by Cynthia Dane
I want to be wetter. I want to feel his wetness inside of me.
“Katie.” Don’t ever let him stop calling me that. I don’t care about the other pet names he peppers into our private conversations. I want to hear my name like that. I want to hear him come undone inside of me. I can feel it starting to happen. Not only my orgasm, my muscles clamping down on his cock as I force him deeper, deeper inside. No, I feel that sweet pulsing of his cock as he rhythmically thrusts into me.
The mattress sinks beneath me with every thrust. The headboard hits the wall, my squeals of impending orgasm as he sits up, holds me by the hips, and drives so hard into me that I…
I…
I’m coming.
My eyes roll into the back of my head. All I know is that I feel so full and taken care of that I’m feasting on him, his energy, his ability to turn me into this kind of person. His grunts turn into long, hard groans.
“I’m coming, babe.”
It’s the only warning I get. At first I wish he hadn’t told me. But I grab his arms, holding myself firm as my orgasm hits a new peak and I swear to God he can do whatever he wants.
Like unleash himself inside of me.
My eyes snap open. Ian’s looking at me, drinking in everything he sees as he climaxes, his cock creating sensations that I was so afraid of last time.
I’m full.
I’m warm.
I’m warmer.
Every pulse of him is a revelation. I don’t feel afraid. If anything, I feel at peace. In paradise. As if this is how it’s supposed to be.
His seed coats me inside. Not once, but multiple times. Like he coated my throat in the concert hall.
This is so different. This feels beyond. It’s making my brain melt and body scream in joy.
I’ve never felt so connected to another human being before. He’s with me. I’m with him.
We’re one.
“Oh.” I don’t know which one of us says it as he collapses on top of me. My arms wrap around him, holding him inside of me as my legs tremble, sore. I’m not used to spreading them so wide for a man. Yet he makes me want to.
I want to do so many strange things with him.
Before I want him to even think about it, Ian pulls out. This is it. The moment my brain might jump ship on me.
It doesn’t. I feel so at peace before, and I do after. Probably because Ian’s smiling at me with a kindness no man gives me in bed.
“You’re amazing.” His limbs entwine with mine, spreading my legs open just as I close them. “Can you feel it?”
Ian takes my hand and guides it to my wet slit. Shit, I’m so wet. I didn’t realize it, even with the sounds and sensations he gave me only a few seconds ago. Yet I feel it now. My own wetness and arousal coating my fingers.
And then…
Something pours from me, and it’s not me.
I feel it on my fingers. Ian’s seed, spilling from me as I convulse in the aftermath of an intense orgasm.
It’s everywhere. On me. In me. I feel a brief shock of panic that is quickly quelled with a tender kiss to the shoulder. One last shudder brings the largest gush of cum yet. It’s me. It’s him. It’s us.
Something happens. My body starts to slip into a post-sex coma that is mediated with a hug and a whisper in the ear.
“We’ll start your training soon, Katie.”
I think I’m nodding. I’m not sure. The darkness of sleep is claiming me.
Chapter 7
IAN
“I need something a bit more… subtle.”
The saleswoman backs away from the counter so she can return the tray of necklaces she got out not even five minutes ago. “I’ll try to find something, sir.”
Ah, how I love that word. Even more coming from a pretty woman who screams subservient. And this woman does. She can’t be older than me. She’s either Kathryn’s age or slightly younger. A tall, feminine beauty wearing a smart pantsuit and samples of the jewelry you can buy in this boutique. A ruby necklace. Diamond earrings. Emerald and opal rings adorning both fingers.
In another life I would have been a jeweler. It’s always been a hobby of mine, although I can’t claim to have a ton of knowledge. There’s something shockingly wonderful about a striking set of jewelry, especially on a young lady who knows how to bow her head while also keeping her eyes up and on yours.
She gives me a wan smile as she pulls out another tray of chokers. “How about these, sir?”
I examine them, trying to imaging my darling Kathryn wearing any while I flog her ass, pull her hair, and force my cock down her throat. If the saleswoman is smiling, then I’m grinning like a horny idiot.
“It has to be refined.” I hold up a black choker glittering in tiny crystals. “While also blending seamlessly into any outfit a woman pulls from her wardrobe.” Kathryn has two main styles. There’s the pantsuits, usually black, navy, or white. Then there are the tight skirts and cocktail dresses. Either way, she is not a flashy woman. She lets her body and hair do the talking for her appearance. Anything I buy her has to be good enough for her everyday wardrobe…
…And it has to be completely nonthreatening. And not too expensive, because that would offend my Katie, and I can’t have that.
I’m taking great risks looking at these necklaces. But I want to spoil her. I’m a man who is used to buying gifts for the lucky women in his life. Jewelry, clothes, perfumes… even women like Stephanie May, who will be getting million-dollar-contracts soon, would weep to open a box from this boutique. Kathryn? She’ll probably demand to know where I get off buying her trinkets.
She can buy her own, you know.
That’s not the point. The point is that if I’m going to train her to be a sub in my own vision, she’s going to need a collar.
Just the thought of wrapping a collar around her neck and then formally taking her… God, where do I get off indeed?
Preferably I can get off inside her more often.
“Are there any particular gems you’re interested in?”
I look back at the saleswoman. Funny. Have her buttons disappeared since I last looked at her? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this woman was flirting with me. The nerve. “Diamonds would fit her best.” I enunciate the her. While Katie and I haven’t decided to be exclusive in any way, I don’t mind scaring off other women with the idea I’m spoken for, let alone buying jewelry for a woman. Right now my mind and body are happy taking all of Kathryn Alison in new ways.
My smile is probably making this woman’s panties wet, because, you know, it’s fueled by erotic thoughts. Of Kathryn.
Shit, wanna know something grand? After we had sex Friday, I watched her quickly nod off to sleep, her poor body spent all over my bed after I gave her what I desperately wanted to give. I wasn’t lying when I said she needed to overcome her aversion to mine – or any man’s – seed in her if we’re having scenes. Otherwise, what’s the point? The likelihood of her getting pregnant is negligible. We’re both completely clean. There’s nothing but her fears keeping me from emptying my load inside her, feeling my cock expertly massaged by her muscles until she takes every last drop from me.
You know why it’s hot. What man doesn’t want to feel everything that makes him well, a man, shoot into the deepest parts of a woman’s body?
I never anticipated she would be so against it. Then Friday happened. A Friday I won’t forget anytime soon.
We made love. Made love. I haven’t made love often in my life, but that was… definitely it. I’m ignoring my feelings at the moment. Living in this blasted moment. Fantasizing about that bombshell and all the ways we’re going to please each other.
Assuming I don’t break her and scare her away forever.
This is why I can’t get attached. This is why I have to fight back those moments claiming me when I claim her during sex. I can’t yet lose myself in the ideas of yes, yes, I love you. Few women have heard me utter those words. I’m
not sure I’ve ever meant them.
Right, the choker.
“Diamonds, but not gratuitous.” I search the case for anything resembling what I have in mind. “They must be sophisticated but not garish. I want her to be able to wear it in casual clothes without drawing too much attention to herself.”
“Of course.” The woman pulls out one last tray, full of diamond-studded chokers of various grades and gaudiness. “These would be your best bet.”
I borrow an eyepiece and study the quality of the diamonds. Some of them are embedded into long, spidery silver ribbons. Too likely to get in the way during sex. Others are sparkling upon leather and cloth. Those would clash with Kathryn’s wardrobe.
Instead, my eye is drawn to a simple collar in the corner. It’s a chain made of white gold. Chains are good. Chains are adjustable, so they can either be a tight choker or a loose necklace. Versatile. Good for a woman’s wardrobe.
Each hole in the chain is filled with a sparkling diamond. Since the holes are tiny, the diamonds are too, which means they glitter but don’t stick out too much. Kathryn could dress up a casual outfit with this or kick up her formal wear a notch.
Not to mention how it would look when it was the only thing left on her body…
I double check the quality of the diamonds and then ask where they come from. I may be a rich bastard, but I’m not without a conscience. Once I’m reassured, including with paperwork, that the diamonds are wholly ethical, I tell the saleswoman to box it up while handing over my credit card.
“She’s a lucky woman,” the saleswoman says.
I break eye contact with her before she can flirt with my any further. Trust me, I know the difference between a polite salesperson and someone testing my boundaries. If I weren’t seeing Katie, I’d probably flirt back and see how submissive this woman acted.
“Have it delivered to this address by tomorrow.” I slip the woman a piece of paper with my address on it. No way I’m carrying that thing home. Katie doesn’t know it yet, but I’m hoping to wrap that pretty choker around her throat this Wednesday night.
Two days. I hope she’s ready.
I barely have my things together when I receive a call from my mother. The cool city air feels refreshing on my face as I step out to answer my phone.
“Ian!” I rarely hear her this flustered, and I immediately stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The sound of a taxi nearly mowing down a poor pedestrian almost drowns out my mother’s voice. “Are you anywhere near the hotel?”
My family owns multiple hotels, but I know that she means The Grand. “I’m about four blocks away. Why? I’m not due there today.” I’m actually taking today off to run errands, like buying my lovely’s collar. Well, that’s the fun errand, anyway. The others include a bank trip, a meeting with a shipping company, and a couple other things that need to be done but are so boring my mind is numbed thinking of them. Administrative work. Ugh.
“You need to get your ass over there. Your father is already on his way.”
“What in the world is going on?”
My mother cuts out as I jog up the sidewalk, wishing the lights around here weren’t so long. By the time I make it to the block The Grand is on, my heart stops.
People.
No.
Not people.
Protestors.
There must be two dozen of them, each wearing a cheap white T-shirt that says “SAVE THE GRAND!!! SAVE OUR COMMUNITY!!!” Their signs aren’t much better. A bunch of homemade shit that shows pictures of my company’s logo slashed out in blood red.
Great. Great.
My mother finally comes back on the phone. “There are protestors raising a big stink and the media is swarming the place because it’s a slow news day.”
Sure enough, I see two local TV vans parked across the street, one news crew setting up and the other already making the rounds through the protestors, looking for juicy interviews.
No fucking way am I going in there by myself. I wait for my father’s sedan to pull up down the block and join him, pretending that we’re some unstoppable Mathers force.
I feel like I’m ten again, and not in the good way.
“Please, we’re doing our jobs.”
It’s the foreman, caught in a corner outside of The Grand. Two reporters are beating him down with questions, and all the man wants to do is get back to work with the demo crew. “Most of our contracted work is finished, anyway. What do these people want us to do? Go put it all back together again? Most of that stuff was rotted out!”
“Excuse us.” My father uses the weight he’s gained with age to push through the crowd and take over the show. This will either end with him being God’s gift to diplomats, or…
“Mr. Mathers! What do you have to say about the accusations that you’re destroying a cultural institution?”
My father falters, sputtering at such an unfounded thing. I have to admit that I’m rather incensed as well. What the hell is this bullshit?
“I can answer that, if I may.”
The protestors raise another stink as yet another person pushes through their ranks. Even though I recognized the voice, I’m still surprised to see Kathryn appearing through the fog of white T-shirts. Her look is all business, as if she came from a meeting – she probably did. I thank the Lord that she has her hair up and looks like such a… hot… professional.
Oh boy.
“The Grand is undergoing a renovation, it’s true,” she says in front of the cameras. Somehow she manages to keep her composure and an even voice. She also does a bangup job shoving the foreman out of the way and taking center stage in front of reporters and protestors. I’m scary close to her. To the point that I can smell her perfume.
It’s taking every bit of self-restraint I have to not smile like I’ve won the lottery. Most inappropriate for the situation, Ian.
“People are afraid, and that’s understandable.” Damn, this is the Kathryn I rarely get to see. The one who gets shit done – and the one who made me so fucking randy that day of the presentations. The day I decided to claim her as mine. Shit. “This place has always represented a core part of our community and heritage. We ask you to please have faith. While property values will be going up due to this renovation, it is not projected to further displace the people living here.” Damn straight! Unless we’re displacing millionaires? “Our goal has always been to make The Grand a shining example of what we offer. This can only happen with improvements.”
A rabble begins. Security has arrived and is making sure the protestors stay off private property. Which is about five feet total. I can smell someone’s terrible body odor.
“I would also like to remind the media and anyone watching that the council signed off on this venture, and we have been given their full blessing. Aside from that…” Kathryn gestures to the sign hanging up behind her. The one showcasing all those signatures she personally went out and got. “Community members have given us their blessing as well. In fact!” She shields her eyes and smiles at two people holding signs. “Seems that some of them are here. How do you do?”
Feet scuff and throats clear. That’s my girl.
My ass-kicking, dominating girl who doesn’t take shit and dishes it out as well as she can take it.
With her hair up, all I can see is the white of her throat. That gorgeous throat I can’t stop myself from kissing when we’re alone. I can feel her heartbeat there. Feel the blood pumping through her veins and telling me how alive she is. I wish I could kiss her now.
I wish I could place my collar there, telling these people standing around us today that she’s mine. Mine.
Kathryn Alison, you may be a Domme to everyone else who knows you, but I fully intend on creating the perfect sub out of you. You have no idea. As soon as the cameras are out of my face, I slip away, pulling out my cell phone and sending you a very important text that you’re sure to get in a few seconds.
“Wednesday night. I’ll
text you more details later.”
One minute later I look back and see her staring at her phone. Her cheeks are pink. So pink that someone taps her on the shoulder to ask if she’s not feeling well. Then they tell her how much she kicks ass… because the protestors are dispersing, and the news crews have everything they need to smear us at six tonight.
I don’t care about that. All I care about is making sure she understands my appreciation on Wednesday night.
Work doesn’t matter. Only Kathryn Alison matters.
Chapter 8
KATHRYN
They’re not lying when they say the camera adds about ten pounds. It also does not help that all over the news you can see my puffy pink cheeks and my body drowning in my thickest coat. This cold snap has been hell on my fashion choices.
KATHRYN ALISON – CULTURAL EXPERT. Yes, news channel, I am surely an expert. God, that sounds so pretentious. This station is pretending to be sympathetic to me, but in reality it’s making me look like some rich douche. Well, me and Ian, who is lurking about ten feet away in some shots.
Please note how he did nothing to jump in and rescue his ship from the cannonballs hurled in its direction. Sure, those protestors were mostly a nuisance that were easy to deal with, but never let be said that the Mathers actually know how to diffuse situations with the public. They’re too far removed from the affairs and worries of the common man.
Then again, so is most of my family. I’m the weird child who wanted to learn how to help people. Weird as in I actually felt sympathy for the protestors outside my father’s buildings and for the homeless people wandering around the downtown streets. I’m basically a pariah for it.
“You don’t look so bad,” Eva says, popcorn falling all over her chest as she tries to eat it while slouched down on my couch. “You could look way worse, is what I’m saying.”
“Thanks.” I turn off the TV, unable to look at the scene anymore. When I got the call from Caroline about what was going on, my first thought was how I could scatter the stupid situation. Know what was even stupider? The fact that some of those supposed protestors were some of the same people who signed my petition! Fuck ‘em.