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He stripped The Zone T-shirt and his jeans, shoes and socks. She hadn't let him wear underwear tonight. He felt the telltale quiver in his fingers as he obeyed her. It didn't matter that they'd been together for months now. She had this effect on him every time she exercised a Mistress's rights. As the counseling did its work on his head and heart, it was only getting stronger. Sometimes he thought he was going to explode with all the things he wanted to do for her and with her.
And the "with her" part was becoming just as important to him. They'd taken Dot to get spayed last week. The two of them, concerned pet parents, had watched over her the night she came home glazed and groggy. He'd held her in his lap, Regina cuddling Magenta as they watched TV and didn't do much else, wanting to keep an eye on her. It was what a family did.
But his identity as her sub, her property, was an equally big part of who he was for her. They both liked it that way, and the second she actively exercised it, his mind shifted into that mode, like now.
As he locked the wrist cuff onto his arm, he was stretched out on the mat, naked and under her view. Straddling him with her mile-long legs, she looked down at him from a standing position. He felt like he was looking at one of the vintage soft porn pictures that offered a straight-from-the-ground shot of a woman, an erotic view of her crotch, overshadowed by her tilted-up, exaggerated breasts. Only nothing was exaggerated on his Mistress. She was every inch the fantasy material she appeared to be. Her moist lips pressed together as her brown eyes slid over his body with leisurely, possessive pleasure. Bending, she buckled the other cuff to completely lock him down. She avoided the curl of his fingers, trying to caress her hands, with a short sound of reproof. Rising, she pressed the toe of her shoe into his scrotum, earning a wince.
"Did I give you permission to touch me?"
"No, Mistress."
"Hmm." She brought a long, rectangular stool with short legs over, designed to be placed over his chest, the front legs pressed against his arm pits. She sat down on it, which positioned her so he was staring up at her above him. An adjustment of his gaze could have him looking right at her latex-clad cunt, inches away from his face.
"I know you're not staring at my pussy."
"No, ma'am," he said immediately, snapping his gaze to her face.
"Lying. That earns you another punishment."
"Can't help it, Mistress. I want to play with it. Eat it, fuck it. It's all I think about."
"I can tell. You did a crappy job washing the dishes this morning. I found a speck of egg on one plate." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming, and he had a tempting view of her breasts, the shape all but revealed from the deep neckline. "Now you're ogling my tits." She sighed. "Am I going to have to blindfold you?"
"No, Mistress. Please don't. I love looking at you. I can make up for it."
"You're trying to be good, trying to be Duncan. But I know when Marius wants to come out and play." Reaching back, she took a firm grip on his cock and twisted, pulling a groan from him. "So stop blowing smoke up my ass, Marius. Tell me what you're really imagining in that disobedient brain of yours."
He leveled his gaze on hers, feeling that aggression surge up. "Let me go and I'll show you, Mistress. Or are you chicken?"
Her lips curved, the gleam in his eyes matching it. At one time, he would have turned and twisted a Mistress's feelings with that aggressive feeling, taking the scene in a wrong direction. She accepted his aggression and they explored it together, in some fucking memorable ways. She was more than a match for him. Far more, most times. Even when she wasn't, he could never hurt her. He'd throw himself off a bridge first.
Rising, she moved to the cabinet and came back, holding a hood. Though he fought to pull his head away, she had it down over his head in a blink, tying the drawstring so he was plunged into darkness.
She moved the bench over his knees. When she touched him now, he bit back another groan. She'd donned a pair of vampire gloves, the silver barbs embedded in the fabric probably catching the light as she clamped both hands on his sides, hard enough the barbs dug in.
"Fuck." He cursed and shuddered as she dragged them downward. Regina was cleared for blood play, because Marius could take it, absorbed it. Ate it up.
He breathed through the thin fabric of the hood that increased the sense of heat and enclosed space around him. His pulse crashed against his throat. "Chicken, hmm?" she mused. "Good thing I have a big, strong man to protect me. One I can tie up and make helpless whenever I wish. Can't I?"
"Yes, Mistress. Fuck, yes."
"No editorializing. Just yes or no."
"Yes, Mistress, argh..." He strangled on it as her hands moved down to his hips, and then one was circling his cock. Oh, crap...
His hips jacked up as she closed her hand on him, letting those tiny barbs dig in all over his rigid member.
"No words. Be silent," she said sharply. "Take it. Take it as long as I want to do it. You serve me, don't you?"
He nodded, obeying her mandate.
"My sub. My slave? My property?"
He nodded again, emphatically. God, so much violent need surging up in him, hard and throbbing as his dick. This was a simple scene, straightforward, but that was all he wanted and needed. It was more about how it was between her and him than elaborate plans. He was good with anything as long it was with her. He was going to break free and fuck her. He strained against the bonds, all his muscles called into action.
"Did you want to fight as my champion in the gladiator fights? Take down some big strong male and fuck him at my command, showing your dominance over him, your submission to me?"
He quivered at the idea of it, the two sides of him warring over it. Yes and no. He knew it wouldn't be good for the shit that lurked inside him. But though he'd gotten somewhat better at the hard limit thing, anything she asked of him, he wanted to do. His mouth confirmed it.
