Command Performance

by Annabel Joseph

  “I wonder if she did this because Miri and Mason got engaged.” Nell’s brows wrinkled in suspicion. “The timing seems a bit weird.”

  Miri looked at her watch. “That reminds me, I’m supposed to meet Mason for dinner at La Bohème. I’d better get out of your hair.”

  “You’re not in my hair,” Nell said. “You can come by anytime. I love your tea creations. Stop in anytime you’re stressed and we’ll girl-talk.”

  “And make out, and videotape it for me so I can watch later?” Jeremy asked.

  “No,” his wife said.

  “Naked pillow fighting?”

  “Jeremy, go!” Nell scolded. “Leave us in peace, for God’s sake.”

  “The video part is important,” he yelled just before she shooed him out of the room.

  “You’ll have to pardon my husband,” said Nell. “Honestly, it’s like living with another child. Well, sometimes.” She got a wistful, dreamy look in her eyes. “Other times, he’s really wonderful to have around.”

  “I bet.” Miri laughed. “So when does Rhiannon get back from her playdate?”

  Nell looked at her watch. “Not for another hour.”

  Miri winked and gathered her things together. “Have fun then, you lucky woman. I can find the door.”

  The bodyguards took her home so she could change to go out. She put on sexy underthings beneath her designer dinner gown. They could photograph the outside of her a billion times, but they couldn’t see the secrets beneath. Those were only for Mason. It seemed like everything was for Mason now, but it was temporary. Someday she’d get back to her own career, but not now. Mason was working so hard; she wanted to be a comfort to him, not a liability.

  She would smile for the cameras tonight, smile until her face hurt. Ugh, she ached all over with tension. She needed more of that tea.

  *** *** ***

  Mason was preoccupied at dinner, short with the wait staff and the hovering maître’d. Miri glanced at him from under her lashes, wishing she knew what was troubling him. Wondering if she already knew. They were halfway through dessert before she gathered the courage to ask, “Did you hear about Jess?”

  “What about Jess?”

  “She adopted a baby.”

  “Oh, that,” he said. “She told me a while ago.”

  “She told you when?” Miri had no idea they talked anymore.

  Mason shrugged. “She called me, blathering about background checks and references. She needed someone to vouch for her.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “Did I what?” he asked crossly. “Did I vouch for her? Of course not. I told her to fuck off, but she got her baby anyway. Why do you care?”

  Miri shook her head and looked down at her plate. “I guess I don’t care.”

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I barked at you. I get annoyed whenever I think about the woman. And Jesus, I feel so bad for that baby. Her childhood will be fucked to hell, as famous as Jessamine is.”

  Miri felt a pang of unease. “What about our kids, if we decide to have them? Will their childhoods be fucked to hell too?”

  He made a face at her. “Peace, Miri. Can we not be like this tonight?” He leaned forward, trapping her hands in his. “All day I’ve been waiting to see you. I can’t wait to touch you. I can’t wait until we’re alone. You look so beautiful I could eat you alive.”

  She felt a little of her tension melting. She didn’t like him prickly and irritable. She preferred him like this, with his heated gaze and his sensual flirtation. She looked right in his eyes and slowly licked her lips.

  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Don’t play with me. I’ll go at you on top of this table, right here in the middle of the restaurant. I don’t care who sees.”

  Miri looked around. “I believe you would, which kind of scares me.”

  “You still love me though?”

  “Of course I love you.” He asked her that every day. You still love me? Forever, Mason. I love you like mad.

  “When we get home, I’m going to fuck you to pieces, baby. All three holes.”

  Miri shivered. He was in one of those moods.

  “And I’m going to hurt you and make you cry. Do you want to cry tonight?”

  God, yes. She did. She needed the catharsis. She didn’t care how he accomplished it, because he made all of it feel good. Cane, strap, paddle, clover clamps. She wanted to cry from the pain and from the pleasure—he’d give her an avalanche of both, until all the stresses of her life faded away. He asked if she was ready to go, and she nodded, her whispered “Yes, Sir” barely audible in the noisy restaurant. When they got home, he drew her inside, not dragging her, but almost.

  “Take that dress off before I shred it,” he said, halfway across the living room. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

  She froze where she was and did as he asked. She kicked off her stilettos and struggled with the zipper of the dress. He came over and helped her. Underneath the dress, underneath the cinching black bustier, she wore a black garter belt and stockings. The dress and bustier were laid across the couch. The thong was ripped off by Mason and thrown on top of them. The garter belt and stockings stayed on. Mason’s designer suit and shirt were tossed onto another chair. When they were both naked, he crossed to the basement door.

  “Put the shoes back on,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Sir.” It came so naturally now when he used that voice. So did the wetness, the arousal. The craving for his cock. All three holes. She put on the shoes and walked to his side. She felt wanton and naughty as she started down the stairs with him at her back. In the dungeon he took her collar from its peg on the wall and crossed to what Miri had come to think of as “The Chair”. She sat before him on her knees as he buckled on the black circlet, then he leaned back, pulling her toward him by the ring. “Suck me, Miri. Make me come.”

  She gazed up at him, past his massive cock, past his chiseled abs and chest, up to his beautiful face, contorted with lust for her. She worshipped and toyed with his cock just as she’d been taught. She licked and caressed it, sucking the head, teasing the slit at the top with her tongue. She paid attention to his balls, stroking them with her fingers as he thrust into her mouth. “Stop,” he said abruptly. “Go and get me the strap.”

  She jumped up, propelled by the immediacy in his voice. She took it off the wall, the black, finely worked strap that hurt like hellfire when he wielded it hard. She knelt down again and resumed the blowjob.

  “Stick your ass out.”

  She did, balancing on her knees. He started to spank her as she blew him. It was a medium intensity spanking. It didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t so unbearable that she couldn’t concentrate on sucking him off. It actually made her feel hotter, more open. He drove deeper into her throat. She used to gag when he did that, but she was getting better now.

  She wiggled her hips in distress as the cracks of the strap fell harder. The pain sharpened, spreading out in burning waves. He cupped the back of her neck and forced her mouth down on his shaft while she struggled to accommodate him. “Suck me. Make me come. Do it.” His hot flesh pressed open her lips. The smell and feel of Mason was her whole world in that moment. She sucked in air through her nose, working on his cock faster and faster until she was rewarded with his shudder and his hot cum spurting into her throat.

  She swallowed him to the accompaniment of another hard swat across her burning ass. Then Mason dropped the strap, pulled away from her, and leaned forward to put his hands on either side of her head. “Ah, girl, you make me insane. Go stand against the wall.”

  She stumbled over to where he pointed, and stood still as he hooked the ring in her collar to an attachment point with a short chain. She wobbled a little on her heels, tethered, trapped against the cool cement. Her nipples pressed against the abrasive surface while her ass throbbed with a warm, sore ache. She knew he was only getting started. After about ten minutes he returned to her side, his fi
ngertips marking a shivery trail up her spine.

  “Grab your elbows behind your back.”

  She did as he asked and felt her forearms buckled together in some type of wide leather restraint. She felt very endangered—and very exposed—as he went to collect more sadistic toys to use on her. She rested her forehead against the wall and waited to see what would come next.

  “Here, hold this,” he said when he came back. She opened a hand behind her and he pressed a long, smooth form into her palm. Her fingers closed on the length of a Plexiglass cane. Oh, crap.

  “Don’t dare drop it,” he warned, which was good because her first impulse was to toss it away. His arms came around her from behind, finding and pinching her nipples, preparing them to be clamped.

  She waited, shrinking away from him. Dreading. She couldn’t escape as he toyed with her nipples and clamped them one after the other. He used to take his time and wait for her to be ready, but they were past that now. Now, he dealt the hurt and she took it. The initial wrenching pinch never lasted long, but the dull, throbbing ache went on and on. Worse, he hooked the clamps’ connecting chain to the same attachment point as her collar. If she jerked or tried to move away, the clamps would yank her nipples, causing her agony. She took deep breaths, disciplining herself to stillness, aching for him the whole time.

  He caught the chain, giving it an intentional, light tug. A warning, to be sure she understood what was at stake. “Okay, baby?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, her fingers tightening on the cane.

  “I’ll take that now.”

  She could tell by his voice he knew how scared and reluctant she was, and that it turned him on. He put his fingers over hers, forced her to loosen her death grip and relinquish the cane so he could use it on her ass. She whined softly as he positioned himself behind her. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. She didn’t want to see it coming.

  He didn’t make her wait. The first stroke came whistling, the impact a line of fire across her sensitive cheeks. She shrieked and went up on her toes, the pain in her nipples barely registering over the anguish of the cane’s stripe. “No, no, please...” she wailed.

  “Yes,” he said sharply. “Unless you safeword, I’ll do whatever I like.”

  That was their twisted arrangement, one she fully supported, even at excruciating times like these. The cane fell again and she jerked. It was impossible to stay still, even though she was doubling her punishment. Another, and another. Ah, God, the pain was so bad, so evil and torturous. “Please, Sir,” she begged, squirming as far as her chains would allow, pulling at the unforgiving arm bindings. “How many will there be?”

  “As many as I think you need.”

  She cried out as another stroke fell. She managed to stay still to save her aching nipples, but her legs were weak with the effort. Each time, she thought she couldn’t survive the bloom of the pain, and then she would survive and another stroke would come. She pressed against the wall, summoning every ounce of her strength to stand there and take it. She wanted to twist her hips around to evade the next blow but then he might hit her side and really injure her. He’d warned her about that. So she tottered in her heels and thought, lollipops. Say lollipops. That idea upset her so much she started to cry. She didn’t want to say lollipops. She wanted to please him. She wanted to survive this pain and get the pleasure he always rewarded her with.

  “Please, please,” she moaned. There was nothing else to do, only beg for mercy. He hit her again, and again. Tears soaked her face. Soon it will be over. Just take it. She was so hot for him. She needed him. Please don’t ever leave me. I love the things you do to me, the good and the bad.

  He finally stopped. Miri stood and gasped for breath through her tears. She could feel each individual welt aching across her ass cheeks, along with the pounding misery of her punished nipples. He ran his hands over her bottom and her breasts, holding her, nuzzling her ear. She went limp with relief and slumped forward against the wall. “Five more,” he said. “On the backs of your thighs.”

  Oh God! “No,” she said without thinking.

  “No?”

  She looked over at him, as far as her chains would allow. Her vision was obscured with tears. She felt torn, wanting to be stoic and submissive but also wanting to escape. Lollipops. This was like their relationship. How much pain are you going to take? How much will you put up with before you say enough? She wasn’t sure she could take much more.

  His eyes held hers. “Say the word if you want to. I won’t mind.”

  She cried harder, helpless to brush away the tears. He didn’t brush them away either.

  “If you’ve had enough, say the word. It’ll end.” His voice softened. “And it’ll be okay.”

  Was he talking about them? Or the cane and her aching nipples? Either way, she would never give in.

  “Keep going. I want to finish.”

  He studied her, his deep blue gaze unfathomable. “It hurts though, doesn’t it?”

  She shook her head, choking the words out between sobs. “I don’t care. I don’t care how much it hurts.”

  He drew in a deep breath and stepped back. Five on the backs of her thighs. If they’d been half-ass shots, she would have been disappointed. But no, he striped her good, and she howled and jerked at each one, moving beyond torment to desperation. When he was done, he dropped the cane where he stood. He released her from her tethers, turned her around and pressed her back against the wall. He swiped away her tears and kissed her hard. His rough cheek felt damp against her face. Her arms were still bound behind her, her clamped nipples thrust out and numb with pain.

  “You’re a good girl,” he whispered. “I love you so.”

  She sighed as he lifted her, grasped her by the soreness on the back of her thighs, and lowered her down on his thick length. Her back scraped against the wall as he bucked in her, hard, fast, and rough. She arched for more of him. With a curse, he unbuckled the arm restraint, then tumbled her back onto the floor. He fucked her brutally, his breath coming in gasps. One of her shoes fell off and she kicked off the other one, wrapping her legs around his waist. She should be used to this by now, the feelings of fullness and excitement, the quivering pleasure that made her whole body tense up in expectation. He rubbed against her clit on purpose, sliding over it.

  “Oh, God. Oh God!”

  “Come on,” he rasped. He squeezed her thigh, raked his nails down her stocking so she could feel the runs snaking along her leg. He buried his face in her neck, nipped at her pulse. Her orgasm arrived in a rush. She trembled under him, riding out the wave, but he didn’t stop fucking her.

  “What did I promise you?” he asked.

  She tried to think past the haze of post-orgasm fuzziness in her brain. “To hurt me?”

  “Yes.”

  “To make me cry?”

  “I did that already.”

  Yes, he had. The tear tracks he’d caused were probably dried all over her face, her makeup smeared and ruined. She remembered a day eons ago. A few months ago. A conversation in the back of a limo about Mason smearing lipstick on her face. She’d been horrified. Look at her now.

  “You promised to fuck me to pieces,” she said. “All three holes.”

  With a growl, he pulled out of her and flipped her over. She cried in sudden panic. He was going to hurt her now, really hurt her. He rubbed his cock against her pussy, got it wet. She was so wet.

  She felt him prodding at her ass. He was going to fuck her with no more lube than her pussy juices. “No,” she moaned, terrified.

  “No?” he asked. Say the word if you want to. It’ll be okay.

  She knew she could take it—her ass was pretty well trained by now—but she also knew it would hurt. She took a deep breath and braced herself. “Yes, if you like.” She reached back for him in invitation. “Yes, please, Sir.”

  The floor was cold, hard, but he was so hot, like fire against her back. He worked the head into her ass slowly, going in small increments
, forward and back. It was a sore, scary ache. She had to allow his invasion, open herself up to him so he could slide in with only the lubricant from her pussy. She drew up underneath him, whining when the initial pain reached its peak. He pulled her legs back down again, trapped her against the floor. He held himself over her, consummate control as well as threatening force.

  Her ass stretched as he started sliding farther into her. She felt pain but something else. Surrender. She fell down, fell deeper and deeper in love with him every time he took her beyond her comfort zone. His cock stopped hurting as she surrendered herself to its force. He seated himself all the way inside her as she cowered on the floor, taking it. Loving it. Letting him take it all from her, whatever he wanted. “Mason!”

  He froze over her. “What, baby?”

  “Please hurt me. Please fuck me.” He groaned and thrust into her. One side of her stocking popped off the garter belt suspender as he took her ass with deep, repetitive strokes. The nylon was destroyed but she didn’t care. Take me, take me, take me. She didn’t think she would come again, didn’t even care about coming again, but when he tugged the clamps off her nipples and growled against her ear in the throes of a wild, bucking climax, she did. She pulsed around his cock, reeling in pain and pleasure until the orgasm subsided, leaving her wrung out. He collapsed over her back, cradling her beneath him. It took several minutes for her to become alert and aware again. She was definitely fucked to pieces. Her stockings anyway.

  “Are you still alive?” he murmured against her ear.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I survived this time.” She reached down to trace the wide rips in her stockings.

  Mason helped her peel them off, chuckling along with her at how shredded they were.

  “We’ll have to get more of these,” he said. “I love them.”

  “Then why did you destroy them?” she asked.

  He sobered, cupped her face and touched his nose to hers.