Mistress Mine
Samantha Cayto
A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series.
FBI agent and ex-military man Trey Boudreau likes to be in control and issue orders. But the bedroom is not a battlefield. His secret desire is to submit his body to a strong, older woman. He discovers a card that promises him the right one to bring him to his knees.
Juliette Coyne is a Domme determined to overcome a past experience that left her questioning her ability in the lifestyle. She is challenged by Trey, a strong, younger man in need of a good lesson or two. Old habits die hard, however, and the past continues to haunt them. Trey and Juliette grapple with each other and themselves for control, trust and a future together.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Mistress Mine
ISBN 9781419933134
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Mistress Mine Copyright © 2011 Samantha Cayto
Edited by Helen Woodall
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication February 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Mistress Mine
Samantha Cayto
Dedication
This story is dedicated to Desiree Holt, a wonderful woman, a fabulous writer and a dear friend. She inspires me.
Special thanks to Michelle Polaris, my soul sister.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Catwoman: DC Comics, New York
Dr. Pepper: Dr. Pepper/Seven Up, Inc.
Star Wars: Lucasfilm Ltd., San Francisco
Time-Life: Time Warner Inc., New York
Chapter One
“If you don’t stop mooning over your ex, I’m going to resign as your wingman.”
Trey Boudreau lifted his gaze from the beer bottle to glare at his friend, Mike. “I’m not mooning over Gina, and who the hell says ‘mooning’ anymore?”
Mike rolled his dark brown eyes and shook his head. “I figured you being from the south and all it was a fitting expression. And yes, you are mooning over Gina. You haven’t stopped staring at your drink all night. Either you’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to malted beverages or you’re obsessing over your ex-wife. Either way, it makes being here pointless. Look, if you’re not interested in hooking up with any of the fine, and I mean fine, women in this club, we may as well head back to my place. No point in spending seven bucks on a bottle of beer if you’re not going to snag some bodacious booty at the same time.”
“Oh my God.” Trey put his head in his hands. This night was a disaster. He should never have let Mike talk him into clubbing. They were too old for this kind of meat market, and he wasn’t interested in “hooking up” with any woman. He wanted to find what he thought he’d had with Gina, a woman to spend the rest of his life with. He still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. How did a ten-year-old marriage simply die? Sure, he had spent many of those years deployed overseas, but unlike other marriages killed by war, his had ended well after he’d taken a civilian job. He was still reeling from the aftershocks.
Mike’s big hand landed on Trey’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Come on man, it’ll get better. Maybe you’re pushing it too soon. I have to tell you, though, that I can’t say I’m sorry Gina shoved you out the door.”
Startled by the admission, Trey raised his head to frown at his friend. “I thought you liked Gina.”
Mike shrugged and tossed a couple of peanuts in his mouth. “Sure, I liked her. She was a nice girl, just not your type.”
“Not my type?” Gina had been the perfect type for Trey, sweet and caring, always eager to please him in some way. Biddable, his grandmother once called her. Coming from Granny, it had sounded more like an insult than a compliment. Then again, his Granny hadn’t been sleeping with Gina. Trey had, and a more attentive lover a man couldn’t ask for. Gina had been willing to do anything he wanted, pliant and accommodating and passive as hell.
Shit, when he thought about it, and he had a lot lately, his sex life with Gina had been boring. When he’d first been back from a deployment, he couldn’t get enough of her, like a man fresh from the desert downing lukewarm water. After a while, though, he’d start to crave Dr. Pepper, or beer, or Christ, a shot of bourbon. Then he’d deploy again and the thirst built up to a point where he forgot the tedium. Once he was home for good, working for the FBI, he was with his wife every night or gone only for a few days. Always the one to initiate lovemaking, he hadn’t been able to work up an interest very often. Their sex life had petered out. He’d thought he was the only one missing it. Gina hadn’t said anything or done anything about it. Obviously he’d been wrong about how she had felt because she was the one to ask for a divorce. She had demanded it, actually, the most assertive he’d ever seen her.
Trey took a long pull of his beer, draining the bottle. “Crap, you may be right. I know I let her down in the bedroom. I let us both down.”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “They say the first step toward recovery is admitting you have a problem.”
“Fuck you,” he replied without any heat. Mike was a good friend and Trey knew he’d been a lousy one these past few months. Standing up, he added, “Let’s get out of here. This is a waste of time until I figure out what I’m looking for in a woman.”
Mike joined him and tossed a few more bills on the table for a tip. “As long as we’re talking about it, I may as well tell you what I think you might be looking for.”
“Bring it on.” Trey doubted very much his friend had an insight that he, himself, lacked in his own sex life.
“Remember Major Bradford?”
Trey’s stride hitched for a half-second before he replied. “Yeah, I remember her. So?”
“So, tell me your dick didn’t get hard every time she came into view.”
He waited until they were outside the club, the cool peace of the Boston night a welcome relief to the noisy crush of the club. “Come on, man, you’re talking about a superior officer.”
“Who is not here and we are no longer in the army. Be honest. A woman like that, tall, strong, commanding and mature. She was hot in a way all those young junior grades could never be.”
Trey stopped his body mid-squirm because honestly, he remembered the major in the mess hall one day when a mortar hit. She had been on her feet barking out orders before the dust had cleared. He’d had no problem following her orders when she so obviously knew what she was doing. And, yeah, the sight of her had aroused him each and every time their paths had crossed af
ter that incident. Thinking of her made him hard that very moment. Hence the urge to squirm. He didn’t want to admit it to his friend, though. His reaction didn’t seem right somehow.
“I like to be in charge,” he countered, striding down the sidewalk.
Being a taller man, Mike had no trouble keeping up with him. He also had no compunction about challenging Trey’s resistance. “Sure, you liked being in charge of your squad, you like being in charge of an investigation. We’re talking about the bedroom.”
“You think I don’t like being in charge when having sex?” Even as he sputtered out his indignation, an image of a woman looming over him while he lay spread-eagle on a bed popped into his mind. It wasn’t the Major, either. The face was covered in shadows, a mystery woman. His dream woman? His heart skipped a beat before picking up speed. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “You don’t know what I want in a sex partner.”
“I didn’t say I knew for sure. All I’m saying is you had the sweet, traditional young woman right? The sex got stale, the marriage ended. Maybe you should try a different kind of woman, a different kind of sex life. You can’t know unless you try.”
Trey slanted his eyes toward his friend. “You got someone in mind?”
“Hell, no. I’m just flapping my gums here. I have no idea who might be a good fit for you. I do know that club hopping is not going to work. We’ve run this particular flag up the pole a bunch of times and no one is saluting.”
Amen to that. Except his cock was locked and loaded at the idea of a forceful, mature woman. Maybe he needed to unleash those deep, dark fantasies that had been lurking in the back of his mind all his life. The way Mike talked about it, giving up control in bed to a woman wasn’t a crazy idea for a guy like him, an alpha male by anyone’s definition. He’d always believed that guys who gave women the whip hand, so to speak, in bed were wimps. Trey had never seen himself as anything other than strong and in control. But, if Mike, another strong man, could speak so reverently about a dominant woman, perhaps Trey had been wrong to deny himself. Maybe, too, it was time to seek out a more mature woman, someone who knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about going after it. The only problem was how would he find a woman like that? The army might be full of them, but he wasn’t in the army. The FBI might have its share, too, although working and fucking never mixed well when it involved the same people.
Ah, best to put the whole thing aside for now. He didn’t need to find a woman right away. It had been less than a year since Gina had kicked him out. His right hand worked fine. He could take care of himself for a while and when his right hand got tired, he had his left one to fall back on. The internet contained all sorts of possibilities, too. Perhaps when he got home, he could surf for what he hadn’t yet dared. Stifling a pretend yawn, he said, “I’m too tired to figure it out tonight. Let’s see if we can grab a cab.”
Mike shook his head and followed Trey as he stepped off the curb.
* * * * *
Trey groaned deep in the back of his throat, unconcerned about being heard alone in his own apartment. It had taken hardly any effort at all to find the images that had only fleetingly been allowed in his imagination all these years. Here in the vastness of the internet he found women, tall in their fuck-me heels, clad in black leather, holding crops and floggers, some with strap-ons cinched around their waists, all forcing men to do their bidding. The sight of the false phalluses made him queasy, though, so he stayed with images of bondage and pain. Most of the women appeared to be a bit older than he, and those were the images he focused on, too. There was something so right about a man being dominated by an older woman. The men, naked and vulnerable, were standing, kneeling, or lying down, some tied-up, some not, but to a man, hard and willing. Their expressions told the story. While they grimaced in pain, there was another look layered beneath the surface. Worship, rapture, peace, it was all there to see and envy.
There were so many pictures and videos, he couldn’t stop with just one. His mind reeled at the possibilities while his cock strained to be free. With one hand on the mouse, he undid his pants and yanked his rod out of its confines. The head was already slick with pre-cum. He couldn’t remember the last time the strength of his arousal made his cock almost painful to touch. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hard length and squeezed against his glans, he felt ready to erupt. A couple of jerks and he’d be done. He choked it back. Too soon. He wanted to savor the moment. God, it had been so long since he’d experienced such intense pleasure. Playing idly with his erection, he scrolled through the offerings of a particular site and clicked on a free video. It welcomed him into a world of forbidden delights.
The woman appealed to him with her long, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. Large breasts spilled over a tightly cinched black bustier. Her bare pubic mound peeped out from the bottom of her bustier, as did her firm, round ass. Her legs were long and shapely, set off by her high-heeled boots. With her bright red lips pursed, the Dominatrix sauntered around a kneeling man. His arms were secured behind his back and a ball gag filled his mouth. His eyes were down, submissive, waiting. Every few seconds, the woman slapped the riding crop she held against her thigh. The sharp crack made the man flinch, but his cock remained rigid, swaying in front of him, ready to serve.
“God,” Trey whispered into the quiet, his gaze transfixed on the screen.
With each ominous whack, his cock jumped, too. It was also ready, ready to thrust, ready to burst. There was nowhere for it to go, though, except past his teasing fingers. And, yet a guy could imagine what it would be like to be inside the scene that played out in front of him. He tightened his grip, pulled and tugged at the taut skin of his hot cock. More pre-cum spilled over. It slicked his way while his fingers picked up speed. The woman slapped the crop against her thigh faster. Trey panted as his climax built, crested and, when the crop came down suddenly against the willing man’s ass, it crashed.
He doubled over, deaf and blind with the intensity of the orgasm. His body rocked as spurts of cum ejaculated over his hand. He grunted and pounded his free hand against the table. Long seconds ticked by before he caught his breath and leaned back in his chair. He let his hand drop against his thigh and was only vaguely aware of the sounds of both pleasure and pain coming through his computer.
Trey was spent and content in a way he hadn’t been in years, maybe hadn’t been ever before. He knew now what he was looking for in a woman, and the realization both relieved and disturbed him. He wanted a woman to command him and to hurt him. Biddable women like Gina had been all wrong for him because he was the one who was destined to be submissive, at least in bed. Cracking his eyes open, he watched while the woman reddened the man’s ass. Not even necessarily in bed. On the floor, tied to a rack…shit, anywhere as long as a strong woman put him there. She needed to be older, too. With maturity came authority, and he believed in authority.
There was only one problem, he realized with a groan. He had no idea where to find this woman. No idea at all.
* * * * *
As Trey drained his second cup of coffee, the last of the cobwebs cleared from his mind. It was already early afternoon on Sunday. He had slept in longer then he was used to, exhausted from the marathon jerk-off session that had lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. A sense of guilt tried to creep into his head. He batted it away. It was not in his nature to obsess and whine over the way things were as opposed to how he wished them to be. Like it or not, he was a sexual submissive. It didn’t make him less of a man and it didn’t make him weak. He had a bronze star that told him and the world what kind of man he was. He was working his way up the ranks of the FBI, too. He had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all himself. The one issue, the big issue, was finding the right woman. The internet could help him hook up. It made him uneasy, though. The internet was so impersonal, and potentially dangerous as he knew all too well being in law enforcement. You never knew what someone was really like until you met them face-to-face. Still, what c
hoice did he have?
Pushing himself up from the table, he set about cleaning his apartment. Sunday was always cleaning day unless he was out on an assignment. When they were married, Gina had done all the housework. Another thing for him to feel guilty about. He was determined not to devolve into the stereotypical bachelor with a constant mess under foot and mold growing in the bathroom. The first thing he tackled was his clothes dropped on the floor where he had disrobed after his first mind-blowing orgasm. He checked the pockets of his pants as he walked to the corner that housed the washer and dryer. He pulled out a card. Frowning, he studied the unexpected find.
It was a simple white business card with a black back. The front of the card merely said “1-800-DOM-help” and nothing more. Trey stood still, staring at it for long seconds before swearing.
“Son of a bitch!” He dropped the pants into the washer and picked up the phone.
Mike answered on the second ring. “What’s up, man?”
“You asshole.”
“Huh? What’d I do?” His friend sounded genuinely confused.
Trey didn’t buy any of it. “I found the card you slipped into my pocket. And, by the way, how creepy is that for you to stick your hand so close to my dick?”
“Are you having some kind of psychotic break or something? Because dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The guy sounded so sincere, Trey started to have doubts, but how else could that weird card have ended up in his pants? He took and let out a deep breath. “All I’m saying is that it’s pretty strange that you were talking about ball-busting women last night and all of a sudden I find this card in my pocket about Dom help, whatever the hell that means.”
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