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Come to me and don’t be late. I abhor disrespect and punish severely.
His last words lingered in her mind, his command clear. She waited outside, gazing up at the darkened sky for several minutes. Exhausted, the last thing she wanted to do was perform for yet another man. Unfortunately, she needed the money. The late-night offer was more than twice what she was used to receiving and the extra dollars would allow her to sleep easily for at least a little while. She’d promised herself she’d get out of the profession. What profession? She was a glorified hooker. Granted, she craved the strangled hold of a man, hungered to feel the slice of a whip. For a few seconds she remained quiet, sliding into her submissive persona.
She’d hadn’t been able to comprehend why her previous relationships hadn’t lasted more than a year at best until a friend had introduced her to a kink club. She’d never forget the night. After only an hour of being a voyeur, she’d felt comfortable enough to be tied to a pole, whipped by several men, the thin leather straps leaving welts. The thought remained as one of her favorites.
Shuddering, she took one last puff on her cigarette, tossing the butt and grounding out the ember. Nerves were the only reason she was smoking. Delving into her kinky side had given her a new perspective on life. She could never tell her friends what she was doing. They certainly couldn’t handle her rather insane proclivities. Right now, she didn’t give a shit. This was a fix, one she desperately needed. The money kept her living in her high-dollar condominium.
Glancing up the length of the driveway, she was grateful there was lighting every few feet, illuminating the way. She never parked close, preferring to keep every aspect of her private life just that. She shifted and the thin coat scraped against her nearly naked ass, sending a shot of pain into her torso. The previous session had been fairly brutal.
The house was large but had seen better years. She was surprised given the men she’d grown accustomed to serving.
She closed the distance to the front door, brushing her hands through her hair before pressing the doorbell. When the door opened, she wasn’t surprised he wore a leather hood, black pants and boots, along with a leather vest. His appearance was typical of what she’d encountered in the various BDSM establishments. The Dom’s were usually older, generally rich and almost half unmarried. The darker the needs, the more likely they were to be alone. Those choosing to hide their identities were some of the most powerful men in the world.
“Sir.” She kept her voice quiet, her actions demur. There was a distinct smell to the house, a woody and earthy combination that made her stomach rumble with nausea. She bit back bile and stole a quick glance around the perimeter. Wall sconces adorned the long hallway, each leading to what led to a glowing space, warm and inviting.
He nodded and opened the door all the way, ushering her inside. Lifting his arm, he twirled his finger in a circular fashion.
Obeying, she turned in a circle, allowing him to see all of her.
“Remove your coat.” His voice was husky.
“Yes, Sir.” She slid the coat from her shoulders and instantly the chill in the air gave her goose bumps. As she turned back around, he grabbed the material from her hand.
He pointed down the hall and nodded. “We will begin immediately.”
“Yes, Sir.” She couldn’t tell if he was behind her or not. Only her stilettos clipped against the marble floor, no other sound. Smoothing down the front of her suede skirt, the requested attire, she held her head high, making sure she didn’t slip and fall on the slick surface. She stopped just as she entered a kitchen, uncertain of where to go. The gleaming space was functional yet showed little sign of life or activity. There were no appliances housed on the counters, no papers or magazines. While crystal stems gleamed through glass front cabinet doors, there was no indication they’d been used in the recent past. She gulped as she felt the pressure from his hand on the small of her back.
Pushing her forward, he pointed toward a bank of wooden doors.
She heard a jangle of keys and closed her eyes, her right leg quivering. The house was far too silent for her tastes. Noise was a constant in her world.
Reaching around her, he slipped a key into the lock. She was taken inside a room full of mirrors, the old-fashioned pedestal kind covering nearly every inch of free wall space. Only a fireplace remained as a central focal point. That and the gleaming silver cage positioned in the middle of the room.
Inhaling, she was intrigued. The majority of Doms wanted rounds of punishment. This man, her Dom would start with confinement. She was breathless with excited anticipation. Being caged was her ultimate fantasy. The intimacy was not for everyone, but she craved being treated like an animal, a pet to stroke and use.
He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, kneading as he lowered his head. His hot breath cascaded across her cheek. She was instantly at peace, realizing what was required of her. She needed no further direction. Without turning around, she unbuttoned her skirt, wiggling the material down from her hips. He never let go, didn’t utter a word. As she untied her corset she glanced around the room. From every vantage point he would be able to see her in her submissive state. In truth, she’d be nothing more than a slave. Naked, she stood quietly, her hands at her sides.
Breathing out, his grip tightened around her neck, his fingers digging in. He kicked her legs apart and forced her to lean over. Using a single finger, he rubbed the tip down her spine then tapped her right buttocks. “Open your ass cheeks.”
This time she was able to detect a slight accent. She balanced on her heels, placing her hands behind her back. There was nothing more intimate than exposing her asshole. Hearing his deep sigh, she smiled as she spread her legs further.
He rubbed her back for a few additional seconds before dipping his hand between her legs, fingering her cunt. “Wet.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Obedient.”
“Of course, Sir,” she whispered. The pressure of his thumb against her puckered hole made her suck in her breath.
Slipping his thumb inside, he exhaled and gripped her shoulder as he wiggled his finger. “Tight little whore.” Alongside his thumb he added a second then third finger, flexing them open as he thrust in as deeply as he was able.
She gritted her teeth, pain washing with pure bliss. Panting, she resisted moaning as he explored her dark crevice. Her legs shook as he held her still, his forth finger becoming a fifth, coming close to fisting her.
“You’re a good whore. I’m very pleased.”
His voice was pleasant and almost familiar, a warm seduction of tone and desire lacing every word. A part of her wanted to know who he was and how she knew him. Another simply didn’t give a shit. This was her place in the world, a born submissive.
