by Mimi Tulane
Chapter 9
Ahmad responded with an equal intensity. The inability to reach out and pull her in close, flush to his body, was maddening. He fought against his own desire that demanded he hold her, touch her, cup those pert breasts and thumb the tight nipples that were threatening to pierce the fabric of her top. Instead his lips and tongue received her sweet offering, the rapid flicker of his tongue matching the pace she set. He growled a low moan when she cupped his cock through his track pants, before her hand reached inside to grasp the turgid shaft. She worked his dick with a practiced hand, and a split second of jealously assaulted him. How many of her clients had enjoyed her touch, her caress, and what had they done to earn such divine attention?
Whatever the others had done, he wanted to be the one that earned the highest reward. He wanted to be inside the warm confines of her pussy. Jocelyn was working his cock in earnest, and his hips begged to move, to thrust against her soft palm, to fuck her hand as badly as he wanted to fuck her. Instinctively he knew that would have been a bad career move. She never gave him the command to remain perfectly still, but he thought it might serve a better purpose if he did.
He wanted her to trust him, to know that he would remain as she ordered, at parade rest, and not try to take advantage of her. The difference in their sizes gave a clear advantage to him if he wanted to press the issue. Yet he wasn’t a fool to think a woman of Jocelyn’s carriage wasn’t fully able to handle herself in any situation. Given the trophy case he noticed upon entering the living room that held her trophies and martial arts belts, his roadside angel was no helpless damsel. She was all woman.
More than anything his respect and, yes, love for her would not allow him to act in any other manner than being a perfect gentleman. Even if he felt like his cock was going to explode at any second thanks to her vigorous pumping. He almost groaned in relief when she let go of his dick to issue another command. “Take off your T-shirt, Ahmad. I want to look at you.” He shed his T-shirt without a word, letting his eyes convey his feelings. She seemed the total picture of composed control.
His only inkling that she was just as aroused as he was came by the hint of her musky scent, that feminine jasmine wafting from her cunt. Damn it he wanted to be on his knees lapping at her folds, catching that sweet juice across his tongue. Instead he did as she bade, removed his T-shirt, and let it drop to the floor returning to parade rest, staring straight ahead, not at eye level but at some invisible point just above her head.
“Ahmad, your training with the FBI has served you well. You follow instructions without much prompting. I’m impressed.” As she spoke she circled him, running her nails lightly across his skin, deliberately raising gooseflesh wherever she touched. “You have a magnificent body, Ahmad. I enjoy running my hands over your flesh.”
Ego dictated he be pleased by her reaction to him but his reply was simply a modest, “Thank you, Mistress, I hope that I continue to please you in any manner you see fit.” He hoped his answers didn’t come across as contrived. He really did want her to be happy with him.
“Before we go any further, there is still the matter of a contract between us. I want you, Ahmad. I won’t deny myself your pleasure. I won’t deny us this chance at something more. However, I need to be clear about something. I may desire to be exclusive with you sexually, as I do not engage in sexual exchange with my clients, but I will still continue on as a Domina. Are you going to be able to handle that?”
Ahmad thought over his response before he spoke. “Will I be a jealous bastard when alone with my thoughts, from the idea of another man being touched, teased, being made to submit by the sweet torture of your hands? Yes. Will I go insane wondering if some other man’s cock is being stroked the way you just stroked mine? Yes. Will I worry when you have to go on private calls to meet with clients? Yes. Will I insist that you take along a member of my security staff? Hell yes.” She paused her petting briefly and the look upon her face suggested she wanted to refute his demand. He continued on. “Will I accept your lifestyle and willfully enter into it and all that it entails? My answer is absolutely and unequivocally yes.” He let his eyes meet hers briefly until he was satisfied that his meaning was made clear as well.
He held his breath as her hand rose slowly to cup his cheek, running the pad of her thumb across his lips still dampened from their earlier kiss. He wondered what he was seeing in those warm eyes. Was it the crumbling of the last wall that had been erected between them? He hoped so, God he hoped so. Years of loving her from afar, longing to be in the same room with her, nights of dreaming of them lying together were becoming a distant memory. A new dream was being forged at this very moment.
“Fair enough, Ahmad, I respect your honesty. I’ll even accept your terms concerning taking along one of your security staff.” She chuckled lightly. “I rarely go unescorted to any client’s home, so substituting with someone you prefer won’t be a hardship.” He smiled slowly, then averted his eyes to their “proper” position. “What is your safe word?” Her voice was a mesmerizing whisper that had him enthralled.
He whispered his safe word to her, letting it resonate between them. “I did as the booklet suggests and chose a word that holds a very special meaning, one that I can never forget. Angel, my safe word is Angel.”
* * * *
His safe word was what he had called her—his roadside Angel. Ahmad had already stamped his own brand of ownership upon her and they had barely begun. As unsettling as that should seem, Jocelyn readily admitted to herself his open desire to have her in his life as his made her feel cherished. In all her years engaging in platonic dates, countless sessions with clients and casual scenes, at no time had she ever felt the way she did at this very moment. He wanted her. Without hesitation, or pretense, Ahmad had dispensed with the cat-and-mouse games that most people played during the dating game. Instead he was honest, forthcoming, and very much a man that was used to getting what he wanted. Ahmad wanted to belong to her and only her, and wanted her to be in his life.
“Very well, if during a scene you find you cannot continue on, all play will cease the moment you give your safe word. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Ahmad.
“Remain standing at parade rest until I return.” Jocelyn left the room then headed to a supply cabinet she kept inside her playroom. She pulled out an unopened box then returned to the living room, sitting the box down upon the coffee table. “Ahmad, relax a minute please.” Her heart was beating a mile a minute. This moment was one of great meaning for her. He let his arms drop to his side, watching her quizzically as she opened the box and retrieved a sturdy, black, leather training collar one with a simple D ring affixed to it. She suspended it from her index finger, holding it out to Ahmad.
“When I play with my clients or scene with others, I do not offer them a collar of any sort. In fact I have never collared a submissive solely unto myself. I’ve trained the house submissives and collared them but only as a professional. With you this is strictly about us. I will accept you as mine, Ahmad, in body, in spirit, to train you, grow with you as your Domme and grow…in love. As a symbol of my pledge will you wear my collar?”
Jocelyn felt like time in her world was stopping. She was opening her heart and placing it in a precarious place. The man before her, however, had a look of utter determination and devotion upon his face. He slowly reached out his hand and took the collar, and spoke as he placed it about his own neck. “Yes, Mistress, I will wear this collar and promise my service, obedience, devotion, and love. I will wear this with dignity and pride knowing that you did not give this to me lightly. I will be yours for as long as you will have me and for me I hope that is forever.”
Jocelyn walked behind him to inspect that it was fastened properly. “Ahmad, when your training is complete and you have earned the right, the next collar you wear will be that of my full ownership and I will place that one upon you myself.” Her voice was even, but held a slight note of awe. She saw the faded e
vidence of the bullet holes that had riddled his body, the scars where he’d had surgeries to repair the damage from them. Visual reminders of the life that was nearly lost in the line of duty. “Go to parade rest.” She uttered her command softly, and as he complied she watched the muscle in his back contract and ripple with his movements. She leaned in and kissed each scar she found, taking tiny swipes, tasting his skin and licking the scars with her tongue. Her palms were splayed across the wide expanse of his chest as she remained pressed against him from behind. The firm high swells of his ass were pressed against her belly.
“Ahmad, for tonight I just want us to play, no training. I want you. I want you to fuck me and fuck me hard.” Her hands slid forward to again cup and tease the heavy sac of his balls through the fabric of his track pants. “I’m clearing my calendar, Ahmad. For the next few weeks I want you here, in my home, serving me.” She pushed the track pants lower on his hips to expose the top of his ass. She had been delightfully surprised to discover he skipped the shorts and went commando. “Will you make yourself available to me, Ahmad?” She raked her nails across his ass cheeks, digging lightly into the hard muscle with her nails, delighting in the feel of his firm ass. “Yes, Mistress, I am available for you for as long as you desire.”
Jocelyn’s pussy was slippery with her growing desire, the juices dampening the crotch of her panties. Holding Ahmad’s hard cock in her hands, testing the weight of his sac told her she was in for one hell of a ride. “Follow me,” she said, then released his cock. When he reached for his pants she shook her head no. “Leave them partially down. I’ll let you know when I want you to cover up.” With that she led him to her bedroom, bypassing the door to her playroom. They were going to be together to train, learn, and grow with each other but for now there was just the need.
Tonight she only wanted to take him to her bed.
Chapter 10
His cock was like steel trapped between the lowered waistband of his track pants and the hard planes of his stomach. As excruciatingly painful as that was, it was harder still for him to watch the back of the woman he wanted beyond all reason walk, proud-backed, her ass poetry in motion. His palms ached to caress the round, firm globes that teased him as they flexed and moved. She stopped right outside her bedroom door, then with a graceful arch of her hand motioned for him to precede her inside. His senses were engaged immediately once he stepped inside her private domain. Patchouli hung in sachets from various points throughout the room, giving the air a sweet, earthy fragrance. Her room was decadent. The windows were adorned with satin brocade draperies. The bed was a canopy four-poster made of rich mahogany wood. Similar bed linens covered the huge monster that dominated one half of her room. His eyes were drawn, however, to the tapestry that hung upon the adjacent wall. He looked into her eyes, a dark well of desire, and she nodded her head as if she anticipated his need to speak directly to her.
“The tapestry, the woman in it, it’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it was a birthday gift given to me by my cousin Mac from one of his travels abroad.” He gazed upon the tapestry that held her woven image. He marveled at the depiction of her holding a braided flogger raised high above her head as if she were twirling a lasso, her long sexy legs visible in the risqué bit of fabric that he supposed could have been considered a skirt, encased in thigh-high boots with a heel that bordered on suicide. Her foot was planted squarely upon the back of a kneeling male sub, his sinewy body rippling, his head encased in a black, zippered mask. What would it take for her to plant her boot in his back, to command him to kneel for her good pleasure?
“It’s beautiful, Mistress, a true work of art. But then again I find you to be the most beautiful work of art there is.” He wasn’t giving idle flattery. He made sure to hold her eyes, in raw need, desire, but in truth and speak the words his heart held within. “Mistress, I want you. I want you so bad I can taste it. Will you let me? Will you let me serve you? Will you let me love you?” His voice was thick with emotion. His need lay bare.
“I know this moment, this point in time that the foundation was laid amidst the most harrowing of circumstances. That I took liberties that only a man desperate to protect what he cherished most would do. Mistress, Jocelyn, I don’t have a family. I grew up in and out of foster homes with no one to claim and no one to claim me truly as their own. I will give all that I am, if you would claim me, own me…love me.” He was suspended between the here and now and all the points of his past. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by willingly surrendering to his roadside Angel. Life had made him strong, honorable, and a seeker of justice. He’d given his service to his government, had been their instrument of justice. Now he longed to serve the woman he loved.
She didn’t speak right away, just regarded him with those deep dark eyes of hers. When she licked her lips his cock twitched, longing to feel her moist lips upon it.
“I can do that, Ahmad, but not without putting you through your paces. I can be what you need me to be, but you’ll earn it. Just as I will earn your trust and the love you have given to me so freely. There are Dommes that would take from you what you offer and give back nothing. I am not one of those Dommes. I want you to know you placed your desires, your needs, and your trust in the right woman. We will take this journey and grow together.” She removed the sheer wrap that adorned her lithe body and allowed it to drop to the floor. The bustier pushed her proud breasts high, the darkened buds of her nipples peaking coyly out.
“Remove the rest of your clothing. Bare your body as you have bared your soul to me, Ahmad.”
He did as she bade, moving methodically to remove his shoes, his socks, then the track pants, standing naked. He wore only the collar she’d given him, the only thing on his body outside of the scars that remained. He died a million deaths when she kissed them earlier, her soft lips grazing each one, accepting his imperfections and showering them with deliberate consideration.
She reached out and once again caressed his body with her hands, lovingly, letting the tips of her nails graze each scar. Her touch made him hyperaware of himself. She flicked his nipples, causing him to flinch. She arched a brow.
“Did I hurt you just then?”
“No, Mistress. Your touch is maddening.”
She smiled a feline-looking smile then walked behind him. “Place your hands upon your head, Ahmad, I’m the agent and you are the bad guy,” she said, nearly purring. He did as she asked, standing like the perp he felt. He was not submissive, technically, he just desired to submit to her for reasons that he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t going to fight with his needs. He was too in tune with himself for that. “Kneel,” she said, pushing at the back of his knees with her own. He knelt smoothly, his knees on her plush carpet, his thighs spread and feet tucked beneath his ass. His cock grazed the floor, lengthening with each passing moment. She walked in front of him, then without ceremony unfastened the front of her bustier, peeling it away from her shoulders and baring her breasts to his eyes. His mouth watered. He wanted to feast upon those beauties. Her breasts were tempting morsels.
“Do you remember what I asked of you, Ahmad, what I said I wanted for you to do?” she asked him as she cupped her breasts in her palms then began to roll the nipples between her fingers. His cock was going to burst from engorgement, of that he was certain. He was so hard he was in torturous pain, watching her touching and teasing her own breasts.
“Yes, Mistress, I do. You asked me to fuck you and to fuck you hard,” he stated, his voice dangerously low.
“I’m giving you free rein, Ahmad, more than I have given any man that I have ever deemed worthy to share my bed. I don’t want to be your Domme tonight—that will come later. Tonight I want you to make me remember that I’m simply a woman.”
When she motioned for him to stand he did so. Then, without preamble, without warning, he pulled her to him, crushing her smaller body against his own, and took her mouth, hungrily plunging his tongue between her sweet lips. His service ha
d begun with another searing kiss.
Chapter 11
Jocelyn was totally lost in their passionate kiss, yielding to him her mouth and her body. She wanted to be taken over, possessed by this man—and only this man. She could give lip service to her stubborn claims but she accepted the knowledge long ago that when the right man came along she’d know it. Maybe if a woman was lucky he’d come along once in a life time. For her he’d come and then left…then came back again. It was meant to be. Fate had decided that she’d have both a lover and sub and he’d be one and the same. A man that was strong, could hold his own and take care of her, but would ultimately yield to her dominance not out of fear, or desire alone, but out of respect and love, simply because he wanted to.
Jocelyn didn’t fool herself into thinking she was demanding anything from Ahmad. Ahmad was gifting his service to her and because of that simple, pure fact she didn’t want to disappoint him. She didn’t want to let him down in any way. She wanted to be worthy of his gift of himself. And by God she was going to earn it!
Jocelyn felt herself being lifted from her feet and carried over to her bed. Ahmad laid her down upon it and then searched her face.
“Are you sure you want me to have free rein right now?”
Jocelyn chuckled. He sounded like the concerned Dom, not a fledgling submissive. “Yes, Ahmad, take me, no thought, just action. I don’t want to analyze this, I just want to feel.”
He quickly claimed her mouth once more, kissing her with ardor, with vigor, holding nothing back. She loved it. He wasn’t treating her as a fragile virgin that he needed to hold back with. He was releasing all the pent-up desire and longing he’d harbored for five years since their first meeting. She reached for his shoulders then wrapped her legs about his waist as he settled himself between her thighs. She groaned when he rubbed the length of his cock across her pussy, the fabric of her panties now soaked through and clinging to her mound and clit. She moved her hips with him, keeping that delicious contact, her nipples pressed against his bare chest.
