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I think about asking her to prove it right now, but I would be overstepping my bounds. Hey, I’m learning!

“So, I would ask you… how would you worship me?”

I knew it. I knew that’s what she wanted. For me to make her feel like the Queen on the chessboard. Even a Pawn can kill her, you know, but only in certain ways. The Queen can annihilate the Pawn in almost any direction she pleases.

“I’d kiss you all over… Mistress.” I suck my lips in, wetting them, imagining them on every soft spot of her body. “You deserve to feel like a queen. I’d bring you so much pleasure that you’d…”

“Let me guess. Come really hard.”

I clap my mouth shut.

“That’s not enough. I need to feel like you live to worship me, Ira. I want you to use everything but your hands on me to make me feel like the woman of your dreams. You’ve been waiting and aching for what you see here forever. Make me believe it.”

She reaches into my boxers and touches my mound. Although I try to contain it, a groan still echoes in my throat. Yup. I’m wet.

“We’re not even going to touch in a bit. But you’re going to make me feel like the fifteen million bucks you want from me.”

Her hand strokes my cunt for a few more seconds, forcing me to face my desire and hold back any impending orgasm. I bet she’d love that… if I came all over her hand without permission. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out twelve years ago. I sensed the Domme in her and panicked.

I’m not panicking now.

“Sit.” Kathleen pushes me down into the nearest empty chair, unrestrains me, and stands about ten feet away. Her legs open, her arms cross again, and her visage sets in a callous, stoic look that makes me shudder.

I’d love for her to look at me like that while I held her down and fucked her brains out.

Alas, I am here in this chair, half naked and with my breasts and genitals hanging out like the biggest pervert in the room. Kathleen, dressed in her pajamas, will not relent control to me tonight. Or at least not right now.

“Touch yourself. For me.”

Cute.

It’s not often I masturbate in front of a woman, let alone one I’ve Topped more than once. That’s usually reserved for very specific types of D/s play. I mean, that is what’s happening right here, but not what I would normally have in mind.

I’m doing this for her. To entertain her. To turn her on. Not for my own pleasure.

I’m doing it to make her feel special and adored. My head enters that kind of space the moment I touch myself. Slowly, I stroke, pushing my finger down until my back arches, giving Kathleen the view I know she wants. “See what you do to me?” I would say, if I didn’t think it would piss her off. “I can’t stop touching myself around you. You’re so gorgeous and irresistible that, instead of putting my hands all over you, I’ll sit over here and come on myself.”

As if she reads my mind, she says, “Don’t come. Manage to do that, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re thinking of right now.”

Right now? What I’m thinking of? What’s that? Do tell, Kathleen.

All right, we’ve reached a point where I’m not sure what I’m thinking. Because A) My cunt is exposed 2) It’s wet 3) I’ve got my hand on it 4) I’m fucking masturbating and 5) Kathleen’s nipples are poking out of her shirt, and I can’t tell if I should stare at those or her beautiful face.

She glances down with a sigh.

“You know, Ira.” Speak to me, my Queen. I am your pretty Pawn. “I was doing a scene like this that fateful night at Midnight. You know which one I’m talking about?”

My hand stills. “I have a good guess.”

“Indeed. I was with a very nice-looking lady that night. I don’t remember her name, but she was beautiful. Breasts so hard you could eat breakfast off them.” Kathleen turns on one bare foot, hiding a grin as she thinks of this mysterious stranger I’ve never met. “And let’s not forget how eager she was. First thing I had her do in that room was start stroking herself like you’re doing. I do love seeing someone work themselves. You can learn a lot. Particularly how they like having their bodies handled.”

Does that mean she’s taking notes?

Also, let’s take a look at this. Kathleen is telling me this story for a reason. Obviously, she would’ve thought of it anyway, but she didn’t have to tell me about this girl who’s more beautiful and probably bigger in the chest than me. Not unless she had a specific purpose. And if it’s not to humiliate me, then it’s to tell me a message.

As I touch myself faster, forcing my body to refrain from orgasm even though this gorgeous woman I love is standing before me, nipples hard from my performance, I realize she’s studying how I touch myself. So she can do what I like in the future.

“Does this please you?” I ask, trying to keep my sarcasm to a minimum. I do want to please her. I want her to be so hungry for me and my body that she can’t help but come over and spread her legs across my lap and sink onto what I offer my stunning goddess when I remember to wear my goddamn prosthetic that I left at home tonight like an idiot.