The Dom with the Deviant Kittens

by Sorcha Black

  “Merde.”

  “What’s the matter, Elodie?”

  “I’m feeling sick.”

  “Well don’t look. I told you not to look, remember? Are you already done with your book?” He glanced at her and her throat was working to swallow.

  “I can’t read a sex book while that needle pokes a million holes in you.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. She was downright pasty.

  “You don’t look good. Go get some fresh air and come back later. You can wait in the waiting room if you can’t watch.”

  She pushed to her feet. “Yes, Sir.”

  “There’s a clothes store next door,” the tattoo artist, Malachi, supplied helpfully. “Not typical stuff, but interesting.”

  Elodie flashed him a weak smile and nodded as she headed out of the small room.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Malachi chuckled. “Some people can’t hack it. Like being at the dentist. Just the idea of needles freaks some people out.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty tough, but this is turning her stomach.”

  A mysterious smile flitted across Malachi’s face. “One of my girls...loves getting tattooed. You’re Elodie’s Dom?”

  Lock raised his brows at Malachi, playing back the parting conversation with Elodie in his head. Ah...she’d called him Sir. She usually didn’t slip in public.

  “Yeah. She just moved here a few months ago, though, so we’re still new. You have more than one girlfriend? You’re either brave or crazy.”

  “They were together before I came along. I’m their stunt Dom.” He laughed. “Well, I was in the beginning.”

  “Well, I hope you have more control over yours than I do with mine. I figured out she was a brat before we met in person, but I had no idea.” Lock smiled to show he was joking then regretted the words almost as soon as they’d left his mouth. If Malachi really was a Dom, the next words out of his mouth would probably be the beginning of a long lecture on how to get Elodie in hand. A lot of the Doms he knew just didn’t get brats. He’d already lost a few friends over it – Doms who were too “one twue way” and ones that didn’t want Elodie’s antics to be a bad example to their own girls.

  At least Kylie understood their dynamic and didn’t judge.

  “Man, I hear ya. I had no intention of getting serious with a brat, but mine are both bratty. Not that one of them is my sub, exactly. But don’t tell her I said that.” He snickered.

  “She’d be upset that you said she wasn’t your sub.”

  “No, that I said she was. We have kind of a dub-con D/s relationship. She likes the pain and doesn’t complain about the sex, but if I want her submission I have to fight her for it.”

  “Like mind fucks?”

  “No, it’s an ongoing joke at this point. I say she’s my sub and then she tries to kick my ass, then we have crazy hot sex. No complaints here. Our girl is a lot more biddable, but she’s naughty as fuck.”

  Lock sighed. “What is it about naughty girls? They’re impossible to resist. Mine always has me on the edge between wanting to teach her some respect and laughing my ass off. She has my full attention that’s for sure.” He winced as the tattoo machine got perilously close to his armpit. “I can’t imagine having two girls. You’re a saint.”

  Something about Malachi’s sinister smile made him look like a pirate from an old movie. “No, I can assure you I’m an exceptional sinner.”

  *

  By the time Malachi was done, Elodie still hadn’t come back, but she’d texted to say she’d found the most fabulous store ever. Lock paid Mal and strolled next door, feeling like the energy had been sucked out of him. Getting tattooed often did that to him. Hopefully she was almost done shopping, because he wanted a nap.

  The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open. A few people turned to look, then went back to their shopping. A sea of black clothing greeted him, with random bursts of red, white and lime green. Fuck. A goth store. They were never getting out of there. Maybe taking a nap in the car was his best bet. It wasn’t that cold anymore, right?

  He scanned the crowd and found El avidly sifting through piles of shirts while a sales girl stood quietly by, holding a stack of clothes. Personal shopper? The store didn’t seem big enough.

  A huge bastard stood behind the till, making Lock feel small by comparison, which was saying something considering he wasn’t a small man. The guy was covered in tats, and would strike terror in the heart of any prospective shoplifter. A personal shopper and a guard?

  As Lock walked up to Elodie, she caught sight of him. She skipped over with a naughty smirk, then threw herself into his arms and coaxed him into an inappropriately intimate kiss. Tongue probing his mouth and sweet body pressed to him, he felt his body having the usual response. Great. Nothing like a public boner. Weren’t Doms supposed to have more control of themselves? If they did, they’d just never dommed Elodie.

  She broke the kiss and took a step back. “I love everything in this store, chéri! I want one of everything!” She grinned, blinding him with a combined flash of dimples and straight, white teeth.

  The mousy sales girl had trailed along after her and was standing to one side, looking painfully embarrassed, but studying them as though she was taking notes.

  “You have three closets, Elodie, and they’re almost full. Don’t even think of trying to take over part of mine.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She leaned into him and snuck a hand down to subtly grab his cock. When he raised a brow at her, she let go and gave him a look of feigned contriteness. Bad, bad Elodie. Was she trying to drive him crazy, shock the sales girl, or both?

  “Show me what you mean to buy, silly girl, and I’ll tell you if you’ll ever wear it.”

  “Shall I try them on for you?”

  “Later, when we get home. I’m tired.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with amusement. That slip wasn’t an accident.

  Minx.

  The sales girl led her way over to the counter and Lock couldn’t help but notice how sweet and mild she looked compared to his little firecracker. Boring. Poor thing. Small, plain, with her brown hair pulled into a bun. An actual bun. Not one of those messy ones that Elodie wore, which made her look like librarian porn, but a tight one that implied the woman who subjected herself to it was either that uptight, or so brittle that she was only held together by her hairdo. At first Lock assumed, considering the nature of the store, that it was some sort of statement about geek culture, but as she followed them around it became clear that it was a reflection of her personality.

  She helped them sort through the pile of clothes that El had picked out. Some of it she’d obviously chosen on a whim, and some she didn’t even remember having picked.

  “And where were you going to wear this?” It was like the Lolita parody of a schoolgirl uniform.

  “To work.”

  Since she worked at home and he’d get to see her in it at the end of the day, it went in the keep pile. As El chattered away to the sales girl, she sorted. T-shirts, a pair of bondage pants, several teeny skirts, crazily patterned tights and a few pairs of fishnet stockings, some fetish wear that she’d probably never leave the house in, a pair of really high heels with bats on them. All keep. By the third and fourth Lolita dress, Lock was starting to insist on putting things in the discard pile. If she always dressed like she was looking for action, nothing in the house would ever get done except Elodie.

  The head-like-a-shovel bouncer wandered over, and Lock was shocked to see he was being followed by a toddler. He picked the boy up and plopped him on the counter to watch from a safe distance.

  “You’ve got things under control, Tess?”

  “Well,” the sales girl laughed quietly. “I don’t know if anyone can control Elodie.”

  Lock felt his face heating. The man clapped him on the shoulder. The gesture surprised Lock, but he managed not to recoil.

  “Men who choose women who are hard to c
ontrol, have an interesting life.”

  “If you say otherwise, Gemma and Izzy will kick your butt. At least you get to be the boss here,” the Tess girl teased. So there was a spark in her, after all. Maybe the bun and frumpy clothes were a ruse.

  “I won’t mess with either of them too much right now. Nursing and pregnant at the same time? They’re both exhausted and likely to kill me.” He chuckled then grimaced at Lock.

  Was this town some kind of polygamous community? What were the chances that the tattoo artist with two women wasn’t friends with the store guy next door who had two women? Cobalt Harbor was a weird place. Good thing they lived in Felix.

  “I wouldn’t blame them, Cross. Four babies under the age of three? You guys are crazy.”

  Cross? Ah, then he was the owner, not the security guard.

  “That’s if neither of them have twins. We haven’t gone for ultrasounds yet.”

  Tess shook her head then ruffled the little boy’s red hair. “Almost time for your nap, right? I hope your brother isn’t taking up the whole playpen again.”

  While Lock was distracted by the conversation, El had added some jewelry to the heap.

  He sighed. “Where are you going to wear a spiky collar? If you keep buying things we won’t be able to afford a cleaning lady.”

  “I almost feel guilty about wanting one now, listening to this guy talk about all his kids. I’m a bad, lazy girl.”

  The sales girl and her boss glanced at each other.

  “I know this is a little awkward, but Tess here cleans houses as one of her side jobs. Do you live in town?”

  Elodie’s expression became serious and she eyed the sales girl with interest. She looked to Lock, who nodded his approval. If worse came to worse, they could let the girl go. Obviously her current employer liked her well enough.

  “We live in Felix, but it’s not really far.”

  “There’s a new city bus from Felix that comes through Cobalt Harbor.” Cross lifted his son in his arms. “We’re getting a lot more kids coming out to the store since they added that route.”

  The girl smiled shyly, met Lock’s gaze then blanched and looked at her feet. Hopefully she’d get over some of her awkwardness as she got to know them, because talking to her now was downright painful.

  “We’d need you twice a week to start,” he said. “Two or three hours each of those days. The place is a mess, so it might take a while for you to make a dent in it. What do you charge?”

  “Ten dollars an hour?” She said it like it was a question, and Lock guessed that she didn’t usually charge that much, but figured that El wouldn’t like that proposal.

  El’s hands stroked over the clothes on the counter. Her eyes looked unhappy. “Well, we’ll pay you twenty dollars an hour, because you have to travel. Okay? And if you make meals you can make some for yourself at the same time. That way you won’t have to make dinner when you get home.”

  Lock and El had already decided what they would pay, as well as the other details. Not having to have to deal with interviewing people and going through references was awesome.

  Tess bobbed her head, her cheeks stained pink, but said nothing.

  “Is that okay with you, ma souris? You can pick the days you would prefer to come, to work around your schedule,” El added. “If your schedule changes every week we’ll accommodate that, too.”

  The girl smiled shyly, and her eyes didn’t rise past Elodie’s lips. What was up with her, anyway? Lock remembered girls from high school who were this timid, but he didn’t know any adults who were.

  “Yes, that sounds wonderful,” the girl said. “What’s ‘ma souris’?”

  El shrugged and laughed. She put her handbag on the counter and sifted through it until she brought out one of her business cards. “In French, souris means mouse.” She handed the card to Tess. “You make me think of a cute little mouse I used to have. She was gênée – shy, like you.”

  Tess’s cheeks flushed. She took the card and looked at it, then tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. “I really appreciate you giving me a chance like this. I won’t let you down. I’m very good at cleaning.”

  Cross nodded. “She’s a hard worker. I wish I had more hours to give her.”

  Hopefully he was being honest, and not just trying to pawn her off on them. Lock had heard of bosses who’d give glowing recommendations to get rid of problem employees faster.

  “Ginelle has seniority and she has kids to feed.” Tess smiled and gathered the pile of clothes and carted it over to the cash register.

  El followed her to the register and watched as Tess folded each item and put it into boutiquey paper bags printed with Cross’s name at the center of a very gothic-looking bat.

  “My maman used to clean houses for a living. We will treat you well. Not like a servant, but like the person saving our asses.”

  “From the dishes?” Tess’s brows rose.

  “Mais oui! And the laundry. Always the fucking laundry

  Chapter Three

  Elodie grabbed a basket of clean, unfolded laundry and dashed to the walk-in closet, stashing it with about forty other things she couldn’t figure out what to do with. On the way back to the living room, she grabbed the spray bottle then spot cleaned the tile in the entryway. Frustration and a sense of urgency were making her inwardly seethe at the man across the room. Cleaning while angry was making her more productive.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Lock chuckled, craning to look over his shoulder at her from where he sat on the couch. Zombies were shambling after a half-naked girl on the flat screen, and when she passed too close to Lock on her way to put the spray bottle back he made a zombie noise and tried to grab her.

  “Méchant! Bad boy! You go ahead and sit on your ass, but our cleaner is coming to tour the house and I don’t want her to think we’re slobs.” She turned long enough to glare at him, but his expression showed only confusion.

  “You’re cleaning for the cleaner? That’s kind of funny.” He smirked and she whipped a rag at his head.

  “When a house is dirty, people still blame the woman. Like it’s evidence of my immorality. It’s complete merde, but like most other women I buy into it. Now either help or sit there and shut the fuck up.” Anger sizzled through her and although she felt bad she’d taken it out on Lock, sometimes things like this made her crazy. She sucked at cleaning – hated cleaning – but she was expected to waste precious hours of her life trying to keep the place looking like Hoarders wasn’t filming there.

  An infinitesimal amount of angry satisfaction settled on her when he finally got off his ass. Men. With Alexandre she’d almost had to hold up fucking signs to get him to help. When a girl was rushing around doing stuff, shouldn’t the man ask how he could help if he wasn’t doing anything anyway?

  Alexandre. Unfortunately, being hot and considerate in bed didn’t make up for being vanilla. Three years of trying to explain what she needed had ended badly. Their final break-up argument still made her wince when she thought of it. She was friends with all of her exes except Alex. When she’d ended things, he’d called her a filthy pervert and had said she needed therapy. If he hadn’t shouted the words in a busy coffee shop she might have been more forgiving when he started calling again with apologies the next week. Hot girls who liked to fuck were apparently harder to come by than he thought.

  Stupide.

  She turned to see what Lock had decided to do and he only stood there looking at her.

  “What? You need a fancy invitation to this fucking tea party?” She slammed a book down on the coffee table after having picked it up off the floor.

  The iron band of his hand wrapped painfully around her arm and he dragged her over to the couch. She smacked him, trying to pull from his grasp.

  “I don’t have time for this, Lock. Let go!”

  “Do you get to treat me like shit, Elodie?” The deep growl in her ear switched her gears. She stopped fighting and trembled, half fear, half arousal.


  A whine escaped her and her nipples puckered into pebbles. “Well, the house needs to be cleaned and you’re just sitting there not helping.” She didn’t sound strong and feminist out loud the way she had in her head a minute ago.

  “So is pouting getting you the results you want, or should you be using your nice words with me?”

  “Using my nice words?” she murmured contritely. He did help when she actually asked, she had to admit, but was it so hard for him to see what had to be done and just take a cue from her?

  He sat and pulled her, belly down, over his knee. There wasn’t time for this! Instead of arguing though, she melted into him as one hand spanned her back and the other began to gather up her skirt. Knowing he could and would do whatever he wanted to with her made her shiver. She stopped caring about the housework.

  As he drew down her underwear an intense heat built between her legs and her breath came in shallow gasps. This over-the-knee business embarrassed the hell out of her but made her so horny she could barely think, and he knew it.

  “What happens when naughty girls sass?”

  Fuck, he was going to make her say it again. It should have been absurd, but every time he treated her like this, it went straight to her sex drive.

  He was waiting and, while she stalled, nothing was getting done.

  “They get pink bums?” she squeaked.

  His hand skimmed her ass, he dragged a finger through her wetness then tickled her bottom hole. A gasp escaped her and she tried to squirm away, but he gently stroked there until all of her nerve endings were sensitized and paying close attention.

  “Go get the new plug I bought.”

  No, no, no! “But Sir, she’s going to be here any minute.”

  “Then you’d better hurry the fuck up, Minou, or her first job here will be helping me put it in. Hold your skirt up out of the way while you do it, and keep your panties where they are.”

  Heat flooded through her face as he let her up. She avoided eye contact as she shuffled from the room with as much dignity as she could manage under the circumstances. It took a minute to sift through the toy drawer and find the new silicone plug. It was slightly bigger than the last one, but that wasn’t the main issue. That it vibrated by remote, which made it possible for him to put it in her and leave it on even if they were out somewhere, switching it on and off at random. He’d been threatening her with the thing for weeks and she’d buried it in the drawer, hoping that he’d forget about it.