by Nikki Sex
How unexpected had her instant reaction been then? The way that Carmen had automatically assumed that submissive position, back and shoulders straight, chest out, stomach in and head up with eyes lowered. Legs open and spread wide, hands upon her thighs palms upward.
There she had been, open and available to the Dom in him. Sexy, oh fuck yeah, it had been sexy as hell. Unfortunately that pose was connected to something from an unhappy past.
What exactly had that been about?
It was just as well Kurt knew how to deal with such situations. Where would he be without André Chevalier's Dom training? Someday he would talk to Carmen, expose her land mines, take them apart, and disarm them completely.
Unfortunately the woman was a walking minefield.
Kurt smiled. But worth it. Happily he liked puzzles, and he liked her.
His sweet sub had grown up in a war zone. Her psyche was probably littered with land mines. Life would be better for both of them after he dug up and defused them all. Until then Kurt decided to rein in his more aggressive Dom tendencies, and take it slowly. In time she would learn exactly what he wanted in his sub.
A large part of the fun would be teaching her.
Kurt softly slid out of bed, pleased that Carmen slept on like a child. An individual could only sleep with such total abandon when they trusted that they were safe. Carmen felt safe with him, and this truth gave him a warm sense of fulfillment and a tight pleasure in his chest.
Jesus, I'm so gone on this girl.
Kurt slipped on a terrycloth bathrobe, left the bedroom and softly shut the door. He went to the bathroom and did the necessary, washing, shaving and smiling at the bite Carmen had given him on his shoulder – horny little animal that she was.
He then called room service and ordered up some breakfast. After that he phoned Brett Jones, his right hand man, explaining that he wouldn't be on site until late afternoon, and perhaps not at all. Some city council inspectors were due in, to check out a particular section of work, but Brett could deal with it.
"So what are you doing?" Brett asked. "You're at the Ritz-Carlton again? Don't tell me you found that little Mexican girl you've had such a hard-on for?"
"Actually, I did," Kurt said, grinning. "And while she has a Hispanic background, she's American through and through, amigo. Born and bred in California."
Kurt heard a soft knock on the door. "Just a sec, Brett."
Kurt opened it and went for his wallet as a young man rolled a cart with his breakfast on it inside. Kurt nodded and gave him a ten spot. The waiter grinned and left, quietly shutting the door behind him. He poured himself out some coffee and said, "I'm back. That was just room service bringing breakfast."
"So where is this vision now?" Brett asked.
"Sound asleep in my bed."
Brett barked a short laugh. "Glad to hear that you've exhausted her. So she's submissive?"
"Oh yeah, sexual submission runs deep in her bones," Kurt said. "But when not in bed she is a feisty, opinionated dynamo, and more than happy to set me straight. It makes a nice change from my ex, Laura, I can tell you. Carmen's smart, and generous and fun to be with. She's my equal, Brett, and no doubt my superior in lots of things. The woman awes the hell out of me."
"You sound besotted," Brett said.
"You know it," Kurt agreed. "I'm a goner. I swear I fall into Dom-space so quickly with her, and I've hardly done anything yet. I haven't even tied her up, although I can say she surely does enjoy a good spanking. I've never met a woman who does it for me like Carmen does. I am sooo going to keep her."
"Maybe she doesn't want to be kept," Brett said.
Kurt snorted. "If that is the case then I will use my remarkable charm and make her change her mind," Kurt said confidently. "Carmen Wilson is mine. Honestly, I have never felt like this with anyone before."
"Good for you, buddy," Brett said. "I've never regretted marrying Maria. When it's right it's right."
"I know it's fast," Kurt said. "And there is no reason at all to rush into anything, but I'm just so damn happy. Carmen's the one for me, Brett. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
5. Memory
Kurt opened the door to the bedroom to check on Carmen. She had rolled over, but she was still deeply asleep. Good. She could use the rest.
He sat down and started his breakfast with porridge, pouring two sachets of honey on it. There was just something about rolled oats that reminded him of his gramma. She and Grampa Jarl Nielsen had begun the successful family construction business years before. Now with exacting and expert standards, Nielsen was a highly trusted name in the building industry.
It was said that the first generation in a family makes money in a "rags to riches" manner; the second generation keeps the money or increases it; and the third generation squanders or loses the money and so doing, goes from "riches to rags."
Kurt seemed to be following the natural trend so far, as the family business had increased and he had instituted a number of successful improvements. Kurt was a driven perfectionist, always head of the class, and neurotically obsessed with details. These qualities made him an extraordinary architect and construction engineer.
Even his choice of profession was obsessive. Architect was enough of a career for anyone; construction engineer was a huge occupation on its own. No one did both – but Kurt did.
In some things I am a driven crazy person, Kurt told himself. But I am my kind of crazy.
Kurt finished the porridge and started on the omelet. His mind wandered, thinking of Carmen and thinking of André. Five years ago, when Kurt was twenty-five he took two weeks off his full-time studies in order to visit André Chevalier. They had corresponded via email, spoken on the phone, and Kurt had paid André's fees and signed his contract.
André didn't advertise – he only obtained work from word of mouth.
Back then Kurt had discovered his Dom nature, and had read everything he could find on BDSM. Due to his compulsive disposition, he never wanted to do anything half-assed. Thus he had sought out Andre as the best person to train him fully on the subject.
Kurt still recalled the first moment he had seen André Chevalier. The Frenchman was only a few years older than he was. How could he learn anything from this guy? he had wondered. It just showed that a person could be wise and experienced without grey hair. As a Dom, André was a genius, a true Master. Many people called him the 'woman-whisperer.'
The Frenchman had looked more or less average; one's eyes wouldn't be drawn to him in a crowd. Yet the man was in excellent shape, flat stomach and broad shouldered. Dark hair, cut short around his neck and ears, tan skin all over, brown eyes, clean shaven, with thick eyebrows. There were pock marks on his face, yet they didn't detract.
André Chevalier was always dressed impeccably at the height of fashion and wearing the most costly and perfectly tailored clothes.
When the man looked at him, Kurt found it difficult not to be mesmerized. What was with that charm? Was it something André could turn on and off at will? Was it an act? Or just him?
"Kurt Nielsen," André said with a distinctive French accent, putting his hand out. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."
Kurt had taken the palm of the man who was of a similar age to himself, and found he was smiling.
After filling out numerous forms, detailing interests, and things he may want to try, Kurt also included things he violently refused to consider. André took the time to discuss each item.
The strange thing about chatting to André was how comfortable Kurt was. Nothing fazed the Frenchman. Kurt figured that if he had told André that he had a fantasy about cutting off his balls, his mentor would have calmly found a way for him to safely fulfill this bizarre craving!
Politely curious and genuinely interested in every single thing Kurt had to say, his mentor had inexhaustible patience. André also asked exacting questions that showed how attentively he had been paying attention and how clearly he understood.
; Somehow every possible secret Kurt didn’t even know he had, André easily exposed. When was Kurt's first climax? What had Kurt been thinking of at the time? When did Kurt notice his interest in sexual domination? The questions went on and on and before Kurt knew it, two hours had gone by. It had felt like twenty minutes.
"Mon ami," André had said. "As you have been informed, it is my way to start by assigning any man who wishes to be trained as a sexual dominant, first to a Mistress. I know what you wish to do with your subs. Now your Mistress will help you experience such from the submissive's point of view." An odd smile played around his mouth. "Of a certainty, the Domme I have chosen for you will deliberately push your boundaries, you understand? This is acceptable?"
"Yes," Kurt said, grinning for some unknown reason. Perhaps just because André was charming and mischievous and fun. "I completely understand. I hope you found me someone that I can learn from."
"Mais oui," André had assured him. "Mistress Diana is one of the best. I myself have submitted under her skilled hand."
Kurt raised his eyebrows at that.
"Non," André said. "It is not my preference. It was to comprehend the experience of my clients, you understand. You will be under the care of my finest trainers, je vous assure."
As Kurt remembered, he went back to that time.
6. Five Years Previously
Kurt Nielsen had taken quite a beating.
Face down, spread-eagled, and naked, Kurt was cuffed to the St. Andrew's Cross. The X frame was custom made. There was a resting place for a sub's head, and soft padding for his ankles, wrists, and neck.
Kurt wore a thick ruby red leather collar, a sign of his submission. He was blindfolded, and the darkness increased all sensation, hearing, taste and smell.
Mistress Diana panted breathlessly, and Kurt knew that she was watching him with attentive interest while wielding her flogger with casual, expert skill. She was a big woman, almost Kurt's height and a size 16 if he was any judge. Soft, feminine, and voluptuous – the confident Domme had the best damn rack Kurt had ever seen.
Probably over twenty years older than Kurt, Mistress Diana had a predatory gaze in her cold blue eyes that could send a chill through a man, right down to his balls. Dressed in a ruby red corset with matching bottle-red hair and stiletto thigh high boots, she was dressed for sin and could easily pass as Satan's girlfriend.
Her outfit was intended to intimidate.
Daunted, Kurt had to admit that it worked.
Over the last two days Kurt discovered the trance-like state of sub space. He had wanted to please his mistress, and somehow that was part of it. Just now Mistress Diana had started with a paddle, moved to a light flogger, and then to a harder one that had more of a sting. Entranced by the feel of the leather, the swishing sound as it connected, and Diana's words of encouragement and praise, Kurt had once more fallen into sub space.
She had even whipped his cock and balls, and while it fucking hurt, the entire experience still made him hard as rock and painfully aroused.
Diana stroked his face. "Do you want to come for me, my pet? she crooned in a silky, caressing voice.
"If it pleases you, Mistress," Kurt said from a strange dreamy high. It had taken him awhile to get all the wording right, in order to gratify this exacting woman – but he had done it. Now all he felt was satisfaction at having made her happy.
"Would you like me to jack you off? She asked. "To make you spray your semen into my hand like a horny teenager? Like a naughty little boy who can't control himself?"
Oh, fuck yes! he thought. My balls are going to turn blue if this keeps up much longer. But he said, "Only if it pleases you, Mistress."
Mistress Diana plundered his mouth, taking exactly what she wanted from him: Take, take, take. Kurt made no resistance to this assault on his senses, in fact he was open to her ravenous need, utterly willing to yield, to give and give and give some more. She pressed her big soft breasts against his torso, and squeezed one muscular butt cheek with one hand. Then she reached down and grabbed his cock, skillfully jacking him off.
Kurt groaned.
"Come for your Mistress," Diana demanded.
Kurt's physical response was immediate. This clever woman had already trained his body to obey her. Waves of intense sensation rushed into his testicles, thighs and shaft, along with a pounding pulse of blood.
Kurt felt a familiar sensation of intense cramping.
"Mistress," he called out as his head flew back and his hips thrust forward as he convulsed.
As he released his seed, electric heat pulsed within him. This pleasurable sensation exploded out in a powerful rush, into the tendons of the upper thighs, the lower buttocks, back, thighs, waist and abdominals. Kurt had been holding back his orgasm for so long that his climax was a painful pleasure. He ejaculated ferociously, spraying his cum again and again and again with terrific volume and velocity.
He wished he hadn't had his blindfold on. He would have liked to see. Kurt figured he would have shot at least six feet, or it certainly had felt like it. The electric convulsion of climax had exhausted him.
Mistress Diana crooned and stroked and caressed. Pleased with him, she took off his blindfold and wiped his eyes with a warm cloth. Then she uncuffed his arms and legs, massaging his hands, neck and shoulders, cooling his back with a washcloth and then rubbing in a soothing cream.
Every touch felt divine.
When she was finished and Kurt's breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, she said, "Get down to your hands and knees, pet."
"Yes, Mistress," he said and instantly complied.
"Shall I leash you?" she asked.
"If it pleases you, Mistress," he said.
"It does please me," she said, attaching the leash. "Crawl to my chair now, pet. I want to see you sitting at my feet."
"Yes, Mistress," he said and as he did she kept the leash tight, pulling against his throat, reminding him of his submission and who he belonged to.
When she sat down she said, "Do you want to kiss my feet, pet?"
"Oh yes, Mistress," he said.
"You may do so, pet," she said.
Kurt lowered himself, sliding foreword and kissed her red stiletto boots.
"Stop," she snapped. "Look at me now." She used a riding crop to raise his head to meet her eyes. "Tell me why you are smiling?" she demanded, her pale blue eyes flashing.
Kurt hesitated. "Mistress," he said, "I'm not sure."
"Think about it," she said, studying him appraisingly. "Then tell me exactly what you were thinking."
Kurt said, "As you wish," and then he frowned, considering. "Let me see. I was on the cross, and I was very grateful that you let me climax. Then you massaged me, and that was a sensual pleasure. I crawled here, to sit at your feet." He paused, thinking it over. "I was strangely comfortable sitting at your feet. I remember wondering why that was. Then you asked me to kiss…"
"Ah!" He laughed. "I remember now. I was thinking that it was a pleasure to please you. It felt like a small exchange for all that you have taught me. I was considering that I had already learned so much. You are a fantastic Domme, Mistress. I was also thinking that being here with you was fun."
Mistress Diana burst out in unexpected laughter. As she did so, André came into the room and her eyebrows rose. "André," she said. "Can I keep him?"
André laughed and Kurt thought he had never heard a more genuine sound of pure joy. "Non," he said. "In fact, I have come to take your pet away from you."
Kurt was allowed to kiss Mistress Diana good bye, and André and Kurt left. Debriefing occurred then, where André asked questions and discussed all of Kurt's experiences. Kurt had been surprised by André's genuine admiration.
"Bravo, Kurt," André said. "I salute you! We are of the same mind, mon ami. Heart and soul, you admire and respect women. You trust them enough to genuinely enjoy being Topped by a woman, despite your natural inclination to Dominate. Oui, oui, from you I find no ingrained sense of male
superiority. This quality is rare my friend, comprenez vous?"
André's smile was boyish and appealing. Male or female, anyone could fall in love with André Chevalier. The man was charming, honest, and he seemed to perfectly understand everything.
7. Breakfast
At eight-fifteen, Kurt ordered breakfast for Carmen, picking out an omelet with bacon, white bread toast, and cereal in case she didn't like eggs. When room service arrived, he paid the waiter, poured a cup of coffee with milk and one sugar – (exactly how he liked it) and brought it into Carmen who was still out for the count.
Kurt tried wafting the smell of coffee in her face, and it seemed to work. Carmen's eyes flew open with surprise, she seemed instantly awake.
"Hey, gorgeous," Kurt said. He put her coffee down on the bedside table, grabbed a couple pillows and put them behind her back. Then he sat down next to her and handed her the mug of coffee.
Kurt couldn’t stop smiling at her. He was just so glad that she was here with him.
This whole visiting a lawyer today thing was a bummer, because he wanted to just cuddle and chat and make love all day long. Kurt felt he was only just beginning to get to know Carmen, and what little he knew made him long to know more.
"Have a sip," he said.
She did, and the whole room lit up when she smiled. "White, one sugar?" she asked.
"Yep," Kurt said. "That's how I take it."
"Me, too," she said with a cheeky grin.
Kurt let her drink for awhile, while he sat and happily watched her. Unfortunately the day was going to be daunting for both of them. When she was almost finished he said, "Sorry I had to wake you, but it's 8:30am and we have to get ready to go to see your lawyer by 11:00am."
Carmen frowned, and a haunted look came into her dark eyes. Kurt ached when he saw the grief and anxiety that radiated in almost palpable waves from his sweet girl.
Growing up with an emotional gramma, Kurt understood how some women cried at happy endings in movies. He also had a younger sister who he had watched mature through a stormy adolescence into the distinctive person she was today. Kurt knew all about women and tears, thus he saw the signs in Carmen, even before the event.