and fuck me, Master. Be rough with me.’ I bit down hard on his earlobe, loving the startled hiss that escaped his lips. ‘Own me.’
Growling, Mark separated from me and jerked open the passenger door. He shoved me onto the seat, reached for the seatbelt and buckled me in quickly before slamming the door. He slid into the driver’s seat, fastened his seatbelt and left the driveway. On the ride home, his rough, hot hand roamed my exposed skin. He pinched and caressed in a bid to keep me aroused and teetering on the verge of losing it. When we hit our driveway, I could barely contain my eagerness. I wanted Mark so badly it hurt.
We barely made it inside the house. I dropped to my knees when we reached the kitchen and pushed Mark back against the refrigerator. I reached for the front of his pants and grunted with frustration when I remembered I was still wearing those damn mittens. Mark quickly unfastened them and tugged them free. I stretched my fingers a few times before grasping the button of his pants and pulling down the zipper.
I freed his cock for my pleasure and stroked his rigid length. He had a truly magnificent dick. Thick, long and always hard. He had such amazing stamina and control. Lasting power was never an issue. Some nights I’d ride him until I thought I’d just die from sheer pleasure.
I licked my lips and let a little saliva pool on the tip of my tongue before wrapping my mouth around the head of his cock. I slicked his skin with my wet lips and tongue, swallowing all of him on the first go and using those hard-earned deep-throating skills. He groaned and cupped the back of my head. A frisson of delight tore through me. I just loved it when he took control during blowjobs, guiding my head and mouth in the rhythm he loved best. Fast and shallow, then slow and deep, he thrust his cock into my willing mouth. I thought for a moment he would come against my tongue, but he pulled back rather unexpectedly and gazed down at me, his eyes dark with hunger and lust.
‘Take off your panties,’ he ordered. ‘Face down on the tile. Show Master his cunt.’
I trembled with anticipation as I slipped out of my leather undies and got into the position he wanted. I reached between my spread thighs and opened the wet petals of my sex to his inspection. My cheek rested against the tile but my knees were still cushioned by the pads Mark had given me.
‘So wet and pink and pretty just for me,’ Mark murmured as he knelt behind me. He drew his cock between my silken folds and circled my clit with the blunt tip. I moaned at the wild sensation of his dick stimulating me. He chuckled with amusement and pulled his cock through my pussy lips again. I shuddered and pushed back against him, so desperate for him that I couldn’t wait a moment longer.
Mark showed mercy and plunged deep inside me with one powerful thrust. I groaned as he gripped my hips and jackhammered my cunt. There was nothing sweet or gentle about this mating. We were rough and loud and frenzied. My palms squelched against the tile as Mark’s thrusts drove me across the floor. My loud cries echoed in the kitchen. Mark panted as he snapped his hips. ‘Touch your clit, Libby. Come for me.’
It took only a few flicks of my fingers to send me reeling head first into a powerful climax. I screamed and convulsed as I came so hard I saw stars. Mark’s cock continued to stroke my pussy as he chased his own release. ‘Libby! Libby! Libby!’
Mark slammed deep and shot searing jets of come, claiming and marking me as his. We fell forward on the tile, our bodies still joined, and clutched at one another. Mark’s lips ghosted over my ear. Still breathing hard, he whispered, ‘I was so proud of you. I wanted you to see that it’s all right to be embarrassed and uncomfortable and that sometimes it’s perfectly fine to be really silly.’ He squeezed my ass and kissed my shoulder. ‘And you did.’
‘You know –’ I drew my initials on his forearm ‘– you could have just told me that and we could have skipped the puppy show.’
‘And miss out on these nifty little ribbons?’ He flicked the awards still pinned to my bra. ‘Never!’
I snorted and turned my head so I could kiss his cheek. ‘I love you, Mark. Even when you’re overbearing and demanding and make me dress up like a puppy.’
‘I know,’ he replied contentedly.
‘Happy birthday, baby.’
He grinned and turned my face towards his. My eyelids drifted together as he kissed me. Oh, sure, I was dressed up in the most ridiculous outfit ever, and yeah, my ass was still kind of sore from that stupid tail, but it had been an interesting night. More importantly, I’d made Mark happy. In the end, there were few things I wouldn’t do for love.
‘What kind of party?’ I find myself fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
Something Samuel doesn’t like. There are fidgets that are approved and those that are not. The hem thing – a favourite of mine – is unladylike in his eyes. If you’re going to dress like a lady, act like a lady. If you’re going to dress like a whore, act like a whore …
Which brings me to the worry that is filling me.
He eyes me in the mirror as he fixes his tie. He’s to go to dinner tonight with a big client. He’s left it up to me if I want to go. After all, it’s Thursday. I’m not in his control until tomorrow, despite my urges sometimes. I often find myself wishing Friday would come so I can be his slave. I like to be under his thumb, on his To-Do list … in his bed.
I shake off my worry and smooth down my hem. He nods appreciatively before finally speaking. ‘It’s the kind of party you fear.’ Then he grins and it’s wicked.
We have our arrangement. I love him and he loves me and Monday through Thursday I am my own woman. Often considered domineering by the men I work with. Some might even call me a ball buster. But I shuck all that when I come through our front door and we are alone. I cater to him, crawl to him, let him make decisions and, yes, he is kind. He treats me for the most part in a way that makes me sigh wistfully for Friday to come.
But this kind of party he’s proposing … that is what I dread. Where the masters parade their pets around. Where the Doms make a Best in Show situation of their subs. My fingers are trembling so I press them firmly to my knees.
‘And you want us to go?’
He cocks an eyebrow. ‘It’s on a Saturday evening. We will go.’
I nod, the tremble in my throat threatening to make me cry. We will go …
Images of girls in cat ears wearing belled collars rush through my mind. Dog chains, nipple clamps, crotchless panties, those horrible fetish shoes that are impossible to walk in. Whips and crops and slave bracelets with thin chains that run to hammered metal rings.
I am not flamboyant. I am not showy. I don’t want to be put on display.
But … I have agreed. We have agreed. And the weekends have become a safe haven for me. A place to surrender and just be. And I cherish it. I don’t want to argue over one little party. I don’t want to risk what we’ve carefully shaped. Together.
Because despite the games and the sex and the back and forth … I love
