My Kingdom for a Corner

by Melinda Barron

  Anger soared through her as she fought against the bonds.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Fight some more, Ms. Steele. It’s making you very wet. Your pussy’s glistening like someone sprinkled fairy dust on it.”

  She stopped moving immediately, and as she did, realization sunk in. He was right. She wasn’t pissed. She was excited. She felt a need that surpassed any desire she’d ever felt. Her folds throbbed as if he’d been fucking her already.

  “Please,” she said softly. “I need it.”

  “I know what you need,” he said, “and being tied up is just part of it. You also need to be whipped, hard. You need to stand in the corner and tell your Master you’re sorry for being a bad girl. You need to suck your Master’s cock, taste his cum.”

  “I suppose you’re that Master,” she said, turning her head enough to fix her gaze on him.

  “Naturally.” He sat down next to her and started to stroke her back. Francesca wanted to scream at him to touch her cunt, but she knew that wouldn’t get her what she wanted. “Earlier, I told you not to come, or you wouldn’t get dick. Did you see what you did? You slowed your pace, you followed my command.”

  “Bastard!” She growled at him, angry when he laughed deeply. “Fuck me!”

  “Later.” His hand moved to her ass. He cupped each cheek. “Your butt would look wonderful with a few welts on it.”

  “Fuck me!” She tried to rock into his touch, but the ropes kept her in place. When he got up and moved back to the wall, she wanted to cry. He was back quickly, fixing leather cuffs around her ankles.

  “Spread your legs as wide as you can so I can tie you to the rings down here.” The urge to tell him to fuck himself was strong, but even stronger was the urge to follow his command. When she did, he chuckled. “You see what I mean? You’re a natural.”

  Francesca closed her eyes as she felt him tug on her legs, securing them to the floor. She was wide open for his inspection. The anger was still there, but the excitement trumped it. He was on top of her in seconds, his body pressing against her.

  “Beg me,” he whispered into her ear, “and make it good.”

  A soft moan escaped her lips as she whispered, “Fuck me, please. Put your dick in me, claim me, make me yours.”

  “I’ve already done that,” he said, his voice seeming to go even lower. She shivered as his breath hit her skin. How could something said so softly affect her that way? The need inside her was monumental. “Say, pretty please, Santa, fuck me.”

  He’d moved so that the tip of his cock was at her opening. Her body quaked in response. If the ropes hadn’t been holding her in place, she would probably have pushed back, taken him in one, hard thrust. She needed him, hard and pulsing, inside her. Nothing else mattered.

  “Pretty please, Santa, fuck me.” He did it so fast she cried out at the initial shock of his entry. There was a sharp stab of pain, and then he started to fuck her, hard, giving her the pounding she so desperately needed. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Come, Ms. Steele,” he growled out, “come as much as you like, and be noisy about it. I order you to.”

  It was easy to follow his command. “Santa,” she screamed as she came, feeling foolish that she didn’t know his name. He continued to saw into her, her body kept in place by the restraints as she came yet again, the hard, tight sensations making her scream out yet again.

  When he pushed the glass cock against her anus, she fought against the bonds once more. “Hard, do it hard, put it in my ass,” she screamed, frustrated when he stopped and whispered, once more, about who was in charge.

  “Do it!” she said again, not caring that she was topping him. In response, he gently placed the dildo near her mouth, then started to fuck her again.

  “We’ll save that for later,” he said, “maybe the next time you’ll be more obedient.”

  Francesca whimpered with need as his strokes slowed. She’d had two hard orgasms, but she wanted more, at least one, if not two. But the gentle fucking was not going to do it, not after she’d been so turned on by the hard feel of him from earlier.

  “Please,” she whispered, hating the fact she’d used that word so much. “I’m begging you.”

  “And I like to hear it,” he said as he continued his leisurely pace, “but I’m rather enjoying this more sedate screwing.”

  What was another word for please? What could she say? “I implore you, fuck me harder. I…appeal to you…I…oh, damn it!”

  He grasped her hips and quickened his movements, his cock sliding in and out of her wetness, hitting just the right spot until finally she cried out again. Her body shook and she felt weak, as if all her bones were gone. There was pain in her arms and shoulders as he lowered his weight on top of her. And yet, she savored the feel of him, the closeness.

  “Most enjoyable, Ms. Steele,” he said before he nibbled on her earlobe. “Next time, we use the glass cock.”

  “Next time?”

  “There will be many next times,” he said as he stood. He went to the washing area and, still bound, she watched him as he cleaned himself, and then put on his costume.

  “I’ll send in a sub to tend to you,” he said. “She’s very discreet, and will not tell anyone she found you so…prone. Until later, Ms. Steele.”

  “Wait! How will I find you?”

  He winked at her and she felt her face flush. “Don’t worry, it won’t be hard.” He put his hand on his crotch. “Or maybe it will. Until then.”

  “Wait!” She watched him disappear through the door, and she cried out in frustration.

  The asshole had just given her the best fuck of her life, and she didn’t even know his name.

  Chapter Two

  “Who was Santa?” Francesca slapped her palms against Sally’s desk and leaned toward her assistant.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Santa, from last night. Who was he?”

  Sally shrugged. “Mr. Oliver set it up. I never got the name. Did he do something wrong?”

  No, he did everything right. Very right. “Have you set up my lunch with Mr. Oliver?”

  “He couldn’t do lunch,” Sally replied. “He asked if it could be dinner. He said he’d come by the office at five tonight and pick you up, if that’s acceptable to you.”

  Perfect, she could ask him then, and he would tell her about the man who had screwed her brains out and left her wanting more.

  “Call him to confirm, and don’t think you’re getting out of your spanking today. I want you bent over my desk, ass bared, at four-forty-five. That gives me fifteen minutes to give you your bonus for a great party last night.”

  Sally blushed. “Thank you, Ma’am. Will you use the crop?”

  “I’ll use whatever you like. I was very pleased with the event. Now, get busy.”

  Francesca walked past Sally into her private office and shut the door behind her. She leaned against it then groped her breasts. They were hard just from thinking about Santa, from the way he’d tied her and fucked her. Damn him. She didn’t need this sort of diversion in her life. She was fine, if not sometimes bored, with the way things were.

  The last thing she wanted, though, was a Dom thinking he could have control over her. Still, it had been so fucking good. Her clit tightened as she thought about him pounding into her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to come leaning against the door to her office.

  “Work,” she told herself, “that’s what you need to do. No more Santa. One-night fling. Just work.”

  Hours later, she’d edited stories, talked to her brother Francis, who was on his honeymoon with Saffron and not willing to stay on the phone long, and completed her appraisal of several potential covers for the February issue of Salacious. She wished Francis had been more agreeable to business talk. She needed to discuss a new feature one of the writers had come up with, a monthly column featuring Doms/Dommes from around the city, giving advice to newbies.

  While she’d been trying to take her mind off last night, she’d expan
ded on the idea, thinking they could talk the Dominants into giving classes at Mr. Oliver’s. Tonight she would talk with the proprietor about the idea, and see if he thought it would work. It would be a foot in the door for Fingertip Fantasies, and soon they might be in bed, so to speak, with the popular Dom.

  Thinking about the idea took her mind off Santa, at least for a little while. He kept creeping back in, inserting himself in the classes as teacher, using Francesca as the student who would help him demonstrate his ideas.

  “Stop it!” she said to herself more than once as she tried, as hard as she could, not to think about her handsome one-night stand.

  Finally, around three o’clock, she’d repeated the phrase one-night stand to herself until she finally got the idea that she wasn’t going to sleep with Santa again. It had been exhilarating, but it was over, despite what he’d said as he’d exited the room.

  If they did meet again, she needed to remind him she wasn’t a submissive. She had subs of her own, which meant she wouldn’t wear a collar, and she wouldn’t be told what to do.

  She was perusing an advertising report when there was a knock at her door. After she’d given permission, Sally opened it and came inside.

  “It’s time for my spanking, Mistress.” Without being told, she went to the cabinet against the far wall and retrieved a riding crop. She handed it to Francesca before she went to the edge of the desk. Once she’d lowered her panties and lifted her skirt she bent over the wood and clasped her hands behind her back.

  Francesca admired Sally’s submissiveness for a few moments, knowing that the wait would increase the pleasure Sally would receive from the crop. She also took the time to wonder where the afternoon had gone. Between working and thinking about Santa, the time had just slipped away.

  “I want to say once again what a fine job you did in setting up the party last night,” she said as she stood.

  “Thank you, Mistress C.”

  “Since this is a reward, I’m going to let you select the number of cuts you receive from the crop. What number would you like?”

  “Twenty, Mistress?”

  A frown marred Francesca’s features. “So small a number? That’s not like you at all.”

  Sally kept her face turned away from her, but Francesca was pretty sure she was smiling. The sub was very relaxed, which meant she was excited about something, and Francesca didn’t think it was about the spanking she was going to receive.

  “You’re meeting your new Dom friend tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Regret washed through her as she realized she hadn’t even asked her assistant about last night. She’d only been worried about Santa.

  “His name?”

  “Sir Striker.”

  Francesca laughed. “I know him. He’s a very good choice for you. Santa did well.”

  “I think so,” Sally replied. She wiggled her bottom, and Francesca knew she was getting antsy, that she wanted the promised swats. Francesca would make her wait just a little longer. The main receptionist would warn her when Mr. Oliver showed up, and she would invite him to witness the rest of the Sally’s reward, however many swats that might remain. Maybe Francesca would even see if he wanted to give a few licks of his own.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Francesca said. “However, that doesn’t give you the right to lower the amount of swats I’m going to give you. We’ll start at forty, and see if I think that’s enough.”

  She picked up the crop from where Sally had placed it on the table. Taking an end in each hand she tested its strength, even though she’d used this particular implement on Sally more than once with wonderful results. Still, she always liked to get the feel for an implement before a spanking.

  After a few more moments of making the sub wait, Francesca gently caressed her bottom with the crop. Sally’s soft moans let Francesca know the sub was ready, but starting a spanking too soon wasn’t a good thing. Sally would know when the true spanking started, and she knew the way Francesca liked things done.

  She delivered a few more soft swats, then the spanking started, the sharp sound of the crop hitting Sally’s bottom filling the room. When Francesca reached ten, her assistant’s voice rang out.

  “That is ten, Mistress C. Thank you very much for the spanking. I would like you to continue, but only if it pleases you.”

  For an answer, Francesca swatted her bottom again, and again, and again. They made it through twenty with the required response from Sally, and she was almost to thirty-six when she realized they were not alone. She’d settled into a good rhythm, and whether the door was open or closed, her employees knew better than to interrupt her when she was spanking someone.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the doorway. Santa stood there, casually leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes alight with interest. He inclined his head ever so slightly, as if he were giving her permission to continue, and Francesca felt a surge of anger pass through her.

  Who the hell did he think he was? And why the fuck hadn’t the receptionist called to tell her he was here? And where was Mr. Oliver?

  “Mistress C?” Sally’s voice was full of uncertainty, which angered Francesca even more. The only thing Sally should be feeling right now was pleasure.

  “It’s alright, Sally,” she said, stroking the crop gently across Sally’s reddened behind. “We have a guest, one who has inserted himself into a private situation.”

  “My apologies,” Santa said. He came inside and closed the door. “The receptionist was busy, and she just waved me back.” He walked to where he was facing Francesca. “If I may?”

  He wiggled his fingers, and Francesca knew exactly what he meant. She nodded, and when he went down on one knee and started playing with Sally’s pussy, the sub cried out in pleasure.

  “You may not climax until I give permission,” Francesca told her.

  “Yes, Mistress C.” From the sound of her voice, Francesca guessed she was right on the edge. She started to spank her again, landing the cuts a little more forcefully, making sure to hit a welt or two that had already risen. Sally’s deep moans told Francesca she was close to the edge. When they hit fifty, she barely got the proper wording out. It crossed Francesca’s mind to stop, but she wanted to postpone it a little longer, keep the pretty sub on the edge.

  During the last ten swats she glanced a few times at Santa, whose gaze went between where the crop landed on Sally’s abused bottom to Francesca’s face.

  Finally, at sixty, after Sally had recited the proper words, Francesca ordered her to climax.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” she screamed as her body shook. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome,” they replied, almost in unison.” Francesca rubbed Sally’s hot bottom until her sub stopped quaking, then she gave her a gentle pat. “You may go meet your new friend now.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” She hurried from the room. The door closed firmly behind her.

  No longer caring if Mr. Oliver showed up, Francesca worked her panties down her legs. She sat down in her chair and threw one leg over an arm. She lifted her skirt to reveal her pussy.

  “Eat me.” She watched him pick up the crop and do with it as she’d done before the spanking. It seemed much more flexible in his strong hands, bowing up between his arms.

  “If I do, it will be on my terms.”

  “I said, eat me.”

  He leaned against the edge of her desk. “Tempting, but no.”

  “We are in my office now. You will do as I say.” She opened her top drawer and pulled out a steel ruler. “I’ve used this on subs before. Would you like to taste it on your ass for your disobedience?”

  His laughter made her furious. “I’ll wager my crop against your ruler. Besides, is this any way to treat an invited guest?”

  Realization slammed into her as she stared at the man in front of her. Holy hell, Santa was Mr. Oliver.

  This woman made his dick harder than it had ever been. She’d
done it last night, and she did it right now. Truth be told, she’d done it the first time he’d ever seen her, at a Salacious party when he’d first moved to Seattle.

  He’d seen her across the room, watching as she’d used a belt on a male submissive while another woman stood nearby. He’d wanted to talk to her then, but he’d been distracted by Doms coming up and welcoming him to the city. When he’d looked back, she’d been gone.

  Then, real life had gotten in the way. He’d had to travel to Scotland a few times, to take care of family business when his aunt had passed away. She’d been childless, and had left everything to him. Now that was all taken care of, and he was free to live his new life here, in America.

  And he knew just the woman he wanted to live it with.

  “Forgive me for not introducing myself before I fucked you last night. My name is McDunn, Oliver McDunn.”

  “You lying little bastard,” she whispered, her green eyes flashing in annoyance.

  “On the contrary, you didn’t want my name. You just wanted my prick.”

  She spread her legs even wider. “Eat me. Now.”

  “One day, yes, I will, but only after I’ve tortured you into sweet submission and you’re begging to come.” He moved fast, pressing the edge of the crop against her clit. She swatted it away and he laughed. “Feisty. I like that.”

  “I’m not feisty, Mr. Oliver. I’m a Domme. I’m a confident, assertive woman who doesn’t need you to control me. If you want a sub, look elsewhere.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Francesca. Even you know that many confident, assertive women are submissive. Just because they’re subs doesn’t mean they’re doormats. They enjoy giving over, allowing a man, or a woman, to lead them to the ultimate pleasure, as I did you last night.”

  She snorted and he wanted to burst out laughing at her bluff. “Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Mr. Oliver. I needed a dick, and you had one. It was sufficient, that’s all.”