ago. Sex. Mistress. Sub. Pleasure. Pain.
Nothing more.
Or was it?
I walked over to him, key still held aloft. What would it be like to hand over sexual happiness to another? To be controlled, tied down, spanked, told when to come?
It wasn’t something I’d ever done. Not that I was the sort of woman to say never…but…
What would it be like if Damian had power over me? All that brawn and roped muscle, his hungry cock demanding whatever it wanted then taking it.
A shudder of desire shivered over my skin. I was getting wet, my nipples poking at the unforgiving tightness of my corset.
His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. I imagined the anticipation, the desperation surging through him.
I walked a little slower.
He must have sensed this.
‘Please,’ he said.
He reminded me of a begging defendant, someone pleading for mercy.
‘It’s OK.’ I stroked the cool metal, following the downward curve with the tip of my finger. ‘It’s time.’
Carefully, I held the tiny lock at the side, and then inserted the small key. One click and it was open.
He sighed, his breath shifting my hair. It was clearly a relief, right to the marrow of his bones, that he couldn’t contain.
I smiled and opened the chastity, revealing his cock. He could shower and pee with it on perfectly fine. Sleeping on his stomach might prove uncomfortable, and getting a hard-on downright painful. But it was possible to live with it quite easily.
His erection surged free. Long and thick, it pointed upwards, the slit wide and dark. He had one long vein running up the left-hand side that forked near the tip. I touched it, very gently, imagining I could feel his pulse.
‘I need you…Mistress,’ he said, his voice gravelly and far removed from the poised tone he used when addressing the court.
‘I know you do.’ I reached up and released my hair, allowing it to flow over my shoulders and down my back.
‘Do you know how much?’ he asked, his voice harsher than before, stronger, louder and more belligerent.
I widened my eyes and then gripped his cock, a good strong hold right at the base. ‘I think I can tell. And don’t forget to call me Mistress.’
‘Oh, fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Heaven help me…Mistress.’
Damian
I stared at her – this beautiful, teasing, seductive Mistress of mine. She had my head screwed up, my body a soup of lust, and my emotions pinging around like bullets in a barrel.
Everything about her. The way she walked, talked. How she looked – fuck-me curves wrapped in fuck-me clothes. And the way she spoke to me, as if I were just a boy-toy, a thing to be enjoyed, a cock attached to a buff body.
Damn it, no one had ever been that way with me before.
I was smitten.
Her hair was a silken waterfall; she kept it pinned up in court, but like this, loose, ready to tickle my belly when she sucked me off, just waiting to get messed up when she ordered me to fuck her, I adored it, I wanted to own it, get lost in it, become part of it.
I reached behind her and slipped my fingers through the strands until the heat of her scalp reached my palm. I curled the locks into my fist, holding them in a tight ponytail.
She gasped, a delicate little sound I wasn’t used to hearing from her. ‘Sub,’ she said, ‘what are you doing?’
‘I don’t know.’ I hovered my lips over hers. She was so tiny, so utterly delicate.
And mine.
I leaned closer and breathed deep. She smelled of summer gardens and honey and the sweets I used to buy as a kid. Whenever I was near her every sense was stimulated.
‘Release my hair,’ she said with a frown.
I wanted to. I was programmed to do as she instructed, but…but I didn’t release her.
‘Sub, now, let me go.’ She let go of my dick and grabbed my face, squeezing my jawline either side of my chin with her fingers and thumb.
Immediately, I came to my senses and stepped back, her hair falling free once more. I looked at the floor and studied my bare toes on the dark-red carpet. ‘Sorry, Mistress.’
‘Don’t touch me unless I give you permission, sub.’ She pushed my shoulder, urging me to face the desk.
I knew what was coming and turned. Lying before me were several files, up-and-coming cases I was supposed to be studying. Next thing I knew, my chest was pressed over them and I was bent double. She’d shoved me in the centre of my back.
‘Did you do it on purpose?’ she asked, excitement lacing her tone as she continued to press me into the table. ‘Because you want me to stripe your arse?’
‘No, Mistress.’ That was the truth, I hadn’t. I’d done it because I couldn’t help myself. I’d wanted to hold her hair, tight, feel what it was like to have her captured by me, and not the other way around, just for a moment.
‘I don’t believe you. Start counting.’
I gripped the edge of the table where my waist touched it. The last thing I wanted was to jerk forward and have the end of my cock collide with the wood.
‘Ahh…’ I gritted my teeth as a stinging blow attacked my right buttock.
‘Count.’
‘One.’ Fuck, what the hell was she using?
I turned in time to see my own shoe being swung towards me. The leather sole hit down with another raging slap. The heat was instant, burning over my skin and fizzing its way to my asshole and cock.
‘Two.’ I twitched. The first lashes of anything were always the worst.
‘Keep still.’ She hit again. There was nothing weak about it. She’d put everything into the strike.
I shut my eyes. ‘Three.’ White-hot flashes of light burst behind my eyelids. They reminded me of fireworks, sprinkling outwards.
Another hit. The sparkles I was staring at exploded, cascading.
‘Count.’ She palmed my sore buttocks and caressed the pain.
‘Four,’ I murmured, my cheek bunching onto the files.
‘Good
