Silence, as he cracked and whisked eggs, reaching into the fridge to pull out some yellow cheese to grate into the mixture. He poured it into the heating pan and turned to face her. She was serene faced, but he could sense her churning thoughts. He quirked a brow.
“Problem?”
“I think losing weight was the only bonus of the past year.”
“And your ribs show, as do your hipbones. I won’t allow you to gain too much, sweetheart. Respect your health.”
Blowing a breath past a tucked upper lip to lift stray hair from her face, Susan visibly swallowed back her dissention and made a stiff nod. He pulled her against him in the same movement as he gained her space, and tugged her head back, weaving a hand through the mass of hair. “In your best interest, sweetheart. Can you trust me on this?”
“Intense, much?” But there was acceptance to mingle with the softening in her remarkable eyes.
Setting her away from him, Maurice smiled back at her. “Go make the toast.”
* * * *
The remainder of the morning passed without another battle of wills. They primarily talked. Susan had any number of questions, and he was pleased to answer them all. He suspected she was both testing to see if he’d become impatient with her, and hoping to distract him from further discussion about her childhood.
“What will get me punished?”
“Disrespect, lack of trust, giving me cause to worry, dishonesty, coming without permission.”
“And you’ll…smack me with that paddle?”
He wanted to chuckle when she didn’t assert her intention to be perfectly behaved. “Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“It depends on the infraction.”
Uncertainty danced in those gentian eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll never strike you in anger, sweetheart. I’ll be angry, but in control of myself when I mete out your punishment. But I will chose the implement, match it to the crime. There won’t be any correction for day-to-day things, honest mistakes. You’re only human.” He didn’t add that her reaction to any failure to please him would likely be the worst punishment of all. Submissives measured themselves against how well they met their Doms’ needs by serving them.
“And what happens if you make a mistake?”
“I’m sure you’ll let me know, Susan. And I expect you to share, in that event. I hope to be able to read you, but you’ll share, too.”
“It sounds like a relationship that will run really smoothly.”
“It can. Most do. There are always adjustments, but I have faith.” He pressed her from her seat on the couch beside him to the floor, on her knees, where she rested, deep in thought. And, he hoped, total acceptance. He was already content. Aware, of course, that he’d have to be alert and prepared to deal with situations as they arose, but confident he could do so, and in return give Susan everything she required.
His thoughts drifted to dinner. Susan had to work that night, and he was going to ensure she had a good meal before she left. That meant precious little time for another sexual encounter, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Drifting his hand from where it rested on her head down over her shoulder and upper arm to cup her breast, he was rewarded with an intake of breath and the pebbling of the nipple.
“Kneel between my legs, sweetheart, and take me out.”
Shuffling into place with alacrity, Susan’s little hands eased open the buttons at his crotch, and his shaft leapt into her palms as though with a mind of its own. She looked to him and a surge of pride nearly overcame him, competing with his anxious cock.
“You have my permission to touch me.”
He thought about his first taste of liver, the time he’d hit the shower control with soap in his eyes and was deluged with the coldest water possible, and finally chewed on the inside of his cheek as she caressed every square inch of his erection with her fingertips. As she traced the heaviest vein from the root to the head, he couldn’t contain a shudder, and she glanced up at him from beneath the thicket of her lashes. All too aware of the effect she was having on him, and Maurice initially couldn’t muster enough dominance to put her in her place.
“Make your mouth wet,” he urged. “Really wet. Then put your lips around the head only.”
The sensation of that full mouth closing around him was everything he hoped for—and more. Having his One on her knees before him, worshiping his cock, was sublime, and he hadn’t even taught her how to bring him off yet.
“Hands on the cushion for support.” He pushed his own hands into her hair, cradling her skull in his big palms, and pushed her down on him. “Keep your lips tight.”
She wasn’t a natural. Susan struggled to take him, somehow managing to hold her mouth closed around him even as she tried to fight his hold. Her eyes filled with tears, and she sucked in great gusts of air through her nose. And Maurice loved her more than he could comprehend.
“I won’t choke you, sweetheart. Relax your jaw and the back of your throat. Relax and don’t fight me.” He had to grit additional instructions and encouragement through clenched teeth as her untutored efforts pulled the cum up from his balls with greater speed and effectiveness that any other woman ever had, and Maurice had been blessed with countless blow jobs.
Stroking a finger down the side of her throat in warning, he spoke it, too. “I’m going to come in your mouth. Swallow.”
He spurted in waves against her frantic gulping and made no attempt to hide his pleasure, a groan so loud it reverberated around the room, emanating from his chest. He gently pulled Susan back and watched as his spent cock slipped from her mouth and she stared up at him. Maurice tucked himself away, then leaned forward and took her lips, registering his own salty spunk before he tasted her own sweetness.
“You okay?” He hoped so, because that was going to happen with frequency.
“I think so.” Susan pressed her hand to her mouth and blinked. “I’m not exactly experienced with blow jobs.”
“No complaints here, sweetheart.”
Once again, a subtle look crossed her beautiful face, an awareness of her effect on him, but more. The look of a submissive who had served well. Maurice desperately wanted to reward her with five or six orgasms, but Susan had to work that evening and he respected the impact they’d have on her ability to function.
“Climb up here, Susan.” He patted the couch cushion and observed as she rose to her feet in a graceful movement to perch beside him.
Tipping her back, her hair flowing to cover the fabric, he lifted one foot to set it up on the back of the sofa, allowing the other leg to drift sideways, the foot flat on the floor. Her eyes widened as she became aware of how open she was to both his view and his touch.
“I don’t have to tell you to hold your position.”
“No. No, Sir.”
She was already wet. He hoped blowing him had aroused her, although truth to be told he hadn’t paid enough attention, too focused on his own pleasure, bad Dom. But he could hope. Her position was exciting her, however. Additional moisture coated her folds, and he used one hand to part them, using a finger to track up and down her slit, first teasing at her anus, then back up to coax her clit from its hood. Her hips lifted in response, and he smacked her thigh.
“Hold position!”
Her eyes drifted shut, and he demanded she look at him, falling into the depths of those blue pools as she processed his play in her pussy.
Pressing two of his fingers hard up inside of her had her blinking, and she whimpered, then cried out when he found her G-spot, hooking a fingertip to rub at the spongy surface. He rotated his thumb and placed it directly on top of her clit, using tiny, flickers of movement to keep it stimulated and begging.
Her cream flowed past his intrusive fingers, and he drenched his middle finger in it, then worked it into her back entrance.
“God!” Susan clenched hard against him to keep him out, but lubricated as he was, and determined,
he sank in to the webbing of his palm. He paused, allowing her to adjust to being filled, but kept up the gentle torment of her clit.
Susan looked at him beseechingly, and her little white teeth worried at her bottom lip. “Please.”
“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?”
“I don’t know!” It was almost a wail.
“Tell me.”
“I want to come.”
“There, that wasn’t so difficult. Fuck my hand then.”
As if unleashed, she worked her hips and pelvis against his digits, both channels gripping him with intensity. She panted with need, and whimpered and pleaded. Maurice waited for her to recognize she had little control over her release, and it came quicker than expected.
With a final clench she gave him a look of despair. Immediately, he pressed hard on her overburdened clit, now swollen to maximum proportions, and scraped her G-spot. “Wait for my command.”
Susan arched from the couch, and her eyes rolled back, her mouth agape on a scream as her sheath rippled in orgasm and her rectum spasmed around his finger. His hand was drenched in her cum, and he feathered her clit to calm it while she settled back.
Carefully pulling out of her, he eased her legs together and dropped the afghan his mother had made over Susan, before going to clean up. When he returned with a cloth to cleanse between her legs, she was back to herself, if still in the same position.
Allowing him to swab her clean, with none of the protests he might have expected, she spoke his name. “Maurice?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Are all my orgasms going to be dependent on you?”
“They are.”
“Is that something you’d punish me for? If I…you know, came when you weren’t around?”
“Indeed. If you come without permission. I own every part of you.”
“But I just did. Come without permission, that is.” She bit her lip as though wishing to recall the words.
“Yes, you did. I’ll come up with something to ensure you ask, but not right now. You need a meal before I take you to work. Go shower and dress. I’ll put something together.”
Her head tilted as she considered what he’d said, and his sadistic side rubbed its figurative hands together. Susan wouldn’t often forget to ask permission or wait for it to be given, especially when she found out the repercussions. In the meantime, she’d think about what those repercussions were. He’d rewarded her for the skill with her mouth, but he was still in charge of when she came.
Watching her full buttocks sway from the room, her back stiff with either umbrage or anxiety, Maurice folded up the afghan and headed to the kitchen.
Chapter Six
The next few weeks both crawled and blurred past. Susan alternated between occasional bouts of annoyed bewilderment and a sense of relaxation and well-being, although her times with Maurice were equally fraught with insane passion and desire. Ray arranged for an older bookkeeper—a man—to meet with her and learn the ropes, or at least the ropes the way she’d organized the books at Kelby’s. She saw her hours cut back, and perhaps because she was nearly on top of her debt she viewed it as a tradeoff. She was able to spend more time with Maurice, both at the Club and out of it. Not that she’d ever infer the time was a trade-off. She deserved a love life, a sex life, no matter it didn’t compare to anyone else’s she knew outside of the Club.
It was a rather enervating emotion, feeling worthy of something outside of a crushing work schedule and only her own thoughts for company in her limited time off. She spent all of her nights away from her work at the bar with Maurice, primarily because she worried about him burning the candle at both ends, driving her to the floral shop in the morning and taking her to Kelby’s, somehow managing to pick her up after the bar closed, then returning back to his position at Pleasure. She was aware he was manipulating her, subtly, but it didn’t matter. She wanted him well and happy, and if it meant abandoning her mother’s home for the time being, she could deal with it.
The twenty-four-seven D/s relationship he required was actually a no brainer in so many respects. He made her aware of his expectations and demands, and she accommodated him, not required to focus on the mundane, having clear-cut directions. And his response was consistent. She knew what to expect, and it was such a relief not to have to defend against the unknown that she willingly slipped deeper and deeper. It was her choice to allow him to own her.
Felicity had no concerns, and that reassured Susan more than anything. No one with half a brain and eyes in their head could miss how determined and confident Maurice was. He projected those qualities. Susan knew she calmed and became submissive and compliant the instant he entered the shop at the end of her work day, and considering Felicity’s hard-nosed businesslike approach to both her work and life, Susan had wondered how her boss might respond.
Felicity made only one remark, indicating how Susan had lost that frantically exhausted air, and credited Maurice with taking good care of her. Missy, within earshot, made a snarky little sound, and Susan had given her the look of a sexually satisfied woman, secure in her allure and role with her man. Overall, life was good.
She was well aware Maurice expected her to give notice at all her places of employment and move in with him to become his complete twenty-four-seven submissive wife. He made no secret of his plan. The old Susan would have been concerned about paying her own way, but in fact understood they would stand as equals in the relationship, no matter the defined roles and income or lack thereof.
Lois had turned out to be a kind friend, whenever she could carve any time away from her own Doms. They managed to have tea on two occasions and did see one another at Pleasure a few times, although the contact was brief. Susan had taken advantage of the older woman’s offer of calling whenever she wanted to talk—or had questions about the lifestyle—but she couldn’t make time during the day, and Lois was behind a concerned barrier of male in the evenings, worried their sub wasn’t resting enough. So their phone conversations were limited.
She connected with a few of the other submissives, attached and unattached, chatting quietly in the lounge area at the feet of their Doms, or clustered together in the “claimed” section. That may well have appeared quite feudal to the outsider, but Susan welcomed the security. She had no concerns about interacting with any of the other Doms or fending off unwelcome overtures as had happened in the past when she’d been out with her friends. Maurice had a job to do, and she couldn’t very well work the door with him, so she waited in the claimed section, content to do so. It was rare she had only her thoughts for company, but that would have been okay, too, because she thought primarily about Maurice.
The Club was indeed a hotbed of gossip, and Master Jordan and his sub Emily were most recently at the heart of it. Whenever Susan saw the slight, blonde sub, her heart ached for the sadness etched on the young woman’s face. She wasn’t sure if approaching Emily was copacetic, and upon asking Maurice, he’d advised her to let Emily come to her. All he would share was that Emily wanted more from Master Jordan than the Dom was prepared to give, and he suspected one of them would be moving on in the not-so-distant future.
Learning far more about the various aspects of the Lifestyle than she could ever learn merely by reading, although that had given her a base, Susan listened and observed. Almost all the submissives were nervous around Maurice, and some were downright afraid of him. They seemed to view her with awe, and a couple had quietly inquired as to her punishments. Neither appeared to believe her when she shared there weren’t any. And it was true. So far. Apart from that introductory spanking for her so-called disrespect about Lois that first night, and the repercussion for coming without permission, well, her relationship with Maurice had gone smoothly. And she was content, as she believed he was.
She didn’t want to think about the correction for coming without permission, but it wasn’t like she’d let it happen again. She hoped. She’d waited nearly a week for that correction, alternating bet
ween obsessing about it and hoping he’d forgotten. Like her Dom would forget anything.
“Susan?” She yanked herself out of her reverie and focused on Felicity.
“Sorry?”
“I asked you if you can work Saturday. Ken has tickets for the game and wants me to watch the kids for him and Grace.”
“Of course.”
“Maurice’ll be okay with it?”
“Yes.” Susan quickly referenced the date book in her head. “We don’t have anything planned.”
“You don’t have to check?”
“No. He understands it’s my job.”
“For how much longer?”
“What do you mean?”
Her boss motioned her into her office, and Susan followed, taking the client chair. Felicity regarded her with a quizzical narrowing of her eyes.
“He ask you to marry him yet?”
Susan briefly considered equivocating then gave it up as a bad job. Maurice had probably picked the date and knew exactly the type of ring, and likely even the venue. She was on birth control, too, a real sign of commitment for her. “Not yet.”
“And you won’t be working.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“You’re okay with that?”
“I am, Felicity. Not very modern woman I know—”
“Honey, you’re just like your mom. She was the quintessential June Cleaver. You know, that stay-at-home mom and best ever housewife back in the time. If your dad had been worthy of her and lived up to standards, well…”
Susan found herself tearing up. That was how she remembered her mom, too, until her father, if one could even bestow that honorarium on a man who abandoned his wife and child for a younger, wealthy woman, but not before successfully chipping away at every bit of self-worth her mom possessed. She grabbed a tissue and mopped at her eyes.
“He destroyed her.”
“And tainted your opinion of men in general, no doubt.”
Until Maurice. “He did.”
Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 12