Awaiting his arrival had left me hot and restless, which was ridiculous for a woman with a regular stable of men willing to submit. However, this wasn’t work. It was personal. What one man could do to me.
With Tom, I barely recognized myself.
A reply to Lady Isis’ email had come after teasing prompted his hint at the discipline he desired. Satisfying his needs meant turning to Lady Isis.
“I thought it was you.” His rich mellow tone seemed more intense in the silence of my hallway, felt in the pit of my stomach like the bass of a loudly played track.
I held back the smile twitching my cheeks, similarly restrained with my desire to kiss the confident look from his face. “You liar.”
Looking steadily into my eyes, I saw a glint of defiance but he didn’t refute my accusation as I pushed the coat from his shoulders. In truth, I had no doubt he knew it was me. A circumstance that he wanted so badly that he made it true, despite possibly being plagued by a hint of niggling doubt.
For a moment, I felt as if I was in a dream. A fleeting lightheadedness washed over me as his being in my presence sank in. The realization that he was in my home was a surreal one, making a feeling of unadulterated excitement fill my core. I had never felt such elation, seeming to feel all the more intense because of the need to restrain it. The need to be served by him was immensely strong, easily bypassing anything an average client could offer.
“Upstairs.” With a flick of my head, I calmly reinforced my command though it was unnecessary.
Tom immediately started up the stairs, negating the anxiety that preceded his arrival as I watched him. Taking my time hanging his coat, I gave him the opportunity to acclimatize to the surroundings, something I would never do for any other man.
Usually, one of my charges would have a collar fastened around his neck soon after crossing the threshold, the attached chain secured in my tight fist. Tom had some latitude—not much—but enough to get him access to my bedroom. A feat only achieved by a choice few.
His aftershave lingered though footsteps above confirmed his arrival in my bedroom. The realization tightened my lips into a wicked smile, the complete release of Lady Isis.
My thighs brushed with each step, the silky moist stroke of skin to skin accompanied by the rhythmic creak of my leather outfit. The movement of my palm stroking my inner thigh agitated the scent of my strategically dapped perfume mingled with the aroma of sex.
The air seemed to thin, my lungs struggling as I sauntered higher, surely made worse by the snug fit of the corset. My breasts heaved, threatening to leap free with the force of my quiet breathing as I entered the doorway. Mere inches from having his pleasure in the palm of my hand, the hot feeling of pressure was almost too much to bear.
Sitting in the ornate mahogany chair that dominated the corner by the bed, Tom appeared comfortable, his broad frame filling the throne-like seat.
Looking up to meet my gaze, his crooked smile made my heart skip, an introduction to the deep pulsating beat that followed.
After each offering an admiring glance, I look charge to impose my will. “Did I say you could sit down?”
Standing immediately, he gripped the wide armrests to lever himself up and remain awkwardly in front of the chair.
He was mine. A ripple ran down my back like the first gush of water from a showerhead, heating my skin as it cascaded downward—similar to the sensation I got with my charges, but not quite the same.
Flicking the light switch as I stepped inside, the atmosphere was altered though we weren’t plunged into complete darkness. Light streamed in from the hallway, dimmed as my swipe at the door left it slightly ajar.
The minor illumination was enough to guide my way to the window, flinging open the curtains for an additional glow from the pale yellow streetlamps.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Tom following my actions, surely considering me suddenly unhinged. Clearly he hadn’t noticed the ropes hanging from each end of the curtain rail, hidden behind the draped dark blue fabric.
Only a pale blue voile stood between the privacy of my bedroom and the street.
Though inquisitive, his expression displayed nothing to suggest he knew what to expect. Why would he?
Beckoning him with a crooked forefinger received an immediate response, compelling him to take the two steps necessary to enter my personal space, his gaze still angled downward to maintain eye contact, despite my fuck-me heels.
My desire to run my hands into his hair, gripping it to control the subsequent kiss, was so strong that I could feel his thick silken strands between my fingers. I maintained my self-control despite his proximity, close enough to see the meager light reflected in his eyes.
His expression softened, unaware of what I had in store. I could have shocked him with a sharp slap or by tightly gripping his sac—but I didn’t.
Instead, I moved to his side, gripping his lapel in my hot hand. Throwing the jacket on the bed, I returned to face him, continuing what he started with his open collar. My fingers tingled with burgeoning numbness, forcing me to use both hands to loosen each fastener as blood pounded through me.
“I looked forward to seeing you.” Breaking the silence with a voice laced with quiet passion, he couldn’t hide the sudden depth betrayed by his tongue.
“You didn’t know it was me, Tom,” I replied with gentle insistence.
Looking at his gradually revealed body, it was immediately apparent that his was an impressive one. His swimmer’s physique rippled with muscle. I’d always suspected his perfect suits couldn’t do his body justice.
Dragging his sleeves off his wrists, the force popped the cufflinks loose so that the shirt soon followed the jacket.
The baked sand hue of his tanned face extended to his torso, an even, healthy color. The minimal light permeating the room shone a glow on the contours of his defined muscles, like an underwear model on a billboard poster.
Tom took advantage of my lapsed concentration by stealing a kiss, darting forward as if aware of the risk of being thwarted. Allowing his impertinence for a moment, I relished his powerful yearning, which manifested by an arm snaked around my waist to pull me to him in a tight clinch.
Pressing against the bulge protruding from beneath his smart black trousers made him moan, which prompted my more impassioned embrace, my breathing quickening as I spread my fingers across his back. I’m sure it felt like the smooth caress of a massage, the only comfort he would get for the night.
Brushing my fingers over the cut sides of his defined abs, I slipped them past the fastener securing his trousers, making short work of the button and zip. Looking him in the eye, I tugged open his fly hard enough to jog him forward, my strength matching the intensity of my stare. Another client had told me how turned on he became when I fixed him with my fierce gaze, seeing fire ablaze in my eyes. I’m not sure he recognized the significance of his comment, swelling me with pride until a wicked smile decorated my lips.
“Take them off,” I ordered, my voice rising from deep in my diaphragm.
For a moment, Tom appeared taken aback, his eyebrows twitching.
Quickly recovering, he cast his eyes downward to comply, revealing more of the stretchy black cotton boxers that had initially appeared to be briefs.
Stepping back to study him, he seemed to shrink under my pointed gaze, hurriedly dragging his feet free before throwing them atop the other garments.
My pussy felt like an overripe peach, bursting with juice that threatened to trickle free with a deep pulsation. Muscles throughout my body tautened to cause a phantom tremble. Impatient flickering swept through my body, my clit pounding in unison with the pace of my heartbeat.
Hooking his thumbs over the waistband of his underwear, Tom built anticipation by slowly lowering the garment, leaving my mouth dry. The first time I’d seen him in all his glory, I was fixated on his cock that readily sprung free, the fat pink tip glistening invitingly.
Seemingly patient as I took in the magnificen
ce of his naked frame, strong yet vulnerable, he was forced to bear the scrutiny of my burning eyes.
I caught his wrist as he kicked his underwear clear and pulled him closer, reaching for his shaft with my free hand. I couldn’t help stroking my fingertips through the tuft of dark curls at the hilt. A groan rolled up from the back of his throat as his cock twitched in my hand.
Raising his arm, I aligned it with the end of the curtain rod. From his slightly dazed expression, I’m sure he disbelieved what my actions suggested, but I removed any doubt by firmly and quietly uttering, “Face the outside world.”
In reality, the dim light of the room meant he wasn’t visible from outside, but he couldn’t know that.
Tom gave the thick twisted jute hanging behind the curtain a cursory glance before looking back at me, not appearing to understand its importance.
I like natural fiber ropes, which are more personal than handcuffs. They convey my feelings like they have been infused with my emotions. Tying the length of rope around his wrist, I wonder what he’s feeling. Though I don’t return it, I notice his curious glance. Despite my heels, I still needed to push myself up onto my toes to reach high enough to secure his wrists.
Never leaving his body, my fingers trailed down his bound arm and across his back on route to the other, nails scratching to heighten his anticipation. Normally, the process was matter of fact, but Tom had a certain power that made it special, heat radiating from his skin to permeate mine.
Caressing the roughness of the rope as I let it pass through my hand, I tied his left wrist in the same manner. His gaze became like a laser, staring upwards to study the actions of my hands.
Soon tied fast, Tom looked up at the curtain rod doubtfully, unaware it had been reinforced after a previous mishap. Not wanting it to come crashing down again, I had engaged a contractor to install it with thick bolts anchored to the brick structure.
“Do you have something to say?”
Twisting his neck, he intently watched me with a side-on gaze, simultaneously shielding himself from potential prying eyes. “I’m sorry, Lady Isis.”
His words caused the return of the warm sticky sensation to the crevice between my thighs.
Satisfied with the contrite tone and expression, I turned away to collect my favorite tool, neatly coiled in the drawer of the bedside table. The black leather tassel whip still looked new despite it being over a year old, enough time for me to become highly proficient in its use.
The sight of his bare cheeks made a tingling pressure tremble through my breasts, compressed in the restricted confines of my corset. Firmly gripping the handle, the leather strands unfurled with a gentle swish as Tom strained against his binds in an attempt to follow me, but gave up after finding it impossible no matter which way he turned his head. Enjoying the control from remaining out of his eye line, I moved along the length of the bed before walking directly to his back, watching his head turn back and forth as if suffering a moment of panic.
Without warning, I flicked his left cheek with my trusted apparatus, his taut flesh clenching from the sting of the tips.
“Did you think I didn’t notice you spying on me?”
A twitch and a noise from the back of his throat revealed his recognition.
Hesitating with an inability to think of a feasible reply quick enough, he began to stammer, earning another smarting strike.
His pained hiss made moisture pool between my thighs, prompting me to run my fingernails across his reddened skin. Making him jolt with a futile twist of his ordinarily powerful frame, having no effect but to make the curtain shift.
Ever in control, I rolled my wrist with expert precision to pummel his arse with light flicks on each revolution. Flinch dissipating as his body relaxed and got used to the strikes. “Why didn’t you speak to me?” I asked, over the light slap of the whip.
The sinew across his shoulders shifted with his head turn, straining his neck in an attempt to make eye contact. “I had to work up the courage.”
Skin satisfyingly flush from blood rushing to the surface, I paused to consider the pink cushioning that would prevent welts in addition to his reply.“You’re scared of me?”
Letting he head fall back, he rolled it from side to side as if trying to dislodge the words. “No, I’m scared of my feelings when I’m around you.”
The honesty and familiarity of the response caught me off guard, silencing me for a briefly until I got back on course, resuming my position as Dom. “What would you have done if I hadn’t left you my generous gift?”
His reply wasn’t forthcoming quick enough. Reaching between his legs, I clasped his balls to make him yell with pain and surprise. I wondered whether the vicious touch of my hand was a reprieve compared to the bite of the whip. A whimper carried on his heavy breaths as my fingers trailed along his shaft, stroking the straining flesh that I badly wanted inside me.
“I would have said something.”
Returning to the reddened skin of his bottom, I scraped my nails across the delicate patch, feeling the heat emanating from his skin as I relished the resulting jump.
“Eventually,” I added.
Sweat on the back of his neck glistened with his agreeing nod.
“Good boy.”
Twisting my wrist, I flicked the whip again to make it kiss his skin with a distinct crack, like wood popping in a fire. His body remained tense after his recoil, leading me to taunt him by smoothly stroking the leather fronds up the cleft of his cheeks.
“You wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Another nod.
By shifting his feet, he made me wonder whether his arms were getting tired, not something I ever worried about before. In fact, a successful session was making a man collapse in a heap. Tom was different—it would be pointless to leave him incapacitated as I wanted more from him.
Tormenting him further, I pumped him for information, asking all the questions that had formed in my mind since I first set eyes on him. Asserting my dominance with random strikes, I shielded how much I relished learning about him, adding color to the sketch already drawn.
Increased knowledge only heightened my yearning, forcing me to resist the temptation of his body. The desire to press myself to his back was so visceral that I could feel the cool sensation of his sweat against my skin, running down my contours ahead of the firm pressure of his body.
The further lashes from the whip were merely pretence, a prelude to what I really wanted to undertake. When the whip slipped from my fingers, I wasn’t sure whether it happened on purpose or by accident. Either way, I made no attempt to retrieve it. I saw myself removing his restraints, tearing at the rope with a desperation that made the nail of my forefinger bend backward.
Offering no resistance, Tom was effortlessly steered into facing the chair. His body, no doubt, sapped of strength. The yellow hue from the streetlamps played on his skin, backlighting his profiled physique in a way that would make a photographer proud.
Like a divining rod, his cock stood taut and straight as it strained for the precious resource it sought. Sliding my palm across his shoulder, I settled it in the centre of his back to push him forward, needing all my willpower to follow through with my intention. Smoothly gliding across his skin, warm and slick with perspiration, I forced him to hinge at the waist. “Put your hands on the chair.”
His palms thudded against the leather cushion as he dropped against it, switching to grip the armrests before changing his mind again, returning his hands to the seat.
My touch disturbed his scent. The musk of his body mingled with a faint trace of aftershave to drift to my nose like an airborne drug.
Satisfaction came from constant physical contact. I swept my hand up his spine to push my fingers into his hair, levering his head backwards with a sharp tug before trailing back down to the cleft of his taut cheeks, like two firm balls of dough patted into shape by skilled hands.
Laying my palm to his left cheek, I pushed it aside to dip my fingers into
the heat of his cleft, stroking along the curve to press my thumb to his puckered back passage. Tom bucked as if from an electric shock, a reflexive murmur rolling up his throat.
Back arched, he stiffened as I slid into his tight hole, my probing digit clenched by his muscles. Thrilled by his reaction, I attempted to build on it by pushing my thumb to the hilt before curling the tip. His shudder was reminiscent of that which came with the arrival of a climax. Not where I wanted him to be—not yet anyway. Releasing him from the blissful pressure, I withdrew and rushed to the bedside cabinet, not wanting to be away from him for long.
The small black rubber shape rolled with the momentum of the drawer, not enough to escape my grasp. Warming it in my fist, I returned to where Tom remained bent over the chair, pressing the smooth, tapered plug into his sphincter.
He emitted a sound akin to the whistle of rushing wind, the true cry masked by a heavy exhale.
With the plug nestled tightly in place, I pulled his shoulder and told him to stand, pretending that the inadvertent scrape of my nails was intentional.
He straightened like a man with a back problem, getting used to a foreign sensation as he moved.
His expression—a mixture of surprise and arousal—flooded my body with heat until it felt like flames licked my nipples, satisfaction only possible from a soothing tongue. The look intensified the primal need already within me, creating the brute strength to shove him back into the seat. With the soft thud of buttocks against leather came a reflexive groan, though the drop wasn’t far.
My body’s craving took control, making me climb into his lap, gripping his shoulders for balance to straddle him. Clamping myself to him so that not even a sliver of light could pass between us, I kissed with a hunger like I hadn’t eaten for days and he represented sustenance.
Grinding against him dislodged my corset, exposing my breasts to his eager mouth as I rose higher, positioning myself where I could guide his shaft to my opening. My skirt raised obediently on climbing onto his lap, the split of my panties widening to expose my wet slit.
Taming the Alter Ego Page 4