My Kingdom for a Corner (10 page)

No, no, not three realms, just…oh fuck yes, screw it in there. She thrust out her hips, encouraging playtoy to fuck her faster with the cock. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when pleasure rolled through her the way it was.

“By the time I’m done with you this weekend, you’re going to beg me to be the king of your kingdom, and the only price will be the privilege of standing in the corner of my dungeon with your ass freshly fucked.”

He moved away from her and the dildo continued to slide in and out of her wetness.

“Thank you, ladies, that will be all. Leave us.”

The dildo was firmly inside her as she listened to feet shuffling out of the room. She heard something tear, and she imagined him putting a condom on his hard cock.

Excitement surged through her as she realized he was going to fuck her. Rough fingers twisted and plucked at her nipples. Her body seemed to rebel, almost as if it had been used too much that evening. He continued to toy with her, though, twisting, turning, pulling, until she moaned against the gag.

“It’s just the two of us now, so I’m going to take the mask off.” He worked it off gently, the blindfold falling back in place as the mask left. The material felt soft against her skin. She waited for him to remove the material so she could see, remove the gag so she could speak, but he did neither. She could hear him move toward her lower region, and her mind cried out in expectation.

She used her inside muscles to push the dildo out of her pussy. Her efforts earned her a sharp slap to each thigh.

“Did I tell you to do that?” She shook her head. “You should know better.”

He slid it in deeper, and Francesca moaned against the gag as he pushed the head of his cock against her anus. With one sure stroke, he was inside her, or rather the tip of him was. Despite the lubricant, the burn rushed through her, making her close her eyes in an effort to concentrate on relaxing, opening up for him. It had been quite some time since she’d taken a cock this way, but she wanted it, very badly.

He worked his cock into her ass slowly, very surely. It was as if he were teasing her, knowing she wanted it all, but giving it to her leisurely. Francesca lay still, letting him take her fully. The urge to tell him to hurry up was strong, but if she did, he might stop completely, so she took his measured pace, even though she thought it might drive her insane with need.

When she felt his body flush against hers, she knew he was fully inside her. And then the cock in her pussy started to vibrate, and he started to move. Heady sensations flooded her as he fucked her, faster and faster, the cock in her pussy hitting that sweet spot inside her, taking her close to the edge before moving away as it slid around in time with the flesh and bone dick in her ass.

He fucked her hard, varying his thrusts, sometimes long, sometimes short, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. When he finally did nothing but pound her harder and harder, Francesca felt as if she would come, even if he hadn’t given her permission. She didn’t care about that, she just wanted to soar.

But she held back, waiting until he told her she could, knowing it was what was expected of missy. When he groaned loudly, she felt his cock pulsing in her tightness.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he slipped out of her. He pulled the vibrator out, and Francesca was left alone, in need, with no pressure to help provide her with climax, and no way to scream at him to put her out of her misery.

She heard him moving around the room, heard water running from a tap.

Come back here, damn you!
What the hell was happening? Why had he left her hanging?

Francesca could feel his presence when he came back. He gently caressed her belly. “You did beautifully, missy, holding back your orgasm, and for that you get a reward.”

He moved his hand down her body as he walked between her legs. He gently spread her lips, and his tongue teased her swollen clit. Her muffled moans filled the room as he slowly, teasingly, ran his tongue up and down her swollen folds.

After a few moments of utter bliss, he murmured, “Come for me, missy, come for the man who owns you.”

His words barely registered as he put the slightest pressure on her clit. Her orgasm started, stopping immediately when he released his fingers.

Then, she screamed against the gag as he placed a clamp on her clit, the pain hard, painful…exquisite. He pulled on it as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her body. Stars exploded in her head as she came, not once, but twice, in quick succession as he released the clamp, replaced it, and released it again.

It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and left her body quaking in exhaustion. She lay still as he released her bonds, taking the blindfold off, leaving the gag for last. Francesca worked her jaw, swallowing several times to try and get the dryness out of her mouth.

“Corner,” he said as she sat up. Her legs were like jelly as she tried to stand. She slumped back against the table. “I said corner, now.”

It took what seemed like forever to obey him. She started, and stopped, and started again as she walked, her knees threatening to give out from under her. When she was finally in the corner, she slumped against the wall, letting it support her.

“In your proper place,” he said as he came up behind her. “You may not realize it yet, Francesca, but you’re mine, all of you, your entire kingdom. We were meant to be together, and we will be, forever.”

“No,” she said, her voice low from misuse. “Friends with benefits.”

“Never,” he replied, kissing her temple. “I’ll have you all, or none of you. That’s the only way it will be.”

Francesca was too tired to argue.

Chapter Seven

“Thank you.” Francesca accepted a menu from the hostess, before she glanced across the table at Mr. Oliver. Today had been surprisingly low key, something she hadn’t expected. Instead of lots of sex, which she’d expected, there had been a great deal of submission, without sex.

He’d fed her breakfast and lunch, with her hands tied behind her back. Even though she knew it was a common BDSM practice for those who lived the lifestyle fulltime, the feelings that came out of it surprised her. She’d expected to feel belittled, like a child who couldn’t take care of herself. Instead she’d felt a sense of caring, as if he were seeing to her every need, wanting to provide her with the sustenance to carry her through the day.

It wasn’t an emotion she was thrilled with, and she’d managed to push it aside the rest of the day. It didn’t help that, while he fed her, he talked about his childhood in Scotland, giving her an idea of what it had been like. She’d loved listening to him talk about climbing hills and learning to fish with his grandfather. In return she’d opened up to him about her childhood, about how her parents had been loving, but firm, and how that attitude had produced not one, but two Doms in the family.

They’d laughed and joked and traded stories about their early experiences as Doms. After the midday meal, he’d had her kneel by his desk while he worked, the mask fully in place since his office was in the club and not in his apartment.

Several Doms had come in to talk to him that afternoon, but she hadn’t been introduced to any of them, or even acknowledged. It was almost as if she’d been part of the furniture. Of course, she supposed that, technically, that’s what she had been. He’d placed a silver tray in her hands, on which he rested a glass of water and a jar of peanuts.

If the tray wavered when he took either object from her, he’d shaken his head and made a note on a piece of paper next to him. He’d not explained what he was doing, and she hadn’t asked. It would be revealed to her at some point, she knew. She’d spent forty-five minutes of every hour on her knees, and then fifteen-minutes in the corner.

And, of course, she’d been naked. That didn’t bother her, though. It never had. While her body might be larger than what society deemed acceptable, she’d never once been ashamed of it.

The afternoon had been oddly comfortable, and it wasn’t a feeling she was happy about. She could see herself spending time with him, doing this on afternoons when she should be at work. That thought troubled her because it meant she was bonding with him, feeling comfortable and wanting more when she should remember this was only for the weekend. She’d only done it for the sex, and what fantastic sex it had been.

She smiled as she thought about him fucking her ass last night. It had been a long time since she’d been taken that way, and the sensations had proved overwhelming. It wasn’t sub space, she whispered to herself, just hard climaxes that seemed to shake the walls.

“Coming out of the club was an odd choice,” she said, pulling her thoughts away from the afternoon’s events, and from last night’s decadence. It was a hard thing to do, though, when her clit tingled at the thought of him bending her over the table and taking her in the exact same way for everyone around to see.

“We’re going to visit a friend of mine,” he said. He glanced at her over the top of his menu. “How about the salmon?”

“Sounds delicious.” She put aside her menu. “Who’s the friend?”

“Her name is Anastasia, Mistress Anastasia.”

Chills spread through Francesca. “What?”

“I’m going to watch while you submit to her. She’s going to punish you for your indiscretions from this afternoon.”

Calm down, calm down, calm down
. She reached for her water glass. After she’d swallowed a few sips, she said, “Have you lost your mind? I can’t submit to a fellow Domme. She knows me. She’ll lose all respect for me.”

She closed her mouth, even though she had more to say, as the waiter appeared. Mr. Oliver ordered their meal before he turned his attention back to her.

“That’s an absurd statement. You know as well as I do that Doms/Dommes respect their subs. If they didn’t, it would be abuse. Mistress Anastasia will respect you because I do.”

If she wasn’t careful, she was going to squeeze the glass in her hand until it broke. “No, the next time she and I see each other she’s going to think of me as the Domme who bowed down to Mr. Oliver. Her respect will be gone.”

She watched him take a sip from his wine glass. “That’s probably the most asinine thing you’ve said yet.”

“How dare you say that to me.” She released the glass with a push and it tipped over, the water spreading over the white tablecloth. A waiter appeared immediately to begin the cleanup. Another waiter joined him, and while they worked, Francesca and Mr. Oliver stared at each other across the table. When the pair had replaced everything, Francesca nodded at the waiter.

“Forgive me.”

“No problem, ma’am. We all have accidents.”

And make mistakes.
“Yes, we do.” When he was gone, she glared at Mr. Oliver. “Shortbread.”

“Excuse me?” He leaned forward. “You’re calling an end to this?”

“I am.” She toyed with the stem of her wine glass, twirling it in her hand. “You’re trying to change me, to change the rules. We said I’d submit to you for the weekend. There was nothing said about Mistress Anastasia, who knows me.”

The slow shake of his head angered her. “I’m not trying to change you, Francesca, I’m trying to show you that you are many realms that make up one kingdom. I thought I made that clear last night. As your Dom for the weekend, I want to watch you submit to Mistress Anastasia. As my sub for the weekend, you should be willing to follow instructions, no matter how far out of your comfort zone they take you. Do you stay within the rules with your subs?”

Realization stuck her that yes, she did. They generally followed the same pattern, even if they changed the scenario a little. They were mostly the same. She didn’t have them lick boots, or stand in corners. She yelled at them for being bad boys, spanked them, watched them get fucked by their wives, and then sent them on their way. That was going to have to change. At least she’d figured out something good from this weekend.

“I repeat, shortbread.”

“Fine.” He threw his napkin on the table, then picked it back up. “I would love to finish our dinner, however. Afterward, I’ll return you to your car, and you can go back to being a one-dimensional businesswoman who occasionally spanks men’s asses.”

“How dare you!” She pounded her fist on the table, which attracted the attention of their fellow diners. She murmured an apology to them, and leaned across the table. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man who has noticed quite a few things about you this weekend.” His voice was calm, soft, and that pissed her off even more. “I noticed you went into sub space last night, and I noticed this afternoon that every time you moved the tray, or in some way did something else you thought would displease me, you were apologetic. Pleasing me meant something to you.”

Mr. Oliver closed his mouth when the server appeared with their salads. After the man left, he continued. “I’ve tried to explain this to you before, but it appears you didn’t hear me. Let me try it this way. Imagine yourself as a cartoon character. You see yourself as colorful, three-dimensional and perfect. I see you as colorful, yes, but as a stick character that has allowed herself to fit into a frame, and stay there. Tell me you didn’t enjoy submitting to me this weekend.”