by Lilia Moon
She’s still squirming. “I know you’re the Dom and you get to choose, but if we’re trying to find space we can play in together, then…” She trails off and looks down. “I guess I should just tell you that after we’re done, like usual. And probably you’ll know anyway.”
“Maybe.” I’m thinking hard, because we’re navigating something harder and more important than a training lesson here—and I’m totally turned on that she’s pushing us into this much analysis. I’ve been a geek Dom since the first time I saw a spanking bench, but that’s not a place very many people like to meet me. I can see the glint in Mattie’s eyes. She likes this. The depth of thinking. Following threads, finding clarity. Which we haven’t found yet, but even the process is building something that matters. “I don’t want this to turn into vanilla play, where you have to tell me your likes and dislikes at every turn.”
She shudders.
I grin. I haven’t totally lost it. “And you’re right, I’ll know if you’re enjoying something or not. But I won’t necessarily know whether it would be hard or easy for you to shift gears to meet my needs.” I don’t want to leave the land of gray myself and put her there instead.
I can see the relief on her face.
Complicated rules for complicated play. I give her a lopsided grin and tie off the last loose end. “Okay. So if I say purple because I want to head deeper into something, you give me a green, yellow, or red. If I say gray because I’m in blah territory as a Dom, you give me a green if it’s fine to change tracks, and a blue if it will be sad for you to leave where we are.” That’s a ridiculously long list of color signals, one I’d never normally lay on any sub, but with what we’re about to do, it feels necessary.
She smiles. “I can remember blue.”
I slide my Dom card into its slot. “These extra colors apply to scenes where we agree to use them beforehand only. And I get to decide what happens when you say blue. Maybe I change tracks anyhow and you just need to deal.” Or maybe I find some way to change things up that will work better for both of us, but if we’re about to play on my couch, and I suddenly very much want to, she needs a Dom who has at least a few of his standard-issue wits engaged.
Her smile gets bigger—and softer. Her sub, stepping seamlessly into place. “Yes, Sir.”
I have literally no idea what we’re going to do now, but that doesn’t matter. I have ten years of tricks up my sleeve and this is my living room. I slide over onto my footstool and tap the couch. “Stretch out, on your belly, face pillowed on your folded arms, eyes closed.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mattie
My body’s already moving before he finishes his words. I try to remember the last time I did a scene in jeans, a sweatshirt, and wooly socks, and barely manage not to laugh.
His hand lands between my shoulder blades as I lie down, his breath sliding by my right ear. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m kind of overdressed.”
“Second-guessing your Dom already, are you?”
Shit. “No, Sir.”
“Good.” His hand moves down my spine slowly, stroking me like a cat. Then his fingertips slide in under the hem of my hoodie, and I realize just how little its relaxed fit is going to do to keep him out. His fingers pause, stroking in small, tight circles on the small of my back, his palm pressed down firmly on my tailbone over my jeans.
I pull in a shaky breath, because suddenly my clit has no problem at all imagining those fingertips facing the other direction.
He changes the movement of his fingers to a rhythmic, contained rocking motion at just the speed I like. Or I would if they were somewhere else, anyhow. I try not to move, because I don’t know his rules yet, and because if he’s one of those Doms who likes to tease, the last thing I want to do is provide him with more ammunition.
He switches his fingers back to the small, tight circles. “Today, you don’t need to be quiet or still. I want to see your reactions. All of them.”
I groan softly into my elbow.
He chuckles. “Better, thank you.”
My clit has lots of thoughts on how to make this better. Which is weird, because my mind isn’t usually this full of distracting ideas. Then again, most of the Doms I play with would be swishing a paddle through the air by now. I’m not a sub who expects a lot of foreplay. Or a lot of sexual play, for that matter.
Except we’ve agreed to check our expectations at the door.
I groan again and let my hips wiggle just the slightest bit. I want something… else.
He presses gently into my tailbone, releases.
My mind is all too happy to transfer that movement to more sensitive places.
“Tell me.” His mouth is back by my ear again. His words are soft, but the demand is absolute. “What are you imagining right now, Mattie?”
My brain stutters. He should be insisting on my attention, not encouraging the distractions. I open my mouth to say so and freeze in horror. This is a scene. I don’t talk back to a Dom in a scene, ever. Even a guy who thinks he might not be one won’t take that well.
“Color?” His voice is calm, his palm still rocking my tailbone in a way that has my hips itching to respond.
Confused, but that’s not a reason to stop. And whatever else might be going on, he has my body very interested. “Green.” I push up into his fingers. “Purple.” Which isn’t one of the colors I’m supposed to be using, but my inner sub wants her say. She’s interested. Curious about what else those fingers might do.
“Good.” His hands move to my hips and slide under, headed straight for the front of my skinny jeans. He makes quick work of the button and zipper and peels my jeans down to my knees. I gasp as he lifts my hips again and slides a small pillow under. I’m suddenly a lot more exposed than I was. Which isn’t anything new for me as a sub, but I’m suddenly acutely aware that this isn’t the club.
He puts his hand back exactly where it was, palm on my tailbone, this time over my flimsy excuse for underwear. His fingers return to making small, clit-wetting circles on my lower back.
I let the shiver happen.
“If this is your scene, your fantasy, what happens next?”
I’m restrained around my knees and my mostly naked ass is waving in the air. “You start warming up my skin. A light spanking maybe, or a massage.”
He makes a small, amused sound. “And if I’m not quite such a one-track Dom and this is entirely your fantasy that can go anywhere you want it to?”
I’m not supposed to be the one choosing, and it’s like ants crawling across my brain that he’s asking, but his fingers are making me wish for crazy things. “You’d turn your hand around and touch my clit just like that.”
He keeps his palm on my tailbone and slides his fingers slowly around, massaging as he goes. They slide right in under the lace of my underwear and trace a lazy spiral down the crack between my ass cheeks.
I groan as they slide into the folds of my pussy. I’m so wet. So. Wet. Because of a scene that’s hardly begun. One where I’m still wearing a hoodie and wool socks and all he’s asked me to do is imagine.
He puts one fingertip on each side of the much smaller hoodie that covers my clit and rocks gently.
I moan, which is entirely unnecessary information, because we can both feel me soaking his hand.
“You’re so responsive. It’s beautiful. What happens next in this fantasy, Mattie?”
Gah. I don’t want to have to talk. To say. It feels like it will break something that’s just begun to grow, something that my body desperately wants. But my Dom’s asked me a question, and I’m far too well trained not to answer. “Your one hand keeps doing that. Your other hands starts to spank me. Just easy. Turning my ass nice and pink.” So that I’m ready for a paddle or a flogger or a cane, but I don’t say any of that. He’ll know.
And no matter what we’ve supposedly checked at the door—I don’t think he wants to do any of those things.
Chapter Twenty-Five
&
nbsp; Milo
I can feel her fear. She’s done exactly what I’ve asked her to do, and she’s afraid we’re going to break right here, right now, with her wet and squirming under my fingers.
I’m ashamed, because I’ve let her believe I’m that kind of Dom. That kind of man.
I take a deep breath and move my free hand to her ass. Time to get creative, because she’s not wrong. I don’t want to head this at a flogging. I can feel the truth of that deep in the part of me that’s been craving to escape the cage I’ve built for myself.
I check in with how I’m feeling. Fast, because I’ve got a wet, willing, scared sub in my care. I slide my fingers up the sides of her clit, pressing them together firmly. She groans into her elbow again, and this time I can hear the beginnings of frustration.
She’d be so glorious to edge. She’s massively responsive, and part of me wants to go there because I can. Because I want to. Because it’s comfortable.
But this is supposed to be an experiment, and heading straight for my favorite kink is the worst kind of chickening out. I take another breath and leap off the cliff instead. I squeeze her clit between my fingers and circle again, and this time the moan is longer and a lot more needy. I brush my other hand over the sweet spot of her ass cheek. “Tell me how I strike you, Mattie. Where. How hard.”
She squeaks as I apply more pressure to her clit. “Uh, you start lower down. Near my thighs. Just swats with your fingers. Letting me know you’re there. Where we’re going.”
I let my hand stroke where she’s indicated. No spanking. Just touch, anchoring this fantasy to her skin. “And then what?”
I can feel her surprise as she figures out where I’ve taken us. I rock her clit back and forth, upping the pressure. Grin as her pussy soaks my fingers again. There are rewards down this path, brave and worthy sub. Come with me.
She sucks in a shaky breath. “You move in a figure-eight with your swats, one side to the other. Not too hard, just barely turning my skin pink.”
I trail my hands in the shape she’s named, curving around one seat bone, then the other. I rub a wet, slick figure-eight over her clit for good measure.
“You like how it looks.” Her voice is thready. “The pattern you’re making on my ass. The way you can smell my arousal. The little sounds I make when your hand lands and when it goes away.”
She’s making them now, and my cock has jumped to wild attention. My brain is even more aroused. This is her fantasy, and she’s still thinking about how it affects me.
She pushes into the fingers on her clit and moans, long and low and a little desperate. “Then I move my hips, trying to get your hand to land a little harder, and you tug on the chain to my nipples and tell me to be still.”
I’m not even sure I have any nipple clamps at home, but I’ve never been more aware of how much of kink is mental. I slide a hand under the side of her sweatshirt, and she rolls up onto an elbow, a deeply willing participant in this fantasy. I scoop in under stretchy lace and tweak the nipple I can reach, hard.
She pushes into both my hands, so very close. “I can’t hold still, Sir. I can’t.”
I keep her nipple between my fingers. “Sounds like someone needs a paddling.”
“Please, Sir. Yes. Hard and fast. Don’t make me wait.” Her ass is wiggling hard enough that if I was actually trying to paddle it, I’d have to tie it down.
My fingers track her clit, pressing just hard enough to let her own movements make her crazy. I growl a warning. “Hold still, Mattie, or your ass is going to be so red you can’t sit down for a week.”
She freezes, and I roll her nipple hard with one hand and her clit with the other.
She explodes into my fingers, and something in my Dom heart explodes along with her. Because for the first time in a long time, a sub is letting go for me— and I’m entirely happy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mattie
Shit. I have an orgasm roaring through me, and I’ve just come without permission. Which we didn’t explicitly talk about, but still. I’m not a newbie. I try to gather myself. To apologize. To behave. To deal with whatever he’s about to dish out as a consequence for my abysmal lack of control.
And then I hear his laugh. He sounds amused. Delighted, even. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare apologize for that.” His fingers are still moving in my pussy. Drawing out the ripples. Encouraging them. “In fact, accept mine, for taking over your fantasy.”
He did it on purpose.
I grin into my elbow, even as his fingers keep stroking me and the aftershocks pulse through my body. Of course he did. This is no baby Dom, not even close. I let myself rock into his fingers a little—and then I remember what we’re supposed to be doing. What we’ve agreed to. I clear my throat and ask a question I’ve never asked. “Color, Sir?”
He leans down and kisses my ass cheek. “Green. Purple. Happy.”
Something inside me melts a little at his words. Or maybe even melts a lot.
His fingers move more slowly. Easing off. “I’d love to take that further, but we need to chat, okay?”
I don’t want to move. Don’t want his hands to leave me, and that’s a shock on several fronts. This shouldn’t feel done—it should barely feel started. And yet I’m okay to stop. Okay to talk. I just don’t want him to take his hands away.
He leans over and brushes his fingers down the curve of my chin. “How are you doing?”
I can feel my goopy, sated grin. “That was a really nice quickie.” And it was, no matter what my brain thinks about it. Bodies don’t lie, and mine is really pleased with him right now.
He tugs on the waistband of my jeans, which is still twisted around my knees. “On or off while we talk?”
I wiggle around on his couch until I’m on my back. “Off. I don’t think I’ve been fully dressed for aftercare ever.”
He grins. “There’s a first time for everything, but I’m pretty fond of naked sub in my lap.”
My melty parts do their thing again as he works my pants the rest of the way off. I have no idea if he’s a cuddler, but he’s clearly picked up that I am.
He tosses my jeans and wool socks onto a nearby chair and pulls me up to sitting. He puts his hand on the bottom edge of my sweatshirt, a question in his eyes.
Damn. He really pays attention. I nod slowly, touched. I like skin time. Some subs like to be wrapped in a blanket for aftercare. I like to be wrapped in my Dom. Even after a scene so short that some of me is still trying to argue that it shouldn’t really count.
Milo frowns lightly, and then he peels off my sweatshirt and his shirt. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing and takes me over to his recliner. I cuddle into his chest and let him mess with the chair controls, wrap us in a fuzzy brown cloud of a blanket, hand me a bottle of water. Then he runs a knuckle down my cheek. “What was that last thought you had?”
That would be the hard part of a Dom who pays attention. “I know that was a really short scene, but it felt amazing. I liked it, a lot. But the part of me that’s used to being a club sub is muttering some silly things in my head about how maybe it wasn’t real. Which isn’t true, and I don’t feel that way.” I grimace. “Or I guess part of me does, and I’m not very happy with that part.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Thank you. I want to talk about all of that, but let’s start with the part of you that’s uncomfortable. That voice, what does she think is a real scene?”
I don’t want to talk about this. It gets too close to why I’m not sure I should be in his lap at all. I cuddle into his warmth instead and resist the urge to run my hands over the surprising muscles pressed up against my side. “The kind I usually do. With lots of impact play and quite a bit of time involved and maybe a quick orgasm at the end.” I’m listening to my own thoughts, and I can feel myself shifting from avoidance to curiosity. “Those scenes are more about moving stuff through me, about clearing energy. I’m not used to feeling like I did today.”
I can feel him smiling i
nto the top of my head as his hand runs down my back. “How were you feeling today?”
I blow out a shaky breath, even as I lean back into his touch. “My needs were a lot more sexual. Even for the spanking part, I wanted you touching me. Arousing me.” I wrinkle my forehead and squirm on his lap at the same time, because I’m freaking getting wet again. “I usually pick my partners more for kink chemistry, I guess.”
He nods slowly. “And you work with the trainees, where there’s not necessarily any sexual chemistry at all.”
I tip my head into his collarbone, acutely aware of how much warm, hard, naked skin is pressed up to mine. “You snuck up on me, somehow. I wasn’t expecting this.”
He wraps his arms around me tighter and gives my needy parts some really nice counter-pressure with his leg. “This is a good problem to have.”
Maybe. I’m still processing, and I’m not sure what to think. I can’t really think at all with my pussy whimpering for more contact. I rock my hips, trying to get there.
He groans. “You’re killing me, Mattie. We’re supposed to be talking.”
His hands are still helping my pussy grind against him. “I could put my jeans back on.”
“You could. Or I can put my hand between your legs and hold you on the edge of orgasm for the next couple of hours.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Milo
Her head tips up and her eyes flash wide and wary—but her breath hitches. “I’ve tried edging. It doesn’t really work for me.”
I don’t usually go all arrogant Dom, but the gorgeous, responsive woman in my lap is bringing out all kinds of things in me today. “I don’t edge the way most Doms do. You don’t like having to control when you come, right?”