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“Let’s practise now, shall we?” He jabbed my arm with his thumb.
We headed straight to the dungeon lair, the room we kept locked and to which only Jason had the key. I waited behind him while he unlocked the door, my delight showing in my fidgeting shuffle. Jason’s new rules came to life the moment he had me in the windowless room surrounded by all his kinky equipment.
If there was a manual to my libido, then Jason had opened it at my favourite page. The softest flogger to warm me up and the binding of my wrists to the bedposts rendering me helpless. The exquisite use of his mouth on my pussy lips leading him to lick me out with his tongue. The voyage of the pinwheel over my ticklish flesh until I thought he might score a line on me. To all these, he added his most sensual voice, whispering in my ears. He called me his girl, wanton, and other explicit dirty words of intent.
My response was evident between my legs, and it eased his efforts in fucking my bound body. His teeth nibbled, fingers plucked, and he pinched in accompaniment to his thrusts. With each swing of his hips, I stretched and clenched about his enlarging cock. Waiting for permission drove me wild. Several times, I opened my mouth to speak, to plead, then remembered he had instructed me to wait for his command.
Command. The word made me drip for him. As he teased me with his body, he tormented me with his words.
“You’re ready, babe?”
I nodded, more with my quivering chin than my head, prompting his mouth to descend on mine, smothering my lips.
He rocketed inside me, grinding deeper. The friction of his cock felt exquisite, delivering an intense fullness, and I could do nothing with my hips to respond. No arching back to meet his thrusts or wrapping my legs around his waist to hold him in my own embrace—those limbs he had dealt with in one of his preferred styles of bondage. “So close, aren’t you, my little subbie. I can feel the tightness. The desperate pulse in your wet cunt.”
“Oh fuck!” I hollered.
“Don’t,” he warned, dipping down, touching his nose on my forehead. “I decide. You’re all mine, remember. This fuck hole of yours will answer to me. Hold it!”
I was accustomed to waiting, having him lead me to my climax and letting him give it to me. I lacked the ability to tell him how desperate, how impossible it was to hold off my orgasm, words escaped unable to form in my mouth. Instead, I panted. Jason rocked in and out of me, breaching all of my natural defences. Depth achieved, he picked up his pace and force.
“Oh!” I screamed. “No, no!”
I didn’t mean stop. I had other words to bring Jason to a halt. My words of power and protection. It was my own orgasm I shouted out to and, gritting my teeth, I pulled hard on my restraints. Arms spread-eagled to the bedposts, legs tucked up with knees bound to elbows. My exposed position served to make me vulnerable and gave Jason full access to all he needed.
“Perhaps I might delve into your arsehole,” he threatened with a smile. “So unbearably close, aren’t you? Me, too.”
Suddenly, he withdrew, and I expected him to plunder my other fuck hole, but instead he leaned back and stared at me for a few seconds. His face became stern, and his eyes shot down with their intense blueness, drilling into my skull. I teetered on a brink, a precipice of an amazing orgasm, but he had taken away all tactile stimulation and left the thing I found most tantalising and alluring—his voice.
He kissed my forehead then spoke, “Come,” and I did with a long, drawn-out howl of accomplishment, driven crazy by my spasms and cramping swirls emanating from my clitoris.
As I shrieked, he covered me with his body and continued his remorseless pummelling until he achieved climax, spurting over my belly and breasts and squeezing out every last drop of his nectar.
“Well done, babe,” he said, skimming my sweaty brow with a kiss. “See, this is just the beginning. By the time I’ve trained you, the sound of my voice alone will do it for you.”
For some bizarre reason, I believed him.
Afterwards, as I lay curled up in a blanket, spooned by his warm body, I asked him about a different what-if scenario.
“What happens if I’m stuck and you say come? I’m not going get there like that, and I can’t see it happening. Will you punish or discipline me?”
“Punish you? No! A chastisement, like I’ve always given you. I want to train you, not put you off orgasms. Not coming at all would be unusual for you.”
“Hey, I’m not a machine!” I jabbed my heel back into his shin.
He pinned me tighter to his chest, tucking my wrist against my belly. “I would want to know why you weren’t in the mood. Whether you were harbouring issues and not telling me about something bothering you. When I don’t want you to come at all, I will warn you in advance. Haven’t I always done so?”
True, he always declared an outright denial up front, unlike when he kept me on the edge. That was part of the play, to leave me hungry and needy while he took his own pleasure. It reminded me of my purpose—a submissive to be controlled.
“Yes,” I murmured, eyelids drooping. All the same, he had raised the bar very high.
Chapter 2. Interruptions
On the first Wednesday evening after our chat about rules, I waited for Jason to come home from work to our townhouse in West London—named the White House after its colourless rendering.
My mood had been foul all day.
If I’d made the effort to contact a fellow sub, he or she would have reminded me not to hold a grudge against my Dominant. However, my bad mood had blossomed, and I’d failed to find a suitable activity to rid my mind of his stubbornness. I remained in a state of rebellion—one of those occasions when I struggled to remember my role in his life.
