Matthew and Gordon knelt side-by-side, naked in front of me. Gordon, slightly taller than Matthew, was boasting a chest that informed the world he worked out daily to chisel that stone canvas. He was perfectly tan and clean shaven. He apparently was into man-scaping, which I could definitely appreciate. I let my eyes travel down to his pubic area and smiled. His strong legs framed the fact that Mr. Roth had also been blessed with generous muscles elsewhere. I had to admit, he was quite arousing.
I snapped my fingers at Mr. Roth and pointed down. He immediately obeyed and bent his head all the way to the floor, kissing my patent-leather, spike heel as he did so. I smiled. Yes, that will do quite nicely .
Matthew glanced at Gordon with jealousy flashing in his eyes. I gathered his attention by grasping him from behind his head, gathering a handful of his beautiful hair and forced his head upward toward me. He opened his mouth to my kiss as I explored his mouth forcefully with strokes of my tongue. When I withdrew, he appeared relieved. I let him go and used my free hand to motion for him to kneel down with his back toward me. He obeyed.
Moving around the bed I ordered Gordon to get on his hands and knees, facing Matthew. He looked at me with apprehension, I struck him once with my crop. It bit into his skin and the sound reverberated in my mind. Gordon cried out and turned to face Matthew. It is my turn now. I raised my arm and connected with Gordon’s flesh on the opposite thigh as the first. He winced in pain, moving his hips slightly forward in a futile attempt to escape my punishment as I landed several more blows.
I motioned for Gordon to crawl forward, striking him in rhythm as he did. He was kneeling with his face in Matthew’s groin. Matthew’s cock was hard and waiting for his reward, whatever that may be.
Obedient as always. I used my crop to force the back of Gordon’s head toward Matthew’s waiting organ…
-11-
I woke with a start. I was covered in sweat and my breaths were coming in short gulps. I was shaking. Looking over, I realized that Matthew had done what he had always done, slipped silently from our bed, dressed and disappeared to his other life. Leaving me to sleep and dream.
That dream. I struggled to maintain calm as I remembered the details. I could even smell the cologne Mr. Roth always wore to the office. It hung in the air faintly as I shook my head to clear my mind. I was relieved to find that, as always, Matthew had left the coffee maker ready to press “brew” once I was awake and had placed my breakfast in the microwave above the stove. It was a little early, but I decided to make the coffee. I pressed the button to start it on its way and walked across to the sink. I ran cold water into my open hands and splashed it up onto my face. I rubbed my eyes with a towel and opened them slowly, looking around my apartment.
My throat was dry and my mouth felt like I slept with an old sock stuffed into it. While I waited for my coffee to brew, I retrieved a glass from the cabinet to the right of the sink. I filled it with cold, filtered water from the refrigerator and took several long draws before removing it from my lips. I had broken several of my own rules last night, drinking water with my alcohol being one of the lesser offenses. I shook my head, silently chastising myself for failing to follow my internal code of conduct.
I was still groggy when the buzzer went off indicating someone was waiting at the entry to my apartment building. My mind raced in attempt to figure out who could be calling on me on a Saturday morning. When I reached the intercom to the right of the door and pressed the view button, the image of my mother stared back at me. Unbeknownst to her, my security camera, one of the fine features of this building, allowed me to view my visitors to then decide if I will allow them access.
It was hard to believe she would just show up without letting me know she was coming. My mother rarely did that. Madeline King was a well-to-do woman who what hadn’t aged well had been promptly fixed by a high-priced plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills. Her crisp linen suit in parchment white went well with her strawberry blonde locks which hung in large curls around her shoulders. She was standing with her arms crossed, tapping her toe impatiently. One should never keep their mother waiting. I could hear her chastising voice clearly in my mind.
I pressed the intercom button and announced to my mother I was buzzing her in. She smiled pleasantly, which made me feel a little bad for having negative thoughts about her showing up unannounced. I had not visited with my mother in months, which really was inexcusable as she lived in the San Fernando Valley, a short freeway ride from my own dwelling. This thought immediately made me feel guilty, which I was sure she would appreciate.
The doorbell rang, announcing that she had made it through the lobby, up several flights of stairs, to my door. How she moved so fast in those heels was always a mystery to me. And she did it with such grace and poise, floating across the floor as opposed to walking. I turned the deadbolt and opened the door to meet my mother’s ever-disapproving stare .
“Leila, do you realize it is nearly 10:00 AM. Look at you, still lounging around in your pajamas as if you just woke from an elongated slumber,” she smiled despite her letting me have it. She had a way of doing that. Madeline King could chew you up and spit you out using only words. Words so well-formed, you would not even realize you had been cut down to size until well after she exited the scene.
“Sorry, mom, yes, I did just wake up. I had a rough night.” She looked at me inquisitively. Curious to know what was going inside my mind. Somehow, I always felt like she knew everything, including the secret world I held so close to my heart that no one in my reality had a clue who I became at the flip of a switch.
“I am sorry,” I continued, “I did not know you were coming, or I would have been up already.”
“Darling Leila, I sent you an email yesterday informing you that I was going to be in the area and that we should do lunch,” my mind spun back to the last few days which had blurred together in a resentful haze. The image of her email popped into my mind and I suddenly realized that what she meant to say was that she was going to show up early and we would spend the day together, no protesting permitted.
“Oh yeah,” I acted like I was suddenly in the know, “I remember now. Well, it is a little early for lunch, but I can offer you a fresh cup of coffee while you wait and I will get ready.” I looked at her waiting for her to answer. With my mother, there was no telling. She may insist on dragging me kicking and screaming into public in just my pajamas as punishment for forgetting her.
“That will be fine.” A short answer and I was relieved. I made my way back to the kitchen, motioning for her to come in and make herself at home. As if there was any question that she wouldn’t. As far as she was concerned, I am her child and there is nothing I have that she was not welcome to indulge in. If she only knew.
That thought made me smile to myself. I turned toward her with two hot, steamy cups of coffee in my hands. She looked at me with a curious gaze. I could tell that she was still trying to creep into my head and have her way with my thoughts. Not this time mom. I poured creamer into the coffee from the refrigerator and handed her mug to her, handle first as she preferred. Taking a long swallow from my own mug, the heat felt good going down my throat, I instantly felt more aware as the caffeine steeped into my system.
“Make yourself at home, mother. There is more coffee if you need it. I am going to take a quick shower and get dressed. Where do you have in mind?” I wanted to plot the day out in my head. She would choose to show up on a day that was so very important to me. The opening of the Red Velvet Room was something that I had been looking forward to since I first glimpsed the ornate invitation swimming in a pile of bills and advertisements. That was tonight. I hoped that she did not plan on occupying my entire day. That thought again brought a pang of guilt that I felt in my stomach.
She shrugged her shoulders. I knew we would be discussing that once I was properly prepared to leave my domicile. Instead of saying anything else, I left the room to prepare for the day with my mother. I wandered into my bathroom, retriev
ed the clam-shaped dispenser from my medicine cabinet and used my coffee to swallow the small pill before turning on the hot water in the shower.
The shower was a welcome refresh. It felt as though the negativity from last night washed down the drain with the soap and water that swirled its way down the drain. I tried to shower quickly, knowing my mother was waiting in the next room. I could picture her standing in my living room, staring out the window toward the Los Angeles skyline. Arms crossed, tapping her foot again, sipping my cheap coffee that she always commented on. It surprised me that she had not went out of her way to insult my choice of caffeinated beverage. Yet.
I quickly went through my closet looking for something I felt she would find acceptable. Although nothing I ever wore was acceptable to her. I chose to wear a short, flowy spring dress. Off-white to compliment her suit, with small rosebuds scattered across the fabric. I hoped that would be to her liking but I knew better.
“It’s about time,” was her greeting to me when I emerged from my bedroom still brushing my long, red hair. Before I could stop myself, I rolled my eyes and did not attempt to disguise it from her. She frowned, her perfectly smooth forehead wrinkled with disappointment. She said nothing, but I could tell she did not approve of my response.
“Sorry, mom. I am going as fast as I can. I am almost ready.” I looked at her sheepishly. My gaze begging forgiveness. I decided to leave my hair down and straight. Something else I knew she did not approve of. A lady either covers her hair or keeps it pinned back. I heard her say in the back of my mind. In this case, I felt she would make an exception so we could be on our way.
In attempt to change the subject and fill the dead air with conversation, I implored as to her plans for the day again. She looked at me with the same plastic smile plastered to her face. I doubt the plastic surgeon would have appreciated her doing that as I recall she had another face lift just six months prior. Smiling can only create more wrinkles after all.
“I figure we can go to The Galleria.” Not a question, a simple statement. Her reaction made me realize suddenly that this is where Goddess draws her persona from. That thought made me blush. I could feel the heat rising in my neck and face. Not a settling connection to make in my mind. I forced this thought from my mind post haste.
“But that’s all the way in Glendale mother,” I almost cringed at the whining tone my own voice had taken on. I never realized it before, but I am sure that over the years, she had become accustomed to it. My only form of protest.
“My driver won’t mind,” she smiled bigger this time, pulling the corners of her eyes downward, making more wrinkles suddenly appear. I sighed out loud. I was a petulant child! I did not want to go all the way to Glendale, walk around that mall that spans several blocks and is multiple stories high. I really needed to save my energies for later. Resistance was futile.
I grabbed my purse from my bedroom and put the food Matthew had prepared for me in the refrigerator with a piece of Saran Wrap stretched over the top and around the sides to keep it from drying out.
Waste not, want not. I was thankful that he always had my well-being in mind. There had been several times in the past few years, since he became my pet, that I did not know where I would be without him. He listened when no one else would. He cared for me like I mattered when often I felt like I did not. I loved him for that.
Running after my mother like an obedient puppy dog, I secured my apartment behind us as we made our way down to the street. Her long, black limousine waited patiently. Double-parked, the driver sprung from his seat, rushing around the front of the vehicle to open the door for us. We slid inside the open door and I squirmed around in the leather seat to get comfortable. Perhaps a short dress was not the best choice to sit on leather. The door closed swiftly behind us and the driver appeared instantly back in his seat. Man he was good.
“To the Galleria,” Madeline King said in a commanding voice. She promptly rolled up the privacy window and turned her attention to me. “So, Leila, pray tell what was so pressing this week that you forgot your dear old mother was coming to visit?” She was waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know, mom,” I lied and I could see by the look on her face, she knew I was lying. She raised her eyebrows but waited for me to continue. “Well, you know, Mr. Roth, my boss? I complain about him constantly, so you must.” She nodded in agreement and swirled her fingers in the air, a gesture for me to continue. “He gave me the hardest time all week and on yesterday, during our weekly check-in meeting, he let me have it. He accused me of underperforming, of being off my game, of, of,” I could feel myself begin to well up with anger so I stopped speaking and just breathed slowly.
“I can see you are quite upset. I have told you before and I will tell you again. You are always welcome to come work for Bentley.” Ah Bentley Simms. My mother’s mid-life crisis so to speak. She picked young Bentley up when he was in his late twenties. A promising super genius with a technologically driven mind. He had a future in IT and my mother knew he would bring her the wealth she needed to maintain her lavish lifestyle. She was correct.
I flinched at this idea, as I always did.
“I cannot fall back on depending on you to get me a job mother,” I started slowly, knowing I would have to measure my words with care. “I told you that a long time ago. I will make it on my own or I will fail on my own.” That was my driving force. The reason I kept going. To prove her wrong. So she would see me succeed. On my own.
“I know dear, but when you grow weary of Mr. Roth’s nefarious behavior, you are always welcome. He could use a good Executive level assistant in several departments right now.” I babbled on for the remainder of the ride. She nodded her head sometimes. I found that she did not even interrupt me unless I left room for her to interject a thought or opinion. It was strange for her but she appeared to actually be listening.
Suddenly and without warning, she let the hammer down. I should have seen it coming, it always did.
“Have you found a boyfriend yet?” She went straight for the jugular.
“Mother, you know how I feel about that subject. I prefer not to discuss my personal life with you because you always seem to have something negative to say, no matter how good I feel.” I finished speaking and I could see her face was flushed. I had upset her.
“I am just asking. You are not getting any younger you know and I worry that you will not find a good man to…” she stopped speaking before she said it.
“To take care of me?” I looked at her angrily. I hated that. What made her think I needed a man to take care of me anyway. I wasn’t her, I can handle my own business and my own life. That of course was a lie, I struggled daily to keep it all together, but I would never let on to her that I everything wasn’t ship shape in Leila’s Kingdom. She called it that when she was angry with me, and she was right save the fact that Leila’s Kingdom was faulty. Goddess’ Kingdom was the world I craved, my secret world where I held the keys to all the locks.
We said nothing the remainder of the trip. The limo pulled into the driveway at the Nordstrom’s end of the Galleria, the entrance my mother preferred. I shook my head as the door opened with the assistance of the magical limo driver. I nodded politely at him as I exited the vehicle and started toward the entry, not waiting for my mother to be helped from the car. I was fuming and needed a second away from her to keep it together. I found the shade of a large tree just outside the entry and stopped, waiting for her to catch up.
1…2…3…
I breathed slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I put my hand on the trunk of the tree to maintain my balance as I suddenly felt a little dizzy.
4…5…6…
Madeline King glided toward me gracefully. She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it slightly.
“I am sorry, Leila. I will never bring it up again.” She meant it. I could see the sincerity in her eyes. I felt better when she grabbed my hand and guided me toward the large, glass doors of Nordstrom’
s. The doors hissed open automatically upon our approach and we escaped the warm sun into the air conditioned alter of consumerism.
My mother treated me to lunch at Luciano’s, a very high-class Italian place on what was known as the “rich side” of the Galleria. Nordstrom’s, Joseph A. Bank, Macy’s. All the high dollar stores I jokingly say I cannot even afford to walk in the door, let alone buy anything. After lunch, we wandered through several three-story department stores. I was vaguely aware of the time slipping by quickly. I was enjoying my time with my mother for once and I basked in the pleasant emotions it brought me.
Inevitably my mother would insist on trying on several things in each store, eating away more time. I was left holding her purse as she slipped on several high-dollar suits by Gucci, Calvin Klein and Michael Kors. I felt like the bored husband waiting for his wife to try on what felt like an endless trail of dresses and blouses. I snuck a peak at one of the price tags, the only time I had ever dared look and was immediately floored. A simple, V-neck sweater was tagged at almost ninety dollars. It was enough to have me catch my breath quickly and immediately return it to the rack.
She insisted on getting a quick facial and makeover at Macy’s. Her treat. I figured what the hell, as long as I am not trying to pay for it.
We had our treatments and Maggie, my “palette expert” proceeded to go to work on my makeup. She had very curly hair teased out in the front with an 80’s style pouffed bangs. Inside my head I giggled and wondered when that look came back into style. It amused me so much I almost laughed out loud when I noticed her bright purple and blue eyeshadow, bright fuchsia lipstick and thick, clumpy mascara that completed the “theme.” It suddenly struck me that I was allowing this woman to do my makeup. I was almost fearful.
Goddess: A Femme Domme Erotica Novel Page 8