by Cynthia Dane
And yet she was disappointed when he began their dinner conversation by asking how her business was doing. “I still wish you would let me invest a little,” he said, eyes lingering on the twinkling rubies in the shawl he gave her. “Name something you want to add to this place and I will give you the money for it.”
Monica held his gaze. “You.”
Henry dropped his utensils and sat back in his chair. What was he thinking? That Monica was already too clingy and that he had made a mistake? That he didn’t want to talk about them at that moment, even though that was the whole point of this evening? I am ready for you to be my Master. Monica forced her visage to stay pleasant, or else she would frown.
“I’m afraid I’m not for sale, Monica.”
She tried to eat, but her body was too distracted by the movements of his arm, his impeccable posture, and that strong jaw chewing tomatoes and tasting wine. Ask me to do anything. Ask me to crawl beneath this table and suck you off. Monica never told people that one of her biggest kinks was getting a man off at the dinner table. She was a master of sliding her hand between thighs or disappearing beneath tablecloths. The game was intensified if her lover could maintain his demeanor and even carry on a conversation on the phone or with guests.
It was too soon to start doing that with Henry. Yet she had a feeling he would like it.
“Isn’t this wine delicious?” she asked, taking a sip before insisting on filling Henry’s glass up more. “It comes from…”
“Monica.” Henry’s voice gave her another chill – or perhaps it was the moonlit breeze tickling her skin again. “Come sit next to me.” He gestured to the empty spot between the table and the railing.
Happy to oblige, Monica shot out of her chair like an eager pup and dragged it forty-five degrees around the table. She didn’t bring her dinner with her… too much in a hurry to sit down and let her knee brush against Henry’s. “Yes, Mr. Warren?”
His knuckles brushed against her cheek, those piercing eyes digging through her own and toward her soul. Monica bit her lip to contain her excitement. Everything, from her chest to her thighs, responded with an alacrity of arousal she hadn’t felt since the last time she was in love.
Don’t think of him.
“I’ve thought about you constantly these past few weeks.”
Monica let her hand roam over his knee, but did not venture farther. “And I you.” His fingers pushed into her tight, fine hair, making it tug against her scalp and arouse her even more. Images of him bending her over the table and pulling her hair flashed before her eyes, and she knew her skin flushed to behold it. Spank me while you’re at it. Monica was far past due to have a proper spanking.
“I had to have my man drive me here tonight because my thoughts were so full of you, it was too dangerous to come alone. I sent him home. I hope that wasn’t presumptuous of me.”
“Not presumptuous at all. May I…?” Monica picked up his wineglass.
“You drink it.”
She wasn’t a sub to disobey. Some were. Girls like Sylvia desired to be brats even on the submissive end. They toyed with men by making them work harder to get them to obey. They both got off on it. Not Monica. Her greatest pleasure came from doing exactly as told. Such a goody two-shoes.
Still, would it be too much to ask him to take her right here, right now? Or at least to ask that Monica get acquainted with certain parts of his body? She was ready to bring him both emotional and sexual pleasure. She didn’t even need anything in return.
The wine was sweet on her tongue. But not as sweet as Henry Warren’s lips on her neck.
He kissed her as she drank the last of his wine. The glass slipped through her hand and landed on the table, her other hand bunching up her skirt to channel her frustration. “Shall we begin now?” she asked, hopeful. Monica couldn’t wait to throw off her public propriety and revert to her natural submission. She needed him to liberate her with his domination.
“Your perfume is exquisite,” he said, words rolling directly into her ear. Henry’s hand lingered on her breast. “I can barely contain myself. Do you know what I want to do to you right now?” Oh God, oh no, here came his hand sliding between her thighs and stroking the line of her slit. Monica whimpered, legs coming together and toes curling in her shoes. “Too many things to keep up with myself. I’m only one man. What can I do? I want to do everything with you.”
It took every ounce of strength she had left to reply. “You are one man, but I am a woman who can take many things. Deny me my pleasure. Force it upon me over and over until I’m so sensitive that I beg you to stop, and then keep doing it anyway. Whether you last five minutes or five hours, Mr. Warren, know that it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow is another day with more possibilities.”
“I certainly hope that I last more than five minutes.” He squeezed her thigh. “If I don’t, I’m sure there will be no problem doing it again tonight. You’re so beautiful, and being here with you wakes me up in ways I haven’t felt in years.”
“Please, Henry. I can’t wait any longer. The moment I told you that I was ready for you to take me was the moment I could no longer live without knowing your touch.”
“I’ll give you more than my touch, Monica. I’ll give you my words and my vigor. Every last bit of them. Do with them as you like.”
“And do with me as you like. The moment we walk into my room, I belong to you. Command me. Punish me. Reward me.”
He kissed her, shutting off her words, but not her passion. The scent and taste of wine lingered on their lips, but all Monica could taste was Henry’s essence, and all she could smell was that powerful cologne. I want it on my bed. I want to wake up every day this next week and smell him in my bed. Even better if she smelled like his cologne by the end of the night.
“I might ruin you.” Henry’s voice was low, but frantic, echoing in her ear in between frenzied kisses. “I might not be able to hold myself back. I’ll think of nothing but claiming you. Every part of you.” He squeezed her breast and bit her ear. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You cannot scare me tonight. You don’t understand… I need this. I need a man like you to own me tonight. Again and again. I’ll wait in between. Control and own me. I need it.”
“Not as much as I need you, surely.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
Dinner was called to an early end, which delighted Monica but also made her nervous. Organic escalations of a relationship were one thing. Last time had been organic. There was nothing to be nervous about in her bedroom, Henry’s cock about two seconds away from thrusting into her. This was planned. Monica didn’t know what he would do to her, but she did know that this was their initiation, and she wanted to die from anticipation.
They walked separately down the hall to her quarters. As she produced the key, however, she saw Henry stop in front of a closet-like door that said “PRIVATE, MDM. ONLY.”
“That’s a security room,” Monica said, fumbling for her key. “It’s…”
“Let’s watch for a bit.”
How did he know what it was? Monica approached the door and unlocked it with another key.
It was her personal surveillance room. In it, which was nothing more than a walk-in closet, were a dozen closed-circuit televisions letting her see every major room in the house. There was another security room that showed the public areas and the outdoors, manned by her security chief and his part-time deputies. This room, however, focused on the private areas, so Monica could make sure no awful business was going on in the girls’ boudoirs.
They knew about the cameras. Some of them even got off on them, although Monica rarely came in to keep an eye on things.
“Do your clients know about this?” Henry said the moment Monica latched the door shut behind them. He sat in the only chair in front of the TVs and zoomed right in on the one featuring Grace’s room.
“No, they don’t. These aren’t recorded to anything. Just a live
feed to make sure nobody’s actually getting hurt. Sometimes the girls don’t know when to report something.”
“I hope they don’t report this, because it’s damn fantastic.”
He pointed to the TV, and Monica leaned in to see what he meant. Should have guessed. It was Grace with Mr. Andrews. And Mrs. Andrews.
Henry pulled Monica into his lap as they watched. I’m not supposed to get off on this. She was human, and it couldn’t be helped. Grace was naked, bent over and chained to her wall while Mr. Andrews fucked her from behind, his hand coming down for a hard spank every few seconds. Even on that tiny camera Monica could see how red Grace’s ass was.
“Please tell me there’s sound.”
“No,” Monica said. She wished there was.
Mrs. Andrews slipped off Grace’s bed and approached the fornicating couple, her hand rubbing her husband’s bare chest before going to rub Grace’s bare back. I really need to charge them extra.
“Sex isn’t supposed to be expected, right?”
“No. It’s made clear to every man. Tying up, whipping, humiliation, that sort of thing… legal things.”
“That ain’t legal.”
“It is if they’re not specifically paying for it.”
“Do all those ladies fuck their patrons and clients?”
“The patrons? Yes. Not usually the clients. Unless they want to, but then they risk starting rumors that we’re an actual brothel.”
“Travesty.” Henry’s hand moved over Monica’s mouth, silencing her. She slid farther along his lap and leaned against his chest. “Now be quiet. I want to watch.”
So did Monica. Mr. Andrews was fit, albeit a bit older. He had good endurance too, apparently, since he had been going at Grace for a good three minutes now, and who knew how long before that. The spanking had stopped, but Grace continued to make faces that could only be from moaning in unexpected pleasure. He found her G-spot, I guess. No wonder Grace liked him so much.
He pulled out, still hard, and Mrs. Andrews unchained Grace from the wall. Her husband pulled her arm and brought his wife in for a kiss, their passionate embrace only foiled by the naked woman slumping over and grabbing Mrs. Andrews’s ankle. The well-to-do woman sank to her knees and began sucking her husband. Grace disrobed Mrs. Andrews, even going so far as to rub her breasts and kiss her shoulders.
It came as no surprise when Mr. Andrews took his wife to bed, pushing her down, half-dressed and spreading her legs. After having been inside another woman only a minute ago, Mr. Andrews was now inside his wife, and Grace came to them both, biting the wife’s nipples and rubbing her clit for her.
Something hard dug into the top of Monica’s ass. Henry’s breath was heavy in her ear, his hands groping her through her red dress.
She wanted to unzip him and ride him right there, letting her breasts slide against the table as they watched this threesome unfold, but Monica hadn’t been told to do anything but stay quiet. She took those kinds of commands seriously, especially when they came from a man like Henry Warren, whose large bulge was even harder now.
Mr. Andrews pulled out of his wife and tossed Grace over the side of the bed. He finished inside of her.
I want Henry to do that. Monica shouldn’t on their initiation. The code of conduct for the girls was to use a condom with all walk-in clients and for the first month with a patron. Monica should follow her own rules, but the temptation was too strong to know what her Mr. Warren felt like coming inside of her. Deep, deep inside of her.
She whimpered, grinding against his bulge as he continued to grope and kiss her. “Are you wet, Monica?” he asked, hand covering her mouth again. I won’t talk. You didn’t tell me to. “Because I’m so hard for you that I don’t want to wait any longer. Tell me!”
He released her mouth as she gasped and slammed her hands on the table. “Yes, Mr. Warren,” she said, reveling in his name like that. Henry liked it too, because his fingers dug into her flesh and threatened to push the short skirt of her dress up. “I’m ready.”
All it would take was three movements. Move her lingerie, take out his cock, and thrust upward. At this angle he could even pull her hair as he liked. Even spank her! “I’m ready too.” He released her. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t what she wanted, but she knew that’s what she needed. Henry opened the door and led her out. Monica barely had time to lock the door before she had to unlock the one to her chambers, Henry taking a look down the empty hallway before wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and whispering something into her ear.
“I’ll show you the night of your life.”
Chapter 9
A Long Lost Release
“Don’t move.”
Monica stood in front of her bed, staring at the swirls in her comforter as Henry Warren came up behind her and put his hands on her hips. She didn’t move, as told. Nerves were killing themselves inside her stomach, her chest, and her groin – all because Henry’s voice growled every time that head of dark blond hair came closer to destroying Monica’s sanity.
“I can’t tell if I should call you a princess…” Henry kissed the nape of her neck, his tongue trailing down to her bare shoulder and then the space between side and arm. “Or a queen.”
He undid her hair. Fine locks of chestnut landed on her shoulder and fell toward her breasts. The clip holding it all together dropped to the floor. “Call me whatever you want, Mr. Warren.”
“I like it when you say that.” Henry’s hands pushed beneath her breasts and lifted them up, making her cleavage even more ridiculous in that dress. Her zipper slowly came undone toward her rear. “Tonight you will call me Mr. Warren or sir. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I mean it, Monica.” His fingers were like daggers shooting into her flesh. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I would never. Disappointing you would break my heart.”
“Neither of us wants that. Now be silent and do as you’re told. Do that, and I’ll take care of your needs.”
Monica shivered for the millionth time that night. Her skin was on fire, her stomach broiling, and her heart fluttering so quickly she thought every breath would be her last. The anticipation would make her come before anything Henry did to her. Yet she said nothing, as told. I love being told not to talk. The real challenge came when her Doms told her to be silent during her orgasms. She hoped Henry wouldn’t do that tonight.
“Stay still.” Although gentle, his voice was still rigid. “I want to explore you.”
He sounded like an adventurer when he said that. The type of man who climbed mountains and tamed wild horses. I’m neither. She was a she-wolf queen inviting this stranger into her den for mating. A queen who usually had the reins, but tonight she was turning them over to this alpha male.
Henry poked his finger into the dip of her zipper, tickling the top of her rear. His teeth bit the shawl and pulled it off her back and arms. She saw it fly across the room and land on her dresser. The skirt of her dress pulled up over her rear, exposing her black lingerie.
Monica waited for him to tell her to bend over. Or to push his fingers inside of her because he wouldn’t believe any testimony as to how wet she was. Yet he didn’t do either. Instead he wrapped his arms around her midsection and pressed his hardness against her.
“Do you want it, my princess?” he asked, licking the tip of her ear. “You’re not a virginal princess, are you?” When Monica didn’t answer, he remembered his order and said, “You can answer that.”
“No, Mr. Warren. I’m not a virgin.”
“How many men have been inside you?”
“Inside me? Three.”
The silence killed her.
“I’m sorry, sir, it’s too many.”
“No, not at all. It’s a good amount of experience. I’m assuming you like it.”
“Very much so, sir.”
“And what do you like most, Princess?” Henry rubbed himself
against her, reminding her that he had something to offer besides money and conversation. “The size? The entry? The ending?”
“I like all three, Mr. Warren.”
He grasped her shoulders and pushed her down. Hair obscured her face as she looked toward her carpet, her lingerie straining against her slit. “Get down on your knees.”
The sound of another zipper coming undone thrilled Monica as she dropped, shoes kicking off behind her and hands helping her to turn around toward her Dom. My master. She didn’t want to say that out loud yet. That was too intimate.
Not as intimate as what she saw right in front of her face the moment she looked up again, however. Henry’s erect and ready cock was out.