly and without hesitation. Jane's.

I also imagined something else tucked inside the suit. Another symbol of your power, pressing into me as you held me. You left a trail of kisses up the left side of my neck, before your teeth sunk into the soft skin of my earlobe, biting hard enough to make me whimper.

“Mine,” you said. “You're mine.” You spun me around, and before I knew it, you were kissing me. It was rough and strong, but not demanding. You had no need to demand, or claim. You simply took what belonged to you. I don't give it to you, or let you take it. Either of those would imply that I had a choice, and there was even the possibility of resisting or denying you when there wasn't.

I felt your hands moving up my back, finding the hook at the top of my dress and opening it, then pulling the zipper down. You moved back, just enough to allow the dress to fall when you reached up and pulled it off my shoulders, leaving me naked before you, clad only in a pair of heels. I stepped out of the dress, kicking it aside, and waited.

You rested your hand on my shoulder, and with the slightest downward push, told me what my duty to you was. I knelt gladly, eager to please you, reaching up and unbuttoning your blazer, then unzipping your pants. I reached inside, and drew it out. The phallus you'd told me to purchase. The firm, inky black medical grade silicon stands there, eight inches long and an inch and three quarters in diameter. Larger in every dimension than any of my prior lovers. Your instructions had been specific, and I'd followed them to perfection. “Find one I can use to ruin you for anyone else.”

If I hadn't already been wet, I would have become so when your fingers threaded through my hair so you could get a grip and guide me forward. I barely had time to part my lips before the head slips between them and the shaft begins sliding into my mouth.

I'd practiced this, like I practice everything. The suppression of the gag reflex, the relaxation of muscles, even the right tilt of the neck to allow you to slide past my mouth and settle into my throat. I'd prepared for it for years, but even though I'd used my mouth with prior lovers, you were the first I'd accepted this way. I'm surprised how easy it was. Easy quickly became heady and intoxicating as your hips began to roll. I reached up, between your legs, and found the root of your new cock where it ran along your labia before taking a sharp turn to curl up inside you. I pushed up, adding pressure as I closed my mouth tighter, adding resistance, so that with each thrust, the warm rubber ground against your clit.

You took your time, drawing out your own pleasure, and I loved every moment. The weight of you in my mouth, the scent of you each time my nose was crushed against your pelvis, the gentle choking when you were filling my throat and tears were streaming down my reddening face from the lack of air. The moment when you gripped tightly, burying yourself to the root as your body shook and twitched, and for the first time in my life, a lover came in my mouth.

When you pulled out of my mouth, I was so wet, so heavy with need, I couldn't stand it. You held out your hand and I took it. You helped me up, and then turned me around, pushing me towards the bed. I climbed onto it, and you guided me into the position you wanted. I waited there for several long minutes on my knees, my feet hooked over the edge of the mattress, bent forward so my breasts pressed against my knees, with my arms stretched out above my head and my hair tossed forward, exposing the brand on my neck.

You kissed me on the base of my spine, and worked your way up, leaving a kiss above each vertebra until you reached my neck. I shuddered with desire as I felt you tracing the brand with your tongue again, reminding me it was there, reminding me who I belonged to.

“Who do you belong to?” you asked me.

“You,” I replied without hesitation.

That wasn't good enough for you. You demanded more. “I want you to say it.”

“I belong to you,” I said, this time speaking with more force.

You gave me another command. “Say my name.”

“I belong to Jane,” I declared proudly as warmth suffused my body.

“Forever,” you said, and I felt two of your fingers slip inside me easily, my own arousal smoothing their passage. “I've had you here.” I moaned as your fingers curled down against my front wall, grinding over my g-spot, then whimpered at the sudden loss as you withdrew them, only to moan again as those same fingers slipped between my parted lips a moment later. “And I've had you here.”

I sucked my own essence off of your fingers as if it were the mythical water of life, but you were teasing me again, and before I could drink my fill, you took your fingers away.

“Now I'm going to take what's mine.”

I felt it then, the head of your cock, wet and slick, slipping not between the folds of my vulva, but between the rounded globes of my ass. The tip found the right spot quickly, and I shuddered as you began to apply pressure. I'd tried it on my own of course, but I'd never trusted a lover with this, and now, I was so glad I hadn't, that you would be the first.

“It's mine, Maura. The last bit of your virginity is mine, just like the rest of you.”

Before I could respond or react, you rolled your hips, and you were inside me. It wasn't gentle or slow. You were taking what you wanted, what belonged to you. It hurt, and I loved you for the gift of the pain.

The first stroke felt like all of you, but the second felt like more, opening me wider, filling me deeper, and the third and the fourth, until I lost count and could feel your hips slamming into me through the fabric of your pants with each thrust. I lost track of the pain, and somewhere along the way, it vanished, leaving only the delicious feeling of you inside me.

I barely realized it was going to happen before I came. It was hard and intense, and satisfying in a different way from my normal orgasms, and I knew I would beg for this in the future.

You weren't finished. You didn't relent, didn't even slow down, but I felt your breath on my ear again.

“Do you like it Maura? Tell me you like it. Tell me you love being my whore.”

I buried my face in the comforter, crying out as shame and desire and love poured over me in equal measure.

You thrust into me again, and barked out a demand. “Say it!”

“I love being your whore.” The words had a powerful, tangible effect on me, like each syllable was a tongue, stroking my clit.

“Say my name!” you demanded.

“I love being Jane's whore!” I screamed, and I came again, and I could feel your body on top of me, stiff and rigid as you shuddered your way through your orgasm.

We both lay there panting, gasping for air, and I loved the feel of your weight on top of me and your breath, hot on my skin. After your breathing finally steadied, I felt your lips brush my ear.

“You’re mine, Maura,” you whispered. “You’re mine, and I love you. Now and forever.”

I wept then. Because it's all a fantasy and I don't want it to be. Because I want you to want me like that. Because I want to give myself to you, to belong to you, to be owned by you, for all my life.

And because my fix was over, and I knew I would have to come down from the high.

I feel like I have so much more to say, but I must end here, my love, because my imagination is spent, and right now, I need a different sort of catharsis than ink on paper. I can't have your hands on me tonight, so mine will have to do.

I leave you...

With all my love,

I dropped the journal on the bed and closed my eyes, because dear God, Maura was definitely trying to kill me. There was no other explanation for it.

I was shaking. Literally shaking. I wanted Maura. I wanted to pin her to the bed and fuck her senseless. To do everything she'd described in the journal to her, and then some.

Except Maura was hundreds of miles away, and she wouldn't be back until late the next day, and there was no way in hell I could wait that long.

Why the hell didn't I grab my vibrator out of my nightstand when I was packing? Oh, right, because at the time I didn't have my own room, and I was too weirded out by the idea of getting off in Maura's house.

I shook my head, laughing, because I was about to get myself off in Maura's bed, and the idea didn't weird me out at all. In fact, it made me whimper. Just the idea that not too long ago, Maura had been laying in the same bed, making herself come was driving me nuts.

I thought about using one of Maura's toys. I knew where she kept them, and I knew she had a much better collection than my one cheap little vibrator. I knew because Maura had absolutely no sense of shame, and the words 'Oh, I have one of these' had come up repeatedly while we were inventorying a victim's bedroom once.

I didn't do it because it felt a little too personal, too invasive. She'd told me how she felt and what she wanted, and I knew damn well how I felt and what I wanted, but we weren't together yet. It would be different if we were an official couple, but until then, I was stuck with my hands.

I reached up, cupping my breasts, kneading them roughly, pinching my nipples. I was planning on going slow, taking my time. That lasted about thirty seconds. I needed to come, and I needed to come right now, so I slid my hands down, running them over my stomach as I pulled my legs up until I could feel my heels pressed against my ass. I spread my legs and slipped my hands down between them, sliding two fingers on my left hand inside me. I was a little surprised how easily they went in. Normally, I needed a little stimulation before I got to the point where I could take anything, but not that morning.

I found my clit with my right hand, rubbing it in rough, fast circles, as I rocked my hips and pumped my fingers, and imagined taking Maura the way she'd described in her letter.

The whole thing played itself out in my head. Maura on her knees while I filled her mouth. Maura bent over, face down on the bed as I spread her ass. It didn't even slow me down that I'd never once dreamed of wearing a strap on before, or that the idea of anal sex had always turned me off. Every detail of the letter, every image Maura had put in my head, made me need to come even more than I already did.

I closed my legs so I could roll over and get my knees under me. Once I was propped up on knees and shoulders, I started moving my hands and hips again. I could imagine what I looked like, ass in the air, knees and shoulders buried in the mattress. It was a filthy image, but not nearly so filthy as the image of Maura pinned under me, being filled with the dildo I was wearing while I reached around, rubbing her clit while I fucked her hard and fast.

I was close. God, I was so close it was going to kill me if it didn't happen soon, but I needed a little bit more to give me that final push, so I pulled my fingers all the way out. Then I pushed three back in. There still wasn't a lot of resistance, but the added pressure was amazing. Exactly what I needed to push me over. I bit down on the comforter to keep myself from screaming as I came.

When it was over, I collapsed on the bed, weak, spent and barely able to see straight.

“God.” I muttered the word, not sure if I was moaning in satisfaction, or praying or both. I'd never come like that before.

It took a while before my heart stopped pounding and my breathing settled, but I got up and headed to the bathroom, taking a few minutes to wash my hands and clean up. I was definitely going to need a shower before I faced Ma and Tony, but I still had time. I wanted to get through more of the journal, and I wasn't entirely sure if I was going to get to the end without needing to do that again.

Best to wait on the shower, just in case.

The Diary of Jane Chapter List
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Fanfic Master List

Date: 2012-08-24 12:26 am (UTC)From: [identity profile]
I can definitely see Maura having those hardcore fantasies and Jane being turned on by them. Well done.

Date: 2012-08-24 12:52 am (UTC)From: [identity profile]
Thank you. Glad you're still enjoying the story.

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