by Livia Grant
“Okay,” she sighed. Sweet and obedient, as he knew she could be. His balls were way past blue. It was going to be torture, holding her all night, but he wasn’t about to let her go.
“Chessie,” she said sleepily.
“Hmm?”
“My friends call me Chessie. I like it better.”
“Chessie.” Soft and unique, like her. “Go to sleep, beautiful.”
Chessie woke in an empty bed. For a moment she wondered if anything had happened last night, or if she’d just scored some bad weed and fallen asleep to the director’s cut of Fifty Shades of Grey. When she moved, she felt the soreness in her core and legs, and little chocolate wrappers fell off her bed.
Not a dream, then.
Last night had been amazing. And hard. She still didn’t know what she thought about it all. She wanted to talk with someone about it, but a part of her was relieved that Master Kane – Preston, or Senator Kane, or whatever the hell she was supposed to call him in a normal setting – was already gone.
A part of her was pissed... and disappointed.
Mincing across the floor to the bathroom, she realized she was walking funny and almost laughed out loud. Her inner thighs ached, though a quick peek in the mirror proved that her bare mons was a little red and inflamed, but none the worse for wear. Her ass cheeks and breasts had a few fine marks. She wouldn’t be rubbing one out anytime soon, but once she had a hankering for an orgasm – and her pussy had recovered – she had plenty of masturbation material ready. All she had to do was close her eyes and think of the Kane…
A clanging sound made her jump. It wasn’t Gangbang, the overactive radiator. It came from the kitchen…
She rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks at the beautiful sight of Senator Kane, barefoot in black slacks and his white button down shirt, wiping her counter with a sponge.
“I broke an egg.” His lush lips broke into a heart-stopping smile, and her pussy woke up all over again. A frying pan sizzled angrily on the stove.
Silently, she padded to the tiny breakfast nook, moved a pile of junk mail and Mina’s magazines, sat down, and watched Senator Kane cook her breakfast.
“You sleep okay?” he asked over his shoulder.
She nodded. “You?”
He wrinkled his nose. “That radiator is really loud.”
“Yeah.”
“Warm though. What do you like in your omelet? I found eggs, tomato, cheese – I figured you wouldn’t mind if I went ahead and raided your fridge. You need protein.”
Her brain scrambled. “Um, everything but cheese. Thank you.”
“I would’ve made coffee but couldn’t find your filters.”
“We have a French press. I’ll get it.” She rose, happy for a chore that would wake her up a little. After all the awful and wonderful things Kane had done to her, being in the kitchen with him was a little disconcerting. “French roast okay?”
“Egg-cellent,” he purred and it was so ridiculous she laughed.
“Puns will get you tarred and feathered around here.”
He bumped her hip lightly as she stood beside him. “Maybe I'd like that.”
“Kinky,” she teased. “Can I jump in the shower real quick, before breakfast? I just want to rinse off. I’ll be out before the coffee brews.”
“Sure. I’ll keep these warm.” He caught her hand before she walked away. “Come here.”
Trepidation flickered through her, followed by a sense of peace at his confident touch. He brought her to stand in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. Not an intimate touch, but it still sent butterflies through her stomach, even as it calmed her mind.
“You doing okay?”
“Yes,” she ducked her head. “Um, I’m a little sore, but in a good way.”
“Good.” His gaze dropped to her lips and for a wild moment she hoped he’d kiss her. Instead, he drew her in for a little hug. “Last night was everything I had hoped for, and more,” he said. He pressed his lips to her hairline for a brief second before he released her. “Go get your shower. When you come back, we can talk.”
Knees weak, it was a wonder she made it to the bathroom, where she stripped and rinsed off in record time. God, but she wanted him. She didn’t have any doubts about that, anymore. She really hoped he’d stay.
What if he didn’t want her? What if he did?
It took her as long as the walk to her closet to make a decision. Kane had spent the night and given her a hug. She’d spent too long denying herself. It was time to go for what she really wanted.
When she returned to the kitchen, she wore a short, silky robe, and nothing underneath. Kane’s eyes lit at the sight of the robe – at knee length really not much more than a negligee – but he said nothing at first. Instead, he served her eggs and coffee, waiting for her to taste them before grabbing his own plate.
“You’re spoiling me.”
“I believe in treating a lady like a queen. Unless she wants otherwise.”
“About last night.” Chessie cleared her throat. “How did you know what I needed?”
He shrugged. “I just tried to read you, see what turned you on. I tried things and if you enjoyed them, I went a bit further. I actually need to apologize. I may have gone a bit too far.”
“I liked it though.” She felt that wistful uncertainty again. “I don’t know why I like it. I used to think something was wrong with me.”
“What if we thought about this a different way? You’re a successful lobbyist. An intelligent, educated woman. You probably have a to-do list a mile long.”
“Ten miles long.”
“So, it’s simple physiology. Your frontal lobe is too engaged during sex.”
“The what-?” she asked before she recognized he was talking about areas of her brain.
Leaning forward, he tapped her forehead. “The reasoning part of your brain. You need to turn this off, and get to the primal part of your brain. That’s where your orgasms live. And having someone take control during sex is just the thing you need. If I were a doctor I’d prescribe it once a day and twice on Sundays.” He sat back with a Cheshire grin.
“But... last night, I had the shakes... what was that?”
“Sub drop. Endorphins flooded your system, and when they left your brain went through withdrawal. You crashed.”
“Like from a drug.”
“Yes. A totally natural self-induced drug. You know why marathoners run?”
“They like pain?”
“The body’s response to pain. The runner’s high. It’s addictive. That’s why there are crowds that flock to a big race, and a line outside Black Light’s door.”
Kane watched his sub sit curled in her chair, her beauty framed in the soft morning light. Her brain was working, that overactive hamster spinning in its wheel, running the maze, and coming to its conclusions. She’d either agree and say something brilliant that summed up all his blathering in one eloquent phrase, or call bullshit and kick him out on his ass. He really, really hoped it wouldn’t be the latter.
“That makes sense,” she mused. “It’s like skydiving. It’s dangerous, but with the right instructor, I’ll reach the ground safely, and on the way down, let go and fly.”
She took his breath away.
She pinned him with her gaze. “But what do you get out of it?”
“Assisting you with the high. Serving you. Controlling your responses. What does a man get out of driving a Ferrari?”
“He gets laid.”
“Bingo.” He couldn’t resist leaning forward and tapping her nose to break her dry expression. She had a few freckles there. “There are a lot of things I get – including a high akin to subspace. Different part of the brain. I have a folder of research I can send to you.”
“Ooh, research. Careful, senator. Talking data with me is like foreplay.”
Her elegant foot stroked up his calf.
He closed his hand around it, stopping its ascent but keeping it in his lap. He kneaded it a lit
tle as she looked out from under her lashes at him.
“So I just have to say ‘randomized, double blind study’ and I can have my way with you?”
Her head tipped back and her laugh bubbled out of her, natural; the sound made him complete.
“Scientific dirty talk,” he mused. “I can handle that.”
“Can you, senator? I was under the impression that your political party doesn’t even grasp the basics of ecology, not to mention a woman’s anatomy. Unless they’re groping it.” She pointed a finger. “If you say ‘not all men’, I will shishkabob you with my roommate’s shoe.”
“Ooh. No thanks, love. Anal penetration is one of my hard limits.”
She laughed again, but then got serious. “So it can be like this? Sitting around, talking, playful banter?”
“Honey, it can be however you want.” The wistful look in her eye twisted his heart – and gave him courage. “Now I need you to do something for me.”
She gave a him a curious look.
“Lose the robe. Sit with your feet apart. I want to see that pretty pussy while I clear the breakfast dishes.”
And so it began.
Heat flared into her cheeks, but she immediately did as he asked. She let the robe skim down her back, suddenly feeling alive.
He didn’t look at first, but cleared the dishes while she waited, his arrogant expectation that she’d obey him turning her on even more. Two days ago she couldn’t orgasm, and now she was sitting, soaking wet, in the breakfast nook.
“Mmm, now that’s a sight I’d never get tired of.”
He was back, seated and sipping a fresh cup of coffee as he regarded her like a work of art he’d just purchased. She sat up a little straighter, emphasizing the curve in her back, thrusting out her tits.
“You are perfect, Ms. Jones. If I had my way, every time we dined you’d be naked and sit just like that.”
“Typical chauvinist fantasy,” she couldn’t help but murmur.
“Exactly. And when I was done enjoying your intelligent commentary I’d gag that smart mouth. Hush now, let me look at you.”
She blushed even more under his gaze. Good thing she’d moved the magazines; her pussy was leaking. She didn’t just feel objectified, though. She felt admired, cherished. Desirable.
A thought crossed her mind, and she frowned before she could stop it.
“What’s wrong, Chessie? I need you to be honest, if this is going to work.”
“Last night... you didn’t... you didn’t fuck me.” God, it hurt to be this vulnerable.
“As a Dom, I will take a woman in every way I wish... but there has to be consent. You dropped into subspace so quickly I didn’t have time to talk it out with you. Sex requires a level of trust and consent I didn’t feel you’d given.”
“But...” She licked her lips, wondering how to articulate how hurt she’d been. How unwanted and used she’d felt.
“If you’d woken up and known I’d taken you in that state, how would you have felt?”
“Confused. Maybe violated,” she admitted.
“Exactly. There was a chance you wouldn’t have been able to separate it out from all the feelings, and I wouldn’t risk that. I’ll do unspeakable things to your body, but never ever violate your trust.”
“Will you... will you fuck me now?” She could barely look at him. If he said no, he could crush her. That was the agony of letting herself want something that only another could give. They could take it away.
“Is that how you address your Master?”
“No, sir.”
“Ask properly and I’ll consider it.”
If felt so natural to let her body soften and slide to the floor, to her knees. His eyes widened a little, perhaps he wasn’t expecting that level from her, but his legs spread to accommodate her. She fitted between them like she belonged.
“Master, please, will you fuck your slave?”
“Hmmm, depends. Are you prepared do what I say, exactly how I say it?” His thumb and finger caught her chin and forced her to look at him.
“Yes, sir. Please...”
“No back talk?”
She hesitated. “Depends on how good you are?”
“Naughty sub.” He gave her head a little shake, and released her chin to pinch her nipple instead. His voice dropped an octave. “Are you wet for me little one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mmm. If I asked you to rub yourself on my pant leg would you leave a damp spot?”
She whimpered at the thought of doing just that.
He caught a fistful of her hair, using it to pull her to her knees in front of him. His grip stung and felt so right…
Kane’s lips skimmed her temple, her cheek, her throat as he turned her head this way and that. “This is what you need, isn’t it? To give yourself to someone. To give up control.”
“Yes,” she breathed, eyes closed, body awash with longing.
He reached down and fingered the cleft between her legs. She made a small noise and shifted as he touched her tender folds. His grip in her hair tightened.
“Be still.” He waited, and when she obeyed, his fingers fluttered over her labia, the gentlest butterfly kiss. She sighed.
“Yes, that’s it. You won’t give yourself orgasms; you need someone strong enough to take them. Someone like me.”
Pushing his chair back further, he pulled her up over his lap. She teetered on tiptoes, grasping for balance as his hand caught the underside of her bare buttocks in three sharp swats. He held her easily in place so his fingers could keep exploring, gliding now over her quivering bottom.
“No bruises from last night,” he mused. “Pity. I was hoping you’d wear my marks for the rest of the week, and remember who spanked you.”
“How could I forget?”
He smacked her harder.
“Ow! Sorry, sir.”
“You’re not in trouble,” he chuckled. “I just wanted to see these pretty cheeks bounce.” He kept swatting her, alternating, changing the pace. At first she fought the pain, tensing and trying to anticipate it, but after a minute or so, she surrendered. The sting became a hazy blend in her mind, she hovered above it, taking pleasure in pleasing her Sir.
“That’s it. You love it. You need it, don’t you? Answer me, sub.”
“Yes, sir,” she said dutifully, and added, “I don’t like the pain though, not really.”
“This is good pain.” His hand worked her buttocks, squeezing them. The massage made the ache disappear. “The type that heightens pleasure, turns it into a drug you crave – a natural one your own body creates.”
“Endorphins.”
“Yes.” He pulled her up and helped her straddle his lap. They were still in the scene, somehow, even as he talked her through her concerns. “Do you trust that I'll never try to cause you pain, other than the good kind? The kind that opens the door to pleasure.” He pinched her nipples as if to demonstrate.
She gasped and arched her back, a silent plea for more. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” He grinned and she caught her breath at how lovely he was. His gaze was on her breasts, his hands alternately torturing and worshipping. It felt incredible to have every iota of his attention on her.
“Naughty one.” Setting his hands on her hips, he lifted her. “You creamed all over my pants. You know what that means?”
She froze, uncertain at his sudden glower. If his frown wasn’t real, it was very convincing.
Before she could offer to pay for dry cleaning, Kane rose and tossed her over his shoulder in one fluid movement. He was halfway to her bedroom before she could get so much as an “Oompf!” out.
He flung her down on the soft comforter, laying her out like a sacrifice on an altar before him. In a thrice, he’d stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed, rising over her breathless body, a muscled god come to claim his offering.
“I fuck you. Hard.” Sliding her legs over his shoulders, he did just that.
Afterwards, they
lay entwined, wearing nothing but lazy smiles.
“My apologies. I couldn’t hold off any longer,” Kane said in a normal voice. “I was going to eat you out, but I figured you might be too sore.”
“No apology necessary. I just wanted to be fucked.” She hadn’t orgasmed, but the stretch of his cock inside her had felt divine.
“Next time I’ll make it up to you.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Both.” He rolled, pulling her under him again so their bodies pressed together, inch by delicious inch. His cock stirred against her, rising to half-mast as they kissed.
She broke away first, and he could tell by her slight frown that she was thinking too much. “So where do we go from here?”
He lay back down beside her, so he could touch her face and toy with a strand of her hair. “I want to own you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t pull away, so he asked, “What's the first thing that jumps into your head when I say that?”
“That I'm lucky I’m good enough for you to own.”
He grinned. This one could be taught.
“Yes, dear slave. I only possess the best.” His hand dropped to caress her breast.
She rolled her eyes. “Typical one percenter. Full of capitalist pride.”
“You bet your ass.”
Her gaze dropped to his hand groping her. “Just my ass?”
“All your lovely bits. But especially the ass. In fact –” He sat up, his hardening cock jutting out from his body. “Let's see that ass now. Hands and knees, facing away from me. I think I need to fully inspect my property.”
Three months later…
The line outside club Runway stretched around the corner, but the bouncers moved the cord the moment Senator Kane approached with his date.
“Senator,” they acknowledged him, and so it went all the way through the club, to the secret entrance to Black Light. Once he and Chessie were inside, Preston helped her off with her coat before removing his and placing them both in the locker.
He fixed the black collar around her throat, brushed her lips with a kiss before attaching a short lead to it. Testing it with a tug, he bent and whispered into her ear, “Two paces behind me, sweetheart,” before stepping back and swatting her bottom, hard. Her eyes never left his, and a contented look never left her face.