She looked up as the door opened and a youngish, goth-ish woman all but flew out from the portal. Her thick mascara was smeared down her cheeks, tears dripped from her chin.
oh my, she thought, that’s one hell of an interview.
She swallowed hard, then rose as a hand peremptorily gestured her inside.
here goes nothin’, she though, squaring her shoulders. She would not leave here all snot-faced and mewling, to be sure. She needed this job, and she’d worked for dickhead bosses before. Still, her heart hammered hard in her chest as she crossed the vast office space to where he sat. He, most likely, would be her new boss, and she took note of all she could before she sat.
He stared at her, fingers steepled. His chair moved left, right, left, right as he stared at her. She returned his look with one she hoped looked calm, cool, and not as desperate at she felt.
“Fine,” he said at long last.
“Can you type?”
“Can you keep track of things?”
“Things? Could you be more specific?” she asked. She’d learned long ago to not blindly say ‘yes’ in an interview, and her job coach had echoed that this very morning before sending her running uptown for this interview.
“Notes, to do lists, stuff.”
“You mean, your calendar? Your appointments and deadlines? Yes, of course.”
“Hmm, ” he mused, his fingers still steepled.
A quick frown crossed her face, but she rose.
“Here.” He pointed at a spot on his side of the desk. She walked over.
“Well, you at least look the part. Turn around.”
She turned around, the looked over her shoulder.
“Look? The part? I’m a trained professional.”
His eyebrows raised fractionally, and he straightened in his chair.
“I had no idea they covered that in business school,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
“Covered…? I think we’re talking at cross purposes. I know how to dress to represent the company. I know how to file and how to type and how to manage a professional calendar, as well as send your suits out to be cleaned, have a car pick you up, arrange for haircuts, send flowers to clients-all the things a businessman needs but doesn’t have time to do when he’s running a Fortune-500 business.”
She was proud of the little speech. It was firm, delivered crisply, as she walked back to her seat.
“How about a blowjob?”
Half-way to sitting, she all but bounced to her feet.
“I beg your pardon? In this day and age, you’d ask me for … for…” she sputtered to a stop.
“The word is blowjob. Or BJ for short. It’s okay, I’ll teach you. You did say you were a trained professional, and your resume does say that you have extensive sexual experience at your last employment.”
She leaned forward, fire slashing from her eyes.
“It. Does. NOT. Say. That.”
He held up an application.
“Naomi, I have no idea what you’re getting pissy about..”
She cut him off abruptly.
“I’m Katherine,” she replied scathingly. “It’s more than apparent that you need someone to take care of your office. Taking care of your sexual needs is your problem, buddy. NOT mine. If you want a secretary who can efficiently manage your day, then hire me. But I will NOT fuck you, suck you, or anything, except whack you in the head with my stapler if you try to force me. You pervert.”
His phone rang. She turned to move to the door. His voice took on a note of command, losing the humor.
Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, her ass was back in the chair at his no-nonsense order. She clutched her small purse, thinking fuming thoughts about disorganized assholes, before coming to the conclusion that he really did need her skills as much as she needed the job. She didn’t mean to listen to his side of the conversation, but it became apparent that he was late getting some document off to someone who was NOT happy about having to call, again, for it. He hung up the phone and glared over her head for a moment.
Opening a drawer, he pulled out a laptop and thrust it across the desk to her. Rising, he came around to her side of the desk, and pushed a hidden button under the front overhang. A small shelf slid from under the desk.
neat, she thought, as she put the laptop on it.
“Type,” he commanded. “Wait. What IS your name?”
“Katherine,” she replied, her nose in the air. “And you’re going to need to make me an offer before I hit one key.”
“Better to hit the key than me. I apologize for the confusion. I guess Naomi had second thoughts about showing up.”
“Smart girl,” she said.
“I like wiseass. To a point.”
Walking back to his chair, he pulled a note pad from the far drawer. Scrabbling around he finally found a pen that worked, and an elastic band.
fuck my life, she heard him mutter under his breath, as the pen stopped writing. His next choice finally delivered ink to the page. She couldn’t stop herself, she laughed.
“With you…not at you. Uhm. Exactly. You’re very bossy–and I get that. But if we’re going to work together…and that will depend on what you’re writing there, you’re really going to need me to help manage you.”
Remembering her quick sit when he’d actually used his Dom Voice on her, he smiled. He thought that was a novel idea, a submissive managing him. Nudging the paper towards her, he watched the smile bloom across her face.
This was going to be more fun than he’d imagined.
He strode into his office and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared around the space that had, up until this morning, been as familiar as his own loft. His desk was moved. His tables and chairs were moved, his every-fucking-thing, moved. Very little surprised or shocked him these days, but this new girl of his was continually upping the ante on that. And hell, he could admit that he loved opening his drawers and finding what he needed, whether it was a pen that worked, or his phone charger. He loved knowing that if he gave her a to-do list, it would be done to a T. In less than two weeks, she’d already organized the fuck out of his office, including the offices of two under-secretaries. Hell, if he turned her lose, she’d probably reorganize the entire structure of his offices.
But this. This was a step over the lines. This was his space. His sanctum. He looked around the space again. The chairs had been moved to what was obviously a less imposing conversation area.
But dammit! He liked being imposing.
Still, it did open up the space, and took advantage of the incredible view of the city-scape.
“I figured that since you paid a lot of money for that view, you’d like to actually enjoy seeing it more than twice a day.”
Her voice came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, a frown still furrowing his brows. He noted that she wore red today, a color not many redheads even attempted.
“You’re not supposed to wear red,” he said.
“Is that a company policy? Because it’s stupid.”
My how her tongue had loosened in the last 13 days. Drawing a deep breath for patience, he turned fully to her.
“It’s a fashion rule. Redheads don’t wear red.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” she said, swooping her arm from tits to hip.
He could barely look anywhere else but those amazing tits. No cleavage, not for his little prude. But the dress hid no curves.
“Not many would be so bold to wear red, no matter the hair color.”
“Why, because I’m a bit chubby?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Why are we having this conversation? No. Not because you’re soft and stacked. Because red is a bold color. But now that I’m hearing your sassy mouth, I can see that perhaps it’s a color well suited to you.”
“I don’t know why~ you brought it up in the first place. And besides, you haven’t said anything about your office.” She ignored his “soft and stacked” as if he’d never said it, unwilling to go down that road with him.
“Perhaps because I was struck mute. By your audacity…”
He paused, watching her nostrils flare. Her temper had yet to be fully prodded, though it was tempting. And her chest heaved as she drew a deep breath herself. Holy hell, he thought, those tits…
Just as she was opening her mouth to speak, he interrupted her.
“…and your vision.”
She drew herself up, fully prepared to defend herself. Yet his words punctured any argument that she was preparing.
“So,” she said, her tone somewhat bemused by the quick change of mood. “You do like it?”
“I do. I see the advantage of the desk being backed up to the bookcases. I can look out the window when I’m on the phone, yet still see who’s at the doorway.”
“Well, you’d know that anyway, since I’d not let anyone through without informing you.”
That too was true. He’d had no interrupted meetings solving temper tantrums and various crises. He nodded absently, walking around the room. He opened the drawer that faced his chair in the round-table form of the conversation area. Inside where pens had previously wrangled for space with elastics, sticky notes, and half-full packets of gum, now there was an organizer inside. Pens which he was certain had all been tested by her, rested in several compartments, sorted by color. Sticks of gum had been removed from their box but lay, still wrapped, in a long bowl which may have had prior use as a corn-on-the-cob dish. Paper clips were in a magnetic holder, and sticky notes were likewise in an appropriate bin. It took just a moment for him to look at an organized, efficient system that might have taken her hours to fix for him.
“You really have wrought wonders in here,” he said quietly.
“Thank you Sir,” she said.
Oh, he really liked it when she addressed him as Sir. If only he could lay her across his lap and have her say it when he was spanking that lusciously padded bottom.
“Come, sit a moment,” he said, gesturing to the chair nearest to his.
“I need to get back out there and prepare your agenda for the day.”
“Sit,” he ordered, in his quietly firm Dom voice. He watched her carefully, reading her body as intently he would the latest financial reports. He’d tried this on her several times, each with the same result. He was sure she was a submissive. Her breath had a little catch to it, he noted, as she complied immediately. He wondered if her pussy got wet when he spoke to her that way. An interesting thing to ponder. He moved to sit beside her, watching the way she watched him, a hint of nerves and perhaps a bit of anticipation.
Interesting indeed, he mused.
Sitting beside him, as he had patted the chair right next to his, she could admit to herself that he made her nervous, despite these last two weeks of getting to know him. Yet he kept the conversation light and work related.
Somehow she felt like he was probing.
It wasn’t anything he said, at least not overtly. He was walking around something delicately, and her nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
“I feel, Sir, if you don’t mind me saying, like you’re trying to ask me something without coming out and saying whatever it is.”
“I don’t mind frank talk, Kat.”
He’d taken to using the nickname despite her frown the first few times. It suited her.
“And you’re correct. I finally got around to looking at your application. I saw you were previously working in the mid-west, and wondered why you’d crossed half a continent to be here? That’s just mild curiosity however. I understand the attraction of the East Coast. The city is pretty exciting, and it’s hard to beat the ocean and mountains for relaxing.”
She nodded as he ticked off key points in her decision to move, but her heart did trip up a beat or two, because she knew he was going to bring up Alex.
“It seems that your former boss was less that thrilled with you. He said you were difficult to work with, that you didn’t take direction well, and that you were generally slutty in your behaviors at work.”
Her mouth had fallen open. It took all in his power to not laugh at her shock, and then the rising of rage in her deep blue eyes.
“Why…he…I…” she sputtered, obviously unable to speak clearly.
“Clearly, he was wrong on all accounts. I have first-hand experience in these past two weeks that you are organized, clear headed, able to work independently as well as follow directions, and frankly, though I’m disappointed to say so, not a single slutty behavior.”
Her mouth opened and closed several times, and he swore he could see steam coming from her ears.
“Basically, I think the guy is an asshat who is pissed as hell that you left. He asked me several times who I was, and where my company is located.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
He cocked his head at her.
“Are you afraid, Katherine?” he asked gently.
“Sure I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll kick his ass into next week if he so much as looks at the front door.” She popped up from the chair and paced around the room, muttering imprecations under her breath.
“What?!” He almost jumped at the surly tone. “Go to work and shake it off. I have no intention of taking the word of such a jackass. You’ve proven your worth here. Though some slutty behavior…”
Whirling on her heel, she stormed to the door.
“KIDDING!” he yelled to her back as she sailed through. He had to give her props for not slamming the door behind her. He did hear her heels tapping a pissy note down the hallway. He smiled. She did have spirit.
“…and then he said I could show some slutty behaviors, like it was some fucking joke. That fucking Alex. I can’t believe he said those things about me.”
Her friend Savannah sighed on the other end of the phone.
“Well, sweetie, you know Alex is an a-hole. A misogynist of the highest order. Women are meant to be used, and abused, and their only worth is their holes.”
“Fuck that! Already Mr. Jackson has shown that he values me.”
“How could he not? You’re awesome at what you do. You sound happy about your new life, Kitty, and I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, but what else did Alex tell him? Would he say I’d been his submissive, that we had sex and shit at work? Would he out me that way because he’s pissed that I left? I told him I was unhappy, and I told him that he’d crossed a line. I am as submissive as the next gal, but I’m NOT going to put up with being put down, and I was starting to be afraid that he was really going to harm me. I don’t mind pushing limits…to a point. But. I don’t think he ever cared for me, about me, yanno?”
“He cared about your tits. And fucking you over his desk. He was power tripping all the time. I can’t imagine one businessman would go into those sorts of details to another. Maybe if they were friends, or hanging out someplace together. But no, I can’t see him saying any of that to your new boss.”
At least she hoped not. Alex was a dickhead, a sexual deviant with little regard for women and if not a full-on misogynist, then at least walking the borderline. She decided to get Kat’s mind off of that jerk.
“So, did you say that you think your Mr. Jackson is a Dom?”
“I don’t know,” Katherine puffed out an exasperated breath. “It sure seems like it. He’ll put on this face, this voice, give me an order, and I slip right into sub-mode. It makes me crazy.”
“Yeah,” Savannah chuckled. “I’ll bet it makes you hot and wet, too.”
“Screw you!” Kat laughed, blushing. Her friend knew her so well. This was the only downside to moving, leaving her dearest heart-sister behind.
“hahahahahaha,” Savannah laughed, her husky voice bursting with humor.
“I so miss you. You should come out here. We could hit up the clubs, tear out a few hearts.”
“I miss you too, honey. And you should go out. Shake off the last of your pissy mood and see what the city has to offer a sweet mid-western submissive.”
And so it was that she was here, driving in the dark to directions only her phone understood. The rain was melting the snow, tendrils of fog oozing across the road. Her wipers made a half-hearted swipe across the glass, the blurred glare of neon lights nearly illegible.
“Destination is on the right,” came the supercilious voice of her phone guide.
She muttered, easing her car down the narrow road. An arrowed sign pointed to the entrance of a parking lot for Grapes of Wrath. She had to laugh at a D/s club named for a Steinbeck novel. Maybe it would be a cure for her personal depression. Finding an open slot, she parked. A quick slip of her lipstick across her mouth, and a check of her minuscule handbag, and then out of the car and dodging raindrops to the covered side entrance.
She paid her cover fee, ignoring the gentle leer of the door guy, and entered a din. Noise from people, the tv over the bar was almost overwhelming. A juke box ,of all strange things, blared in the corner. It took her a moment to realize that the woman next to her was asking her a question.
Pointing to her ear, she shouted “I can’t hear you!”
“Table or bar?” The woman leaned closer. Kat wasn’t sure if she was being hostessed, or propositioned. Divining the dilemma, she leaned close again. “Just seating you honey, you’re not my type! I prefer cock over tits, anyday.” And then she laughed, a loud, lusty sound. Kat smiled, unable to not respond to that infectious guffaw.
“Bar,” she said after a moment, deciding that she wanted to sit.
“Just wanna get your bearings, eh? Don’t you worry, Chica, MammaLa will take good care of you.”
And just like that, she was in.
Nursing her rum and cola, she scanned the crowd. There were the usual suspects, she concluded. A D/s club in the middle states was largely the same, excepting that there were more masked guests back home. It wouldn’t do for Mr. Jones at the bank to be outed as a sub-puppy, after all. But here in the city where it felt like everyone was anonymous? No one wore a mask. There were leather clad folks, some very obvious Dom-types, subs in various forms of undress and bondage gear, and a few nondescript men and women. She called this latter group the “lookers”, and recognized ruefully that she was part of that group. No Dom to follow, no subsister to hang with, she was as adrift as the woman currently kneeling hopefully at the feet of a bare-chested man, who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.
She hated that.
Hated the posturing, the group of Tops who made subs feel abjectly worthless. It was one thing to be in a scene and being called a fuck hole, but to be ignored so blatantly just bugged the shit out of her, despite her personal motto of “fuck your own fuck”. Not to be all judgy about it, but it was definitely not her thing. At least now she knew which group of Doms to ignore.
“Refill, missy?” The buxom woman with a head full of amazing fine braids that fell to her waist leaned on the counter. “Or just some heads-up chat?”
“I’ll take the chat, please,” she replied with a smile.
MammaLa laid her hand over Kats, patting it gently.
“Newbie?” she asked.
“No, just new to the area. Finding my way, I guess. You think you can ignore the need, right?”
“But cha can’t, can you?” The woman shook her head slowly, back then forth. The waterfall of black, shiny braids danced with her every movement. “It’s like a hunger in the blood, girl-child. Oh, sure, you can push it down. Pretend it’s not there. But someday, when you will be most inconvenienced with it, you’ll suddenly see or hear or feel something and the horny need will rise up!”
“Yesss!” Katherine all but moaned. She had tried to tamp it down. She’d given up her job, her apartment, her friends, her home, and run all this way to start over. To start over as a “normal” woman. Even though, deep in her core, she believed having these wanton needs was normal, her normal, but by societal standards? She was fucked up. And here she was, sitting in a D/s club. It appeared that denying “her normal” and trying to live by those rigid standards of propriety wasn’t going to work for her here, or anywhere. And it was most definitely inconvenient that the “do it” voice of her boss was the switch that had turned her back on.
“I’m glad you came in tonight, girl. I always love to chat with the new folks. Of course you said you weren’t new-new, but you know how I mean it.”
“I do. I just…well, truthfully, I just came out of a bad relationship. He wasn’t a good Dom, at least not to me. And I thought he was perfect…for a while. I just am afraid that once I get a taste of the pain, I’ll lose my head, you know?”
“So, you’re afraid of the fall…and afraid of what you find when you land, right? Tell me what you see here?” MammaLa gestured around the room. Her long, thick fingers were beautiful in motion, and for a passing moment Kat wished she was at least bi-sexual, just to feel those amazing digits on her body. She cleared her mind of that, then looked around the room again.
“I see all of them. Posers, and players, and wanters. I don’t see anyone I’d trust enough to touch me, at least not tonight.”
“You have a good eye on you, girl-child. Upstairs is where the serious folks are most nights. These folks are all looking for something that they haven’t found yet. Lucky for you, they haven’t looked over here to see you, being the fresh meat in our fair city. If you come back on a weekend? Whole big group of folks. Harder to keep track of everyone, and the play-party is open to all. You might consider coming back then. But smart, girly, very smart to suss out the scene on a quieter night. You come back and see me on Saturday and we’ll see if we can hook you up for some play time, okay?”
With a last pat on her hand, MammaLa worked her way back to the far end of the bar. Kat wasn’t sure, but it felt like she’d been summarily dismissed. With a quick grin, she laid a bill on the counter under her glass, and slid off the stool. She had a lot to think about, for sure. She slipped quietly from the room, and headed out to her car.
He drove down the street to the club. It was time to put “Mr. Jackson” to bed for the night and let Master Dirk out for some much needed play time. Stretching his back as he maneuvered his truck down the back streets, he thought back to these last two weeks and the reason why he was so taut. A certain redhead, with big tits and a curvy bottom and the most prickly attitude had been intruding into his thoughts far too frequently. He needed a bit of release, a bit of whip work perhaps. He’d see who was up and out tonight. Melinda was often available for single play.
A small car headed his way. He hoped it wasn’t Mel, as she was the best recipient for the whip. But the car that drew abreast of him as they passed one another in the night was not Melinda’s. He turned into the parking lot, grinning. For just a moment, the flashing neon light had illuminated her face, though he doubt she’d noticed him, looking straight ahead as she was. His ever so efficient secretary, Katherine. He’d missed her by minutes. But now he knew.
“Hot damn!” he laughed to himself, before sliding out of his car and heading into the club.
Friday featured yet another sparring match with her boss. Sometimes he was so exasperating! He nit-picked over the stupidest shit, and she suspected he did it to on purpose to annoy her. Her temper was fierce. It had taken her years to learn to keep it under strict control, and now she was so close to exploding that she made the unprecedented decision to leave at lunch time, rather than eating at her desk.
Thankfully, the atrium was deserted. All his other pawns must still be grinding through another pissy Friday noon thanks to the boss, she mused. Soothed by simply removing herself from the cause of her stress – one Mr. Lance Jackson- she felt herself almost melting into the stone she sat upon. The splash of the fountain behind her, the sun on her upturned face really was helping her mood. A shadow fell across her face and she frowned.
“This is a lovely place for lunch. I’m glad I thought to have it built.”
The voice came from directly in front of her. And of course it belonged to the one person she was most trying to avoid.
“Of course, it doesn’t appear that you’re actually eating, so here.”
There was a sound of rustling paper, and the sharply tangy scent of fresh pizza. Opening her eyes, she found a fat slice almost up her nose.
“Really?” she said, the exasperation clear. “Even out here? Really?”
He looked at her, head cocked to the side, a slight puzzled smile on his face. Because surely it wasn’t a smirk. Because surely if it was, she was about to wipe it off of his smirkity smirky face…with that slice of pizza.
“Eat,” he said in that voice, and her hand lifted to take the pizza before she could stop herself.
“Stop it. Just…stop.” But she spoiled the rebuke by taking a large bite of the pizza.
“I get grumpy when I’m hungry too. Eat,” he said again, though not in the Dom-voice. She jumped to her feet, waving the pizza about wildly. Chewing the over-large glob of pizza, she thought about spitting it into his pristine fountain. She took a look at his face. He was amused. It was that…that tolerantly amused expression that did her in. With a hard swallow, she advanced upon him.
Shouting now, the pizza near to becoming a projectile, she glared at him. All the temper that she’d held in check since leaving Wichita boiled up and spewed forth.
“You BET I’m grumpy, you jerk! Boss me around, poke at me for everything I have no control over because you forget to remind people of who the fuck I AM SO I’M FUCKING IMPOTENT IN MAKING DECISIONS TO HELP YOU…”
She turned and walked in a tight little circle, savagely biting the pizza before once more waving it in the air in an accusing fashion. Warily he watched a gobbet of cheese begin to slide around the crust as she all but shook it in his face.
“Help you? Like I can help you by just buzzing people in or out, putting out fires that you leave in your wake like a frigging forest fire run amok. You have no CONCEPTION of the idea of how to get things done in a timely and orderly fashion, BUT I DO! And yet you continually handcuff me in my efforts to GET SOME ACTUAL WORK DONE!”
“What an interesting idea,” he murmured.
“WHAT? What?” She was in full rage now, her face red, her blue eyes flashing like the sharp edge of a blade. He thought he’d never seen a more beautiful creature than this woman in full-on temper!
“Handcuffing you. It’s something you like after all,right?”
“You BASTARD! So, you and he DID have a conversation about our being…”
She paused, not thinking of a suitable word for fuck buddies. Because they hadn’t really ever been in it for the booty call, she and Alex. No, her former boss had been her Dom, her sexual partner, her top, her tormentor- so much more than mere ‘fuck buddies’.
“I know about you and your former boss, remember? It came up after our first interview when I thought you were Naomi, remember? Take a breath, now, Katherine. You’re overwrought with temper.” He held her shoulders, looked deeply into her eyes as her breath came in short, rough gulps.
Incoherence was the final stage of her rage, and it burst through her with white-hot fury. She smashed the pizza against his shirt, then turned and fled the atrium when he reached up to peel it off.
“Well, that was your shortest job on record,” Savannah, ever pragmatic spoke softly in Kat’s ear. She knew all too well about her best friend’s terrible temper, and how she worked to keep her cool.
“Yeah, well, whatever. I think I should…” There was a pause before Katherine could continue “…move home. I’ve really fucked …” there was a short breath hitch, and Savannah bit her lip, wishing she could be there because what would come next was a crying jag every bit as fierce as the anger had been.
“Honey, don’t be blaming yourself. You have, you know, ever since Alex..”
“Alex was a misogynistic shithead,” Kat said, her voice quivering. Oh crap, thought Savannah. In the background was a chiming sound.
“Kitty, are you cooking something? I think your timer just went off and the last thing you need today is a kitchen fire!”
A weak chuckle came through the phone, and Savannah hoped it would break the cycle. If she could jag Kitty out of the rut, especially by laughing, it might be okay.
“It’s my doorbell, brb,” she said, dropping the phone on the table.
The voice was tinny, but Savannah could hear it nonetheless.
“Oh fuck, it’s you.”
There was a long pause, the slam of a door, then the rustle as the phone was picked up.
“Kitty, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Mr. Jerkface is here- probably to tell me how much of my last check he’s going to usurp to pay for his spiffy tie that I pizza’d.”
The phone clicked off.
His voice was a sputter of sound.
“Yeah. Jerkface Jackson.”
He surprised her by laughing explosively. He held onto the wall and laughed so hard she began to think about braining him with a skillet.
“Are you quite done?” she said scathingly. “I mean, really, I’ve never seen anyone so amused at being called names.”
“Sticks ‘n stones, m’dear,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Got a tissue?”
She pointed to the bookcase where a box of them sat, but made no move to help him.
“So. How much do I owe you for the tie?”
“I no longer date my boss.”
“I’m not your boss. You quit today, remember?”
“I didn’t quit.”
“Sure you did.”
She glared at him, knowing he was almost as stubborn as she was. Fine, two could play at that game. She shifted topics.
“How much was that tie?”
“One hundred and fifty dollars.” He paused while she took that in, watched her try to not gulp in shock. “A date will cost you far less.”
“So you think.”
There was a pause when neither of them spoke. He waited her out, knowing that she’d break first, even without him ordering her. He didn’t want to have to order her; he wanted her to come of her own free will. He didn’t want her to throw that in his face at any point throughout the evening he’d begun to plan once the shock of her abrupt departure this afternoon had abated.
The eyeroll was the first benchmark that she was folding. Her hip cocked, her shoulders fell from her ears, her mouth softened from snarl to pout.
“But–I have plans…” she thought of MammaLa, and the club.
“Indeed you did…and still do. With me. I’ll pick you up at 8.”
He ran a finger down her nose, and smirked, damn him, before he turned and strode out the door. Before it shut all the way, he leaned back in.
“Dress sexy for me.”
The door closed with a quiet snick. He laughed when he heard the thunk of the tissue box hitting it, then turned and headed down to his car. He didn’t stop smiling all the way home.
Staring around her bedroom, she could hardly believe that a cyclone hadn’t blown through it. She ran a hand through her already tangled hair.
“I won’t,” she said staring at one outfit on the bed.
“No. Just. No.” Her gaze had fallen on the curtain hook where yet another outfit hung dejected…and rejected.
“I will not dress ‘sexy’for him,” she snarled out loud, using her hands to describe the :sexy: in air quotes. She stalked around her bed, stepping over piles of bra’s and panties, cami’s and one very sexy corset.
“No, no, NO!”
Pausing, chest heaving, she slid to the floor.
“What the fuckity fuck have I gotten myself into?” She moaned, her back to the destruction of what had been a tidy and organized closet.
He made the arrangements himself, since he didn’t have an assistant today. He’d correct that shortly, but he could make do for one day. He glanced over at the tie he’d draped over the back of the chair from yesterday’s…discussion. It was as good a word as any, he reasoned. He doubted he’d smiled so much in such a short time since he was a kid and got a bike for Christmas. Every time he looked at that tie, he felt ebullient. Christ, he might just have it framed.
Tearing his eyes from the pizza-soiled strip of silk, he turned back to the pile of papers on his desk, resisting the urge to glance at his wristwatch again. Had a Friday ever lasted so long? He opened his drawer, and withdrew a pen. Then opened the drawer again to marvel at its contents, all so neatly organized. It made him think of her. Not just the amazing ways she made his days easier, though she had. But the look of her, her curvy figure and sweet face. And the sound of her voice, from that slightly snippy tone she took when she was annoyed with him, to the sweet sound of her giggles when he managed to amuse her. The way she poked and prodded him to do things she felt he needed to do. She was funny, too. She made great coffee, and she put people at ease, even if she was not going to let them see him. She was strict, and demanding in her own right, but when he used his Boss Voice, she was also sweetly subservient. Such a dichotomy of a woman. By damn he wanted her back in his office.
And by damn he wanted her in his bed.
“I don’t know,” she moaned into the phone.
“Kat.” There was the no-nonsense voice she needed. “You just need to choose an outfit. One. Fucking. Outfit. Why are you making such a thing out of this?”
“It’s a revenge date! Not a date-date. It’s a “you fucked up my tie and now I’m going to mess with your head” date. For gosh sake, Savannah, he TOLD me to dress sexy for him. Why on Earth would I obey?”
“Uh, gee, I dunno,” her friend replied in her best brain-dead voice. “Maybe because you’re a submissive? Maybe because you like to dress sexy?”
“Well, yeah I get that, but I don’t want him to know that!”
“No, you don’t want him to win!” her friend retorted quickly.
“Fuck you!” Kat growled into the phone.
“You wish,” Savannah giggled.
The two erupted in laughter.
“Wear the sexah dress,” Savannah intoned in her funeral parlor mortician voice.
“I DOAN WANNA…” Kat moaned. “Doan waaaaannnnnnaaaa….”, though she walked over and picked up the sexy thing.
“Put something on right now and take a picture to prove to me that you did.” Her friend switched to Domme voice.
“I’m always fair. Just sometimes unkind. Do it.”
Her friend knew how to make Katherine respond, and just now she needed a push.
“I’ve got my black boots, on,” Savannah said firmly. Her friend moaned.
“Damn you. Fine. Just…you’re not the boss of me.”
“No, I’m not the boss of you. But I am a boss. Be ready…soon. It’s nearly 8 where you are, you know.”
There was a sound of rustling fabric.
“Okay, I’ll send the fucking picture to you soon. Like 5 minutes.” She clicked off, and all but leapt into the dress. It looked like bandages wrapped around her, silky black fabric covering the important bits, with sheer black lace inserted in interesting places. A hint of side boob, a flash of hip, the curve of her bottom. Oh, it hid everything it needed to, but it alluded to so much more.
This might just kill him, she mused to herself, posing in the mirror. Quickly she snapped the pic, and sent it to her BFF. The reply text came back just as the doorbell chimed. She looked at it quickly, then gave a quick cheep of alarm.
I sure hope he takes you someplace to fuck you, because he might faint from the shock of seeing how you keep your bedroom…!
Looking again at the pic she’d sent, she realized just what she’d captured in the background. Turning, hands on hips, she looked around at the disaster she immediately dubbed “First Date Dressing Syndrome”. Surely there was a chapter or two allotted to this problem in the Psychological Journal, right? Because this whole first date thing was definitely fucking with her psyche. Shaking her head, she heard the chime again. It sounded impatient, just like him.
“Keep yer pants on” she yelled at the door, certain he couldn’t hear her.
She opened the door, to find him leaning negligently against the jamb, fingers busy at his belt.
“Oh, hi Katherine, I was getting impatient about you not answering your door so I thought I’d take my pants off and try again.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and he laughed.
“You’re beautiful.” She shook her head, gestured him inside her apartment, praying that she’d remembered to shut her bedroom door.
He took her arm, swinging her around as she closed the apartment door.
“Oh!” she said, before his mouth came down on hers, kissing her firmly. His mouth was not gentle, but exploring. Lips pressing hers, then moving to the corner of her mouth, the top lip, the bottom lip, before parting hers. His tongue slipped between them, and when she would have pulled away, his hand came up and cupped her head, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth.
When he broke from her, she was panting, head swimming, lips trembling.
“I wanted to get that out of the way so you wouldn’t be worrying about it all night. Now you only need to wonder if it’s going to happen again.”
He leaned towards her, then whispered in her ear.
She opened her mouth to speak, but his finger pressed against her lips, quieting her.
“Don’t argue just for the sake of arguing,” he cautioned. “We both know how much you’d hate eating your own words.”
He didn’t just remove his finger. Oh, that would have been far too simple, she thought. She felt pissy thinking it, and tried to figure out where that was coming from. Self-examination before going out with Mr. Dangerous? Weird, but likely necessary. It seemed silly, okay, stupid to be holding onto a work-grudge. And yet he had figuratively tied her hands there, holding her back from doing all but the most mundane and trivial work that even a gopher could have accomplished. Still, the curl of lust in her belly could not be denied as that finger slipped down her chin, then raised it. His eyes practically ate her, she thought, her heart fluttering nervously. He moved closer still, then his lips brushed lightly across hers.
“Okay,” he said, a smile on his face, “let’s be off, shall we?” and he lightly smacked her bottom. She jumped, the spell he’d woven around her broken.
No. Not broken. Enhanced.
Still, she wasn’t ready to get into a sexual haze with her boss, version 2.0. Been there, done that, ripped up the tee-shirt, she thought.
“You’re frowning already.”
Shaking herself, she tried to find a snappy retort, but she found herself unable to find one that seemed appropriate.
“I’m trying to decide what to wear. As a jacket.”
“Well, choose quickly, as our reservation time is approaching.”
Quickly, she opened the coat closet, where order ruled, and grabbed her short leather jacket. It would pair nicely with her outfit.
“Ready,” she said.
“I think you’ve forgotten something.”
“I have my purse here, my jacket…you’re here, so….” she looked at him like he was mentally deficient, he thought.
“Is going out barefoot the new thing?” he mused.
“Oh HELL!” she said, then giggled. “Okay, you win. I’ll go get shoes.”
She dashing into her bedroom and paused. Shit, she’d almost forgotten the unholy mess in here.
She turned to find a look of shock and perhaps horror on his face.
“Katherine…” he said, his voice trailing away as he took in the enormity of the mess.
“No. No, go away. You didn’t see this. It never happened. I mean, never. It’s one date, and you’ll never have to witness this ever again.”
She tied to push him back, but he was like a brick wall.
“Well, we’ll debate that later, but what the hell happened in here? It looks like you threw your very own panty party in here. Or a rave. Or whatever the hell they call it these days. This…from my tidy, organized, everything-in-it’s-place Katherine? I…it…” he ran a hand over his hair, then looked at her, and laughed. “You’re a fucking slob at home, Ms. TidyPants.”
“I am NOT,” she retorted, her cheeks flushing. She shoved at him again.
“Oh, only all this evidence to the contrary,” he guffawed, his hand swinging around to take in the entirety of the room.
“Shut. Up. Mr. Jerkface Jackson.” Teeth gritted she began pushing him in earnest. “Out. Shoes. Go.”
She darted to the open closet door, and grabbed the first pair of black shoes in there. She knew they were the right ones because those had not been affected by the Attack of First Date Syndrome. Darting back to the door, her foot caught in a bra strap, the other caught in a cup. When she tried to shake it off, she stepped on the boning of the her corset, and yelped. Hopping on one foot, she immediately slid across a silk teddy, and wound up flailing along the side of her bed, until she fell. She landed face first. Burying her face deeper into the pile of crap on her bed, she moaned.
His footfalls moved across the room. Carefully and slowly, she noted, so he wouldn’t step on her shit. She didn’t want him to get any closer so she tried to shoo him away.
“I’m not ever getting up from here. I’m not ever going to look at you, or remember that you exist in the world. Go away and leave me to die in my embarrassment.”
Her hands made flopping motions at him, as if to wave goodbye. Her voice, muffled by the pile of clothing and blankets on the bed, came out as a wail. His laughter clearly carried to her, however.
He kept laughing. He laughed so hard that he tried to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, but he slipped on a silk charmeuse robe, rolling right down the side of the bed to land on his butt on the floor beside her legs.
And still he laughed, the dumb ass.
“ohmygawd,” she moaned, but a giggle escaped.
He gulped air, coughed, as he laughed even harder, then tugged on her leg until she fell down beside him. He had tears in his eyes from laughing, the rotten cur!
“Stop laughing,” she laughed.
“Can’t,” he laughed.
Later, she was never sure how long they sat there in the destruction of her room, but they were both exhausted, sides aching, when they finally ran out of giggles.
If she thought that he was going to haul her up off of the floor and onto the bed, she was delusional, he thought, straightening his tie in her bedroom mirror. She’d slipped into the bathroom to ‘freshen up’, girlspeak for pissing, he guessed.
Looking around at the explosion of clothing in her room, he eyeballed the bed. OH, yeah, he definitely thought about fucking her brains out, but in this room? Though he was not a neat freak, he was afraid someone would quite possibly put an eye out on some of the garments strewn about. He gave her points for her bed being made.
His eyes narrowed. Her bed was made. The only clothing thrown higgley piggly about the room was sexy clothing. A wide smile broke like dawn across his face. Sexy clothing. Everywhere. She wasn’t just nervous about dating her boss, she wanted to look sexy for him.
As he’d jokingly ordered her.
Well now, wasn’t that a kick in the arse? The smile slid away as he heard the toilet flush. There was no point in rubbing it in her face. Yet. All things in good time, as was said. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he moved to the living room to wait for her.
“I suppose your reservations are ruined. Sorry.”
yeah right, sorry not sorry, she thought as she stepped into view.
“No indeed. I called ahead to bump up our time. We’re good.”
“Oh, great,” she said with patently false enthusiasm.
“Let’s go then, shall we?”
“shall we” she muttered under her breath, but of course he was all eagle-eared and heard it.
“Tsk tsk. Mocking your boyfriend isn’t nice.”
“You are NOT my boyfriend. This is a debt to be paid.”
“Ah, So…you won’t get any enjoyment out of the evening then. Shall I take you to a burger joint and get you fries and a shake instead of steak and caviar?”
“I don’t like caviar. Too salty.” In truth, she’d never had any.
“Uh huh,” he replied, taking her arm. “Let’s go, Kat, and stop stalling.”
As if to emphasize the point, his stomach rumbled and she laughed. “Even your stomach has to add its two cents?” she laughed, poking his belly with her elbow as she slipped into her shoes.
“Hmm,” was his only reply as he watched her body move in interesting ways under the dress. “Nice shoes.”
“Hmm,” she mocked him.
“This could be a long evening.”
“Or a short one,” she retorted. “You could get sick of me and take me home early.”
He just smiled that smirky-face smile and held the door for her.
The restaurant was quiet and elegant. Subtle wait staff, fine wine, snowy linens. There was some soft music playing at the edges of her hearing, but she was drawn again and again to his face. He laughed. He teased. He gestured with his silverware. He stole her food, and plopped some of his on her plate, then laughed when her eyes rolled at him.
The waiter removed their dishes, and he ordered ice cream for dessert.
“What, no chocolate cake?”
“Don’t want you weighed down with all that in your belly when we go dancing.”
“Dancing?!” Her voice squeaked. “You never said a thing about that?”
“How neglectful of me.”
In truth, he didn’t look apologetic at all. Then again, it wasn’t really an apology. Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. He looked back at her, eyes dancing, chin resting in his palm. Daring her. He was silently needling her and she was not going to fall for it. Letting her breath out slowly, she smiled at him.
If she’d hoped to fuddle him, she failed. He just smiled and leaned back as their ice cream was served. When the waiter left, he gestured with his spoon.
She stood beside him as they waited for their coats. Her back straightened, shoulders back, and shot him a look when his hand slid over the curve of her ass.
“What. Was. That.”
Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him.
“I know it was your hand.”
“Why did you ask? Did you think it was my foot?”
There was that deep breath again, in, out, in, out. She was not going to let him goad her. Pizza and temper had gotten her into this mess, and calm was going to get her home in her bed alone in a little bit. She was not going to let him poke her into flaring at him.
“I was sure it wasn’t your foot, because that is firmly planted…”
That smirk, again. So help her god, she was going to…breathe, breathe…
“on the floor. Why was your hand on my butt?”
“Well, sometimes hands have a mind of their own. It’s a very curvy ass.”
“You’re calling me …fat?”
“Curvy. In all the right places. I’m not into stick figure women, Kat.”
“Oh, so all I need to do to get you to leave me alone is go on a diet?”
He laughed. He was so fucking outrageously sexy when he laughed like that. All-in, that was how he expressed his joy. Head back, lips smiling, the total abandon of his guffaws made her smile.
Except, she wasn’t going to smile and encourage him.
He flicked a finger down her cheek.
“So serious. and yes, a lovely ass, too. I doubt if anything you did could discourage me…other than saying ‘no’. No is acceptable…if you are truly uncomfortable with me.”
Considering the current social climate, it was a decent thing for him to say. And truthfully, he wasn’t forcing her to do any of this. He may have tweaked her into it, but she was honest enough to admit that she was…kind of…sort of…maybe enjoying his company.
At least he wasn’t her boss, so that bridge had gone downriver.
She leaned close.
“I could fart.”
“One assumes so, yes. Amazingly enough, so do I.”
“I could have spinach between my teeth.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“You didn’t have spinach at dinner.”
“Well, I didn’t have it today.”
“Oh.” That gave him pause.
“Well, that might preclude me kissing you…but since I already have, I can confidently say that you do not, nor did you earlier, have spinach between your teeth.”
She laughed. He loved the way her entire face lit up when she really let herself go. This was becoming a very enjoyable evening, and yet the best was yet to come. No pun intended.
He leaned close again.
“How about, before the coats come, you jot into that restroom and remove your panties for me?”
Her mouth fell open, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed, before leaning up to his ear. Coming towards them was the hostess with their jackets in hand. She held his arm to brace herself as she rose to tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
“I can’t do that!”
He looked down at her, and grinned that heart-melting, devilish grin.
“Sure you can,” he said, normal voiced.
On tiptoe again, she tugged him down lower to her mouth by his tie.
“I can’t,” she whispered, sounding breathless. He had to admit that the sound of her voice, and the wisp of her warm breath against his ear was a two-pronged turn on.
“Indeed, you can.” A hint, just a tease, of Dom-voice.
“But I can’t,” she said again, then swirled her tongue around his ear, the cheeky witch!
“I’m not wearing any.”
He wondered, very briefly, which of them was in control at this moment. She was a mash up of shy/bubbly, bossy/submissive.
And she was being a massive cock tease. It would be a lie to himself to not admit that she had grabbed him by the short and curlies with that one, naughty whisper, “I’m not wearing any,” when he’d asked her to remove her panties. So much for her prim and proper act, he mused as he slid into the drivers seat.
“So, dancing?” she said, her eyes twinkling as she snigged her seat belt into the lock.
“Oh indeed,” he replied as he buckled his own. For just a heartbeat they were facing each other. His fingers snagged her chin and he pulled her closer still, then kissed her mouth. It was firm, but brief. He felt her yielding, leaning just a bit further into his space. He shrugged mentally, then deepened the press of his mouth to hers, spearing his tongue into her mouth and tasting her.
His other hand wanted to rise, wanted to take her breast and pinch and tug it, wanted to mimic what his mouth was doing to her lips. But he broke the kiss off, and started the car.
“Dancing, coming right up,” he said.
It was ridiculous. His kiss had her all stirred up. She was horny, and needy, and that was on her, but that didn’t mean she needed to roll out the red carpet to her pussy just because his lips were magical.
Not magical, for geeze sake.
Just….she paused in her thinking attempting to tamp down her suddenly raging desire. He gave a fucking damn good kiss. She could live with that. But boy, she had wanted him to yank her out of her seat, maul her tits, make her sit on his lap and ride him until they were both a messy pile of sweat and…
She broke off that thought, too. Clenching her thighs, she gave herself a stern talking-to.
You are not going to get involved here.
This guy fired you, for fucks sake!
Okay, maybe he didn’t actually fire you, but he started it.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
“I’m beginning to see that when you go through all these head gestures, that you’re carrying on some sort of internal dialogue. Am I featured in it?”
His voice jolted her back to awareness. Where were they, anyway? She wasn’t that familiar with town, and in the darkness it was hard to say where, exactly, they were.
“What?” she said, realizing that he was awaiting her reply.
“Oh, no,” she said immediately. “No, you weren’t in the conversation.”
“I’m aware. Since I was silent and you were bobbling your head like…one of those bobble-head dolls.”
Her shoulders straightened. This, this was the thing he did that so got under her skin! He compared her to the stupidest things! She would not even dignify that with a reply, just turned a steely glare at him.
He laughed, of course.
“You’re a child,” she said.
She looked out the window. He’d driven her to the club. Her mouth opened, closed. If she said anything, he’d know that she …what she…
She could almost hear Savannah in her head saying ‘so what if he knows? why not enjoy the ride?’
Well. She breathed deeply as he exited the car, coming to her door like a gentleman. Which he wasn’t. The door opened, and his hand appeared.
“You’re not a gentleman.”
“Sure I am. Out here at least.”
He knew. He knew that she knew what this place was. And was warning her that this nice guy stuff ended at the door. A flush of nerves ran down her spine, fast as heat-lightning dashing across a summer sky.
In for a penny… she breathed, and took his hand.
They weren’t even stopped at the door. One head nod to himself and the bouncer just pressed the damn buzzer to allow them entry. When she’d come in, there’d been a barrage of questions. Which she totally understood. But the head nod, that indicated that he wasn’t just a casual visitor. He was known here. He gave her no more time to ponder; sliding his arm around her lower back, he guided her inside.
They walked into a wall of noise. Conversations pitched to be heard over a thumping beat. He guided her to the bar, leaned over.
“Mamma,” he yelled to the woman who had counseled Kat earlier in the week.
“My prince has arrived,” she crowed, hustling down the length of the bar with a welcoming grin. “Oh, and look who you have with you. Hello again, my little friend! You’re in good hands with this one,” she winked, gesturing with a finger bedecked with a series of thin gold rings to her knuckle. “Just exactly who I would have picked for you, little one.”
“MammaLa,” Kat said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I thought he was taking me dancing.”
“There are all kinds of dancing, yes?” Mamma laughed loudly as Kat threw a quick glance behind her shoulder.
“Mamma,” He chided. “Don’t scare her off…that’s my job.”
“I am not scared of you, not one bit,” she said, her back stiffening.
“Not yet, he said, his voice faux-foreboding.
“That’s the worst Vincent Price impression I’ve ever heard,” she said.
“You attempt to deflate my ego yet again. C’mon, let us dance.”
He tugged her arm and twirled her in a fast spin.
“But not here, I think.”
With another of those nods to yet another Watcher, they passed through a door marked PRIVATE, leaving the main bar behind. Neither saw MammaLa’s wide grin as she watched.
“There’s gonna be some fun there. Those two were tossing sparks off of each other like a summer meadow of fireflies!”
They were sitting in a corner of a large room. A room filled with a wide-ranging group of people, and a huge assortment of toys and equipment. Toys meant for pain, for pleasure.
They locked gazes until a particularly loud shriek from across the room caused her to drop her eyes first. Damn him, she thought.
“How? I mean…Alex?”
“Of course not. Do you think I listened to anything he said about you? I knew after a few very short minutes that he and you had been intimately involved, and that it didn’t end well. And here you are, a thousand plus miles from him, which speaks volumes, Katherine.”
She guessed she hadn’t thought of that, really.
“I wanted a change.”
His thumb caressed that sliver of skin between her thumb and forefinger. She hadn’t even realized he was still holding her hand. When she would have tugged it free, he would not relinquish it.
“Mine. For now. Don’t fight me. Just be, Kat. Remember, NO is always an option.”
The pause was to allow her time to say it, but she couldn’t. The groundswell of need was rushing through her, flooding her with feelings and sensations she’d thought she’d put away.
“So you came here a few days ago. I was driving in as you were driving out. You didn’t see me, but I did see you. And it clicked for me.”
“Well….” What could she possibly say to that. “I’m probably going back home.”
“Really? When you have such a great job, with a delightful boss?”
“You are not a delight.”
Now she did tug her hand free.
“You’re dictatorial, unorganized, refuse to relinquish control of anything to anyone.”
“Which is why I need you.”
“You say that now, when we’re here…” she waved her hand around the room. “I’ve done that dance before, mister, and it didn’t work so well for me.”
“It is hard to fuck the boss.”
“Well…when you put it that way, yes. It’s nearly impossible to have a relationship…a working relationship…and a sexual relationship with the same person.”
“I rather think that depends on the people involved. Your last lover was an asshole. As a boss? Totally an asshole. What I do here is not the same as out there in the real world. There has to be a distinction, Katherine. I can’t go around asking for you to work on your hands and knees and still run my company professionally. For all I teased you before, I simply can’t be your sexual partner at work. We’d have to turn all that off. But here? Or at home? Oh, that’s where the fun begins.”
“So, you’re saying there’s no fun at work?”
“Blowjobs under the desk? Your panties in my pocket, fucking over my desk? Not likely! There’s always so much work that needs doing, as you may recall.”
“That’s exactly why you needed me. You need to trust me, and delegate…not just to me but to others on the staff. We’re there to help you, you jerk.”
“Did you just call your boss a jerk?”
“Mr. Jerkface Jackson, right? If the name fits…”
“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”
She smirked at him. He mimicked her expression. She broke first, again, and dissolved into giggles.
“Your face,” she said between laughs. “OMG, you’re such a nutjob! I wish I didn’t like that about you.”
“You’re a smartass. I wish I didn’t like that about you.”
He rose from the table, and took her, not by the hands, but by the wrists.
“Now, my dear, I think it’s time we dance.”
“You’re going to play all suited up like that?” she queried, in part to tamp down the mix of nerves and lust.
“No, I’m going to the men’s room to go don my leather pants and bare my chest.” He puffed out his pec’s and she giggled again.
“You are not!” she laughed.
“What, you think I can be a Dom without my skintight leather pants?” She laughed harder.
“I doubt you need to play dress up, but if it’s what you need, far be it from me to stop you.”
He tugged her hard so that she fell against him. His mouth brushed her ear as he whispered
“that is not what I need, little girl.”
His mouth moved down the column of her neck to the tender place where neck and shoulder met. His lips traced a tickley line there, making her shiver and giggle at the teasing sensation.
When his teeth closed on the damp flesh, she moaned, then squealed as the ache built. His hands had let her arms go, but they came to her shoulders, holding her close as he nipped his way back to her ear. A hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, and baring her throat to his mouth. Kisses and bites moved slowly across the soft flesh, around and up to her jaw, before he found her mouth again.
He took. He ravaged. He pillaged. She moaned.
When he stepped back, she stood, swaying, trying to get her bearings. The bites gave a gentle throb, matching the one that was growing between her thighs. OH, this was a bad idea, she thought, but there was no way she was stopping now.
Her hand touched her bottom lip, swollen from his savage mouth. She felt the hard nubs of her nipples, yearning for his touch. He had her, she knew it. She would be mad at him later, for certain. Her eyes followed his hands as they slipped of his suit coat, laying it carefully over the chair, as he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, as he slipped the tie from around his neck and advanced towards her. Those hands! How she wanted them on her.
“Let me?” he asked, holding the tie out.
Without a trace of reluctance, she placed her wrists upon it. He tugged a slip knot around them, pulled her close for a moment and kissed her nose, then led her across the floor.
The room was designed to look like the interior of an old barn, all wood beams, studs, and rustic boards. Around the room were alcoves, formed by thicker beams. They weren’t private, but they were intimate, she thought. Eyeing the heavy iron rings, nails, and hooks, she licked her lips. He watched her take in the great space, feeling himself harden when that wily tongue slipped over her shapely mouth. He could see the need within her, feel her fascination with the variety of straps and chains which hung near each station. He led her to one niche, pushing her against the wall. The heat of his body settled against her ass. She wiggled against him, smiling to herself. His hand, still holding her tie-wrapped wrists, pulled them up over her head. Hanging in this particular space were a pair of heavy cuffs, hung on a length of chain. Pausing a moment, he felt her bum press hard into his groin and wiggled.
“Naughty girl,” he whispered into her hair, slapping her bum.
“Me?” she said, her voice a husky tease as she looked over her shoulder at him. “I was just warming up.”
“Indeed,” he said wryly. She had certainly warmed up parts of his anatomy. Now it was time to return the favor. He slipped each wrist into a cuff, sliding away his tie. He looped it around her throat, the ends trailing down her back. Pressing forward, he squashed her against the roughness of the wall, centering his shaft on her buttcrack, and moved suggestively along that welcoming valley. When she moaned, he took a step back. Time to dance, he thought.
He lifted her chin, serious now.
“Yes? Or no?”
She gazed at him a moment, looking into his eyes, then at his mouth, before returning to his eyes. Smiling slightly, her lips parted.
He nodded, accepting her acquiescence.
She’d pondered that, actually. She couldn’t use “red”…that had been her safeword with Alex, and it conjured up too many hard memories.
“Ouch?” she said at last, grinning cheekily.
“Oh, I think you’ll be saying that far to often for that to be a good choice. Besides, with that “ouch” comes the pleasure. Would you deny yourself that?”
He made a good point, damn him. It was interesting seeing the Dom-mode begin to suffuse him. There’d been flashes, to be sure, but this was way more intense. He wasn’t scary-Dom, but he was…
More primal, perhaps. Eyes sharp and keen. It was body language and a way he had of engaging visually.
“I see the wheels turning again, Ms. Bobblehead.”
“Oh, right, safe-word. Uhm…” she paused, and he wondered what was coming out of that cheeky mouth next. Her eyes were dancing.
“What about asshole?”
He grinned, shook his head.
“You’re a smartass to the core, aren’t you? No. A word you’ll remember.”
“Oh, I have no problem remembering to call you an asshole,” she said sweetly. “I already have, many times.”
“You may want to remember your position here, little girl. You’re rather…vulnerable… just now, yes?”
She thought he might smack her ass then, give her a taste of what she needed. Her mouth formed into a round () of surprise at his next move.
He reached out then, and firmly tugged down the top of her dress. Her tits popped free, bobbing back and forth as if to entice his touch. He gave a quick slap to the top of each, making her gasp. He slapped at the sides, but couldn’t get a good angle. She was too close to the wall for him to get a good swing going. Moving behind her, he tugged her hips back, forcing her to bend. Her tits swung in the air. He reached for something, she couldn’t see from the angle, but the slap of a crop against the underside of her breast was familiar, and painful. There was no sound for some minutes as he beat her tits, top, sides, bottom. When he paused, she was breathing heavily.
“Was there a word, miss?”
She shuddered a deep breath into her lungs, her tits blazing fire. For a long moment she couldn’t even remember her name let alone a word. A word. A safe-word. Right. She thought she might cum right then and there. A quick slap of the crop on her nipple made her gasp.
“Mercy!.” She yelped out the word.
“Good choice,” he said, then returned to slapping at her tits. He alternated using the crop and his hands in equal measure. She thought she would scream with the hurt, but the pleasure of it held her silent other than moans and gasps. Finally, when she thought she was going to have to cry her safe-word, he stopped. How these Tops knew the breaking point was a mystery to her.
“Good girl,” he crooned, rubbing her aching breasts, his crotch coming to rest hard against her ass. And she could feel him. Feel the rock hard jut of his cock against her rear. She was salivating at the thought of that hardness sliding between her thighs and soothing the fire he’d managed to light in her pussy.
His hands slid down her sides, then hooked into the hem of the bandage dress. Lifting it slowly, she wanted to scream ‘hurry, please, touch me’, but held onto herself. Gawd, but he was taking his time, his fingers sliding over her round belly, trailing along the curve of her hips, the tops of her thighs.
“Please,” she moaned, pressing herself back against him.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “I think this is the most pleasant you’ve ever been to me! Even saying ‘please’. It’s very out of character, you know.”
A long moan escaped as his hands teased up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she most needed to be touched.
“Are you becoming a greedy slut?” he asked, his tone deepening. He could smell her arousal, feel the heat in her groin. His fingers moved an inch closer. She was quivering, her ass pushing out hard against him.
“Oh, please,” she whimpered.
His hands lifted, cupping her tits and flicking the nipples with his thumbs. He was holding her hard against him, his fingers kneading the tender flesh, constantly fluttering over her erect nips.
“Be right back,” he said cheerily, and stepped away.
He could hear her groan from across the room, and he smiled broadly. She heard him approach, hope blooming.
“Oh, by the way, could you hold this for me until I come back?”
He slid the crop handle between her thighs, lifting it tight against her pussy. She ground down on it, rubbing her clit, moaning as he snugged it close. OH gawd, so close,she thought, trying to move to the best position.
He lowered the crop to mid-thigh.
“That’s better. Don’t want you leaking all over that,” he said. And he laughed. The asshole.
“Oh, and KittyCat? Don’t drop it. You won’t want to find out what happens if you do.”
The sound of his footsteps moving away made her want to scream. She wanted to shift position, to rub herself on something, anything. But if she moved, she’d drop the crop. And his warning had been delivered in full-on Dom voice. Which made dropping the damn thing all the more tempting. The devious bastard!
Time moved, she was certain of it. Yet she couldn’t say if 5 minutes had passed, or 50. She felt the warm leather of his crop between her thighs, and wished he were there to use it on her. She was needy, uncomfortable, and half naked for crissakes! Facing the rustic wooden wall, her tits and ass exposed, she was flushed with embarrassment. Eventually even that faded during those interminable, unknown minutes. Behind her she could hear people moving around the cavernous room. She could hear those who were otherwise engaged in play. There were slaps and *tings* of implements striking flesh, closely followed by shockingly loud screams as the recipient responded. There were moans and whimpers and the sounds of those in deepest ecstasy.
What she didn’t hear was his footfall. No sound of those beautifully polished shoes coming towards her. How was this even a date, she wondered, feeling suddenly angry. It happened that way sometimes, the submission and the annoyance jockeying for position in her emotions. Her hands felt numb, and her back was tiring when she felt the warmth of hands on her back…and ass.
“Ohh, poor kitten…he left you here all alone and unattended,” crooned a sexy and female voice. “So pretty, this round ass of yours..” the voice trailed off as a long fingernail scratched lightly down her crack and circled her anus. There was a slight tug around her throat as the ends of the tie were pulled taut for a moment, before more fingernails scrabbled down her spine. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of his attention, or just that those sharp fingernails hit the line between pleasure and pain. The voice continued, the owner clearly knowing that she was having an affect on the tied submissive. One nail trailed up and over her left ass cheek, scratching just hard enough to leave a thin, red line there. Goosebumps rose along her shoulders, her arms, and her nipples crinkled tightly.
“I–I’m waiting for him, t-to…” she stopped on a gasp as the fingernails pinched a piece of flesh where her ass and thighs met.
“I know, that hurts so much, doesn’t it honey?” The voice was husky now, clearly lapping up the subtle signs of pain; Kat’s arching back, her in-drawn breath, the short pants as she released it against the hurting.
The pinch seemed to last an hour. The relief when the nails released her was nearly as intense as the pain had been, as was the sudden surge of moisture between her thighs.
“Mona,” a deep voice said, the tone admonishing. “Didn’t MamaLa have a conversation with you about poaching?”
There was a pouty “mmm” of sullen agreement. “But Dirk…! You weren’t here. She looked so lonely, the poor thing. And there was that very pretty ass just begging to be touched..how could I resist?
“Resist,” he replied drolly.
“I’m resisting… authority…” she said with a husky chuckle.”Okay, fine, have it your way, you big greedy bastard.”
The soft sound of her feet moving off gave some measure of peace to Kat.
“You left me,” she accused. Her hair had fallen forward, obscuring her vision.
He moved beside her, then freed her arms from the iron ring on the wall. Though she tried to hold back the gasp, the blood flowing back to her hands and cramped shoulders made being silent impossible.
“Oh, owww,” she whimpered.
“Poor little kitty cat,” he mocked, all falsely sympathetic as he brushed the hair from her face. He leaned close, kissed her top lip, nipped at her eyebrow. She moaned again. damn him. The last semblance of her snark was fading fast, under a hot and heavy need. She wondered if she’d ever been so horny. Feeling his hands on her breasts, she tried to move closer, but was surprised to feel the fabric of her dress being tugged back up to cover her. In moments he had slid the crop from between her thighs, then pulled down the hem of her dress, covering her bottom. She blinked at him, not comprehending his game.
Taking the tie from around her neck, he bound her wrists, then led her by the trailing length of his tie across the room. They paused for a moment to watch a submissive. Her face was a portrait of beautiful agony as her master nailed her tits to a rough wooden board. Katherine shuddered at the thought of it, but the woman was obviously far gone in subspace. She could see the puddle forming on the floor between her legs; it was obviously a kink that worked for them.
“Interested?” he asked, pulling her attention from the scene.
“No,” she replied. His grin was devilish, managing to be both mocking and humorous. Only a Dom would find that sort of thing funny, she mused. By damn he was one sexy bastard when he smiled. And when he didn’t.
She was hooked.
He tugged her “leash” and she was obliged to follow him. He slowed to watch a leather-clad woman bullwhip a burly man. His cock was locked in a cage, his nipples cruelly pegged. As he shuddered beneath a snapping blow, she clearly saw the back end of a plug up his bum. It made her wet, which surprised her. His cock twitched with every whip-stroke, and she felt an answering tingle in her clit.
“You seem very…interested,” he said in a low voice.
“He’s…amazing. So is she,” she replied, equally quiet.
“Mistress Dominica is a master of the whip. Shall I sign you up for one of her classes?”
She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not, so she shook her head.
“If you’re sure…” his voice trailed off as the sub roared out a yell when the tip of the whip hit just near his balls. “Well, that had to hurt,” he said, cupping a hand over his groin and making her almost giggle out loud.
“Stop,” she hissed, but she grinned as he made a faux scared face at her, still cupping himself. He tugged her onward.
She frowned as they left the play room, entering the bar. What the hell was he up to now?
Not only had he ushered her through the bar and outside, but he’d led her to his car, all but shoved her in, hands still tied, and belted her safety belt. He’d driven her home with no conversation whatsoever, which made her curious. Her tits were tender from his earlier slap-fest, but her clit pounded like it was a gong.
She needed to be fucked. She needed to cum. She wanted.
Damn him for stirring her up like this. She fidgeted in her seat. She caught just the faintest hint of a grin on his mouth; no, not even a grin, just the sexy upturn on one corner.
“Where are we going?”
The smile deepened. Thank gods above and below, she thought. He’s taking me home to fuck me there.
He pulled into her driveway, parked, then came around to let her out. Releasing her hands, he slipped the tie loosely around her neck. Arm around her back, he led her upstairs, took her key and opened her door. Stepping inside, she all but threw herself at him, pulling his head down and kissing him fervently.
He tugged her dress down, then off. Helping her step free of it, he held up his hand to forestall her.
“Go to the bathroom.”
“Now?” she all but moaned.
“No, tomorrow. Yes, of course now. Do you need me to assist you? Watch you?”
“Oh hell no!”
She scurried to the bathroom, used the toilet quickly. Looking at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, she noted the bruises already blushing along her breasts. She felt weak in the knees. Oh gods, she so needed this.
He was leaning against the dining room wall, pulling the tie absently through his fingers. Shyly she walked towards him, she naked as the day she was born, he, so well dressed in his suit. Straightening, he gestured to her to come.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the floor in front of him. “Good girl, now turn.”
She presented her back to him as instructed. What was coming? Her heart was all fluttery in her chest, her nipples grew taut. When he tapped her inner thigh, she spread her feet wider. She felt something between her thighs…the cool silk of his tie. He pulled it forward and back, teasing her clit for a moment.
“Hold the ends,” he said, and she took them, one in front, one behind, holding them. It took all her willpower to not rub it against her clit, but he hadn’t indicated to do so, and she didn’t want to push it.
“I picked this up at the club, while watching your delightful ass from across the room. Several of my friends were hoping that I’d share you, you know. You made such a pretty picture there, vulnerable, yet wanting.”
The shiver of need ran up and down her spine. A fresh drool from her pussy was soaked up by his tie.
“But I declined. After all, you and I hardly know one another. 13 working days, and one evening run-in hardly qualifies as getting to know you, right?”
She nodded, glad he hadn’t shared her. So wrapped up in the thoughts of that, that she didn’t notice at first, the heavy metal belt he fastened around her waist.
“Open wider, slut.”
Her legs spread, and a thick metal spine was pressed against her pussy. She jolted at the chill of it. There was a click at her backside. His fingers slid under the front of the band.
“Your pussy is so fucking hot,” he murmured. “Wet, juicy, I’ll bet you need to cum, don’t you?”
“oh, yesss,” she moaned, pressing against his probing fingers. Then they were gone, and a second click sealed the band firmly between her legs.
“No cumming tonight, I’m afraid.”
He lifted his fingers to her mouth.
“Taste that. Taste that needy cunt juice. Yours, little girl. Your needy cunt is going to leak all night, I’m afraid. I’ll be back in the morning to release you so that you can pee.”
He slid the tie from under the crotch band as she stared in shock at him.
“Wait…what? What?? YOU….you…you can’t… ” she yelped. “I…I need….”
“..to wait until I decide it’s time for you to come. Just…be careful what you wish for, little girl. I am a sadist, after all.”
He tied her wrists quickly with the tie, binding them firmly but not so tight that it would be harmful.
“Tonight you will sleep, smelling your arousal all night long. Your pussy will ache and weep and …eventually, you will sleep, and dream of all the wonderful, awful, delightful torments I will do to you.”
He kissed her on her nose, then pushed her into her room, closed the door. Quietly, he let himself out of the apartment, heaving a deep sigh. His cock throbbed. He patted his crotch as he jogged down the steps.
“Soon, my raging friend. Soon.”
His cock knew it would not be soon enough for either of them.
“Where r u?”
“Really. Where r u?”
“I’m getting pissed here. It’s almost 10!! I have to pee so bad!”
“I haven’t had my coffee yet, it’s barely 10 and it’s Saturday. Sleep. zzzz”
“You said….wait…wtf? badly?? what the hell? are you talking about?”
“You said quote: I need to pee so bad.”
“It’s bad English. It should be badly. It’s an adverb.”
“I’m not correting grmmr orspelling on saturday, specilly with textingwhen I gots to peeeeee…”
“There’s never a bad time for good grammar.”
“OMFG are you even kidding me now? NOW??”
“You said you’d be over early. Yes you did. Where the FUCK are you?”
“It isn’t on my calendar. Oh, wait, I don’t have a life manager anymore. Sorry.”
“R U even kidding? I NEED TO PEE!!”
“You said that already. Better grammar the first time, though.”
“MY EYEBALLS R TURNING YELLOW I NEED TO PEE SO BAD–LY”
“The belt has holes in it. Go pee.”
“Eeeeewwww…That’s so gross. It’s going to be all against me and…and…brb…”
“You did NOT just fall back to sleep. I was barely gone 10 minutes. I figured it out.”
“zzzzzzz was too sleeping”
“figured what out?”
“what is WUT?”
“WUT means eyeroll? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Say it out loud.”
“Still means nothing.”
“I can hear you giggling.”
“Real doms don’t giggle.”
“Real doms don’t let their subs suffer needing to…oh. Wait.”
“funny. not funny.”
“I dunno K, it seems rather hilarious to me.”
“Was your bladder throbbing?”
“I DID need to pee desperately.”
“I like that word. Desperately.”
“Are you really still in bed? Aren’t you lonely?”
“Nah. I have the phone with you texting me like every 12 seconds.”
“No time to be lonely.”
“I’m still horny.”
“Oh, I should hope so. Just stay in bed and imagine all the wicked things I plan to do with you. Or maybe not.”
“Well, I was thinking on the drive home last night.”
“Oh, is *that* why I heard fire trucks? Set your hair on fire thinking, did you?”
“cute. Remember I have weapons of ass destruction and know how to use them, little girl.”
“smug smile…promises promises”
“Right, well, that was my point. I need a manager in my office…and you’re the best I’ve had in a long time.”
“I want to rehire you. Pizza tie notwithstanding, you’re damn good”
“at your job. When you can control your temper.”
“What was that?”
“My middle finger.”
“So, as I said, I want you back. But there’s a significant issue.”
“I went on the date with you. The tie is paid off.”
“oh, not the tie.”
“geeze. WHAT? I can’t even…”
“You said no sex with your boss. I’d be your boss.”
“I did say that. I say many things.”
“Right, and it would be terribly cruel of me to put that kind of pressure on you.”
“You’re a sadist. You said so.”
“You thrive on cruel, remember?”
“True, very much so. But to make you so uncomfortable…it seems unkind, even for me.”
“So…if I take the job offer, you’re not coming over to…”
“To finshis what yuo srtated.”
“Are you agitated, little girl? I see your spelling is an issue when you are..”
“Agitated? I’M PISSED! And horny!”
“Well, that’s why the belt is so good…you can keep wearing it and I can..”
“where are you now? geeze I hate when you just bloop off…”
“I’m going to lay here and make up dirty songs with you in them. And make fun of you.”
“JERKFACE JACKSON WHERE ARE YOU?”
“sing that to the ‘scooby doo’ themesong…”
“Hey…don’t bust scooby do… what’s the matter?”
“when you go it’s cutsomary to say brb or something.”
“oh. I don’t text often. My fingers are tired.”
“poor baby. NOT! Geeze, so go on…”
“I had to pee. Go on with what?”
“our conversation? scroll back to remind yourself. The belt?”
“which one..I have several..”
“MY BELT. the one you stuck on me!”
“oh, that belt. Right. Well, if you keep wearing it, I can give the key”
“to someone else. ask them to hold it. Maybe even my safe deposit box.”
“Wait just aminte. youwanna lock me up and put the fucking key in BALTIMORE???WTF??”
“Well, it was a suggestion. I could leave it with the valet.”
“And tell him what? ‘here’s my key for my sluts cunt?”
“Oh, I like that. He would, too, I suspect.”
“BTW, your spelling is terrible!”
“No. No no noononononon.”
“Well, okay. It was a suggestion. We can keep it here at my place.”
“NO TO THE FUCKING BELT.”
“I rescind my words that I won’t ever fuck my boss again. I take it back.”
“I didn’t get that last one.”
“jeezuz furking crisco”
“My eyes are fucking rolling in my head and r gona pop OUT”
“Dint you ever play hide n seek as a kid? Were you ever a kid?”
“So…let me clarify.”
“You don’t care if I’m your boss.”
“Because you’ll fuck me anyway.”
“Good so far?”
“Y E S”
“And we’ll be play.partners and I can torture you.”
” Y E S”
“And that will kind of make you my “sexretary”…?”
“No. Fucking. Way”
“Frist, not a secretary. Manager. second. It’s sounds so totally STUPID.”
“so? I like the sound of it. It trips off my tongue.”
“Grumble. Stupid. Grumple. I’ll trip your tongue.”
“Is that the business manager talking? Not my submissive, surely?”
“My name’s Kat. Don’t call me Shirley.”
“That joke is older than dirt.”
“still funny tho”
“ha. ha. no.”
“are you coming over?”
“I’m standing outside your door. Let me in, Kat.”
He was standing outside of her door. Her feet were tangled in her sheets, and her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her mouth was dry, her hands trembled as she tried to untangle herself.
She finally kicked herself free and stood for a moment, adjusting the hard metal belt that nestled snugly between her thighs. Her pussy throbbed, mimicking her racing heart.
He was standing outside her door.
Her phone chimed and she reached back to her pillow for it.
“Well, are you going to let me in, or should I be making other plans for the day?” She grinned. Even his texts sounded impatient.
“Imcumg” she replied.
“That has yet to be determined…”
She shook her head, smiling. Equilibrium returned with the laughter. Pausing in the living room, she realized that she was only wearing the belt. Had she ever answered the door naked before?, she wondered, before unlatching the lock and opening the door a crack.
“Hi,” she said, feeling shy suddenly, all but hiding behind the portal.
“May I enter?”
His eyeball peered through the crack, his tone dry, but edged with his typical impatience.
“Yes, yes, sure. Sorry.”
She pulled the door open, still standing behind it. The awkward feeling, mixed with embarrassment.
“Are you coming out from there, or should I go?”
For a moment, just a second, she wanted to say ‘go’. The door was tugged away from her hand, closed softly. A finger lifted her chin.
“Cold….feet?” he said, one finger flicking her nipple.
“Look at me.”
“Won’t, more to the point. Up here, girl.”
His finger now tapped her nose, and rather firmly at that. Her eyes popped up to meet his. Though she wanted to melt into the carpet, he held her just there, just with those steely blue-gray eyes of his.
“Tell me what’s running through that head of yours.”
It was not a request and she recognized that instantly. It was full-Dom voice, and coupled with that look, she found herself stammering a reply.
Taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled her across the floor. It was move quickly or have it torn from her breast; she moved. Little squealing sounds came from her, but he ignored them. Sitting on her sofa, he pulled her down, hard and fast, across his lap.
She squealed one final time as his fingers snapped off her now tender nip. A hand pressed against the back of her head, another across the small of her back, and somehow she was laying ass up while the metal band of the chastity belt she still wore ground into her waist.
The hand on her head remained, the other hand began attacking her ass. Blow after blow, varying in intensity, keeping her wiggly on his legs. She yelped. She yelled. She squirmed, and moaned, and gasped. The pain was burning through her, not just her ass, but burning through embarrassment, and tension. Finally everything simply drained from her. Limply she lay over him, her body trembling, her ass hot and throbby.
The hand on her head gathered a fistful of hair, pulled her up and off with it. Her mouth opened in a low moan as she knelt at his feet, his hair-wrapped hand holding her close, keeping her steady. Her breathing was deeper now, no longer the fitful gasps of near-panic as had been the case only moments before when she’d opened the door to him.
He looked at her intently, his eyes just burning into hers. Her head moved fractionally, until he nodded it more vigorously with that hank of hair.
“Say thank you Sir”
“T-thank you….Sir,” she whispered. He pulled her closer, until she was nestled between his thighs.
“No more shyness?”
“You’re a very silly slut.”
“Well…I am…uh…well….you know…”
Her eyes fell again, then lifted when the fist in her hair tightened.
“What? I didn’t seem to hear that teeny tiny voice of yours. Which is especially shocking coming from you. For even the short time of our acquaintance, I’ve never known you to be so faint of heart nor voice.”
He could feel that switch again, as she moved from bashful to irked. Good. She needed pushing. He continued, aiming his words like tiny darts. They were meant to get her dander up.
“Always so sure of yourself, and here you are, all wimpy and mewling at my feet. I must say, I’m surprised. So much for all that blustery bravado.”
Her eyes shot up.
“I was NOT blustering. I’m brave, damn you! But right now, I’m naked”.
“N A K E D.”
She was not quite shouting when she repeated herself. But her dander was up, and the shyness was gone. How dare he call her a…a wimp.
“And …you’re not.”
She pointed at him, plucking at his jeans.
“And…and…well, I was just feeling a bit of NORMAL nervousness. Which SOME Doms would be gentle and caring about.”
“I am always gentle and caring. Didn’t you feel tenderness as I slapped your ass?”
“That was NOT tender. Tender-izing, maybe. But tender? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Well, I suppose I could have started with the cane. Perhaps you should be shown the difference between tender and…not so tender?”
His smile, those eyes. She shuddered as a fresh gush of lust surged through her. He was a bastard, because she knew that he knew what he was doing to her. Making her not feel shy.
And turning her on.
“Are you going to take this archaic thing off me?” She plucked at the belt around her waist.
“Now wait…you didn’t even stop to think about your answer…it just…just spurted out of your mouth! That’s just really ….bastardy… of you.”
“I do believe you’re changing the subject. And we’ve already discussed that I’m a bastard.”
“What subject was that?”
“Pick one. There have been several already. The “should I use the cane” subject perhaps? or better yet, the naked subject. That oh-so-pitiful ‘i’m naked and you’re not‘ subject. Tsk. Really?”
He let a fair amount of derision flow through his voice. She was nearly there. Nearly.
“Well, ah, do correct me if I’m wrong but I AM naked. And you are NOT naked. So we’re on totally unequal footing here.”
His head cocked, his eyes danced, even as the tiny upward quirk of his lips foretold some awful damn Dom comment. Damn him for looking so fucking sexy while doing his best Bastard act. Then again, it likely wasn’t an act at all.
“Little girl, did you ever even remotely assume that there would be equal footing here?”
He threw back his head and laughed. She punched him. Not too hard. But right there in his guffawing belly, oh yes, she planted one on him. He stopped laughing. He looked at her in something akin to shock.
“You so totally deserved that.”
“In East Bumfuck, do submissives routinely beat on their Doms?” His tone was bland, deceptively so.
“Well, no. But…we’ve yet to determine if you are my Dom. I know,” she held up a hand to forestall him, even though she was still sitting at his feet, his hand still tight in her tresses.
“I know you’re a Dom…that’s more than a little evident. Last night notwithstanding, and this fucking thing,” she said, her fingers tapping the metal band. “I said I wanted to fuck you…but now I’m wearing this and you’re acting all Dommish, and, well, I don’t know the rules. You don’t know my limits. And I’m confused.”
She paused, then placed her hands on his thighs, rising up on her knees to put her face closer to his.
“And horny. You’ve made me incredibly, unbelievably horny. And I didn’t think I’d ever want to be this way with a Dominant man again. Yet here I am. And if you don’t fuck me soon, I could die of the wanting.”
“There you are. Was that so hard, little one?”
She looked at him.
“You confuse me! Was what so hard?”
“To admit to yourself that you want me. To understand fully that I do want you. And to understand that I won’t fuck you until we come to an understanding. Ergo, your belt. It stops temptation in both of us, you know.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t…I mean…” she paused, gathering her thoughts. She was so confused! And gods, so horny too!
“I told you last night I wanted you…”
“You weren’t ready. That was lust. Hormones. Not a thinking reaction. Yes. We played. And play can be fun and stimulating…and non-sexual. You can be turned on, and I can be turned on, and still not have sex. For some, that is the fun. The denial, the wanting, but not the getting. You needed time to think through this, and not just let lust carry you away.”
“Your spanking turned me on.”
“The spanking was to settle you. To stop your panic. To give you a different sort of release.”
“Yeah, but I really need the other kind of release, too!”
Hearing the almost-whine in her voice, he smiled.
“And I don’t mind that, not at all. Your delayed gratification is very…gratifying to me.”
She actually growled. Then, unexpectedly, arched up on her arms, hands braced on his thighs, and planted a kiss on him, one that could have melted concrete. He was really glad he’d left the key at home on his dresser. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction when he told her. Eventually.
His hand, still fisted within her hair, held her. Gods, she thought somewhere in the sane place in her mind, he kissed the horny up so many notches. In the clash of lips and tongues, his had done battle and conquered hers. He nipped -delightfully – up her chin to her ear. That dangerous tongue of his swirled along her outer shell, sometimes the faintest flutter of a touch, sometimes a full-on lick, before sucking and biting on her lobe. She shivered, moaning, as he whispered dirty things in her ear; how it would feel when his tongue slid over her clit, how it would feel when his fingers explored her asshole. When she was a quaking, shivering mess of unbelievable need, he stopped.
“Good slut,” he said absently, patting her head, and releasing her. Sitting slumped between his legs, she barely noticed him rising and stepping over her. The kitchen light flashed on; she heard the sound of him rummaging in her fridge.
The red-hot haze of lust began to fade, and she shivered. Cold now, she wondered what the hell he was doing. Hearing the snick of drawers opening and closing she frowned. He was going through her drawers. And not the panty kind, either. Just about to call out to him, she was forestalled by his grinning reappearance.
“You have a treasure trove in your whatzinit drawer!” His expression was boyishly gleeful.
“What-zin-it,” he enunciated. “You don’t always know ‘what is in it”…but it’s usually something you’ll need at some point.”
“Normal people call that a junk drawer.”
“Yeah? That’s just weird. WE always called it a whatzinit drawer at our house. It’s not junk, Kat. It’s useful and helpful things. Take these for instance.”
He held out his hand, holding two chip clips out for her to see.
“You’re excited about…chip…clips.”
“I’m excited because of all the fun I’m going to have with them.”
“They have almost no spring. They are not…for gawds sake…nipple clamps. I bet I’ll barely even feel a pinch.”
“I know,” he said, his tone filled with humor. “Which is why it was great to find these!”
In his palm lay two thick elastic bands, the kind that holds thick vegetable stalks together at the grocery store.
“So what I do it, I put on a clamp and…well, you know, I think it would be better to show you.”
He knelt down, and lifted her left breast. A quick pinch made her nipple rise, and he quickly fastened on the chip clip. The slightly pointed tip grabbed up her nipple, and left her with a mild sensation.
“Mhmm, see, just a little nip for your nip. Nothing much at all. But now we add this guy.”
First he removed the clip. He folded the elastic twice, then slid it over the front of the clip. Her eyes widened.
“See? We’ve just tightened the clamping ability by about 100%.”
He squeezed the open end of the clip hard, making the tip open, then guided it to her nipple. This time when he released the tabs, she squealed loudly. He smiled, flicking the pinchy device.
“Now,” he continued, “we mustn’t let your other nipple feel neglected.” With a grin he prepared the second clip and fastened that onto her. Her eyes closed as she whimpered again.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Then yelped as his hand grabbed her hair, and began lifting her.
“Up, slut,” he urged, as if the hand tugging tendrils from her scalp wasn’t enough to make her move.
“Ow ouuuw…” she muttered. She stood, swaying just a bit. The clips wiggled and wobbled but did not fall off, despite her ungraceful rise to standing. Already she was feeling that burn that she craved.
“Open,” he said, smacking her leg. Obediently she opened her legs, standing in front of him, her tits jiggling, her pussy shiny with the silver chastity belt.
“Be right back,” he said, before heading back to the kitchen. A silver spatula appeared in the doorway. “Do you know how much this thing hurts?” he called out, waving it in the air.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Okay, good,” he said. More drawers opened, closed. She could feel the need building, burning. “Are you going to take this thing off of me soon?”
“Soon…ish,” came his muffled voice.
“Soonish?” she muttered. “What does that mean, soonish?” Realizing that she wasn’t being very submissive, and definitely not feeling so, she wanted to yell right back at him. But maybe that wasn’t the best of plans, she decided, as she heard a triumphant “yes!” from the the other room. It only took a moment for him to appear, with whatever he’d found, securely wrapped in a towel.
“Don’t you have a toybag?”
“Of course,” he replied, taking her by the arm and leading her forward. “Perfect. Stop.” Once more he tapped at her thighs, before walking behind her. “You have a lovely ass, slut,” he said, but she couldn’t reply as he’d also struck the back of her left thigh with the spatula. The sound it made was a dull *ting*, but she couldn’t speak, could only draw in the breath, her toes curling in the rug. When she came down, she let out a long hissed breath and a muttered ‘fuuuuck’ .
“I love the curve of it,”
*smack* on the other thigh
“and the bounciness of your skin,”
*smack* on the first thigh,
“and the blushy color from my spanking,”
“and I’m sure going to love the adorable bruises from this pancake turner thingy.”
“it’s…aaaaaah! FUCKFUCKFUCK…a spatula, you know?”
“Did you say something slut? No?”
“Can’t speak? I love those sexy whimpers and gasps,”
“it really gets me hard, you know.”
The tremors came, making it hard to stand. There were tears, and panting breath. Her thighs throbbed, her ass where he’d worked his way up and over all the curvy bits. He tugged her head back by her hair, again, and looked at her face.
“aww, poor little slut. Hurts, hmm?”
“yesss,” she whispered.
“I found a lovely wooden spoon. One of the heavy, thick kind. Wanna see?”
“No. I know which one you …”
*smack* between her thighs, hitting metal and skin. She jolted, the shockwaves of the blow awakening her clit, making her even more aroused.
“I smell you.”
His fingers felt all along her, the inner thighs, and the edges of her pussy.
“Pretty hot and moist down here, little girl.”*smack*
She moaned. *smack*
“Who woulda thunk you’d get that turned on by my hitting your metal casing? Hmmm?”
She jumped as he struck her already tender bum.
“One would think that hurt you?” *smack**smack*
“Ppplease take this off and fuck me, Sir, please.”
“What do you mean *smack* OWWWW!”
“What do I mean oww? That means we’re both enjoying this, my dear.”
He spun her around, making her dizzy, and slapped both tits quickly. He hit flesh and the clamps, making her eyes widen as she rose to tiptoes, yelping.
“Your eyes are pleading…are you asking for more?” He slapped again, each tit receiving several fast blows. Her head fell back, her eyes closed as she moaned deep in her throat. His hand grabbed her throat, feeling the vibrations of her pain, then tightened. Striking her again, he drew the pain sounds through his skin, relishing them, feeling his cock stiffen.
He pushed her to her knees then, and unzipped his jeans.
“Good girls get a reward,” he said, as he press her face to where his cock strained for freedom. He grunted as the heat of her mouth closed around him, and slowly pressed himself across her velvet tongue.
She lay on the couch, a light blanket over her. Her body throbbed. Ass, thighs, tits, her face where he’d smacked her during the most intense blow job she’d ever given. Gods, just thinking of it made her wet. Her throat was sore, but all of the pain fused together to make for one intensely erotic playtime.
Except, of course, for the fucking chastity belt.
Which she was still wearing, damn him to hell and beyond.
But the feeling of aggravation couldn’t stand up to the incredible memories of his cock in her throat, his hands in her hair, using her mouth as a hole. It should have made her feel worthless, certainly by today’s mores. But she felt entirely different from what “should be” dictated. He fulfilled her. He’d used her, teased her, touched her, smacked the ever-loving shit out of her. At no point in their play had she felt anything less than beautifully used.
There was that throbbing between her legs again, she thought. Just thinking of him was doing that. Well, now that she thought about it, she did have to pee. And didn’t she hate doing that with this stupid, fucking belt on? Where was he? Vaguely she thought she remembered him wanting a shower. But she didn’t hear it running.
She also remembered him talking about her toy box. What toys she had, where. For a while she was hopeful that he was planning on using them on her, but somewhere between the slapping, biting, and kissing, she’d fallen asleep. It had been awhile since she’d had play time, and she certainly didn’t think it had ever had the same lovely, perfect intensity.
The pressing need of her bladder roused her away from thoughts of orgasms needed. What she needed most was the bathroom, and soon! Kicking free of the blanket, she got to her feet, found herself shaky and sore. She made her way to the bathroom.
“Hey, I need to pee…”
But the bathroom door was open, only a slightly damp warmth letting her know he’d been there. What the fuck? She peed, shifting on the seat. Pissing through the belt was not the most comfortable of things, and she was afraid she would get a pissy rash if he didn’t take it off soon. But that would require finding him, so it seemed. A wet washcloth got her outer labia cleaned well, and she left the bathroom feeling frustrated. In every sense of the word, she muttered to herself. Imagining that big cock sliding inside of her pussy…no. No, she mustn’t even begin to go there or the need would drive her wild.
He wasn’t in the living room, the bedroom, or the kitchen. What was there was a note. It made her seethe to find it, so she crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room. It bounced on the back of the couch before rolling over the back.
“nooooo!” she yelped, leaping for it. “Wait…I haven’t read it yet, dammit!” But it fell behind it anyway. The couch was a heavy behemoth; it had taken both moving guys to muscle it into place. She moved the coffee table, and lay on the floor to see if she could reach it that way. It was, naturally, back against the wall, a good foot beyond her fingertips.
“Broom!” she said, and rolled to her feet, banging her shoulder on the way. “Fucking damn OUTCHIES!” she yelled, then uttered a loud FUCK when she stubbed her toe on the door jamb to the kitchen.
She ordered herself. “Take a breath. Calm the fuck down.”
Pausing, she inhaled slowly, as she’d learned in yoga class. She really needed to get back to that someday, she mused. “Okay….broom. S-l-o-w-l-y. Carefully.”
With trusty red broom in hand, she slid back to the floor in front of the couch, but had to get up to push the table further away so she could finangel the handle underneath. With a triumphant *flick* she tapped the wadded up note, shooting it directly into the corner, where the wide leg of the couch effectively blocked any further attempts.
“The. Fuck.” She huffed out a breath, cursing her ineptitude with the broom, her impatience for throwing it in reaction, and him for creating the situation in the first place. Her phone rang, and she reached up to the coffee table without getting up off the floor.
“Well. Hello to you too, slut. And here I thought you’d be all warm and tender.”
“Well, I’m not. You LEFT. Just sailed out the door and…”
He interrupted. “Didn’t you read my note?”
“uhm…there was a little problem…” her voice trailed off. How did one explain such a thing to one’s new Dom?
“Hmmm…a bit of temper, perhaps? Did you rip it into a million pieces perchance?”
“Noooo, but kinda something like that…”
“I shouldn’t tell you what it said, then, now should I?”
“that would be really mean…” her voice was quiet. She knew she’d gone a bit over the top but still…
“Indeed. I’m rather renowned for that, you know. Being mean. Many little girls actually like that.”
“But because I’m in a rather…shall we say…relieved state of being,”
She rolled her eyes, thankful he couldn’t see her.
“I’ll tell you one thing that it said.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Well?” she said, breaking the silence.
“That was it.”
“What was “it?” she asked, thinking her phone must have blurped out for a moment.
“That . Silence. It was the space between some of the things that I wrote. Sweet things.”
“That’s not something you said.”
“Ah, but silence communicates much, wouldn’t you say?”
It was so very hard to restrain herself, so she clapped her hand over her mouth. After an even longer pause, she heard his chuckle.
And then a click.
She was seriously pissed. Pacing around the floor, muttering imprecations about the asshat who was her dom…for right now, at any rate… she had worked herself into a state of high fury.
“Well, fuck him!”
She paused her pacing. Maybe she could wriggle her way free of the belt if she sucked her belly in hard.
It didn’t work.
Nor did tugging the lock on the back of the thing. And she didn’t own bolt cutters. Yet.
The phone rang, interrupting her furious attempts to be free of the hated, annoying, STUPID belt.
“WHAT?” she yelled into the phone.
“I forgot to tell you that I have the key to the belt. I was going to leave it on your dresser, but I left it here by accident. Or by cosmic design.”
“I need to get out of this thing. Like…NOW.”
“Oooh, you sound so frustrated little girl.”
It took every ounce of willpower to not throw her phone across the room. But all that would do is break the phone.
“I need to cum.”
“Awww,” he said. Damn him, she could hear the laughter in his voice. “Too bad you didn’t read my note, then, isn’t it?”
He laughed as he hung up. Again.
She had to get that fucking note.
It took her a while to figure out that a sock duct taped over the end of the vacuum hose would suck up the note without ingesting it. With a triumphant roar, she clutched the note high over her head in a victory fist pump that almost caused her drop the fucking thing again.
Carefully she came off the couch, then smoothed the note on the dinette.
That was fun, and obviously wore you out. You were sleeping while I showered, so I have gone back home. Where the key is.
If you want release (in every sense of the word!), clean your room (I can’t believe it’s still that messy!) and then dress yourself.
I’ll meet you at the club tonight at 7.
She paced around the room. He demanded for her to clean her room? Grrr. She paced to the bedroom door and saw the chaos that still existed there. Okay, he had a point. She was normally quite fastidious but these last 36 hours or however long it had been, had been trying at best. It aggravated her no small amount that he, the disorderly King of the office, had called her out on her space. Galling. That was the word. He was full of gall, and he was pushing it to the max. Looking at the lingerie and dresses scattered hither and yon in her room, she kind of didn’t blame him for it, though. It was appalling in here.
She stepped into the room and scooped up a red bra, folding it neatly and putting it in the drawer where it belonged. A pale pink chemise was right by her foot; she quickly hung that in her closet. Hopefully some of the wrinkles would hang out before she needed to wear it again. She moved from item to item, lost in the bliss of transforming the mess into her sanctuary. How happy it was to touch all her pretty things…
She paused, fingers stilled on the black bustier.
Dammit. He knew exactly how to flip her switch from annoyance to …this. She had to admire a guy that knew how to do that…and still keep her feeling frustrated. In every sense of the word, she mouthed, quoting his note as she rolled her eyes.
In less than an hour, her room was tidy, and she found exactly what she would wear to the club. It was daring. It was dangerous. And if it got him to unlock the hated belt, it would be worth it.
“I saw you leave with the new girl,” Mammala leaned across the bar, pushing a beer towards him.
“She’s…something. Not sure what, but…”
“But she’s got her hooks in my boy already? Do I need to worry about this smooth operator?”
He grinned, his face boyish for a moment.
“Mamma, you know you don’t. I’m more hooked on her that she is on me…and that’s on me. She’s my new ‘girl Friday’ at work, and” he paused, taking a sip of the beer. Shaking his head he continued.
“I just don’t know. There’s something about her.”
“She got you. She got you baaaad, boy.”
He held up the small silver key which he wore on a string around his neck.
“Yeah, that’s true. But I have her, too.”
Mammala threw back her head and laughed lustily. She hadn’t run a D/s club for all these years without knowing what that little key went to. She would have to spend some time out in the playroom to watch this all go down, that was for certain. With a last chuckle, she tapped his hand, before moving down the bar.
He sat in the far corner at a small table where he could see the comings and goings of people at the main entrance. At 7:02 she came through, bundled up against the evening chill, a light scarf around her throat. She seemed taller, so he imagined that stiletto’s were strapped around her ankles. He leaned back in the chair, smiling, as he watched her scan the crowd for him. Her gaze slid down the bar and back, then circled the room. At last her gaze landed on him. She gave him a long look, then passed on. He watched her shrug, the brat, then move to the bar, where she engaged in a laugh-filled chat with MammaLa.
“You’re looking for your man?”
“He’s not “my” man,” Katherine replied. “He’s…well…”
“Honey, when a man comes early and waits over an hour for a date, ignoring everyone and everything except his beer and the door, he’s definitely yours.”
“He did not…did he?”
“Indeed he did.” Mamma passed a glass to her, unasked for.
“What…I didn’t order yet,” she said.
“Your “not your man” did when he got here. Trust me honey, you have him all kinds of interested. Now, go and be with the boy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this way. Play nice with one another.”
Taking the glass of wine along with Mamala’s advice, she moved through the crowd of tables. Thankfully they weren’t too crowded this early especially since it was a Sunday evening. Stopping in front of his table, she nodded.
“Thank you for the wine,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s very nice.”
“I’m glad you approve. Take off the scarf.”
Her back straightened. It was a tone, some steel in his voice that slid right into her spine. In moments the scarf was in her free hand. When he snapped his fingers and lifted his palm, she laid it there.
“Good,” he said, though he was not smiling. Rising, he moved around the table. When she would have turned to face him, he pointed a finger at her.
Frozen in place, she stood.
“You’ll need this.”
Something cool slipped around her throat. A collar.
“It’s locked, too,” he spoke softly in her ear. “Just like that metal belt that’s been keeping that pussy waiting for me.”
A shiver danced across her skin, even as a hot slash of lust set fire to her clit. Stepping to the front of her, he took a leash from his pocket, snapping the end of it to the D-ring on the collar.
“Come.” He jangled the chain, and turning, headed towards the play room door.
“Ahah! Found you, you little cunt!”
Alex Kimbrell wrote down the address of Jackson, LTD. She’d moved all the way to New York City, the whore. So, she was scared, a little, and needed some attention. So he would give it to her. He knew she wanted him to find her, to take her back home, by force if necessary. She was into that whole kidnap/beating scene, apparently. He wasn’t sure if this Lance Jackson had actually hired her after their conversation, but it would be a good starting place to find her. As head of his division, he was entitled to 6 weeks of vacation time. He’d use all of it, if need be, to get his little slut back. Tapping the paper with the precious address on it with one long finger, he turned back to his computer and logged in the appropriate request for time off.
“Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty,” he muttered, shoving the address into his breast pocket. It was time to make some plans.
Her pulse was hammering, but not just in the heart beating hard between her tits. The small bud between her thighs was throbbing, matching the achy feeling of her tits and ass where he’d beaten on her yesterday. She could feel the wetness, feel the intense need building. It had begun when he’d snapped the collar around her throat, and intensified when he’d added the leash, tugging her along to the play room. But rather than taking her into the large public room, he had pulled her to a stop in front of a door.He exchanged a nod with the Watcher there, who buzzed the door open.
“Ladies–and I do use the term loosely–first.”
He gestured for her to precede him up the stairs that stretched up into another level. His fingers pinched at her calves as she climbed, causing her to stumble and yip.
“So clumsy, slut!”
Pausing, she shot him a fulminating glare before continuing up to the top. He poked her in the bum just for fun, then pushed her to the right where a door stood open.
“In there, slut.”
Stepping inside, she saw a plastic covered mattress, a built in cabinet with sheets and implements, and a variety of rings and hooks on the wall, ceiling, and the floor around the bed. She swallowed hard. The door shut with a quiet snick, and she glanced behind her. His expression had changed. He looked–feral. Fierce. His gaze, always direct, now had an intensity to it that made her feel like prey. Her belly felt quivery, a mix of fear and stark need. What this man stirred in her!
“Take off the coat, slut.”
Slowly, teasingly, she untied the knot of the tied belt, then eased it off of one shoulder. A thin black strap appeared as she shrugged the coat lower, then shook the other shoulder, allowing it to catch on her bent forearms. Cocking her head, she smiled at him.
He continued to look at her, not saying anything. After a long, silent minute, she rolled her eyes, and let the coat slip from her. Under it she wore a demi bra, which left her girls supported under the bust, but naked from the nipple upwards. The panties were black lace, and disdained to be called granny-pants. They covered the hated chastity belt, and much of her soft, round belly, and soft, round ass, but hinted at what lay between. A matching lace garter belt snugly held her hose. The stiletto’s that he’d surmised earlier, and seen going up the stairs, enhanced her softly curved thighs her shapely calves.
“Very nice. Aren’t you lucky I didn’t demand you shed the coat down in the main room?”
“Well, I would have explained…”
“And yet, I still would have demanded the coat be removed.”
Here he was, the full-Dom. Face to face with him, she wondered how she’d ever thought that Alex was? This man didn’t make her fearful, but rather, a nervous, turned-on agitation. That he would hurt her, she had no doubt. Wasn’t she even now wearing bruises from yesterdays attack of the spatula and spoon? But he made her yearn.
“Remove the panties, leave the garter belt.”
She pouted, but slipped the panties off.
“You want that off too, don’t you?” He pointed at the chastity belt.
She nodded, eagerly anticipating the freedom. And the orgasms.
“You’ll need to earn this.”
He pulled the key up from under his shirt, let it dangle in the light. Her eyes followed the gleaming silver key. He saw the lust burn in her eyes as she leaned ever so slightly towards the shining key dangling from his neck.
“I’ve been in this thing forEVER!”
“Not yet, no.”
“It feels like it.”
“Poor little slut. Horny as fuck and unable to touch or play with herself.”
“Yes. And … you haven’t…”
“I know many things.”
She rolled her eyes. She hated when he played the obtuse game.
“You haven’t…sealed the deal. You know. Stop! I hate that when you put on that stupid face!”
“The Jerkface Jackson face, you mean?”
He pulled a long face, bugged out his eyes. She giggled, thought about slapping at him, but didn’t quite dare.
“Yes, that one. That…jerkface face.”
He stepped closer, into her personal space. She could feel the heat from him now, his breath on her forehead.
“Hands behind your back, slut.”
They went behind, promptly. He stepped around her, then bound her hands, of course with a tie. She could feel the slippery silk, but also felt him weaving it over and around her tightly.
“So tell me, slut, what haven’t I done?”
“The..ga-donk-a-donk. The crazy monkey dance. Belly bumping.”
“Ah. I see.”
She warmed to the topic.
“Boinking! Buttering the biscuit! Checking the oil…”
“Fucking. You forgot that one.”
He reached around, pinched her left nipple.
He twisted the nipple.
“Ittt…OKAY…OKAYYYYY!!! FUCK! YOU HAVEN’T FUCKED ME!”
He let go of her nipple, flicking it gently with a fingertip. She sighed.
“Now I’m all embarrassed.”
“But it’s true. I haven’t fucked your cunt yet. Your lovely mouth, yes, but not your weeping, needy cunt.”
He paused and she leaned back against him. He filled his hands with her tits, molding and squashing them between his fingers. She sighed as he released her, and pushed away.
“Now slut, let me tell you how this works.”
“Oh, please do,” she said, her tone teetering on the edge of sarcastic.
“That wasn’t very submissive, now was it?”
“I’m not a doormat. I have a voice. I can follow orders and directions, but I’m going to speak my mind.”
Stepping in front of her, he grasped her nipples, twisting lightly. She rose to her toes, until her mouth, open and gasping, was close to his.
“Good girl,” he said, surprising her. “Doormats are boring. I like your spunk.”
“I like yours too,” she replied archly.
He laughed, then twisted her nipples, hard.
She was thrumming. As an avid reader she had often thought that any of the books she’d read about D/s -with all those silly adjectives- were just that…silly. But her body was quite literally thrumming with anticipation. She yearned for him; his touch, his wit -even when he drove her crazy, which was about every other sentence-and even his rare smile. Through his careful application of touch, and words, and the fucking, frigging, gawd-awful annoying chastity belt, he’d made her burn with needs so intense it was painful. Or pain-empty, she thought snidely.
Normally she would object to that, to being ‘trained’ to be so needy. But here? Now? There was no denying that she wanted to scream in his face
which would not be very dignified, and who knew how he’d react? He likely wouldn’t like being screamed at in her banshee voice, but he might enjoy that he’d driven her to the absolute end of her wits. She kept her eye on that shining key, transfixed. It held, literally and figuratively, the keys to the kingdom. Or the pussydom. Or the Dom’s pussy.
She wanted to giggle, but held it back because then she’d have to explain and she wanted to get that key!
“I see you’re holding conversations in your bobble-head again, slut,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I wonder if I’m in any way involved?”
“I-sorry,”Sir. I was…thinking about the key. About getting out of this. About your delicious cock…”
“All to the good slut but unless you shut up..verbally AND in your head, you’ll not understand the game. If you don’t understand the game, you’ll lose, and you’ll have to wear that to work tomorrow.”
He pointed at the silver belt that fit around her waist, that blocked access to her very needy pussy. Swallowing hard, because she absolutely did not want to wear the belt to work, OMG perish the thought, she nodded, biting hard on her inner lip to silence herself.
“Better,” he said, watching her for a moment. “I’m going to clamp your nipples. Every ten seconds, I’m going to tighten them. If you can stand it for a full two minutes, you’ll have passed your first test.”
Slowly she nodded. What choice did she have, she pondered. It was take the clamps and torture, or be stuck wearing metal panties. Flicking her nipples to draw them taut, he grasped one, and twisted it experimentally, making a ‘hmm’ as his eyes bored into hers. She winced as he tweaked hard to the right, then harder still. Nodding, he released the swollen bud, only to snap a clamp upon it.
She gasped aloud.
“Already you are reacting? It’s going to be a very long 120 seconds then, won’t it, slut?”
She swore she could see the sadistic gleam in his eyes. It made her hot. Hotter.
“It was just..”
Just what, she wondered. She couldn’t tell him how needy she was, not yet. Or tell him that the quick bite of the clamp had arrowed a shot of lust-pain directly to her clit. Quirking his brow at her, he twisted the other nipple. This time she expected the quick hit of pain, but he slowly released the lever, denying her the jolt that her body was craving.
The smirky smile danced around his mouth, tightening her resolve. She’d bear that two minutes, indeed she would.
The first ten second tightening was nothing more than a caress. By the first minute, she was squirming, her pussy throbbing, her nipples starting to burn.
As He tightened the knobs on the clamps for the tenth time, she thought her nipples were going to be crushed beyond salvation. Feeling the seconds pass with the painful pulse beating she whimpered through the eleventh and then braced for the twelfth, (thank all the gods!) and final twist. Gritting her teeth and breathing slowly, she stared at him.
“Good slut,” he said, then flicked a finger along each clamp, setting them to bouncing. “Now, jump.”
“What?” her tone was pure shock.
“You heard me.”
Looking steadily at him, she thought about disobeying.
“It’s…going to hurt.”
“Yeahh,” he purred.
Cocking his head at her, he smiled.
“Did you say something there slut?”
She shook her head and gave a half-hearted jump. Her tits wobbled and wiggled, and she groaned.
“Good practice jump. Again, but higher.”
She groaned louder, but jumped a bit higher.
“Slut. Your toes barely even left the floor. JUMP, cunt, jump. Wait. I think you need more motivation. Bend over.”
Dear gods, what had she gotten herself into? It had been so long since she’d had a play session. The last time with Asshole Andy hadn’t been playtime, but a brutal beating. She wasn’t used to this. She…
He slapped the underside of her tits hard, as she stood there, bent at the waist. Her tits stung, and each impact set the clamps to swinging wildly as her huge breasts wobbled in response. Every blow against her under-tit made her squirm and yelp. It was finally only his hand in her hair that held her until he was finished.
“OMG!” she yelped, gasping.
Still using her hair he pulled her upright again.
“Motivated?” he asked pleasantly.
“Yessir,” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“Good, then get on with it.”
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. She wanted to kick him. A mutinous expression crossed her face, but she desperately wanted to get out of the damn belt. Fuck, she could prove to him that she was made of strong stuff.
Gritting her teeth, she whistled out a breath as her tits screamed fire from her nipples outward. He stepped up to her, grabbing each large tit in each hand, and smacked them together.
“Such lovely tits,” he said, his hands gripping the flesh tightly. He pushed them together, making her whimper low in her throat.
“Fuckable, lovely fuckable tit tunnel,” he said, before laughing and releasing her. He removed a clamp quickly, flicking the abused nipple.
“Tell me slut, which hurts worse now…the clamped nip, or the one without?”
If she could have done anything in that moment, she would have hit him, or bitten him, or something, but the two different pains had her mouth opening, closing, and silent.
“I never thought I’d see the day when you were speechless. I suppose it won’t last, but at least now I know how to have a moment’s respite…” He laughed, pleased at his own humor.
As she opened her mouth to speak, he removed the other clamp. With a gasp, she doubled over, wondering if her nipple was still on her, or stuck within the clamp. Lifting her by her chin, he kissed her, hard.
“Good slut. Step one, done.”
His connector flight to NYC was delayed twice. Though he smiled at the simpering fool who explained that they could not take off during thunderstorms, her smile faded when she saw the look in his eyes. He was glad that she could see the anger crawling up his spine like an animal ready to spring forth and steal her life. Just another thing his stupid cunt would have to atone for once he finally tracked her down. He shoved the anger deeper, and took the shuttle to the hotel where the fucking airlines were putting people up tonight.
Another night away wouldn’t matter much. At least, until he made her pay for it with her skin.
“Good girl,” he crooned, holding her head against his chest. Inhaling deeply against the pain in her still-throbbing nipples, she smelled the various scents of him. Peppermint from the gum he favored, the last spicy hints of his deodorant, and that musky scent that is peculiar to the male body. He tantalized her. Even now she could feel her arousal in the throbbing of her clit, and the slick dew that spilled from the belt pulled tightly between her thighs.
He pushed her away, and pointed to the mattress. At some point he’d taken a sheet down from the shelf and tossed it there.
“Spread that out on the mattress,” he said, nodding towards the folded sheet.
“Uh, my hands are behind my back and tied, remember?”
“You’re doing the smirk-face thing again. That’s not very dommy.”
“Doms are allowed to smirk, and as a matter of fact, we do it quite a lot.”
“Well, I don’t understan….wait. You expect me to spread that without my hands? How the fuck…”
“You have a perfectly good mouth. I see it moving allll the time. I suggest you put it to use. Other than sucking my cock…for now.” He grinned at her face, sitting there open-mouthed.
He constantly surprised her. That something so mundane would be offered…and yet he knew it would embarrass her to be crawling around almost naked, since her bra was not even under her tits anymore. They’d be flopping around, her ass would be wagging around…the jerkness.
“Humbling? Awww, too bad. Get going slut.”
“Is this a task? Is it helping me earn the key?”
“Well, not doing it isn’t going to get us to the next point now, is it?”
His look was implacable. HE wasn’t going to budge. With a frown, she flounced over the the mattress, and spent considerable minutes trying to pick up, and then open, the folded sheet. Her bum was wagging around and she could feel him watching her, but she steadfastly refused to look at him. Finally, after an agony of minutes spent squirming and writhing across the mattress, she groaned. She wanted to give up, but damn him! She absolutely would not. Casting a quick glance his way, she saw him looking intently at her, making her flush with embarrassment. Picking up the sheet quickly she pulled it up to the top corner of the mattress.
“Even your ass is blushing. But your asshole is winking at me through that little hole in the belt.”
Growling around the sheet in her mouth, she continued to shake her head and spread the stupid sheet as he leered at her. She was going to ignore him, yet she couldn’t not respond.
“You can’t see my asshole because of this frigging belt!”
“Well, not perfectly, but trust me, it is there winking at me. Lonely, I guess.”
She shot a death-ray glare at him, then turned back to finishing the task he’d set her. He laughed. After considerable time and effort, she was done. Sitting back on her haunches, she looked at the sheet. While it wasn’t perfect, she felt she’d done a passable job. A poke in her ass made her turn and look at him.
“Hey yourself. Not bad, slut.”
“No, I meant hey, you just kicked me in the butt.”
“Slut butts were made to be kicked by Dom shoes.”
“That’s so not true.”
“It’s true in my story of what’s happening here…wait…was that an …eyeroll? At your Dom?”
Uncertain if he was serious or poking fun at her, she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Hold that…right there…”
Advancing on her, she noted the clamp in his hand at the last second and slipped her tongue back in her mouth while shaking her head ‘no’ frantically.
“I wuth koking” she said, tongue locked behind her teeth.
“I wasn’t. Tongue out.”
“Iths gunna hut.”
“I’m counting on it.”
He dangled the key in front of her, and reluctantly she stuck out her tongue. Rather than attaching the clamp to it, he finger flicked it. It still stung but she knew a warning when she saw one.
He paused, looking intently at her.
“Well, slut, are you ready for your second task to free your dripping pussy?”
“How do you know it’s dripping? Huh? It could be all dried up and withered away inside this stupid thing.”
Wisely, she kept her tongue from poking out at him, admittedly at the last possible moment.
“Okay,” she said, heaving out a sigh. “I’m ready.”
She huffed out another breath.
“Bored already? My, I’ll have to take steps to correct that.”
Stepping over to the shelves, she watched him pick up a short, thick, silver rod.
“Open your mouth.”
She obediently opened.
“You’ll want this nice and wet. It’s going in your ass. No, don’t try to talk. It’s part of the belt, slut. And in a matter of minutes, it’ll be a part of your asshole! Won’t that be fun?”
It was rhetorical, she knew, but she still shook her head ‘no’, even as she gathered up what spit she could. This thing was fatter than it looked, and she was nervous about it going up her ass.
He pulled it out of her mouth, pushed her head to the floor without preamble, then began pushing it through the round hole at the backside of the belt. She felt the press of the cool metal against her ass and whined a little.
He pushed it until the flange at the base of the probe clicked into the base around the hole. He pulled her back up to her knees by her hair. Her eyes watered, as did her traitorous pussy.
“Magnets keep it in place, slut. Isn’t that cool?”
Her eyes were squeezed shut as her anus quivered around the thing wedging it apart.
“…cool,” she said haltingly.
His palm slapped at one meaty buttock. She jolted, and, unable to stop herself with her hands secured behind her, she fell forward once again onto her face.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed.
“Bastard…” she muttered clearly, before mumbling something else into the mattress.
“Now, see? We’re having all kinds of fun now, aren’t we? I’m not sure exactly what you just said slut, but it tipped the tally upwards. I thought 20 slaps with the pancake turner would be sufficient, but I see I need to take some corrective measures. Your mouth gets you in so much trouble, doesn’t it? Why, I heard it even got you fired!”
“Wzntfird.Quitthebastard.” Her muffled reply made him grin at her back.
“Well, that’s not how I heard it,” he replied, knowing he was egging her on. It was so much fun riling her up.
“So,” he said, “let’s let your mouth do some yelling instead. Oh, and counting. I don’t care about saying thank-you, because that’s silly. Why would you thank me for that? I’m going to make your ass burn, little girl. Are we ready for some fun?”
He wasn’t sure what she replied. Her first yelp, followed by a groaned “one” was really all he needed to hear.
Her ass was on fire, her nipples ached, and she was more turned on than she had ever been in her entire life. Flying on endorphins, she didn’t even notice when the hated chastity belt was removed, or that he’d secured her ankles to the eyebolts drilled into the floor. Laying on her back on the mattress, her body quivering with reaction, her eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling as she zoned out on the pain.
A soft caress made her turn her head, breaking her reverie.
“There she is.” His tone was soft, his voice rumbling through her. She noticed then that he was laying beside her, his clothing intact.
“Why do Doms do that?” she asked, her voice wispy with reaction.
“Do…what, precisely? Where are you, little girl? Out in the stars?”
She giggled softly. Tried to move her hand to touch his shirt, turned to stare at her wrist, also bound and secured.
“When’d you do that?”
Her voice was slurry.
“Drunk on pain, are you?” He laughed softly, running his finger down her collarbone, circling around her breast, tickling the tender underside. She wiggled, giggled, tried to move away, but couldn’t.
“Tickles..” she mumbled, then giggled when his finger circled again.
“Clothes,” she said around more laughter. “Why…” She couldn’t continue, only laugh as his finger teased her underarm. “Geeze,” she whimpered, wriggling.
“Little slutty fish…wriggling and hooked. Do you know what I’m going to do now?”
Still writhing, giggling and laughing as his fingers continued to tease at her, she shook her head fiercely. His mouth was millimeters from her ear, the breath yet another layer of torment. His tongue twirled lightly along the soft shell, making her whimper and arch.
“I’m going to fuck you”, he whispered, barely making a sound. Rolling away from her, his eyes continued to drink her in as he unbuttoned his pants, dropping them to the floor. Her expression could only be described as hungry as she stared up at him, then down at the obvious straining of his underwear.
“Blue?” she giggled.
“I like blue,” he said, sticking his thumbs into the waistband. “Of course, if you don’t, I can always find a willing slut out there who won’t be so judgmental about my choice in under garments.”
She tossed her head, no, licking her lips.
For another moment he stood there, fingers in his waistband, unmoving.
“Sure,” she said, looking at him with lust.
Looking down at her, he cocked an eyebrow, started to tug down the waistband, enough for her to see the arrow of his hair. She felt herself yearning for him, wanted him in her, on her.
“VERY sure?” he asked, tugging the waistband back into place.
She nodded even more vigorously.
“Yes. Yes. VERY sure. VERY. Oh GODS PULEEZE… FUCK ME!”
“You are a naughty and wanton slut.”
“You’re sure then. My blue undies won’t offend you?”
“Yes? They’ll offend…”
“NO! No no no no no no no! No offense at all..I…i LOVE your blue undies. I just want to see you OUT of them! I want your cock, Sir!”
“Ooooh, so you weren’t actually making fun of my blue undies, you’re saying?”
She groaned, moaned. Shook her head no. He could see the glistening pink folds between her legs.
“Pink and blue go well together, yes?”
“Yes?” she asked, uncertain where he was going now.
“My blue undies, your pink cunt.”
She flushed. Then, emboldened, “Your hard cock, my soft pussy.”
“It’s likely soft. But it’s very wet. I can imagine that my cock will make all sorts of slobbery sounds if I fuck you. Will that bother you as much as my blue undies?”
Eyes closed, head thrown back, teeth gritted, she strained at the wrist bondage.
“I. Just. Want. To. PUMMELL YOU!” she shouted, eyes open. She kicked her feet, which barely moved, and shook her body.
“FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK MEEEEE!” She yelled, cheeks flushing. He stood there, staring at her. What, how could he be that dense, she wondered. She was tied up, open and ready to be fucked. Why, for goddamn sake, was he just standing there??
“So, you do want me?”
“I can’t fuck myself! I mean, I’m big, but not that …”
He laughed as she growled, then bared her teeth at him. With a quick tug his undies were off, and he was on top of her, his cock buried to the hilt. Her growl turned into a yelp as he pounded into her.
“I’m going to fuck you into the mattress and through the floor,” he growled, before grabbing a nipple between his teeth and biting.
“Thank gawd,” he thought he heard her say before his hips knocked all the words from her.
It was the whirr of the oversized vibrator that roused her. How many times, she wondered in the small corner of her brain that still functioned. How many times had he made her cum.
“Noo…no more…I can’t….” she moaned.
“Yesssss,” he growled in her ear. “Your final test to see if that belt stays off,” he said, pressing the vibe hard against her. “I know you can cum again. One, two, however many I can wring from your greedy, sopping cunt.”
Her body arched as she spasmed again. Her ass fell to the mattress, wet and chilly beneath her hot cheeks, before rising again in the agony of orgasm. Her nipples drew tight, her clit pressed deeply against the steadily churning head of the monster.
“Aaaaaahhhh!” she shrieked, the shocks from her overstimulated bud painful, so painfully sensitive.
He moved, changing the angle of the vibe, slipping his fingers into her, finger fucking her roughly. Her head tossed as a steady babble came from her mouth, wordless pleas for mercy.
Gods, she was glorious in this state, he thought, the wild freedom of her pain writ over her body, the tremors of orgasm in her belly, her tits, her thighs. Her hair plastered wetly around her head, sticky bits of sperm and spit glistening on her cheeks, her lips, her breast. Though he’d had her several times already, he felt himself growing hard again, watching her writhing. He controlled this, controlled her for this moment. Her body was his to direct, an orchestra of flesh at his disposal. The thickening shaft between his legs demanded her pussy again.
His fingers, slippery with her juices, grabbed her legs, flipping her to her side. Her eyes were blind now, staring at him blankly, as her mouth opened and closed on the animal noises she squeaked at him. Keeping the vibe pressed against the top of her vee, he jogged his hips forward and sank into the hot, slippery cauldron of her cunt. For a moment he could only pause, his penis sucking up the incredible warmth, the slickness of her. He felt her quivering deep inside, surrounding his dick with an unceasing squeezing of her muscles. Hips moving almost of their own accord, he slid out, then back, increasing the pace, then the violence. The hum of the vibrator buzzed at him when he was buried deep in her, the sensation sending quivers of pleasure shock to his balls. He pummeled her pussy then, driving hard, driving deep, driving them quickly up the ramp from lust to raw animal need. His ass tightened with every thrust, his cock thickening as her whimpers came faster, her voice rougher. Each punch of his penis forced a gutteral grunt from her, making him even harder.
When the shockwave of another orgasm rocketed through her, her pussy walls clamped him like a vise of molten lava. Teeth gritted, face straining, he withdrew, slammed home, withdrew again, then drove deep into her boiling cunt, and exploded. With one final coherent thought, he switched off the vibe before falling across her, panting.
When they roused, they were stuck together.
“You are glued to me,” she moaned as he peeled his arm from her left tit.
“It’s not my fault that you have superglue for drool,” he replied, wincing as he rose up on his free arm, trying to find the other one.
“I think your pussy tried to kill me,” he muttered.
“It would have been a mutual killing,” she said with a slurred giggle. “Your cock tried to spear my lungs out of me.”
“Your cunt tried to suck me in by my dick, I felt it trying to Hoover me in there.”
“You did it, so you deserved every moment you were terrorized by my pussy.”
“You may have a point there,” he mused, grimacing as he pushed away, his thighs firmly melded to hers.
“OH! Ouch!” she yelped as he peeled away. “Dammit! You’re friggin’ exfoliating me! And that’s YOUR cum, by the way, I distinctly remember you spraying me with your load.”
“Load? What are you, a porno writer?” He laughed, but was blushing.
“Are you…blushing?” She giggled, pointing at him.
“Crap is a ‘load’…semen is something else.”
“You’re pretty spunky after being fucked brainless, you know.”
“Cute,” she said, rolling her eyes, giving that teeny head-shake that let him know she didn’t think he was cute at all. Little brat!”
“I AM cute. And yes, I covered you in my spunk. I did NOT dump a load on you or you’d be covered in shit.”
He paused, his eyes widening. Oh, she could hardly wait for this, she mused, watching his face.
“Unless…what?” she asked, knowing she shouldn’t.
“Unless it’s your unspoken, ultra-dirty fetish.”
“What…oh gods…you…NO! Oh gross, no. I mean, not to judge people who are into shit..but heyll YES, I’m judging. Eww. Just…ewwwww. No. No Sir, I am definitely NOT into poop play. Ugh. Just…” She shuddered dramatically.
“Well,” he said, his tone reluctant, “If you’re sure?”
“I’m totally and completely sure. If you shit on me…”
“I’m not really into public shitting. I’d have to get a volunteer to shit in a bucket or something.”
“Now that, THAT? Is the epitome of “gross”, ” she said, using air quotes over the word gross.
“I can not believe you are air quoting after I just fucked you into tomorrow.”
“I had pent up orgasms. I feel MARVELOUS! In fact, if we weren’t stuck together on your …spunk…I’d be up and twirling with the bliss running in my veins. I am HIGH on sex right now.”
“I see..” He rose from her in one quick moving, making them both gasp.
“FUCK!” they said in unison.
“Jesusgod,” he moaned, cupping himself. “My balls were stuck to you and your vicious pussy!”
“HOLY FUCKBALLS!” she yelped, grabbing her cunt. “You took ten layers of skin off my pussy!”
And then she began to laugh, pointing at him and guffawing. With a frown of injured pride (and sore testicles), he tried valiantly to not let the grin quirk his lips.