by Stasia Black
I just can’t. Too much shit went down tonight. Sleeping was nice. If I dreamed, I can’t remember any of it and that’s how I like it. I don’t care what Jackson says or what grand plans he has—all I want is to get into the room, make a beeline for the bed and pull the covers over my head. Asleep and numb are really working for me right now.
Jackson gets our bags from the trunk before heading inside. Mutely, I follow a few steps behind him. Jackson keeps checking over his shoulder to make sure I’m there. I try to curve the edges of my mouth up but I’m not sure if it comes off as a smile or a grimace. Can’t really be bothered to care either. But I don’t miss the narrowing of Jackson’s eyebrows that show his concern so I try harder at the smile. Even if it is the last thing I feel like doing right now.
The hotel is super nice inside. An intricate inlaid tile design runs down the middle of the floor. It has open ceilings and interesting architecture too. I didn’t check to see what kind of hotel it was from the outside, but I shouldn’t be surprised that for Jackson, it’s only the best. Even out here in the wilds of northernmost California. We don’t head to the reception desk. Instead, the attendant on duty, a guy young enough to be just out of high school wearing dress pants, a shirt, and a tie, hurries over to us. He looks like he got into his father’s closet and is playing dress up.
“Mr. Vale?” he questions.
Jackson nods. He pulls his wallet out of his pants and flashes his ID to the kid who nods profusely.
“Excellent, excellent. I’m William. But you can call me Will. My friends call me Will. Unless you prefer William. That’s also perfectly fine. Whatever you like.” The kid’s face is absolutely plum red by this point, but Jackson just stands politely listening.
“Um,” Will valiantly goes on, “That is to say, we are so honored to have such a VIP as you, Mr. Vale, visit our humble little establishment here. I mean, really, it’s just incredible.” His eyes are so bright they verge on gleaming. “My friends and I just entered a submission to ridiculousrobots.com, actually. When they find out I’ve met you, they’ll just— Well, they’ll never believe it, sir. Can I get a picture?”
“Sure,” Jackson says affably, though his eyes flick to me in a sorry gesture.
Okay, well, this is actually kind of cute, seeing Jackson get fanboyed over like a celebrity. Not that I’ll let him know I think that. I only roll my eyes but that just makes Jackson smile wider as the kid snaps the picture, arm thrown around Jackson like they’re best friends.
“What does your robot do?” Jackson asks as he steps away from the kid.
“When you sit down on a chair, the pressure sensor sets off the machine that sings My Little Pony songs and projects a series of Truman Capote quotes with a laser pointer at the wall.”
Jackson smiles and nods. “Perfectly nonsensical. Sounds like you guys really got the spirit of the thing right.”
Will smiles like Jackson just made his year.
“Here are your two key cards and of course the rest has been taken care of by your man over the phone. Please, contact me here at the front desk if anything at all is out of place. Or if there’s something to your disliking, I will personally fix the problem immediately.”
Jackson takes the envelope with the key cards and then there’s an awkward moment where the kid’s still just standing there, a hair’s breath away from breaching the etiquette of personal space. “Is there anything else?” Jackson finally asks.
Will’s eye’s go wide as an owl before shaking his head. “No. God no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.” He launches himself backward so violently, I’m afraid he’s going to fall over, but he manages to stay on his feet.
For my part, I actually keep my laughter in until the elevator doors close, but then I lose it. “Oh my God,” I say, holding my stomach, I’m giggling so hard. “Are people always like that around you?”
Jackson shakes his head. “I think I was just his first VIP.” He doesn’t look embarrassed. He’s just smiling at me. He reaches out and traces my lips with his index finger. “I like this look on you.”
My laughter slowly dies down at the intense look on his face. Especially when the finger at my lips pushes into my mouth. Oh fuck, that’s hot. Fire zings straight through to my sex. Damn him. Somehow between the fanboy and Jackson’s proximity, my plans for going straight to bed have gotten shot all to hell.
I could fight it or give in.
Two guesses as to which I go for?
Exactly.
I suck on his finger. He growls, then pushes it in deeper, hooking me like a fish in my cheek and pulling me closer. I let him.
His eyes go dark and his Dom face hits me with full force. I don’t even know quite how to describe it. His features take on an intensity they don’t normally have. The way he holds his body changes. Softness becomes edge. Command crackles in the air.
And I don’t know why, but I need it tonight. It would be so easy to give into the numbness. I still feel it hovering there. Wanting to draw me back in. So I take the lifeline Jackson’s offering me.
“Hands behind your back, eyes on me,” he orders right as the elevator door pings and opens.
Reluctantly, I release his finger from my mouth and do as he says. Probably a good thing, since there’s an older couple waiting when the elevator doors open. I hide a smile as I lock my hands behind my back and watch Jackson swiftly exit the elevator.
I keep just a few paces behind him, eyes glued to his spectacular ass. He said I had to look at him. He never specified where. I grin to myself.
He’s not making it easy on me to keep up either. His stride is so long, I take two steps for every one of his. Finally, we make it to the room at the end of the hall and he uses the key card to let us inside.
I only get a glimpse of a luxurious suite before Jackson has the door closed. Then the world spins as he twirls me and slams me up against the wall.
His bulk is immediately up against me. I expect his mouth to immediately start devouring me but instead he simply leans in, nose in my hair, his cheek resting beside mine. Both of his hands cage me in on either side of my body and he just stands there, slowly moving his cheek and nose up and down the side of mine. Nuzzling me.
I blink rapidly and my body starts to tremble, overwhelmed by unexpected emotion.
I was prepared for animalistic sex. Clothes to be ripped off. Mouths on bodies and too much sensation for feeling or thought. That’s what I wanted.
Not this. Not this.
As close as we are, I can feel his erection rubbing against my leg. He’s certainly game. Time to get this train out of the station and moving along.
I reach down and grab his cock. “Fuck me.” I give him a crude up and down stroke. I’m happy to take over Domme if he’s not getting the job done.
But he immediately reaches down and snatches my wrist, pinning it up against the wall.
I gasp in righteous indignation. Especially when he continues moving at that slow pace, now slowly nuzzling the arm he has pinned, occasionally dropping the gentlest of kisses on my skin. When I try to make a move with my other hand, that one gets pinned as well.
“Don’t move,” he whispers as he pulls away from me and takes a quick step to his bag. I make a low growling noise of disapproval, but I stay where he’s put me, like a pinned butterfly.
“That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
I see the satisfied approval in his eyes when he glances up from his bag at me, which makes a corresponding warmth flare in my chest. Jackson stands back up before I can think too much about anything. My eyebrows lift when I see what he’s got in his hand. It’s a small switchblade.
He pops the blade out and steps toward me, eyes dark. So dark. He runs the blunt edge down my cheek and I don’t even blink. Blood play is a hard limit for both of us. So what’s with the knife?
His eyes flare. “So much trust,” he whispers, eyes moving back and forth between mine. He swallows hard, seeming moved by some emotion I can’t name.
And it’s true. Usually this is the point where I should be freaking the fuck out. Second-guessing everything I thought I knew. But I don’t. I know I’m safe with him.
Then he seems to master himself and he lowers the blade. I just keep my eyes on him, curious. He pulls out the bodice of my dress and his eyes flick up to mine again as he positions the knife-edge at the center of the fabric. His eyes stay on mine as the blade starts cutting down the center of the dress.
I swallow. He could have asked me to take the dress off. It would’ve only taken me a second. This is symbolic somehow, him divesting me of my clothes this way. Seeing the glint of desire in his eyes, I can see he’s enjoying himself and I can’t deny the curl of pleasure this is giving me too. Especially when, halfway down the dress, he discards the knife, grabs the edges of the fabric and rips the rest himself. Oh fuck. So hot.
He repeats the process with every piece of clothing I have on. Bra. Panties. He jerks my body to him as he rips those off and I’m completely drenched. My hands fall from where I was holding up against the wall and land around his neck.
“Ah ah ah,” he chastises, “did I say you could drop those hands?”
Obediently, I raise them back above my head, even though my muscles are beginning to ache. He’s testing me and I will pass. I will love the burn. I bite my lip and thrust my breasts out. My nipples pucker and I can’t help rubbing my thighs together.
But then, when I’m completely naked, he steps back and takes a slow perusal, head to toe. Goosebumps rise all over my skin under his careful scrutiny. Does he like what he sees?
His face gives nothing away. He’s just standing there. Looking. And I start to feel cold. Exposed. Does he see areas he wishes were different? I think about what I saw when I was looking in the mirror earlier. The bags under my eyes. I didn’t even put on any foundation. I’ve got to look pasty in this lighting. I shift from one foot to the other.
Jackson doesn’t move. He just keeps looking me over.
What the fuck? It’s been ninety full seconds of silence, him just standing there—and that’s just since I started counting. Watching me. Categorizing defects, if he’s like any other man I’ve met. David used to say that my thighs were too thick. I was pretty and everything, but he understood why I stopped doing pageants.
Do you know how long a minute and a half of silence actually feels with another person just staring at you? Even in pageants, the whole walking and posing process takes less time than this.
“Fuck, just take a picture already. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to find all the flaws.” Then, under my breath, I add, “And wank off to it, which is what I’m good for, right?”
“What did you just say?” His voice cracks like a whip.
But fuck him and his Dom shit. How dare he make me feel special one second and then remind me what I really am the next? Something to look at. Something to fuck. I knew it, I knew from the start this is how it would end up. “I’m just saying what we’re both thinking.”
“And what exactly is that?” Each word comes out through his teeth.
I drop my arms and cross them over my chest.
Fine. He wants to do this? Let’s do this.
“That maybe this little visit home makes things clear. My mom might be a cunt, but fuck, it doesn’t make her wrong.” I shrug and give a shrill laugh. “She taught me how to put these assets to work,” I grab my tits, “since I was a kid. So I just kept on doing it. Working at Hooters. Taking the job with Gentry—”
“Stop it,” Jackson demands.
“You’re fucking me,” I say with a sneer. “So you obviously get it. Let’s be honest. I fucked my way into this job, no matter how you try to spin it. You only prove my point every day—”
Jackson’s hand slams over my mouth and a dangerous glint enters his eye. “You’ll want to be very careful about what comes out of that mouth next. You are not only insulting me, but the woman I happen to care a very great deal for.”
He moves so that his body covers mine, face hovering only an inch away from my face. His hand is still firmly on my mouth. “Your parents are worthless shitbags of human excrement who never deserved to breathe the same air space as you and I’m struggling not to go back and take an ax to that cock-sucker who abused you when you were just a kid.”
His jaw is so rigid I think he might crack something when he continues, “I want to ram a white hot poker up all of their asses for making you question your worth, talent, beauty—” he finally removes his hand from my mouth and cradles the side of my head, “—and general fucking amazingness. As well as the strength that continues to blow me away more with every day that I know you. You pursue your dreams against all odds. You survived and thrived when any other person would have given up.”
He grabs my hands and his eyes go glossy with emotion even as I see him struggling to keep it under control. He’s cracked himself wide open for me and I can’t imagine Jackson Vale doing that for anyone. “I was staring at you because I was taking you in, your beauty inside and out, all that makes you, you, and I couldn’t stop looking because I love you.”
My breath hitches and I try to pull away but he doesn’t let me.
“I know that scares the shit out of you but I don’t care. You’re not running. Not again. What I learned tonight was horrible but I was glad to learn it because I want to know everything about you. No secrets anymore. You are the strongest person I know and the only person I would ever submit to. I love you.”
Slowly, he slides to his knees before me and I see all that he is offering me.
Not just his submission, but his life. A life together.
Jackson Vale is on his knees before me. It was surprisingly easy for me to trust him with my physical safety only moments ago, but then I was just as quick as always to pull back my belief in him. Yet here he is offering more than I ever, ever could have dreamed for. So much that my brain will explode if I think about it for a second longer.
So I focus instead on what I can handle—the man at my knees.
Yes.
That, I can deal with.
That, I can control.
With pleasure.
A wicked smile curves my lips.
“Crawl to the bed, slave.” So, it’s not exactly a reciprocal declaration of love. But ya know. I’m thinking on the fly here.
Jackson doesn’t look up or bat the proverbial eye. He just starts crawling. My heart, which was beating so hard I thought some very un-Domme-like fainting might be on the agenda, finally starts calming down and I feel like I can breathe more regularly again.
I love you.
Wow. Okay. Yeah. So. Still registering that one. I look over at Jackson where he’s on all fours at the foot of the bed.
“Take off your clothes,” I snap in my bitchiest voice. He starts to comply and another wave of calm sweeps over me.
It really is like a wave. First my shoulders relax, then my arms, down to my stomach. Oh, except for my core. There, it’s heating up. I rub my thighs together and feel a delicious twist. Oh hell to the fuck yes. This is exactly what the doctor ordered.
I squat down to my suitcase and rifle through the black bag I buried underneath all my other clothes. The one I highly doubted I’d be needing on this trip. Turns out I’ll get to play with my new toys after all…
* * *
Over an hour later, I’ve decided that the penthouse suite is definitely worth it if only for the sturdy bed frame.
The cuffs were in Jackson’s bag, not mine. I’m betting he’s regretting packing them just about now. He’s cuffed naked to the bed, spread-eagled in the most deliciously vulnerable position.
And of course I’m taking advantage of that vulnerability. Turns out, I’m a sadistic bitch.
Not sadistic as in dealing out pain with whips or burning wax or anything. Well, not too much pain. But I am discovering the exquisite fun of orgasm denial.
As in, you bring your man right to the edge of coming and then BAM, take it away. Blu
e balls in the extreme, except you get to play with the giant rigid cock.
I stare down with a loving smile at Jackson’s massive boner, an elastic cock-ring fastened at the base around his dick and balls. A line of seven clothespins pinch the skin along the top of his cock like upside down mini-Eiffel towers.
Jackson jerks as I tap one lightly.
“Would you like me to take these off?” I gently swat each clothespin that runs down his long, beautiful engorged cock and grin evilly. His whole body goes taut as he tries not to show his discomfort. So macho, even now.
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathes out through his teeth.
We’ve been at this for an hour and fifteen minutes and Jackson’s eyes have gotten darker and darker until it seems like his pupils are blown. There’s only a dim light on in the room and the further I push it, the more it feels like just him and me in the whole universe.
His gaze never wavers from where I sit hovering inches away from his cock. I lean over and lick the slit of his mushroom head. He groans and his hips thrust up off the bed in a spasm.
“Bad slave.” I yank my mouth away and swat at his penis with a small riding crop I brought along. All the clothespins waver with the impact and he writhes.
I use the crop to tap individually up and down the line of clothespins. “Are you going to keep being such a naughty slave boy? Naughty slaves don’t get to have their cocks jacked so hard every ounce of cum in their balls spurts out and then they pass out.”
Jackson’s eyes widen and shoot to mine before averting to look down again. Immediately, my crop shoots up toward his chin. I don’t smack him with it, though. I gently touch underneath his jaw and lift his head so he’s looking my way. “Look at your Mistress when she’s talking to you.”
Jackson and I will never have the kind of relationship where he’s a boy licking at my boot heels. I’m not that kind of Mistress and he will never be that kind of man. It’s not what I want from him either.
I run the tip of the crop down his strong corded neck and then further down the defined line between his pectoral muscles.
