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I lead him through the club toward a darkened hallway only lit with the glow of purple at our feet. I don’t need the light. I know this place like the back of my hand.
“You know where you’re going, ma’am?”
I stop on a dime and turn. He barely stumbles to a halt in time to avoid tumbling right over me.
A red claw pokes into the center of his chest. “If you want to play, keep that pretty mouth shut until told otherwise.” I step closer, grasp both sides of his plaid collar and pull him down to my level. “The next time you address me, you will call me Mistress.” I drag my mouth across his stubbled cheek until it’s grazing his ear. “Do you understand?”
I take two steps back, cross my arms behind my back, and wait patiently for his reply.
I couldn’t be more pleased nor surprised when he stutters. “Y-y-yes ma… I mean, Mistress.”
“That’s a good little slave.” I coo. “Now, come along. You’re overdue for your punishment.”
We reach a door exactly like the others, there’s nothing to tell them apart, but I know it’s mine without counting. I slip the key in, my heart working overtime pumping blood through my veins like wildfire as my desire to discipline and own consumes me.
Inside is just as dark. I flip a switch that barely makes a difference, but it’s enough based on his sharp breath intake.
The room is clean and modern, sparse with only the furniture and tools I need to play.
I casually make my way over to a Saint Andrew’s cross and lean against it. He stops in the middle of the room, his eyes moving sporadically, not sure where to look before he finally settles on me.
“Strip, I want you utterly bare.”
For a small second, that Cheshire grin dissipates, but it returns with a vengeance as he slowly begins to remove his clothes.
His seduction tactics are clumsy and unnecessary.
“I don’t want a show, this isn’t for your titillation. Now, do as you’re told.” My words spark with authority.
They must do their job because he straightens, frozen for a moment before he jumps to it, efficiently removing every article until he’s as naked as the day he was born.
I straighten, and casually approach him as I take his measure. He really is a mouthwatering specimen, even if he does need to be put in his place.
Every part of his body is layered with lean muscle, no doubt built working his ass off on a ranch. They’re a dime a dozen in Texas. Not to mention that slight smell of hay and manure you can never quite get rid of.
Not a lick of hair covers his chest, only a thin line trails below his belly button that leads to a trimmed bush framing a very prominent cock.
With the very tip of my nail, I graze his length making him gasp, his body giving a slight shudder.
“You’re already hard.” It’s not a question, more censorship than anything.
When he doesn’t reply, I wrap my hand around him and pull forcefully until he yelps in shock.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
His wild eyes move over my features in pure confusion. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”
I don’t loosen my hold. I can see sweat beading his brow.
“You should be, whore. You think we’re here for your pleasure?”
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so I yank him until he stumbles, barely keeping his feet.
“Answer me!”
“No, Mistress.”
I lighten my grip slightly, but it’s enough to offer some iota of relief made abundantly clear by his slackened features.
