Page 46 of Mercy


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I look up and force my shoulders back. The way he’s standing right now, chest puffed and face fit with a scowl, is telling me that he’s trying to fight me for control. With any other man, I’d probably give it to him. I’d relinquish whatever it is he’s demanding to avoid confrontation, but not this time.

This time, I’m in control, and if there’s going to be a power struggle between us, I’m going to win.

I give him a scornful glare. “You have a lot to learn. I’ll admit, we both do. But you’re not addressing me properly and the way you’re talking to me right now is disrespectful. I’m starting to think you want a situation that means easy orgasms for you and a chance to say you’re being kinky, without actually putting the effort in.”

I see his lips tighten and his breath shudder out of him.

“I’m not in it for easy orgasms, but can I at least know the rules? I was good. I did what you said, and I didn’t jack off. So what do I get for that?”

I cross my arms as I lean against my desk. Then I remember that Beau agreed to this because he wants to know how to keep the woman he’s with happy. He has no plans to be a lifelong submissive. He’s not here for the lifestyle.

Does that make his intentions wrong? I can still help him, but it’s harder to commit when he’s doing this without the desire to do this long term.

“Why do you think I asked you not to come?” I ask with a gentleness in my voice.

He shrugs. “To control me?”

“Yes. So why did you agree to it?”

“Because I want the reward. I thought—" His voice trails off, as if he’s just realized something, and I feel a sense of pride as I watch him figure it out. “Oh fuck.”

“Go ahead…”

“There are no rewards, are there? Letting you control meisthe reward. Making you happy…is the reward.”

A gentle smile pulls on the side of my lips. “Imagine that I’m your girlfriend, Beau. And I need something from you…a phone call or a moment of your time. Do you do it because you want to get off?”

He winces, as if he’s just realized that’s exactly why he would have done it.

“Your girlfriend isn’t your Domme or your Madame, Beau, but I bet every single one of them just wanted to feel as if your motivations were about more than getting your dick wet.”

There’s a flash of something stubborn and willful on his face, and I think for a moment that he’s going to quit. He could. It would be easy to walk right out that door and forget this whole arrangement, but he doesn’t. The stubborn look is gone and immediately replaced by something more compliant.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I smile, biting my lower lip as I admire the way he looks at the moment, when he’s all in and not holding back. Somehow he’s better-looking than when he’s being a cocky jerk. Because at the moment, he’s mine.

“As far as what you’re supposed to do, don’t worry about that. I will tell you what to do. You don’t need to think or worry. Just obey.”

He nods.

“Now, get on your knees,” I say in command.

Without a word, he drops to the floor. And if I thought he looked beautiful a moment ago as he submitted to me verbally, it doesn’t hold a candle to the way he looks when he’s kneeling for me. And it’s not so much about the warmth in my belly or the moisture in my panties, but something else.

A tenderness. The all-consuming desire in my chest to protect him, nurture him, keep him.

Make him mine.

“Crawl to me,” I say. Our eyes are locked on each other as he presses his hands to the floor and moves toward me. With a hint of hesitation, he creeps toward me in a position thatshouldbe humiliating, but is somehow sensual and sublime. My breathing slows as he crosses the space at a delicate, easy pace, stopping when he’s at my feet.

“Kneel. Sit back on your feet with your hands in your lap. Eyes on the floor.”

He pauses, and for the first time, I see his struggle to obey. For a second, I think maybe I was right. No matter how submissive Beau is deep down, maybe he’s too ingrained with the idea that men can’t be submissive, that he’ll fight this command.

But then he surprises me. He obeys without a fight, settling into position. Once his head is bent, I give in to the urge to touch him, running my fingers through his hair and along the back of his neck, over each vertebrae until they disappear into his shirt.

“This is how I want you when you come over. I’ll get you something to kneel on, but consider this your default position. And you’ll stay like this until I tell you what to do.”

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