The Denim Dom

by Tymber Dalton

He pressed his lips together, tempted to say no, that it was pushing boundaries too far and fast considering she was still likely in subspace.

  But the longing in her eyes, he couldn’t resist that.

  “Okay.” He extricated himself from her and went to the bedroom, where he grabbed a towel from his bathroom and a bottle of lube from the bedside table. Upon second thought, he opened the drawer again and grabbed a spare double-ended snap clip out of it before returning to the living room.

  She had the throw wrapped around her and was sitting up. “Hands behind you,” he ordered.

  She complied immediately, even though she looked confused. He quickly snapped the clip to her wrist cuffs, keeping her immobile. “That’s so you don’t tempt me too much,” he said, brushing the tip of his finger down her nose.

  She smiled.

  He draped the throw around her again so she didn’t get chilled. He kicked off his shoes and unzipped his jeans. He pushed them and his briefs down his legs. His shirt joined the fabric on the floor. After spreading the towel out, he sat at the other end of the couch, turned sideways and facing her. He braced his feet against the side of her leg. “You stay there,” he said, pointing at her. “I’m going to consider this a pet reward since you were such a good girl for me.”

  Hell, he could lie to himself and her about that, use it as an excuse.

  The truth was, he wanted her to watch. To see what she did to him.

  * * * *

  She unconsciously licked her lips as she watched him settle into position. He had a beautiful body, athletic and trim, but not overly muscled. A light dusting of dark hair tapered down his chest into a treasure trail that ended in the short nest of hair surrounding the base of his member. His cock was gorgeous, at least eight inches, cut, that put James to shame. His eyes locked onto hers as he squirted lube into his left hand and slowly started stroking.

  “I thought you were right-handed—”

  “Shh,” he said. “Quiet, pet.”

  Her lips clamped closed. She realized how smart he was to clip her hands behind her back. If she was free, she’d be crawling between his legs, eager to lick and suck his cock.

  Pre-cum already oozed from the slit at the engorged head. He kept his eyes on hers as he stroked, the hard edge to his gaze fading and softening as his breath came in shorter gasps.

  The first orgasm came in maybe two minutes with a soft grunt that made her pussy clench when she realized that was how he’d sound if he was fucking her. Pearly jets of cum exploded out of the end of his cock and all over the towel. But he only slowed his strokes, didn’t stop, never taking his eyes from her. After another moment, he was fully hard again.

  “You do this to me, pet,” he whispered, stroking harder and faster now, a little twist of his wrist at the top of each stroke swiping across the head of his cock before sweeping down his shaft again.

  Her lips parted. An image flashed in her mind, of her kneeling before him while he did this, his cock pointed at her open and eagerly waiting mouth.

  She blinked and was back on the couch, his green eyes holding hers.

  “Get ready, pet,” he whispered.

  This time, his whole body tensed. His eyes fell closed as his chin dropped. He stroked harder, faster, the light slapping sound audible over the TV as his strokes turned into short, hard, jabbing motions.

  He threw back his head and let out a loud groan as his cock exploded. The load of cum exploding from his cock didn’t look any smaller than the first. This time he fell still, breathing hard and leaning against the back of the couch as he caught his breath.

  She was still staring at him when he opened his eyes. He let out a soft laugh. “Well?”

  “Wow.”

  He cleaned himself up with the towel before standing. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She wished she could beg him to fuck her right then.

  He looked amused. “Are you all right, pet?”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

  His gaze softened. He pulled on his shirt, briefs, and jeans before leaning in and kissing her forehead. He reached behind her and unclipped her wrists. “No, thank you, pet. As you can see, playing with you like this seems to have given my decent libido a boost. Usually I’m good for one.” He grinned. “You’ve set my sadistic motor running and that always makes me horny.”

  He could have taken advantage of her at any time that night. He could have asked her to let him fuck her, or to suck him off, or anything. He had her trussed up tightly and so deep in subspace that she would have gladly begged for him to do it if he’d suggested it.

  But he didn’t.

  He’d kept his word.

  Is this what trust feels like?

  He led her back to the playroom, where he removed the wrist and ankle cuffs, but had her keep the collar on. She put her dress and sandals back on and he brought her glasses.

  He stood in front of her by her car door, his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you for tonight, pet. It was wonderful.”

  He’s thanking me? “I had a great time, Sir,” she said.

  “Any answers yet to those questions you’re puzzling over?”

  She nodded, wishing she could tell him what was on her mind and afraid it would mean the end of their arrangement if she did. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “I’m glad I can be the one to help you find them.”

  She wanted to rise up on her toes and kiss him on the lips, to feel his goatee and moustache rubbing against her cheek. “Me, too, Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Monday morning, Shayla crawled into the shower after sending Tony a good-morning text and starting her coffeepot. She stood under the hot spray to loosen her aching muscles.

  How can pain feel so damn good, and pleasure feel like pain?

  Every pang and twinge reminded her of the things that happened to her over the weekend.

  She had no idea how to explain it to others, but at least she felt miles closer to understanding it on an instinctive level.

  Note to self, never mention to Tony when I’m horny. She had to laugh, because while she’d witnessed forced orgasm play last weekend, she never imagined in her wildest dreams it could feel like…

  That.

  She also never imagined she’d ever reach a point of pleasure so acute it almost felt like pain.

  Hence the term “orgasm torture.” Duh.

  When she emerged from the shower, he’d returned her text.

  How do you feel, pet? :)

  She laughed, knowing that was a loaded question if she ever read one.

  Wrung out like a wet dishcloth, Sir.

  She was getting dressed when she heard her phone go off again.

  :) Good. Can you keep Wednesday open for Me? We’ll do pizza at your place. I’ll take it easy on you.

  She smiled as she noticed in text or e-mail, he’d started capitalizing his pronouns. She liked it. It made her feel…

  Owned.

  She shoved away her feelings for him and locked them up tight. She didn’t want to ruin this by getting clingy and needy and having him pull the plug.

  Yes, Sir.

  His reply came as she was getting into the car to head to work. Good girl. I’ll be there by seven.

  It was hard to force herself into work mode. Her mind kept drifting to the events of the past forty-eight hours. She admitted it was clichéd, but it felt like her world had been upended, yet everyone else still acted the same.

  After the Monday morning editorial meeting, she opened the document containing her story and went through it. She still needed to add some to the end of it. After what she’d experienced, she now knew how to write it. She included basic information she’d learned in the submissive class the week before, the whip class, and the bondage class, before writing her conclusion.

  I invite you along on this journey of discovery with me. In a very short amount of time I’ve had many stereotypes pulverized, met wonderful, welcoming people, and realized that the saying about normal bei
ng nothing more than a setting on a dryer is more true than I ever knew. This series of articles will examine different facets of BDSM, and the real, everyday people who practice it. It might make some of you realize you aren’t as “weird” as you thought you were. It might also give some of you a welcomed insight into questions that have run through your own mind.

  I know I, for one, will never be the same. And I think in my case that’s a good thing. (Apologies to Martha Stewart.)

  After one more read-through, Shayla selected the entire article and copied it into an e-mail that she BCC’d to Loren, Leah, Tilly, Clarisse…and Tony.

  She added a note at the top.

  Sorry for the short notice, but I’m turning this in this afternoon. If you all have any suggestions or corrections I need to make, please let me know. I should be able to make edits to it until late Tuesday.

  She hit send and sat back in her chair.

  Tony texted her a short while later. Got e-mail. Busy with meetings. Later?

  She smiled. Yes, Sir. Later is fine. Thank You.

  For him she’d do her damnedest to hold the thing until the absolute last minute on Tuesday afternoon if she had to.

  Loren called her within an hour. “The article’s great. So? How’s the ass?”

  Shayla laughed. “Doing good.” She’d texted back and forth with Loren a few times Sunday afternoon before going to Tony’s.

  “Aaand? Tell me what happened last night.”

  She lowered her voice. “He introduced me to forced orgasm torture.”

  “Oooh, lucky bitch.” She giggled. “Defies description, doesn’t it?”

  “Um, yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

  Tony called her after lunch. “I read the article, pet. It sounds good. I don’t have any recommendations.”

  She felt herself blush. “Thank you, Sir.” Leah, Tilly, and Clarisse had also weighed in via text, e-mail, and phone, also giving their endorsements.

  “So you liked the suggestion I had about what to do during our next private session, hmm?”

  Her face felt like a supernova. Her gaze dropped to her lap. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Damn, she’d have to clean up after this phone call. She felt how wet his voice had already gotten her.

  “We’ll do more talking than play on Wednesday,” he said, “but I want you to be naked except for your collar when I get there. Understand?”

  She sucked in a breath. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “Is anyone listening to you right now?” he asked.

  “No, Sir, but I’m in a cubicle.”

  “You’re such a good girl to remember our protocol,” he said. “Calling me Sir while at work. Such a brave, good pet.”

  Her insides felt like mush. She knew if she didn’t get to the bathroom soon to clean up, she’d definitely end up with a wet spot on her slacks. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll let you get back to work. I’m looking forward to Wednesday night.”

  “Me, too, Sir. And thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, pet. It is most definitely my pleasure.”

  * * * *

  Tony ended the call and fought the urge to giggle. Instead of imagining torturing his coworkers or boss, now he could recall the real-life torture he’d inflicted upon Shayla. He’d already started the morning by rubbing one out in the shower.

  He spent the day trying to focus on his work and constantly found his mind drifting back to the events of the weekend. That wasn’t like him. At work, he never had a problem being all business.

  No one had ever affected him like this before.

  Ever.

  I’m just going to have to spend the next eight weeks showing her how good it can be and hopefully she won’t want to end it.

  * * * *

  Tony mercilessly teased Shayla via text all day Tuesday. She couldn’t wait for Wednesday evening to roll around. The thought of a spanking, or of whatever things he would do to her, kept her in a constant state of horniness.

  By the time he texted her as he left work Wednesday night, she was more than ready for whatever he wanted to dish out.

  On my way. ETA 25. Order pizza.

  She grinned and called it in, thrilled to know he’d be there shortly. As ordered, she was naked and wearing her collar when Tony arrived.

  He wasted no time. After their greeting, he hooked a finger through her collar and led her over to the couch. “Over my lap, pet.”

  She felt her juices flowing already as he spanked her with his bare hand. She cried and sobbed as the stinging pain grew more intense, but she didn’t safeword.

  When he stopped, she gasped for air and closed her eyes, relaxing as he rubbed her ass.

  “Such a good pet. Spread your legs.”

  She did. He inserted two fingers inside her and slowly fucked her with them, turning his hand so he could also rub her clit with his thumb.

  He reached in front of her and stuck two fingers of his other hand into her mouth. “Suck my fingers, pet.”

  She did, eagerly, holding on to his wrist as he finger-fucked her through two orgasms, her cries muffled by his fingers.

  “Sit up, pet.”

  On shaky legs, she did.

  “Open.”

  She complied.

  “Suck my hand clean, pet. You made a mess.”

  She closed her eyes and took her time, laving her tongue up and down his fingers as she licked every last drop of her juices off his hand.

  He smiled. “Such a good girl.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Her eyes must have grown wide because he laughed. “Relax, pet. I’ll get it.”

  Fortunately, she couldn’t be seen from the front door. She heard him talk with someone, then he returned carrying the pizza. “Dinner’s here, pet. Perfect timing.”

  He washed his hands as she finally got her legs to start working again and joined him in the kitchen. “Where are your forks?” He glanced at her and laughed. “You can go clean up if you want to, pet.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Over there.” She pointed at a drawer before heading to the bathroom.

  * * * *

  He didn’t bother hiding his amusement. Yep, she was already in subspace. He loved playing with her, how responsive she was, how cute she looked when she realized a spanking had made her wet.

  Good thing I’m not an evil scientist.

  He opened a drawer, but it wasn’t full of utensils. It looked like a catchall drawer. On the top lay a folded piece of paper. He picked it up and, before truly thinking about it, looked at it.

  A letter from her ex.

  Even as his brain screamed at him not to, he read it.

  Why would she hold on to this?

  Unless she’s not really over him.

  He put the paper back and closed the drawer, ashamed of himself for the violation of her privacy. He was better than that.

  Yeah, but you don’t want to lose your heart to someone who will turn around and leave you, do you?

  Dammit.

  The seed of doubt grew into a strangling vine at light speed.

  Quit being stupid.

  By the time she returned, he’d found the forks and paper plates and had the pizza ready to serve. They settled on the couch and even the sight of her naked and collared and still looking freshly fucked couldn’t erase from his mind the image of that letter in her drawer.

  “Have you heard anything else from your ex lately?” Subtle, Daniels. Really subtle.

  Shayla tensed a little. “Not since the last check he sent me.” She picked at her pizza.

  Don’t do this. Do not do this! “You haven’t demanded a repayment schedule from him?”

  She shook her head. “He either will or won’t repay me. And even if he gives me an answer, I can’t trust him to stick to his word.” She glanced at him. “He lied to me. Destroyed my trust. If he told me the sky was blue, I’d stick my head out a window and check. I’d rather expect the worst from him than get my hopes up that he’ll make
good just to give him the power to disappoint me again.”

  He charged ahead anyway, wanting it cleared up. “What kind of porn was it you said he was into, again?”

  “BDSM porn.” Now she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  Why are you doing this? He put his plate down, well aware the next few minutes might be the end of their evening, or even the end of their time together. “I need to ask you something, and I want an honest answer. Look at me, pet.”

  She did.

  “You’re not using this, what we’re doing, as a way to better understand it in hopes of trying to win him back or something, are you?”

  Her mouth gaped. “No! How could you even think such a thing?”

  “I’m not proud of this, but I accidentally found his letter to you in your junk drawer. I couldn’t help wonder why you saved it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have read it, but it’s a legitimate question.”

  “No, it’s not a fucking legitimate question!”

  “He put you through a lot. I’m not accusing you, but I need to know for sure. I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  She stormed over to the kitchen, where she yanked the drawer open and pulled the letter out before stalking back over to him. She waved it in front of him. “This is what I think of him!”

  She ripped it into tiny pieces and threw it in the air. “It shocked the hell out of me when I got it, all right? It was wrapped around the check. At the time I got it, it upset me and I couldn’t think, so I stuffed it in there and forgot about it. Okay?”

  He felt both relieved and like shit that he’d snooped. He also belatedly realized, from the tension in her body and the tone of her voice, that he’d inadvertently ripped the scab off her fresh emotional wound. “Okay.”

  She angrily wiped at her eyes. “I trusted him. I loved him. And he took that and threw it away. You don’t think I know how that feels? Do you honestly think so little of me that you think I’d turn around and do that to someone else? Have I given you any reason not to trust me?”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Then what the hell?”