An Expert in Domination

by Sindra van Yssel

  “No. You may have just one, or all but one, but you must make a choice.”

  She looked at them. The flogger was warm, comfortable. So that one was in. Which of the others would she exclude? She dreaded them all, although the paddle might not be too bad. And yet she’d go home wondering what one felt like, and she didn’t want to do that. “Sorry I’m taking so long, Master.”

  “Take all the time you need. You’re providing me and everyone else with a lovely view while you’re doing it.”

  Ugh. She looked through them again. I want it all. What had seemed clear was now less so, and she took advantage of a momentary feeling of resolution, because she knew she would never want to decide. “The flogger, Master.”

  “The flogger it is.” He picked it up from the blanket and moved behind her.

  He thinks I want just the flogger. I’m surprised he’s keeping the disappointment out of his voice. But I want so badly to please him. “No, Master. I mean everything but.”

  “Are you certain?” He asked the question with his hard voice, the one that demanded a response.

  “Yes.”

  She heard the sound of the flogger being tossed back into or on the bag.

  “In that case, we will start with my hand.”

  “Yes, Master. Don’t hold back.” Now why did I say that?

  “There will be marks if I don’t.”

  Bruises. The cane scared her. But she wanted something to remember him by. She wanted to be able to sit down and feel him after he had gone, to let go of him gradually as the sensations faded rather than all at once at the end of the night. “Yes, Master, please.”

  His hand caressed her ass. She tried to focus on just what he was doing and not what was to come. That became easier with the first stinging slap.

  “Do you need me to count, Master?”

  “No. I will. One. You remember to breathe.”

  “You know I’m only twenty-eight.” She didn’t think that was remotely credible, but she felt like being a brat. And if it eased up on the number of strokes she got, that might be a good thing.

  “You know I’ve seen your driver’s license when you showed it for drinks that one time. But since you want extra strokes for an obvious lie, I’ll give them to you. In fact, I won’t count at all.”

  Rebelliously, she counted in her head. He was at about nineteen when he stopped to stroke her pussy, and by that time, she no longer cared who might be watching. Her ass felt warm from his swats. She pressed back into his hand with greediness, hoping she’d be allowed to come, almost sure she wouldn’t be. Sure enough, he stopped.

  He walked around her and picked up the cane.

  That’s next? She was pretty sure he’d arranged them on the blanket in order of severity, and the cane was surely the worst.

  He tapped it on her bottom with surprising gentleness. He’s just getting the range. Marking where he’s going to hit. Her ass tensed waiting for him to deliver a hard stroke, but it didn’t come. Tap, tap, tap.

  A man walked a woman in front of her on a leash, and she was momentarily distracted. She wondered what that would be like. Humiliating, maybe. And yet she craved it. Craved him to tell everyone that she was his, to collar her, leash her. Because then he would be hers as well. It was so impractical but so hot. She knew the deeper she went, the more it would hurt when she stopped, but she wanted to experience it all.

  “I want that, Master,” she said.

  “You’re not ready. This is not a race.” The tapping stopped. She heard him rummage in his bag. He doesn’t realize we don’t have time. That it really is a race. She should probably tell him, but she wanted to pretend it wasn’t true and enjoy the moment as if it might last forever. She felt a sadness coming on.

  Was he reaching back in his bag for the flogger? Had he decided she wasn’t ready for the rest? He tugged on her hair and lifted her head. He wrapped a blindfold around it. Ah. He just doesn’t want me being distracted. It gave her a momentary sense of calm.

  He ran his hand over her back, up, and then down. He brought it to rest on the small of her back, a comforting presence. Then she felt a sting in her ass that spread over the whole area. The paddle was the only thing with that broad an impact. Bereft of sight, it felt even more intense.

  She lost count. As the swats melded together, her ass heated up. She felt like she was almost floating, but she was still aware of everything he was doing as he moved around her, paddling her from different angles. Something held her back from the blissful flight she had learned to experience and savor.

  She felt his hand run up her back, and she knew that meant he was probably getting another toy. The crop, probably. The hand drifted back down, and as expected, she felt him drag the rough leather of the shaft across her stinging and probably reddened backside. Her pussy was tingling, and she felt like he could make her come in a minute if he cared to. Maybe seconds. He removed his hand from her back.

  He tapped her with the crop, more firmly than he had with the cane. Then he brought it down hard, and she shrieked. It was intense. He tapped her gently in a different place, and she took deep breaths, trying to absorb what had happened to her. She remembered his lesson, took the energy and imagined it gathering deep inside. He struck her again, as hard if not harder, but this time she took it and processed it, until her pussy ached more than her ass did. Her pussy felt like it was swollen. Could people see that? She was sure Colby knew. He could smell her arousal. Why isn’t he touching me? Can he read that this is the end?

  Another strike stung her bottom, and tears began to flow. She didn’t know if he could see her cry, but she hoped he wouldn’t stop. She’d been holding them back, trying to be brave and nonchalant, but she was almost relieved to feel them streaming down her face. She heard herself sobbing.

  He moved back to the paddle, and then his hand again, until she felt like she was all cried out.

  “You looked like you needed that,” he said.

  How had she ever found a man who understood that she needed to cry, even when he didn’t know the reason? And—still more rare—a man who could force it out of her and knew to keep going until it was all gone. I need him. And I can’t have him.

  But somehow, I will be okay. She felt the calmness that only he could bring out in her. He stroked her hair gently. “Please, yes. Touch me. Any way you like.” She craved his touch. She was addicted to it.

  “Do you still desire the cane, slave girl? Because if you do, it will hurt.”

  “Yes, Master.” She knew she could take the pain now. She was spacey but lucid. Calm. And more pain would only take her higher.

  “Anything more you need to say?”

  I love you. “No, Master.”

  He shifted his hand so that he was holding her hair rather than stroking it, and pulled slightly. I’m the Master, he seemed to be saying. She relaxed into it until she could feel the tugging on her scalp as pleasure deep in her core.

  “Open your mouth,” he said.

  “I won’t scream.”

  “Obey.”

  “Yes, Master.” She opened wide. Then she tasted rubber. The gag was quickly strapped around her mouth, and she could no longer speak.

  “I’m finding the more I play with you, the more I love you,” he said.

  I love you? Thank God he gagged me lest I tell him I love him back. Or maybe he fears I wouldn’t.

  “Which makes it harder. I find it harder to hear your screams than anyone I’ve played with for a long time. Usually, I can relish them. But sometimes—well, they have the power to make me go lighter. And I don’t want to be tempted.”

  He opened her hand and placed the familiar metal ball in her hand. She squeezed it tight. If he didn’t want to be tempted, she wasn’t going to drop it.

  “Now we begin again.” He played with the crop, striking her hard from both sides, then letting her pause. She bit down on the gag for the first few hits, then drifted off, the endorphins filling her head and making her relish each stroke as a w
ay to get even higher. She wasn’t sure when her ass started moving back for it, but she knew she was moving, almost dancing on the bench. Pain and pleasure were indistinguishable.

  A line of fire on her ass alerted her that he had switched from crop to cane. She made a loud moaning sound. All I have to do is keep squeezing the metal ball. She knew, abstractly, that he was marking her. Leaving bruises, possibly welts. That didn’t matter in the haze of sexual arousal and bliss she was feeling. She welcomed the next strike and even the soft taps in between that made the welts sting all over again.

  She heard the cane clatter on the floor, signaling that he was done. She would have taken more, but it wasn’t her decision. Nothing was. She felt free.

  His bare hand touched her backside, on top of the marks and inches from her pussy. “Come, Sophia,” he said to her.

  And to her shock, she did, without him even touching her clit. Her body shuddered, and she would have cried out if it were not for the gag. Her toes curled.

  “So responsive. So obedient. Your body knows who your Master is.”

  Yes, Master.

  How can I walk away from this?

  He pushed his fingers inside her. “Again,” he said.

  This time the orgasm was stronger, a shiver of contractions as her pussy squeezed his fingers.

  He turned his fingers around and pressed on her G-spot. “Again.”

  Her body responded. She couldn’t even make herself come so easily.

  Then he picked her up. She couldn’t do anything but lie limply in his arms as he carried her. She felt him sit down, and she nestled in his lap, although her ass stung where it rubbed against his hip. He removed the gag, then the blindfold. Even the soft light of the club felt bright for a few seconds, and he used his hand to shade her eyes until she acclimated. He fed her water and drank some himself.

  She glanced over to the spanking bench and saw that his friend from the bar was picking up the toys and cleaning the bench. Looking back at Colby, she didn’t trust herself to speak. She didn’t want to tell him she loved him. She certainly didn’t want to tell him she couldn’t take anymore of him without falling helplessly in love. Maybe it was already too late to walk away without it hurting like hell, but it would hurt even worse in a few weeks.

  They stayed like that quietly for a long time before he broke the silence. “I want you for longer, Sophia. I can stay here for a few more weeks. We might not have as much time each day, but we can still have some.”

  She forced herself to move, wriggling out of his arms and sliding to the rug on the floor, knowing she couldn’t settle for a few more weeks. “Let me service you,” she said, because she didn’t want to respond to his words. She reached out to unzip his pants, gratified to find his cock hard.

  “No. I want more.” Colby grabbed her hair and forced her eyes and mouth upward. He looked into her eyes unflinchingly.

  “You don’t find my mouth pleasing, Master?”

  He didn’t often hesitate, but this time he did. And at last he relented. “Yes, Sophia.” He let go of her. “And you took that all so well and never tried to cover yourself.”

  “Then I deserve my reward.” She knelt back on her calves for a moment as she unzipped him, and decided that was a mistake. Her ass stung, and probably would for a while.

  She took his cock into her mouth. She knew now what he liked—how he liked it when she licked his balls, what kind of pressure to put on his shaft, how hard to squeeze with her hand. She knew that licking the head slowly was sweet torture for him. She wanted him to come, but she wanted the moment to last as long as possible too, so she teased and aroused him in turn until she felt his hand tighten on the back of her head and knew he’d had enough.

  Her lips firmly around his cock, she bobbed quickly. He gave her what she wanted, coming hard deep in her throat, and she swallowed, savoring the whiskey-strong taste of him.

  “I want you,” he said when she leaned back—but not too far—with a satisfied grin on her face.

  “Again? So soon?” she teased.

  “Yes. But for longer. I want you for the next several weeks that I’ll be here. Get my bag for me from the bar, please.”

  “Yes, Master.” She got up, aware of how her legs felt. Aware, too, of the way her ass must look. Here she could wear the stripes he gave her with pride, almost as if they were clothing. Yes, I’m stark naked, but look at my marks. She walked to the bar, wondering what play Colby had in mind next. The bartender smiled at her.

  “Master Colby asked me to fetch his bag,” she said.

  “Hot scene,” said the man. “Hot woman. I can see what Colby sees in you. When he goes back, I’m interested if you wish to explore more.” He slung the bag over the bar to her.

  When he’s done. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “Please do.”

  The bag was heavy. Colby probably didn’t think so, but Sophia was no weakling, and she still felt it was impossible to be graceful lugging it. Might as well be a sack of potatoes. He had turned to watch her, though, so she strove to straighten her posture and deliver the bag with a smile.

  “As you were, on the floor.”

  She knelt, wondering what toy he was going to bring out. Nipple clamps, perhaps.

  Instead, he brought out a collar, the one she’d glimpsed before. Black leather with red lacing and a broad silver ring that dangled from the front. She imagined it around her neck. She yearned to belong to him. To serve. To go deeper. Hell, even now he can make me come with his voice and a touch. How much deeper is there to go?

  “Sophia, I’d like to have you for the rest of my stay here. And I’d like to give you this as a sign of our contract together.”

  Then tonight wouldn’t have to be the end. There would be more. She wanted it.

  She scrunched her face. And if I say yes now, I would be completely lost. I need much more. “No, Master.”

  “No?” He looked genuinely surprised. And deeply disappointed. She hated disappointing him.

  “No. I can’t. Not for a few weeks.”

  “For one, then?”

  “No.”

  “Tomorrow, and then we’ll see?”

  Tempting. “No. I can’t let you put that on my neck, even as much as I want it, unless I have a chance to keep you indefinitely. Not a day, not a week, not a month, not a year. I know you can’t promise me forever. But I’d rather have a long-distance relationship with you than have this just end. I can fly out, once a year. You can visit me. We can find a way—maybe open, maybe not— What am I saying?” She shook her head. “It’s ridiculous and me just not wanting to let go. But I’m losing my heart to you. You said you loved me. If you do, then…keep me for good or help me walk away.”

  “My work is back there,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Love is an awesome thing, Sophia, and it’s been a long time since I really felt it. But it does not quite conquer all, and distance is… It would be rough on both of us. It would be bad for both of us. And I refuse to be bad for you.”

  “And I don’t want to be bad for you either. I want to serve, not be a burden.”

  He sighed, and he looked away for a moment before putting the collar back into the bag. He looked sad—a sadness she shared on the inside. But just because two people loved each other and worked well together didn’t mean that they could make everything else work. Not unless they both wanted to. He probably didn’t want to take on raising her kids either. Their lives were too separate.

  “Master?” she asked.

  He forced a smile and then resumed his usual poker face. He’s put on the mask of his role again, and that may be the last time I get to see through it. She went on. “We can go home, if you like. Back to the hotel. To have—to make love.”

  “You’ll have to put your dress back on.”

  “That is a drawback. But it will come right back off again. And you can make me feel every bruise and welt you’ve given me, Master.”

  He chuckled. “Ca
reful. You’ll make me fall more in love with you. But it’s a good idea. Let’s do it.” He picked up his bag, and they both smiled for each other the rest of the evening. Not until she climbed back in her car leaving the hotel did she allow herself a tear.

  Chapter Nine

  I make a crappy tourist. Four days later, Colby was in the office of the foundation at one in the afternoon, doing more volunteer work. Each of the last three days, he’d gotten there a little bit earlier. He could almost imagine what Angela would say about his busman’s holiday, but he didn’t care. The two things he liked to do most were topping and helping people, and he found them both more enjoyable than looking at paintings and buildings. When he hung around other lawyers, he frequently missed being on the police force. Cops were more down-to-earth or less cultured or something. He could only enjoy that sort of thing for so long.

  And besides, this is a much better distraction from Sophia. They’d agreed to stay in touch. Colby was half hoping that she would connect with his friend Nick and half hoping not. Nick would be good for her, and he was local. But Colby didn’t really feel like sharing, which was unusual for him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had the month with Sophia that he usually had with a girl. Maybe it’s because Sophia is special.

  He turned his mind back to the work. The politics drove him crazy, but at the foundation, he was surrounded by people who were trying to fix the root of the problem. They were working on lobbying for hate crime legislation and employment nondiscrimination. Not just looking for people to help but looking for people whose cases would establish precedents. It was in many ways more satisfying than what he did at home, where half the time he felt like he was playing whack-a-mole. He loved helping individuals, but having to turn people away was frustrating.

  His phone buzzed, letting him know he had an e-mail. He looked at it. “Sir,” she wrote, as she had called him rather than Master since Saturday night. “I am missing you. Part of me wants to ask you to spend another day with me, but I don’t think it would make it better. It is just something I need to get through, and I am sorry for telling you about it. But know that you have had quite an effect on me.”