“Thank you, Captain.” She sat back, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Bam. Mistress Jasmina had returned. “Did you bring the contract with you?”
“I did.” He withdrew the tri-folded pages from his inside jacket pocket and set them before her.
On the surface, Jasmine was like a serene lake. Quiet, tranquil, nary a ripple disturbing the placid scene. But as he sipped his beer and watched as she read over the pages, he saw a range of emotions cross her features that were so slight, only his knowledge of micro-expressions caught the movements.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in concentration. When pleased, she tilted her head with a tiny nod. The briefest flicker of a brow, a tic near the corner of her mouth when she was amused, all of her thoughts played out across her beautiful face.
Then she came to the page of the long list of acts he was willing to engage in. He sat up in his seat as she ran her finger down each checked box. Occasionally she would glance his way with a calculating eye, and he felt sweat began to gather on his upper lip. What was it that made her look at him as if she already imagined him at her mercy?
She tapped at the paper. “You have no desire at all in a homoerotic encounter?”
At the mention of the word, his ass clenched tight and his heart skipped a beat. “Nope. Not in the slightest.”
“Are you certain? It can be quite invigorating to feel the strength of a man at your back. Feel the soft pelt of his chest hair brushing against your spine, or the back of your thighs. Then there is the rasp of a calloused palm as he strokes your cock or the way he sucks at the crown. No one knows how to suck cock better than another man. Wouldn’t you like to explore that opportunity, Captain?”
Fuck, she was good. When her eyes shined with mischievous light, he was almost ready to do whatever she wished. At least his cock was anyway, judging by the way it pulsed against his thigh.
Had someone cranked up the furnace to the joint? Sweat gathered on his brow and his collar suddenly felt as if it had shrunk an inch. “Sorry, Doc,” he rasped out of a tight throat. “That would be a hard no.”
A grin tugged at her lips and she sighed. “Pity.”
There were a lot of things he marked as undecided, but touching another dude in that way? Or have another dude touch him? Uh-uh. Not going there.
“Well, there is certainly enough here for me to work with.” She set the contract down and skimmed her hands down her side. “Did you have any questions for me?”
“Yeah, what exactly is expected of me? I know in the contract we have a designated meeting time, but will I be at your beck and call?”
“Not at all. What I expect from you is your respect and courtesy. The moment you walk through The Cavern’s door, your time belongs to me. I understand that your work schedule is unpredictable, as is mine, but when we’re together, nothing else exists. When you are out and about your day, you are welcome to do as you wish. If a work situation arises, you will give me as much advance notice as possible. On occasion I may send you an instruction, but don’t fret. I will never ask you to do anything that may cause an embarrassing situation.”
“So no orders for me to wear a pink G-string under my work clothes?”
The husky notes of her laughter made his abs clench and his hands flinch, eager to gather her close to feel the vibrations against his skin.
“What you wear to work is entirely up to you.”
“That’s a relief.” He slid the chalice back and forth on the tabletop and hoped he sounded nonchalant as he asked, “And we’re to refrain from intimate relationships outside the, uh, dungeon, right?”
The question was more to confirm her stance than his. Between pining for Brett and the Smithwick case, a girlfriend never fit into his life, and he had grown tired of one-night stands years ago. And selfish as it might seem, considering she wasn’t his girlfriend, he wanted Jasmine all to himself.
She chuckled again. “I have yet to meet a woman who allowed her significant other to visit a dominatrix. Although I guess there might be one or two in existence. So, yes. I will insist that we remain exclusive. I like to devote all of my attention to one man. However, I may bring in another on occasion to assist with a scene, for the most part it will be just you and I.”
A hundred different scenarios of who those people might be and how they were going to assist flashed through his mind, one dirtier then the next, and he felt the buzz of anticipation raise the fine hairs on his neck and arms.
“Where do I sign?” he asked in a voice far raspier than he intended.
Jasmine reached for the clutch he hadn’t noticed resting on the seat next to her as she flagged down Ari who stood by the bar.
As Ari drew near, Jasmine held up the contract. “Can you make me a photocopy, please?”
“Certainly,” she replied with a curious shifting of the eyes between the two of them before she departed.
Marco groaned. “She’s going to read that.”
“Maybe.” She sat back in her seat as if the idea didn’t bother her, which it probably didn’t. “She may be looking for ideas. You’re not the only man who’s interested in exploring their submissive sides.”
It took a second for the implication to set is. “Wait a minute. Bale? Big guy, deep frown, biceps as big as my head, can rip a car apart with his bare hands. That Bale? Submissive?”
“Ah, so you’ve met.”
Ari’s return halted any further questioning. A red flush covered her face from hairline to neck and she set the papers down in front of Jasmine with a barely audible, “Here you go,” before dashing away.
Yep. She had read them.
“Shall you do the honors, Captain?” She handed him the fountain pen.
The plastic held the warmth of her touch. His heart beat faster as the tip touched the paper and he scrolled his name across the page in what turned out to be purple ink. He smiled at the sight. Mental note: Jasmine likes purple.
He signed the duplicate contract and slid both over to Jasmine who signed her name with a flourish in her surprisingly clean penmanship. Guess not all doctors had illegible handwriting.
“Shall we make a toast?” he asked when she had placed the pen and one of the contracts in her purse.
“Why not?” She lifted her glass. “To a new adventure.”
“Sounds good to me.” They clinked their glasses and from over the rim he saw her eyes narrow. The brown of her irises deepened and all he could think about was smoke and sin.
“So, Jasmine.” He cleared his throat. “What now?”
“Well…” she trailed off in a way that immediately put him on high alert. Somehow in the last half-second a shift had occurred in the universe and he sensed he was about to be schooled. She crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt hiked up, exposing a long length of creamy thigh. “Now, you call me Mistress Jasmina, or Mistress. Do you understand?”
Holy shit. The game was on.
“Yes,” he croaked and her brow rose. “Mistress. Jasmina,” he added.
“Good. Scoot your chair back a bit and angle yourself toward me.”
The slight scrape of the wood on tile sounded like a chainsaw in his ears. A quick glance to the left and right confirmed no one seemed to be looking their way. However, that didn’t lessen the tension rolling in his gut.
“Spread your legs apart. Wider,” she commanded in a low, husky tone.
The fabric of his slacks pulled taut across his lap, outlining the thick line of his erection. He should have been embarrassed, but damn, the woman turned him on, and obviously she wanted to check out what she had signed up for. By all means, baby, go ahead and look to your heart’s content.
A minute passed in silence as she ate him up with her intense stare. Her lips parted as she breathed in and out in slow, steady draws that drew his gaze to those luscious breasts while his fingers pressed into his thighs to fight the urge to fidget like a schoolboy in math class.
Mistress Jasmina flexed her foot, sending the black stile
tto to the floor with a tiny clatter. Purple polish glittered on her toes as she stretched out her leg and rested the flat of her foot on the ridge of his cock, making him hiss with the contact. As her toes massaged his hard-on, he glanced around the room, convinced every eye in the bar was on them.
“Look at me,” she commanded and dug her big toe into his scrotum with the most delightful pressure. “The only person you need to focus on is me.”
A moan caught in his throat and he nodded.
“I meant what I said about your time outside of the club belonging to you. But as of the moment you signed that contract, your body belongs to me. You will take care of yourself and come to me in the same, if not better, condition as how I left you. As for your cock,” his dick twitched beneath the sole of her foot, happy to be addressed, “you will not touch yourself in any way sexual without permission. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “Mistress.”
“Good. Before our appointment tomorrow you will trim down all the hair around your cock. Do not go down to bare skin.” She chuckled low in her chest. “You are not prepared for what will happen if you do.”
What was that supposed to mean? Did she mean physically or the punishment she’d met out if he disobeyed?
“I can’t wait to play with you,” she said, and drew back her foot, leaving him a hairsbreadth from coming in his pants, again. And he wasn’t supposed to find relief? Oh God, the torture had already begun.
She slipped her shoe on and rose to a stand, gathering her purse. She pushed the fingers of her right hand into his hair and stroked his scalp down and around his ear. Her thumb brushed his parted lips, and on her face he saw a calculating hunger like a lioness lying in wait while the hapless gazelle grazed in the brush, unaware that at any moment she was going to bounce and tear it apart.
Lord help him, he couldn’t wait.
“Until tomorrow, Captain.” She dropped her hand and walked away.
Like a magnet to metal, his head whipped around to follow her progress. His tongue about fell out of his mouth as he saw that the back of her dress was cut so low, the entire expanse of her spine was bared down to the dimples above her ass. Judging by the murmurs that erupted around him, he wasn’t the only one enjoying the view of her swishing hips.
He wiped the back of his hand around his mouth and motioned to Ari. “Can I have another Stella and the check, please?” He needed something to cool his boiling blood.
“Sure. But don’t worry about the bill. This is on Jasmine’s tab.”
“Really? Wow. I’ve never not paid before.” He was the man. The man was always supposed to pay. “That’s okay. I can still take care of it.”
She popped her hand on her hip. “Sweetie, if what just happened here is what I think just happened here, you are now a kept man. What Jasmine says, goes. And she’ll know that you paid.”
Dare he risk displeasing his Mistress? Or just sit back and enjoy being, as Ari said, a kept man?
He sat back with a smile. Well, there was a first for everything.
Chapter Six
Marco shook out his hands and arms like a swimmer preparing to dive into the deep end of the pool and let loose a nervous chuckle. Maybe he should do some stretches and warm-ups too. Who knew what the evening was going to bring, and judging be the room’s décor, he’d best be up for anything.
Frosted-glass wall sconces illuminated the room in a soft, candlelit glow. The effect was quite soothing. If only the racks of whips and floggers hanging against the caramel-colored suede walls, and the bars and pulleys suspended from the ceiling offered the same amount of comfort. Hell, just a tiny bit of comfort would be appreciated.
Was Mistress Jasmina going to break him in gently or tie him to one of the pieces of furniture in the room and have at him? Of the six pieces of leather-covered apparatuses, the only ones he recognized were a table and a chair.
“This is nuts, this is nuts, this is nuts,” he muttered to the giant armoire that sat locked in the corner. He knew it was locked because he had tried to take a gander at what was inside. Of course, if he had really wanted to get inside, he could have picked the lock, but it wasn’t a good idea to piss off his Mistress before they even begun.
The door opened without warning, and Mistress Jasmina stepped inside the room. Unsure of how to respond to her entrance, he reverted back to his police academy days and snapped to attention where he stood. Hands to his side, chest up, he faced forward and stared at a spot on the wall just over her shoulder.
From his peripheral vision he saw that she was, as his grandfather would say, dressed for bear. Black was still the predominant color of her outfit, but a red satin bustier replaced the see-through top, and the leather skirt was switched out for skintight pants that fed into thigh-high lace-up boots. If the idea was to torture him with making him work all those laces free to get to her covered pussy, he wasn’t going to last past the first boot.
Jasmina approached him in slow, crisscrossing steps. She had left her hair down so the ends curled around each breast, and her makeup was minimal except for that tantalizing red lipstick staining her lips. She circled him once before coming to a stop scant inches before him and regarded him with her princess expression in place.
“At ease, solider,” she said.
Marco released a sigh and shifted his weight to both feet as he clasped his hands behind his back.
“From now on, when you enter this room, you will wait for me on your knees, sitting on your feet, palms down on your thighs and gaze to the floor. Unless you are instructed otherwise, this is the position you take at all times. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You will also not speak unless instructed. The only sounds you are allowed to make without permission are sighs, moans, gasps, and any other sound of pleasure or distress. When we are in a scene and you have a reached a limit outside of your comfort zone, you will say the word ‘stop’.”
“Like a safe word?”
“In a way, except the only word you are allowed to use is stop. If I have you bound too tight, or you are feeling ill effects, let me know and we will pause to assess the situation. Be warned that if you say stop more than once, the scene ends immediately.”
He nodded in understanding then shouted when she reached out and twisted his nipple through his shirt.
“Ow. What was that for?”
“You had spoken without being asked. I didn’t ask if you understood.”
“I didn’t know we were starting,” he shot back.
All of the muscles in her face went lax, and in her eyes he saw disappointment as she went completely still. Her immediate withdrawal was like a bucket of cold water over his head.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Jasmina.”
She blinked once and reached to twist the other nipple.
He bit back a curse and was about to ask why, then realized he had spoken again without being asked. Message received. He’d have to figure out another way to ask for her forgiveness.
Since she hadn’t given him permission to move or speak, the only option left to him was to hang his head in shame. With each second that passed with nothing but the faint sound of their breathing filling the room, the fear that he had already crossed the point of no return created a band around his chest that tightened by the second. He felt like the dog that pissed the carpet and their master was chewing them out.
Except Jasmina didn’t shout. The icy silence closed in around him until he trembled with the need to drop to the floor, bury his head in her belly and beg for forgiveness. The urge was crazy. They had barely begun and already his emotions were all over the place.
The loss of control almost had him bolting for the door and then she moved. A slight shifting of her knees followed by her hand lifting to rest on the top of his bowed head. Her cheek brushed his as she whispered in his ear, “Take off your shoes and socks.”
His knees buckled with relief and the breath shuddered from between his lips
. He wasted no time slipping off his wingtips and socks while she took a seat on a low-slung chair. She crossed one leg over the other and settled her hands on the slanted arms.
“Shirt next followed by your pants. Fold them neatly and set them on that stool to your left.”
The plastic buttons of his shirt felt like ice against his fingers, and the cool air hitting his overheated skin was a welcomed respite. He stripped off his undershirt and set that on top of his shirt. The belt came next. He worked the zipper of his slacks over his erection, then drew the material down his legs, revealing his deep-purple boxer-briefs.
Jasmina gasped, and he saw a big grin curl her lips before she resumed her bored expression. That little crack in her cool as a cucumber demeanor released the weight of anxiety in his chest. He surprised her. He pleased her. If he did it once, he had the power to do it again.
He slid his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear then stopped. She hadn’t mentioned anything beyond removing his pants. He snuck a glance in her direction and saw the smile in her eyes.
“Take off those sexy briefs.”
He bit back his own grin and took off his last stitch of clothing. When no further instruction came, he dropped to his knees and set his palms against his thighs and lowered his head. Free from its confines, his cock stiffened further and rose in the air. The night before he had done as she asked and trimmed the hair around his dick, surprised at how much larger his cock appeared. Why hadn’t he been doing that his entire adult life?
From what he’d been told and had seen with his own eyes in the locker room, he possessed a decent-size cock. Not overly long, but it held a nice curve, and the ridge around the head was nice and thick, stroking all the best places once seated inside a tight pussy. Hey, he never had any complaints. However, Mistress Jasmina was a connoisseur of cocks and he hoped he impressed her with a good showing.
Like a panther rising from its resting place in the sun, she left the chair and walked toward him. She dug her fingers into his hair and stroked his scalp. God, his eyes closed, he could come from that touch alone.
Only at The Cavern Page 9