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She nodded. "So the question is what can you do in the interim? What other things can you do to make things better, right now? Start stroking your cock again."
"I hurt her the worst, but I think..." His breath caught in his throat as she opened the robe fully. Sliding her touch down to her cunt, she played with her clit, her lips parting in aroused reaction. Her gaze was on the movement of his hand, the flex of his body as he pushed up into his grip. Fuck, she knew he didn't multitask well. It was why she did it, though. Dommes were sadists, after all...
"I want to say I'm sorry to all of them in some way. And I'd like...your help. You're a Mistress, so you'll know the best thing. Will you help me figure out how to do that?"
She rose from the chair, leaving the robe behind for Magenta, who immediately transferred from the cushion on the adjacent chair to curl up on body-warmed terry cloth. Regina moved to straddle him, one leg folded up against his side, the other braced on the floor. With no more than a look, she had him move his hands out of her way. "Hold onto the top of the lounge," she instructed.
When he did, she pushed herself down on his cock, a nice slow, Sunday morning slick glide. "Fuck, you feel good," he growled.
"Same goes, sweet boy." She began to ride, up, down, squeeze, rotate, as his hands flexed on metal and his body thrust up into the heated wet grip of hers. His gaze stayed glued to the quiver of her breasts, the sinuous motion of thighs and stomach, the glint of the silver spiral charm at her navel.
"Yes," she said breathlessly, right as the orgasm took her. "Yes, I'll help you. Always."
Making amends. It was a lot harder than it sounded, because it wasn't some stupid-ass politician standing up and saying, "I'm sorry if I offended someone," arrogant words that didn't express regret at all.
But Regina helped him figure it out, just as she'd said she would. He did the written apology to Siren. After about a hundred painful drafts, he passed it on through Tyler. It felt inadequate, but it was something.
As far as the other Dommes, with some suggestions from Regina, he worked out an idea, then consulted with her and Marguerite to set up the whole thing. The first step was renting Marguerite's place for a tea party with all the trimmings.
Since the organizers of that last fight had made plenty of money on him in the initial free-for-all, they hadn't thrown too much of a shitfit about him ducking the scheduled fight. He and Tal had settled with them with some left over, and Marius used those leftovers to pay for the event.
Tal didn't act too mad that he'd decided to retire. He seemed pretty pleased for Marius and told him that he and his wife would have them over for barbecue sometime soon.
Regina had at last made him tell her what he did with the money he won from his fights. For years he'd dropped big chunks of it anonymously at one of the local animal rescues. Some of the rest went via money order to the shadow's sister to help with...his mother's care. It had taken time for him to finally call her that, but the counselor had helped.
After that pivotal night where he'd learned his father's pro-bono lawyers anticipated losing their fight to keep him from lethal injection, Marius had started giving almost all of it away to both those causes. He hadn't really cared about where he lived, what he ate. That gray pall had stayed on everything.
Until Regina had helped him start seeing, feeling and tasting in vibrant color again. Calling the shadow what she was--his mother--and telling Regina about the gray curtain and what he did with his money? Those types of breakthroughs made him feel better than he expected.
He also discovered a pleasura
ble kind of nervousness with her, a desire to please, to not fail her. Even as he also enjoyed yanking her chain sometimes. She knew how to get rough with him. She liked setting a bad dog back on his heels...and he liked it, too.
A different kind of nervousness started manifesting when Marguerite issued the invitations to the tea party, and almost all the Dommes RSVP'ed that they'd be there.
The day of the event, his Mistress chose his clothes. A white dress shirt, black slacks and jacket, shiny shoes. Dark brief shorts and a cock harness under the slacks. Though he wasn't sure the latter was needed, since he felt like his privates wanted to turtle right up into his body, Regina proved otherwise when they arrived at Marguerite's and his Mistress took him into the back room to give him another once-over.
Once there, Regina removed the light wrap that had denied him a full view of what she'd chosen to wear. All he knew before they left her place was it was red satin and short, and she was wearing elbow-length black gloves. His saliva had dried up, looking at how the fabric molded her long, feminine fingers and forearms like a second skin.
The dress she revealed was a short wrap-around style that hugged her curves. The black bra she wore beneath pushed her breasts up on tempting display, the lace edges providing a trim to the deep vee neckline of the dress. Her necklace was a delicate gold chain, the pendant a tiny gold and black kitten playing with a ceramic red rose. She wore strappy red heels with black soles.
That cock harness was going to get one hell of a work out.
He was still nervous as hell, but the surge of lust and alpha mine vibes surged up over that like a wave, making him restless enough to want to push through limits and take her against the wall, here and now.
She saw it, moistening her crimson-painted lips, her brown eyes measuring him as she tested his self-control and came closer. "Turn around," she commanded.
He pivoted, slow, not wanting to take his eyes off her any sooner than necessary.
As she stepped behind him, he smelled her perfume, a haunting scent he wanted to taste on her skin. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his back and under the jacket tail to mold her hands over his ass, his hips, and press her body against his. He drew in a breath, and it sounded like a growl. She chuckled, a low, husky note.
"So you like the dress, sweet boy?"
"Fuck, yeah," he muttered.
She tsked and gave his buttock a light slap. "Clean up your language. This is a formal tea party. Best behavior. You're going to have to work very, very hard to earn the right to take me in this dress. Are you ready to work very hard?"
"I'll do anything you want, Mistress."
