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Chapter Twenty-Five

M aya

Who am I? Who is this woman who was born fully formed like Athena, who sprang from Zeus’s head? I’ve never met her before… but I like her.

“Yes, Domina . As you wish.”

Oh, my god. Those words pierce straight to the heart of me. My clit feels as though he plucked it, although we’re not touching.

He grips my foot as though it’s made of the most fragile glass and huffs hot air on the bone I pointed out. The one I’ve always wondered what purpose it served.

I know now. It’s a secret erogenous zone. At least, it is when Damian touches it. No. He’s not touching it yet. Just cupping my heel with one hand and the ball of my foot with the other and breathing on me until I wiggle in anticipation.

His tongue strikes first, like an adder’s quick attack. A lick, light as a sigh, just enough to tease. Then swift flicks that shouldn’t feel as good as they do. Is it because I can imagine what those same movements would feel like on more sensitive parts of my body?”

I fall back onto the mattress, giving myself over to the too-intense feelings swirling through me. My thoughts are in a haze as he nibbles and licks up the outside of my calf and thigh. Words don’t twine through my brain, instead, I function on impulse and thought-pictures.

Pictures of him on one knee, head bowed. Pictures of his muscles quivering as he lifts an impossible amount of weight. Pictures of him looking at me when he thinks I’m busy with one of the men in the gym. Desire and possession cloud his face in those unguarded moments.

As he spreads my legs wide, I dreamily wonder why my panties are still on, but I trust my gladiator will remedy the situation when the time is right. If I was playing my role correctly, I’d order him to remove them, but I’m confused right now as to which one of us is in charge.

He slides my white panties to the side and breathes a warm, never-ending stream of air on my clit until I whimper. Then the bastard puts the underwear to rights and gives it the softest pat that strikes me with aftershocks.

My body quivers with need from that sadistic brush of his palm on my underwear. If I was truly his domina , I’d order him lashed for torturing me like this.

Surely now he’ll rip my panties down my legs and give me the release I’m desperate for?

Instead, he slides down my other leg, his lips dragging along the inside of my thigh until he reaches the little ankle bone and starts the process all over again.

Now I’m moaning, thrashing, my fingers sliding through his hair and tugging a bit too hard when a wave of desire crashes over me and reminds me I feel so empty.

When he’s near my knee, he stops licking and nuzzling and gives the spot a kiss. I almost dredge up the energy to ask why he stopped, but can’t find the strength.

“Am I doing this to your satisfaction, Domina ?”

He’s a sadist! Is this payback for my lies or just his abusive nature coming to the fore?

I want to scold him, pull his hair, or, hell, use an MMA move, force him to the floor, and get him in a headlock between my thighs. Instead, I simply say, “Yes.”

He continues moving up my leg, positioning his hands not as precisely as before. They’re straying so close to my pussy I imagine they’re in danger of being scalded.

And still, he meanders with his kisses and nips until I’m certain I’ll lose my mind and spiral into insanity from the want that is the only thing pulsing through my brain.

When he finally, finally gets to the crease of my thigh, he pulls away. I have to lift my head and put my weight on my bent elbows to see what happened. He’s back in his original position on bended knee, head tipped toward the floor.

“Have I followed your directions to your satisfaction, Domina ?”

Something breaks inside my head. I could swear I actually hear a snap . I don’t know who I am anymore, though I’m Maya. I remember that. But am I Domina or gladiatrix or MMA fighter or femme fatale or simply the most desperate female on the planet who needs a hard dick inside her? I have no idea.

“NO! No. I’m not satisfied. Make me come, gladiator!”