He sat down on the divan, stretching his legs out in front of him. “We both know you came harder than you ever have. You can deny it, but I felt it as you squeezed my prick.”
She glanced away from him, and Oliver smiled. “I’ve come to discuss our relationship.”
“Relationship?” She turned her attention to the papers on her large desk. “We don’t have one. We fucked. End of story. We’re going to discuss business, nothing more.”
Oliver straightened, crossing his legs. “You’re under the impression I want to change you from a Domme to a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. What I want is to help you explore your submissive side with me, in private, between the two of us.”
“I think you have a hearing problem, Mr. Oliver. I don’t have a submissive side.”
Stubborn, which meant she would be all the more fun to play with. “You’re lying to yourself, Ms. Steele. I happen to know that you were desperate to know who Santa was last night, and it’s not because you wanted to thank him for sitting on his lap. It’s because you came so hard you just had to know who provided you with such exquisite joy.”
Her cheeks reddened, and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “If you want me to eat you, Francesca, we do it on my terms, where I will once again prove that you would enjoy being led into submission, just like last night.”
She fiddled with papers on her desk, and the fact she hadn’t denied what he said, or screamed at him yet again, let him know she was thinking about his words.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
“Screw you.” She continued to rifle through papers.
“I said stand up. Don’t make me repeat it a third time.”
She sneered at him. “Why, is it like a curse? Do you turn into a toad after your orders are disobeyed three times in a row?”
“I’m offering you a taste of pleasure, just like you had last night, but you have to follow my instructions. I won’t ask again. If you don’t want to play, then I will leave, and our assistants can hash out the business arrangements together.”
Oliver could swear he could hear the wheels in her mind churning as she mulled over her answer. He’d give her a few minutes then…ah, there it was, just like he wanted. She stood up and faced him.
“Only this once,” she said, the words holding absolutely no conviction. “And it’s only because I want you to eat my pussy.”
“Oh, I will, right after you suck my cock.”
Francesca’s heart dropped down to her knees. She hadn’t given a blowjob in years. And what the hell was she doing standing? This was her office, her business. He should be kneeling at her feet, his tongue between her folds.
“Undo your blouse, Francesca, just to your navel, please.”
His voice was so seductive, so powerful; it made her nipples tighten even more than they already were. Her clit was pulsing; it had been since he’d played with Sally while she’d whipped her.
She wanted to ask what would happen if she didn’t, but she was pretty sure she knew; he would just walk out the door, and she would be devastated. She wanted him again—no, not wanted—needed him.
No words came from her mouth as she followed his instructions. When the blouse was loose, she put her fingers on the front clasp of her bra.
“Not yet.” He tapped the riding crop against the floor. “Come here.”
No, no, no! Why did those words send delicious tingles down her spine?
“Don’t make me wait, Francesca.”
It was as if her feet were moving of their own volition. She stopped directly at the spot where the riding crop touched the floor. If he told her to kneel, that would be too much. She would have to end it there, even if he did leave.
“Don’t undo you bra. Just lift out your breasts, one by one and then play with your nipples for me.”
That wasn’t hard to do. Francesca ached to be touched, even if it was by her own hands. Her breasts slid from the material easily, the tight bra holding them up for him to see. When they were both free she massaged her nipples, savoring the feel, holding back the need to order him to take one of them in his mouth.
“Suck your right one, until I tell you to stop.” Her eyes widened. Her breasts were large, true, but she’d never thought about this, although it was a titillating idea.
She grasped it in both hands and tilted it upward, lowering her mouth to capture her hard nub. A thrill shot through her when he whispered, “That’s my good girl. Suck yourself for me. Very nice.”
Francesca groaned softly as she sucked her nipple, then realization shot through her. She was submitting to him, following his orders as if she didn’t have a mind of her own.
A loud popping noise filled the room as she released her nipple from her mouth. She shook her head and backed away from him. “Enough.”
“I say when it’s enough. I told you to suck until I said stop. Now, get back into place, and start again.”
“No.” She backed away some more. “What if I ordered you to stand up, take out your cock and stroke it?”
To her shock, he did exactly as she’d said, taking out the glorious, thick prick that had given her a hard pounding the night before. He stroked himself once, twice, three times.
“Good, you’re submitting to me,” she said. “We do it my way now.”
“No, we do it my way.” He put away his cock and she wanted to scream at him to take it back out. “You’re over thinking things, Francesca. You want the pleasure, but you want it your way. I did as you asked because it pleased me. You led me into that pleasure. But, in this instance, I am in charge. I did it because I wanted to do it, just as you’ve obeyed me because you want to. Now, step back into place, and suck your nipple until I tell you to stop.”
The urge to say no was strong, but the desire she felt was stronger. Once she’d taken her nipple back into her mouth, and he’d whispered that she was his, “Good Francesca”, she thought she would come right on the spot.
She kept her eyes closed as she sucked, not wanting to see what she was sure would be the look of triumph on his face. It didn’t matter right now that he’d gotten the best of her. She’d turn things around, another time, after she’d come as hard as she had last night.
Forget that, she whispered to herself. Think of nothing but your body, your nipple, your need. She felt as if she were floating, and every once in a while she heard his soft words of praise.
“Now the left one,” he said, breaking the almost trance-like state she was in. Her nipple popped from her mouth, and as she captured the left one she realized she was in sub-space, the wonderful place her submissives talked about, where nothing mattered but the scene they were in, where ecstasy was the rule, and nothing else mattered.
There would be no more objections to his orders. She wanted to come, hard, and she wanted him to lead her there.
“Very good, Francesca,” he whispered after she’d started to soar again. “Now, roll your skirt up so I can see that sweet cunt of yours.”
She did as he bid her, her body on fire. He moved to the edge of the sofa and spread his legs. “Right here,” he said, tapping the crop against the floor. She moved swiftly, keeping her skirt up.
Oliver ran his hand up her thigh, and Francesca trembled. “I know you’re right on the edge, but you will not come without my permission. You know the rules, don’t you?”
A single nod was his answer. She knew the rules, although she’d never been on this end of them. Controlling herself was going to be hard, but she could do it.
He leaned toward her and inhaled, and she was sure it would send her over the edge. She held back by sheer will, but when he spread her labia, and licked her clit, it was all she could take. Francesca came, screaming so loud she was sure all the employees left in the building would come running to see what was wrong.
“Bad Francesca,” he said, pushing her away ever so gently and standing up. “No dick for you tonight.
“You will learn something about me, Francesca. I do n
ot spank for punishment. I do it to give pleasure. Bad girls, who do not follow orders, get no dick, nor do they get an orgasm other than the one they stole from their Master.”
“I didn’t steal it!”
“We’ll discuss that this weekend,” he said, sniffing as if in disdain. “I live in the top floor of the south tower at Mr. Oliver’s. Be there at noon on Friday. We will spend Friday, Saturday and Sunday together.”
“No,” she said as he walked toward the door. “I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will. And if you’ve had an orgasm, other than one produced by a sub, I’ll know it. In other words, don’t let your fingers do the walking, and keep your vibrators stored away. You won’t be able to lie to me. See you Friday, sweet Francesca. I look forward to tasting more of your pussy.”
He left before she could reply, and as she stared at the open door she realized that she still had her skirt in her hands, showing off her pussy, and that her breasts were still on display.
“Asshat,” she said softly, knowing he was right. She would be there on Friday. And she would probably love every second of the weekend.
Chapter Three
The suitcase in the trunk of her car seemed to call out to her as Francesca went about her Friday morning routine. It called her a liar, not to the outside world but to herself. She’d packed, unpacked, then repacked it three times last night. With each instance, she’d told herself she wasn’t going to Mr. Oliver’s, either the club or the house. She was going to stay home this weekend, curl up with a good book and a bottle of wine. Maybe there would be a good movie on TV.
But each time she’d made the decision to stay, there had been a nagging sensation at the base of her spine reminding her that, despite her anger, she’d followed his instructions. She hadn’t had an orgasm even though she wanted one so badly she could taste it.
“Damn you, McDunn,” she said, louder than she should have.
From outside her office, Sally said, “Something wrong, Ma’am?”
“Everything,” she said under her breath before she answered, “Everything’s fine, thank you.”
She hated lying to her assistant, but she hadn’t told anyone about her connection with Mr. Oliver. What would people think if they knew the Domme known as Mistress C, who ran a BDSM magazine and wielded a whip with a sharp bite, was submitting to a man? It went against everything people knew about her. It went against what she knew about herself. But was Oliver right when he said she needed to explore other avenues?
“Crap,” she said, “where is Francis when I need him?” She always discussed things like this with her twin. They were close, as twins always were, but they had the added bond of both being dominant, of running a business together based on that dominance, with both Steele Publications and Fingertip Fantasies.
But Francis was on his honeymoon, and she didn’t want to distract him with too many phone calls that would take his mind off of Saffron. She wished she’d asked her brother about his initial reactions to his bride. He’d sent her to a Fingertip Fantasies resort to “do a story,” when in actuality he’d wanted to play with her, because the attraction he felt for her was so strong. He’d told Francesca that the moment Saffron had stepped into the room he’d known she was the woman for him.
Her reactions to McDunn were intense, that much was for certain, but she hadn’t had the feeling that they would be a couple. Maybe that was because she had just been so damn horny that she needed to get fucked. Or maybe it was because she knew he was Dom, and she wasn’t a submissive. Just because he made her come…
“Sally, come in here, please.”
Her assistant came through the door, a smile plastered on her face. She’d been smiling since she’d hooked up with Sir Striker. The giggling had lessened, too. The new Dom was good for the sub.
“I want to ask you something, and I want you to be totally honest with me. I think you can, shall we say, give me some insight into someone.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“This conversation does not go outside this room.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The assistant went to the door and gently pushed it closed. When she was back in front of the desk, she gave her boss a shy smile.
There was a part of her that didn’t want to approach this subject with Sally. She’d had many submissives tell her why they were submissive, but they’d all been men. At the beginning of a relationship, she always asked a new sub why they felt the need to be dominated. She hoped that asking a woman the same question would give her some insight.
“I want to know about the first moment you knew you were submissive.”
Sally started to giggle, then put her hand in front of her mouth. It was obvious to Francesca that Sir Striker was trying to break her of the giggling.
“I don’t think it was a conscious choice,” Sally replied. “For me, it’s ingrained. I feel more of a connection with a man, sexually, when I’m being dominated. My first Master told me it was because I didn’t allow myself pleasure, that I had to be given permission for it.”
Francesca nodded. She’d heard that before, but she didn’t feel that way. She enjoyed physical events, loved to be fucked, and had no problem with allowing herself to come. The permission part didn’t work for her. So what was it? She didn’t like to give over control; she wanted to keep it. It’s why she was the boss. It’s why she had subs of her own.
“Thank you, Sally, for your honesty. I’m going out of town for the weekend, leaving in about an hour or so. If you need anything, talk to Nelson, he knows I’m leaving.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Sally smiled, and it seemed brighter than it had just a few days ago. Yes, Sir Striker was definitely good for her.
“Take off at noon, why don’t you. You deserve it for all your hard work. Do some shopping, or just go and play. I’ll let Nelson know.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Sally gave her a salute, and skipped out of the room.
Francesca picked up her phone to dial Nelson’s extension. He was the perfect example of a submissive man who came hard when you tortured his cock and balls, but in the boardroom he would eat people for lunch, and not need an antacid afterward.
After she’d told him her news, she turned off her computer and once more contemplated what she was doing. Definitely not submissive, but this would, as Oliver had said, give her a chance to explore something different. If anything, it would provide fodder for a story, anonymously of course, for Salacious.
I Was a Submissive for a Weekend. Perfect title, she thought as she stood and headed toward the door. It was also the perfect way to look at things this weekend. It was an experiment, nothing more. She’d get a few good fucks out of it, enough to last her until she could find a nice submissive man to start a relationship with.
Of course, the first thing McDunn was going to have to do was give her an orgasm. He owed her that much, since she’d been good and followed his instructions.
She’d make him fuck her, then he could take over. Yes, that was the perfect start.
* * * *
Oliver trained his binoculars to where Francesca was getting out of her car three floors below. She opened the boot of her luxury SUV, put her hand inside, and pulled it back out, empty, as if she’d changed her mind.
A smile crossed his face. She’d brought a suitcase, but she was hesitant to bring it inside, which meant one of two things. She didn’t want others to see it because they would know she was staying with him, or she hadn’t totally made up her mind to stay.
Either way, she was here, and that was a good start. He’d jacked off repeatedly in the last few days just thinking of the beautiful, dark-haired Domme kneeling before him, begging for his dick.
They were perfect together, and he would prove it to her. By Sunday, she would know they were meant to be together, two halves of a whole. He put down his binoculars as she headed for the building. A few moments later his intercom buzzed and one of his workers informed him Mistress C was here to see him.
“Send h
er up.” He glanced at the table where he’d laid out a beautiful outfit for the full-figured woman to wear. While she’d been fighting with the idea of bringing her suitcase upstairs, he knew she wouldn’t need it. He had everything she would require, from clothes and toiletries, to food and, of course, sex. He’d keep her full, and happy, and well fucked for the next two and a half days.
He hadn’t planned on their relationship starting out with sex, but when he’d seen her at the party, his plans to sit and talk with her had gone out the window. She’d made him lose control and throw aside his ideas, to center on his baser needs.
Two days ago, the same thing had almost happened. It had taken every ounce of his control to walk out of her office after watching her follow his commands so beautifully. First things first today, getting her properly dressed, some rules, and then some fun, for both of them.
Before she left this weekend, they would know each other, not only physically, but mentally.
A rap on the door let him know she’d arrived. He let her wait a minute and knock one more time before he crossed the floor and opened the door.
“Come in,” he stepped out of the way, shutting the door as she came inside. “There was a part of me that wondered if you would come. I’m glad to see you here.”
“I’m generally up for anything new,” she replied. She went to the couch and sat down. Strike one, as far as he was concerned. “This is something way off the grid for me.”
“Good.” He stayed where he was, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to keep you out of your comfort zone. The first rule is you will obey. I will hear no objections this weekend. Is that clear?”
Her face hardened just a little, her eyes narrowing. A small grin tugged at the side of her mouth, then it was gone. “Understood, Mr. Oliver. Or should I call you Master?”
“I’m not your Master—yet.”
This time her smile stayed in place. “Keep dreaming, Mr. Oliver, and that is the last smart-assed remark I’ll make this weekend.”
My Kingdom for a Corner Page 3
