AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It all turned him on, but the most intense moments were those first few, when he shuddered with the anticipation of her being home, of her touching him. When she wouldn't speak to him directly, and wouldn't allow him to speak. He was there to relieve her sexual need after a hard day at the office, and he would serve her well. That was what was required of him. She'd slide the dildo into his ass with a hum of pleasure and start thrusting, undulating, a dance against his body as she let the stimulator get her worked up while she thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew.
His cock would ache, feel so hard it could split, especially as he listened to her start to breathe faster and heavier, little moans breaking from her luscious lips. He wished there was a mirror before him so he could look at her, but that wasn't permitted. Not until after.
When she came, sometimes it was like a dove's cry; sometimes a hawk's sharpness, a guttural shriek he felt all the way down into his gut and balls. He'd be so near that edge he almost couldn't hold back any longer. But he'd wait on his Mistress to relent.
"Come for me, sweet boy."
He would jet into the condom, his body humping and working the air, wishing he could be thrusting into her. That came later in the evening, if she welcomed him into her bed. If not, he at least didn't have to be far away from her. Unless he was really an ass
hole. Then she'd chain him up in the playroom for the night. He hated that, so he fought his demons extra hard to keep that from happening.
She'd moved the pallet on the floor of her bedroom next to her bed, so at night she could let her fingers trail over his shoulder, his side, as she laid on her stomach and they looked at each other in the dim lamplight, talking about whatever.
Christ, it was so many different things, belonging to her like this. He'd thought it wouldn't be much different from being in a club environment, but then he'd never been a Mistress's personal sub, in a relationship with her. Like so many things in his life, he'd had no way to anticipate what this would feel like. There was the sex part, which was mind-blowing. But it was the other stuff--room for tenderness, for practical moments, for laughter, for living a life with a woman he seemed to need like air--that blew away all his foundations, all the crap bullshit defenses he'd erected.
He'd named the kitten he'd adopted Dot. She lived at Regina's with Magenta, her mother. He'd expected Dot to gravitate toward Regina, but Dot made clear from Day One Marius was her person, in ways he thought only dogs did. She was in the window watching for him when he pulled up on his visiting days. She slept on the pallet with him. When he and Regina watched TV, she curled up in his lap or perched on the sofa back behind his head. Regina would recline against his side, her head on his shoulder. Life didn't get better than that.
One evening, when Regina was in the middle of her post-work fucking of his ass, Dot jumped on Marius's back, kneading and cutting a couple circles before she curled up in the small of it for a catnap, utterly oblivious to what they were doing, or the rhythmic movement of their bodies, though she did rub her face against Regina's fingers, gripping Marius's hip.
Her timing had been so perfect, Regina on the cusp of climax. His Mistress had muttered "screw it," laughter in her voice, and had her orgasm then and there, commanding Marius to come, which he'd managed, though they'd been laughing throughout it. Which had been silly and fun. Another surprise.
Dot also had a command post on the top of the home office chair, kneading his shoulder when he used Regina's computer with her permission and looked at job options. He was considering enrolling in a program to become a certified nursing assistant, with the thought he might be able to train to be a nurse if he did well as a CNA. Or become an EMT and train to be a paramedic, something like that. Regina had put him in touch with a job counselor at the community college where she was doing her corporate stuff, and that counselor had given him some material to study and work on until enrollment opened for the next semester.
Sometimes he thought he was crazy, but when he'd finally worked up the courage to tell Regina the options that interested him, she'd brightened.
"I think you'd be great in any of those fields," she said. "You like taking care of people, particularly women. Let me know how I can help."
She still kept after him about talking to a different kind of counselor, but he dodged it. The fights they had over it, how ugly he'd get, were what got him banished to the playroom most often. One time he walked out, and she texted him that he wasn't allowed to come home for a week. That had sucked so badly he'd vowed never to lose it like that again. But he still wasn't seeing a damn shrink.
He was doing fine. He was past it. Why could she see so much, and not see that? His father was dead and had no more hold on him. Everything was going in the right direction. He wasn't having any more urges to fuck with Regina's head, except for the occasional flare up that, like a headache, Regina could see coming and handled. And he was getting better at managing them himself, learning that self-discipline she'd talked about.
Yeah, he had some weird flashbacks sometimes, and more nightmares lately, which didn't make a lot of sense, because things were going right. But she helped him with those, too.
So he didn't need anyone else's help. All he'd needed was her, the chance to serve a Mistress who understood him.
He could pretty much pass as normal. So why the hell should he be nervous about a scene at The Zone, being conducted by the Mistress he'd learned to trust more than anyone he'd ever trusted in his life?
He wondered what she'd left for him in the locker. The question, as well as the rest of the text, had his cock hardening. Hell, lately it had been a matter of when was his cock not hard? She could get him erect as fast as a dog trained to beg. On command.
Maybe after tonight, she'd believe he was okay, too, and lay off the shrink stuff.
Then everything would be perfect. Or rather, far better than he'd ever expected his life to be--which was his definition of perfect.
Arriving at the club, Tina, the hostess, looked at his guest pass closely. Her brow creased over it, but she nodded cordially and let him in. Not overly friendly, but not hostile.
Yeah, that was going to be the awkward part of tonight. Everyone knew his situation and his shit. Thinking about how he'd acted, he really couldn't blame Tyler anymore for what he'd had to do. And Regina...Tyler had given Marius the chance with Regina, when he'd done nothing to deserve her.
But he'd changed since then. He'd prove it. Then those sons of bitches could say what they liked about him, shit on him as much as they wanted, to each other. But he'd be above and beyond reproach for his Mistress. She'd show them. He'd show them.
He didn't like the way the thought made him feel and didn't really want to examine the why all that closely. Even though it was early for too many people to be here, he felt like everyone was staring at him, particularly the Dommes, and he didn't want to get thrown off balance by that. He knew he'd done wrong things to them, but he was different now.
He remembered that night he'd wondered how to make amends. He hadn't gone back to that idea much since, but maybe he would at some point. For tonight, his focus was this. Doing what she'd told him to do.
Once he arrived in the relative privacy of the locker room, he could breathe a little easier. Until he opened the locker. He whistled, muttering an oath under his breath. His Mistress was pulling out all the stops tonight. Just a thong with a codpiece style front that would barely cover his dick.
This was all he'd be wearing? No, not all. His gaze flicked to his ID bracelet at the same moment he lifted his hand to the collar around his throat.
He only took them off to shower, with her permission. Or when he had his fights, which had been about once a week this month. So far he hadn't needed to call her to avoid going to a fight angry. The fights were still a channel for his aggression, yeah, some of his demons taking over as he hammered an opponent, but that had always been the case, making him a good fighter. It wasn't the same as going there all worked up. She didn't totally agree, but she didn't argue with him over it. Much.
