Page 209

“I am serious, Kathleen.”

“No. Mistress.”

I swallow. “I am serious… Mistress.”

“That’s the spirit.” She kisses me again, harder, squeezing the back of my neck and holding me to her, as if I’ll make my escape any moment now.

No.

She’s letting the world know that I belong to her. We may be the only ones in this apartment, but fuck me, the world will know I’m hers.

Let it be known that even though I walked in willingly, I am still who I am. When the woman I love – let alone lust after – pulls on my tongue and snakes hers around it, I am going to damn well try to turn the tables. I don’t mean to do it. I’m perfectly content letting her run the show, but damnit, she tastes so good, and I want her to feel how much I want her!

She pushes away, finger beneath my nose.

“Don’t.” I’m further scolded with a click of her tongue. “You don’t get to do that tonight, Ira. I’m the one in charge. If you can’t behave, I’ll have to restrain you. Understand?”

It’s weird having your own words thrown back at you. I bet she loves this.

“I understand, Mistress.”

“Excellent. Now try not to touch me. You can touch me when I think you’ve proven yourself worthy.”

The words are different now. The intent isn’t.

We Dommes play a lot of games with our subs. It’s a part of their training, their servitude, and a way of expressing love and adoration. When a Domme says, “try not to touch me,” that means they’re testing you. Not just your boundaries, but your self-control. Very rarely does a Domme not want to be touched. It’s more like they want a reason to restrain and punish you later.

So when I clamp my hands on her hips the moment she starts kissing me again, I know I’m misbehaving. I don’t care. I deserve what’s coming to me.

“I think you did that on purpose.” Kathleen pushes away, walking to my pile of clothes and picking up my tie. “Are you being insubordinate on purpose, Ira?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

I grimace. “No, Mistress.”

She clasps my hands behind my back and knots my tie around them. It’s a loose knot. I could easily break free, but I choose not to. I want to see where this is going.

About five million different directions. Fifteen, if I count the money she’s promised me.

“That should keep those grabby hands off me. What, do you think I’m some idol you can grab off the mantle? You lot.” I’m shoved back, her disgust overplayed by holding a kernel of truth. “People like you think you can have whatever you want. You do the bare minimum to get us, and you do the bare minimum to keep us. Did you think I would be satisfied submitting to you and having boring vanilla sex for the rest of my life?”

For the love of mercy and all the good in this life, she pinches both my nipples.

“Well, do you?”

“No…” Okay, this hurts a little. I’m not used to pain. I’m not used to a woman grabbing my chest and giving me a purple-nurple like this is second grade. “It’s not right or fair to you.”

“To me? You’re right.” She releases me, but the soreness remains. To say I feel knocked down a single peg is an understatement. This is starting to feel too real. “Other women may be satisfied with kowtowing to you for the rest of their lives, but I deserve better. Don’t I?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I’m not on autopilot. Katie truly deserves better than being made someone's plaything. She’s strong. She’s independent. She’s opinionated and doesn’t give a fuck if you disagree. For someone to take her and reduce her to nothing more than a submissive stereotype is wrong. They would break her spirit. They would take the great thing about her away from this world.

When I realize I probably came off sounding like that kind of person this whole time, I want to punch myself in the face.

“Do you know why I so eagerly eat you out?” Nails trace trails down my abdomen, dipping into my navel, and playing with the tops of my pubic hair as it pokes out from my boxers. My cunt rushes with heat, with anticipation. Of course, I don’t get a touch. “This may shock you, but there’s little in the actual act itself that’s fun for me. What gives me pleasure is giving you pleasure. When I’m down here…” she points inside my pants, “I feel like I’m the only woman in the world who matters to you. That’s an addictive feeling, Mathison.”