Mastering Him

by Meghan Boehners

  “And Jennifer, why did you cede so much to him while he treated you like a piece of dirt? You couldn’t stand any of that session upstairs just now. Yeah, yeah, you came, yadda yadda. But you were dry. You weren’t aroused. You’re a natural dom and it took letting your entire way of life fray down to nearly nothing to trigger some kind of action from you. Doormat.” She spat the last word out like a nasty hocker.

  Ding! All three patted their pockets, Miss Sally’s the one with a smartphone text. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. She punched a message and hit submit, resuming her lecture.

  “Wait!” Jennifer shouted. “First of all, yes, I did come. And no, I wasn’t dry. Not once we dispensed with the stupid roleplaying crap and I stopped listening to you.”

  Miss Sally opened her mouth with an angry look, but Jennifer cut her off. “Before you start up again, I have a question.” Miss Sally made a gesture giving Jennifer the floor.

  “What made Declan seek you out? Why is he so...what makes him want to be hurt?” She couldn’t think of any trauma in his life that had made him this way.

  “People come to me when they are broken. I help them to fix themselves. I do not fix them – hell, I don’t have that kind of power, and frankly, no one should – but I can help them to figure out what they truly want and how to meet those needs. BDSM isn’t about being broken. Wipe that 50 Shades shit out of your head right now, Jennifer.” Miss Sally tapped the table with her pointer finger. “Men don’t get into being a dom to cover up for some abusive past any more than men become subs because they’re secretly gay. And women don’t have rape or domination fantasies because they’re psychologically scarred.”

  Jennifer watched, fascinated, as Miss Sally did what no one else had ever done in their home: lit up a cigarette and smoked. The wisps and curls of second-hand smoke gave Miss Sally a deeper air of mystery, more of the 1940s noir look.

  “I had an idyllic childhood,” Declan interjected, leaning back in his chair, the tight Levi’s making Jennifer warm up. He caught her eye and pointed to the espresso machine. She nodded, grateful. One latte wasn’t enough. His ass in those worn Levi’s, moving gracefully as he worked the kitchen and made her a perfect drink, didn’t hurt, either.

  “Then why?” Jennifer asked Miss Sally.

  “Why not? What do people do when they are psychologically tortured? You ate, right?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Declan sought out a professional dom.”

  “That’s not the same!” Jennifer protested. The espresso machine hissed and gurgled, the aroma of coffee now filling the room. She took a deep breath to steady herself and nearly got a contact rush.

  Miss Sally snorted and waved at Declan, who brought Jennifer’s drink to the table and went back to make one more for the dom. “Yes, it is. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I was just seeking someone who would pay attention to me.”

  Declan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, eyebrows raised. Miss Sally’s expression was close to his. Both oozed disbelief and judgment and said duh without saying it.

  “And I wasn’t?” Declan answered, now scowling.

  “You – you hired someone! A sex worker – ”

  “Ah, no. I am a sexuality consultant and a licensed therapist, Jennifer. Not a sex worker,” Miss Sally interrupted, handing her a business card.

  “Licensed? And – she peered at the initials after Miss Sally’s full name. Suzanna Lemmon, Ph.D. A Ph.D.? In what – torture? “You have a Ph.D.?”

  “You do?” Declan interjected, a genuine look of surprise on his face.

  “Yes. Of course.” The dom rolled her eyes. “I have to in this business. Do you know how often psychological issues are at the root of client problems? Being a clinical psychologist really pays.”

  “That’s not what you just said!” Jennifer argued. Miss Sally walked to Declan, whispered something in his ear, and looked at the clock. Jennifer read it, too. Thirty minutes remaining.

  “I said that people don’t turn to BDSM because they’re broken and need to hurt others to get off sexually, Jennifer. I never said they don’t have psychological issues affecting their sexuality. Look at you two. Declan said he had a good childhood. What about you?”

  “It was fine! What does that – ”

  “And yet you two have some serious, deep-seated dysfunction that is barely repairable. And BDSM has nothing to do with it.”

  Silence. Jennifer struggled to find the right words to debate and she failed. Because Miss Sally – er, Suzanna, or Dr. Lemmon? – was right.

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Declan grabbed the bottom hem of his pink polo shirt and pulled up, stripping the shirt from his body in seconds, rippling abs and pecs bare for all to see. Swiftly, he undid the button and fly of his Levi’s, grabbed the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs, and slid them down to his ankles. He stepped out of one leg, then kicked the jeans across the room, tossing the polo shirt onto the pile of clothes as if shooting a basketball into a hoop.

  “Now,” Miss Sally said calmly, as if Declan’s little striptease were perfectly normal, “I want you to use these.” She extended her hand within inches of Jennifer’s and, without touching, dumped a tangle of metal onto the tabletop, right next to the sugar bowl.

  It looked like a bunch of photo clamps for a Christmas tree.

  Ah. Clamps. As in nipples.

  “You want me to, uh...” Jennifer gestured to her own chest.

  One index finger was her answer. Pointed directly at Declan’s naked chest.

  “Oh.” Declan stood a bit taller and, she noticed, so did his cock. He looked like one of the warriors from that old Mel Brooks movie where Madeline Kahn figures out which man is a eunuch from the feather they hold in front of their cocks. Except Declan had no feather.

  And he would have failed the test, given the raging hard on that fairly glowed.

  “I thought you were done with us?” she asked, her turn to look at Miss Sally with eyebrows raised.

  “You paid for twenty-five more minutes. I never cheat my clients.”

  She fingered the clamps, playing with the feel in her hands. Jesus, they were hard. She could only imagine how much it would hurt. Skeptical, she pulled one out and got it ready. Then she changed her mind.

  “I think,” she said slowly, looking slyly at the dom, “I have a slightly different idea of how to proceed.”

  “By all means. You’re in charge,” Miss Sally cleared her throat and suppressed a smile. “And I do mean in charge. I want you to do whatever you wish to him. I reserve the right to give suggestions, of course.”

  “Of course,” Jennifer murmured, stepping close to her naked husband and grabbing his stiff rod. Setting the clamps on the table, she looked down at his cock, the skin so soft and eager, throbbing and ready for her. Stroking his inner thigh, she took one masterful hand, running it under his ass, making sure she had his full, erect attention now as she caressed his tanned, tight skin.

  Mouth open and ready, she moistened her lips, liberally adding saliva, anticipating the taste of that beautiful cock in her mouth and controlling him from his root. Jennifer wanted her mouth to feel like a hot, eager pussy with a tongue. But not too good, because she ached to have him in her. This was just for show, to tease him to a frenzy and then make him whimper.

  She liked whimpering Declan.

  “Wow,” he groaned, words failing him as her mouth slid over him, her tongue flickering along the pole, swallowing more of him into that lovely mouth than he thought possible and, she knew, torturing him because he knew Miss Sally wouldn’t let this be pleasureful instantly. He was going to pay, and pay hard. Bobbing her head up and down before delving down to take even more of him between her wet lips, her tongue sliding back and forth against him, she reveled in his desire, in the feeling of his hands on her shoulders, lightly touching her neck, scrambling to do anything as his breath grew erratic.

  He
r hand stroked the base of his cock as she slowly lifted her head and mouth up, stretching out the contact with his cock inside her mouth, her dangling uvula, jacking him off with her hand in a tight basketweave that made him shudder. Then she took her lips and sucked on the shaft, like sucking a wet popsicle as it melts. A slurping sound made her laugh as Declan groaned, and then she decided to treat the soft flesh like a clit, flicking the little piece right under his mushroom.

  As if electrocuted, Declan’s ass shot off the bed and up a good foot. “Holy shit!” he shouted, but she wouldn’t let go, tongue rubbing back and forth rapidly, a hummingbird’s kiss on his cock. He started to shiver and she pulled back, grinning to herself.

  Miss Sally was scribbling furiously in her notebook.

  He ran his finger along the outer edge of her earlobe and caressed her hair. She liked knowing that she could do this to him. His dick was totally under her control, ready to explode at any moment. She wondered how long she could keep him in tortured ecstasy without letting go over the edge.

  She simultaneously sucked and touched, very gradually intensifying as he tightened his grasp on her hair. One hand cupped his sac, knowing she was on the right track when she began to taste him, eliciting a groan of contentment from her, the pre-cum a victory. The head of his cock reached the back of her throat, thumb and forefinger squeezing around the base like a cock ring, and now he was completely enveloped by her.

  Withdrawing it suddenly, she let him brace himself, pressing one finger higher up his taint, lightly playing with the skin at the edge of his anus. His breath turned to a gasp and he swallowed hard, showing her that this was one area he enjoyed, his face concentrated in the intensity of her touch. Blowing more air on the sensitive skin while using her gripping hand to move all the way up the pole, which was twitching with need, Jennifer played him like a conductor of an orchestra, calling on the various parts of the body to give whatever vibrations were needed to reach the crescendo. Using her saliva, she lubed up her hand to stroke him, then down to his balls, a stretching out of the tease that, with one finger flirting with his ass, made his entire body flex with power.

  But she didn’t want to make it too easy on him. Now she had all the power and he knew it. Loved it. His face was twisted with passion, totally captivated, his eyes closed and face unfocused, breathing unsteady but savoring every touch of her lips, her expertise. Wanting to give him more, she laved the shaft from base to tip, gave him two powerful sucks, then released it so it flopped onto his stomach, kissing his thigh down to his balls, teabagging him with one big whoosh.

  His ass tightened and he shouted, “Oh, fuck me with your mouth!” Letting her tongue drag along the tip, she weighed out her options. Let him come, or make him suffer? She wanted intercourse anyhow, and it might help her if he ejaculated now, so he could last longer later. Then again, his refractory period was amazing. As the devil and the angel on her shoulder duked it out, movement caught her attention.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Miss Sally reach into her Coach briefbag and pull something out. Was that really...? No. It couldn’t – oh, yes. It was.

  A strap-on.

  Jennifer inhaled sharply, her hand frozen on Declan’s cock as he squirmed, so close – she knew – and now, though, she couldn’t let him come like this.

  She was going to make him come like that. Jesus – was that thing nine inches long?

  “This,” Miss Sally announced, handing it to Jennifer, “is just a suggestion.”

  Jennifer took the thickly-strapped object and studied it, one hand still holding Declan, like powering a joystick. It was rubbery, the cock attached to the front of a codpiece. She stood and released Declan, who groaned with agony. Hah. Now this was getting good.

  “Do I put it on over my clothes?” she asked.

  “No,” Declan and Miss Sally said simultaneously. A rush of confusion and anger hit her. How would Declan know that?

  “How do you know?” she asked Declan, who had the decency to blush. Both women stared at him expectantly.

  “I, er...no, Jen, no one’s ever done that to me. I just watch a lot of pegging on YouPorn.”

  Miss Sally snickered and licked her lips, then motioned for Jennifer to continue. “He’s telling the truth, Jennifer. Well, as far as I know. I can tell you that no pegging has taken place during our sessions. What Declan might or might not have done outside of my club is another issue.”

  A cold stare brought Declan’s attention to his wife. “No! No, I swear. I just buy those erotica novels on Kindle and watch YouPorn. Seriously, Jen,” he said, his cock bobbing up and down as he practically danced with anxiety, desperate for her to believe him. “I haven’t cheated on you. Only Miss Sally’s lessons. Only.”

  “And I don’t touch clients,” Miss Sally reminded them.

  Jennifer stripped down to her bra and panties and attached the strap-on. The straps were easy to attach, as was the codpiece. Once she had the contraption on she felt like giggling. The heavy...thing was just bouncing between her legs, a pound or so of rubber pulling at her hips. Was this what it felt like to have an erect penis? Damn, she was glad she didn’t have one!

  Declan practically panted as he watched her don the toy. “Now order him,” Miss Sally told her.

  “Into the living room,” Jennifer said, pointing to the door. Declan scampered like a frat boy at his first orgy, on the couch in three seconds flat. The aborted blow job had its role here; he was more than primed for this.

  Lube? Jennifer stood in her underclothes, slightly off kilter. Shit. She needed astroglide. “I need to get some – ” A well-manicured woman’s hand reached in front of her face and dangled a bottle of Astroglide. Geez. The dom thought of everything.

  Pouring the lube into her hand, she grasped the base of the plastic cock and stroked herself. Heh. She almost imagined the strap on was part of her. Now she motioned for Declan to bend over the arm of the sofa.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, bending over, the taut muscles of his hips and ass flexing. It was bright daylight and sunshine streamed through the windows. She saw everything, every hair, every freckle, and the puckered flesh of his brown starfish. A few days ago and this would have been unseemly but now? Now it was just part of getting their groove on. He was Declan and this was his body and she was about to bring him a fantasy come to life.

  How much better could intimacy get?

  She poured a liberal amount of lube all over his anus, her finger teasing his very tight hole. “Be sure to lube him up and to get a finger in the edge of his sphincter,” Miss Sally instructed, coming closer and peering at Declan’s ass, as if she were teaching biology lab or a graphic design course.

  Jennifer’s index finger probed, sliding in and then out in a pattern designed to get the most lube inside his puckered hole while not penetrating too deeply. If she could have seen Declan’s face she imagined he was tight with concentration and pleasure, and the thought gave her a feeling of achievement. And, maybe, that’s what they all needed.

  “OK, now slide the tip like this,” Miss Sally explained, pointing to the mushroom cap. “Tip it just enough so it goes in at an angle.” She walked out of the room as Jennifer did as she was told, Declan inhaling sharply as the plastic cock penetrated him.

  “Oh,” he hissed, more a sigh than a moan. Heat pooled inside her as she found herself aroused. This was one hell of a role reversal. She restrained herself from plunging into him too fast, wanting to get to the thrusting part right away, anticipating the feeling of being able to fuck her own husband.

  Miss Sally returned and tossed the nipple clamps on the couch cushion in front of Declan. “Put those on.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” he answered as Jennifer slid in him another half inch, his breath now in jagged gasps, hands pawing at his own nipples, a thin squeak coming from him as Jennifer assumed he put on the clamps.

  “Ah, God,” he groaned, his ass pushing back slightly against her.

  “Want more?” she asked. Pleas
e say yes. She loved this. Her pussy was on fire, dripping wet and roused for more. If someone had a spare dildo she would ride it right now, fucking Declan’s ass while humping her own penetrator. Oh, how her mind raced with possibilities, determined to go on a shopping spree at Adam & Eve as soon as Miss Sally left.

  “Jennifer, I want you to fuck me, Mistress, please fuck me,” he growled, giving Jennifer the permission she needed. Slowly, deliberately she sank the entire nine inches into him, the cock stopping, though, around six. She wouldn’t force it; hurting him might turn Declan on, but she had her limits, it turned out.

  “Wrap one hand around him, or use his shoulders for support. Enter him like he enters you when you have sex doggie style,” Miss Sally instructed. Grasping Declan’s shoulders, Jennifer got a new angle, the strap on now pressing against her clit.

  “Oh, fuck me,” she moaned.

  “No – you fuck me,” Declan answered, laughing in hitches of air, then descending into silence, his shoulders covered with a thin sheen of sweat, the room warm with tension and anticipation. She thrust, slowly, into him as the wall of muscle in his anus contracted, pulling on her with tense little erratic motions, her clit eager for more pressure as she delved back in, her hips resting on his haunches as she took his ass.

  He arched up and back, humping against her, eager for me. “Jen, I am so close!” She saw his hand go for his cock and begin stroking, the strokes fast and furious, his entire body becoming a brick as he prepared to come.

  “Stop!” Miss Sally ordered. Jennifer froze as Declan collapsed forward, removing his hand. “You didn’t give him permission to come. He can’t come yet,” she explained.

  Augh! Jennifer knew she was so close, too, but she wanted the feel of something in her. Truth be told, she wanted Declan in her. Pulling out of him was a reluctant venture, but she did it anyhow. He mewled like a disappointed kitten, but hung his head, resigned.

  And then he opened his mouth and said, “If I were John, would you let me come?”

  It felt like one of those moments in The Matrix, when time creeps by at something like 1/40th of a second, frame by frame the action unrolling in suspended animation. He heard the words and they came out of his mouth like a snake made of molasses, like iiiiiiiffffffff eeeeyyyyyeeee wuuuuurrrrrrr joooooooooonnnnnn wuuuuuuuuddddd uuuuuuuuuuu leeeeeeeeeehhhhhhtttt meeeeeeeee cummmmmmm.