“Tell me, what do you enjoy the most?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and she didn’t rush him. “I enjoy the games. The mind games my Dommes play with me. The ones requiring me to use both my mind and my body to please them.”
Good answer. “And what don’t you like? Don’t lie to me.”
“I would never lie to you, Mistress.”
“Mmm hmm.” She ran her hands down to his broad shoulders before stepping into him, pressing her hips against his shoulder blades while she ran her hand down the front of his chest. She wanted every detail about Victor. He belonged to her, at least for the night, and she intended to wring him dry to sate her curiosity, amongst other things.
“Answer my question,” she warned.
“I dislike being ignored. To not be able to serve is the worst for me.”
Another good answer.
“I think we’re going to get along well, Victor.”
He shivered under her touch and replied, “yes, Mistress.”
Chapter Two
VICTOR CONTROLLED HIS REACTION as her hips met his back. He wanted to melt into her, give himself up, and do her bidding. He’d never met a Domme he wanted as much as her in the years since he accepted his submissive cravings. Not because her beauty stunned him, but a power lingered in her eyes. They were the only other part of her face not obscured aside from her lips, and they drew him in, comforted him, all the while promising swift vengeance if disobeyed.
She trailed her fingers into his hair, pulling slightly, drawing his attention back to her. “And what else do I need to know about you?”
These were the usual questions. The same ones he’d have to answer for any good Domme to take control of him, but she asked in such a way the monotony of it lifted. Her asking wasn’t perfunctory, but more like she pried open his chest and seized his soul to shake the answers she wanted from it.
“I don’t enjoy sex with other men. Or other people if I’m with one woman.”
She continued her exploration of his chest, and he didn’t mind in the least.
“And? What else?”
He drew a blank. He’d honestly do whatever she asked, even if skirting his hard limits. “I don’t know, Mistress. I only want to please you.”
She pushed him forward until he sat on his hands and knees and broke all contact. He bowed his head and awaited her orders the imprint of her fingers still lingering.
“Crawl to the T-Bar. I want those sexy muscles stretched out for my view.”
Her approval coursed through him in a wave of pleasure. He did exactly as she asked and stood to allow her to strap him into the contraption. With his arms stretched wide, he hoped she liked the view.
She turned her head as if trying to decide on dinner or dessert first. When she finished her perusal, she stepped up and trailed her nails up one of his thighs, starting from the knee, leaving white streaks in their wake. He shivered under her ministrations more from her finally touching him again than pain. He longed for her to want him as much as he wanted her.
She repeated the process up the other thigh and he shivered again.
“You’re so responsive,” she whispered. She said it to herself, so he didn’t reply.
She grabbed a black piece of satin from a side table. “I’m going to blindfold you.”
As she stood on her tip toes, he dipped his head, allowing her to reach. When the darkness descended, he mourned losing the sight of her. All creamy white skin against the black she wore. A statue animated with life. He wondered if her skin would feel as smooth as he imagined beneath his fingers.
The brush of something soft-but-firm tickled him right at the center of his rib cage. He didn’t laugh as he recognized the crop with a leather end. He was well versed in the pain and pleasure one could bestow with it and curiosity warred within him over which she’d pick. He didn’t have a preference. One or the other, he’d enjoy whatever she chose, but a Domme’s first real action spoke a lot about them.
The tickle continued until she trailed the head of it down his semi-erect shaft and then on to his knees, down to his toes. When the crop met his right foot she gave a sharp rap to the top. It didn’t hurt, but it caused every nerve ending to stand on edge waiting for what she might do next.
She trailed the tip back up to his right inner thigh and gave one more sharp whack against the soft flesh. He didn’t even flinch as the sting of the leather pulsed through him. It bloomed out and then dissipated, but every part of him channeled to her every twitch.
Bianca trailed the crop up over his shoulder and down his back, right between his shoulder blades. “Do you like that?”
He could barely draw the breath needed to answer. “Yes, Mistress.”
She ran it down the center of his back and rapped his butt sharply. Swallowing against the pain, the sting spread through him before washing away in a few breathes.
She disappeared for a moment, too long, by his estimation. As fear of suspended abandonment began to bloom in his chest, a trickle of water dribbling down his nipples dragged him back to the present. His nipples both responded, sharpening to buds. She continued to drip water across the sensitive flesh until it began to grate and become too strong a sensation. When he flirted with the edge of too much she stopped.
He sagged into his bonds, and when she lifted the blindfold from his face, the lights shone brighter, sharper, and she somehow had grown more beautiful.
“Enough?” she asked.
He cleared his throat before answering, “I am at your mercy, Mistress.”
Her lips formed into the sexy bow of a smile. “Oh, you’re good.”
With a smile that caused his knees to quake, she released his bonds. He stumbled before sinking to his knees, awaiting her next command.
“Go to the bed.”
He took a fortifying breath before standing and all but sprinted toward the bed. His nerves danced on a fine edge and a high began to drift though his mind. Her next command came sharper. Letting him know how distracted he’d become.
“Go on, get up there.”
He climbed into the high bed and sat with his knees under him. She joined him after a moment. The swish of her long black hair caught his attention. It shone blue in the dim lighting and curled sensually under the restraint of her mask. He longed to run his hands through the mass to learn if it felt heavy or delicate.
She caught him staring and crawled over to him. The scent of her skin, soap, and a spice he couldn’t identify wafted from her. He drew it in and imprinted that spicy scent in his mind so it would forever associate her to him.
“You can touch it if you like.”
He reached out and caught a handful to let it fall between his fingers. “It’s lovely.”
She smiled, and he reveled in pleasing her. A soft pink tint infused itself into her skin across her breasts and up her neck. He wished to see her face, but he knew better than to ask it of her, or anyone in the lifestyle. Her reasons for hiding belonged to her alone.
“Come here,” she beckoned him closer and he slid as close as the dip in the bed allowed. She trailed her fingers around his neck and drew him down to her lips where she planted a soft kiss. He held his breath for fear of it ending too soon. Another kind of torture.
“You have beautiful lips,” she whispered, her breath fanning his sensitive skin.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“You can put them to good work.”
She slid around with her knees no longer supporting her and beckoned him between the opening of her legs. It took a moment for him to realize what she wanted from him, and another for the image and following arousal to course through him. He’d remained semi-erect since the moment she grabbed his hair in the cage, but now his body surged with arousal.
He crawled between her thighs, and she lay back as he gripped the edge of her panties and pulled them down her legs and over the sharp heels. His mouth began to water as he leaned in and pressed his lips to her core.
She ju
mped as he made first contact, and a heady arrogance took hold. To inspire such a reaction in a female he already began to admire beyond many others he’d encountered drove him toward hubris. Whether her wet arousal stemmed from his ministrations or hers on his flesh he didn’t know. But he would make sure her orgasm came without question of origin.
“Harder,” she said, sliding her fingers into the heft of his curls. She pulled on the ends, and he delved his tongue into her opening in response. He began to fuck her with his tongue before adding his fingers to take over while he focused his tongue on her clit. She tasted sweet, and he wanted to wring cries from her, but so far all she’d given was that first gasp.
He swirled his tongue across her clit, and she responded by tightening her hold on his hair. He pressed harder until he began using the flat of his tongue and lapped at her flesh while he slid two fingers in and out of her.
When she finally gave him a sigh, it coursed through him swiftly following on the wings of triumph. His own orgasm loomed close for her having no contact with his dick. He resisted disgracing himself by humping the mattress and continued his ministrations until she slid both hands into his hair and fucked his face. After a moment of zero oxygen, she cried out and his sense of ratification warred with his oncoming orgasm. He broke contact with her to accept his next order, but his body shook as he teetered on the edge of coming all over himself.
She sat up, grabbed her panties, and slid them on. Her eyes were heavily shuttered and her lips full and plush from biting them. Pride coursed through him.
As she hopped off the bed, expertly on spike heels, she beckoned. “Come here.”
He followed, his legs wobbly as he spread his arms so he didn’t accidentally touch himself. Even a small contact might send him over.
She led him across the room and bid him on his knees. He did as she commanded.
“Now take yourself in hand.”
He did and didn’t dare stroke an inch.
She cracked him across the back with a cane and he bent to the pain. At the same time, the most powerful orgasm of his life ripped through him.
Then she kissed his neck as he held himself and came. The hot liquid hit his belly before rolling down his thigh.
After she put the cane away she retrieved a warm wet cloth from the sideboard by the sink. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes from the power of the orgasm, and when she began to clean him up with the rag, he considered falling at her feet in worship.
“Mistress, I can care for myself.”
She swatted him with her hand, not really a hit. “It’s my pleasure to care for you when I choose.”
He bowed his head and remained silent.
She left him to clean herself up and removed the heels and bra. “Go to the bed,” she said.
He climbed back up and settled on the pillows, unsure of what she wanted of him. He lay motionless as she crawled up from the end of the bed and into his arms. She curled herself around him, and he hesitated for a moment before wrapping her in his arms. As she began to relax against him, continuously molding to him as each of her muscles relaxed, he followed suit and soon they lay entwined. This side of her warred with the hard demanding woman he’d encountered moments ago, yet it fit. Mistress Lethe proved a greater mystery than he originally anticipated.
“The games are done for now,” she said, trailing her fingers down his abdomen and back up in a series of gentle caresses. “Just hold me.”
“It would be my pleasure, Mistress.”
She sighed in his arms as he smoothed her hair down her back and entwined his fingers through the luxurious strands. “You’re so beautiful, Mistress.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, like a half-asleep child.
Her hand stilled a moment later. “Why do you do this?”
He considered her question and his answer. It wasn’t the first time a Mistress asked him about his proclivities, but it was the first time he wanted to give an honest answer. “I do it because I love the power exchange between two people. You had me at your mercy moments ago, and now I hold your frail body in my arms. You could break me with a word, and here you lie, half-asleep, and content. There is so much electric energy between two people, and it comes out, shines, like nothing else between two consenting partners in our world. I love it.”
“Hmm…” She murmured against his chest. “Thank you.”
“Why do you do it, Mistress?”
She twirled a finger around his nipple and he sighed, allowing the pleasure to wash over him. “Escape. I do it to escape myself for a while. Be someone else, someone powerful.”
“What if you are being exactly who you are? And the other life is a lie?”
Chapter Three
BIANCA STOOD BEHIND THE counter of The White Horse drying a mug for the fifth time. Her mind continued to stray to Victor. When he came, he didn’t make a sound, and she wanted to witness his pleasure just as she heard it in the moans and groans from his pain. Every second she’d spent with him she’d wanted to hump his leg. Too bad he’d never learn who she really was, and she would probably never see him again.
For her first foray into human BDSM, she was proud of herself. Victor gave her a taste of something she didn’t even realize she craved.
Katherine appeared from the kitchen and stared at her. “Are you okay?”
Her voice caused Bianca to jump, and she waffled the mug before sitting it sturdily on the counter top.
“Yeah, fine. A little tired is all.”
Katherine gave her a pointed look and the heat of a blush washed up Bianca’s neck. She turned back to her dishes, but as she dried the last glass, a customer entered the cafe. At the sound of the bell, a vision swamped her, dragging her under hard.
She stood in a dark room, and on a shelf sat her seal: the pointed crown, and beside it, a hellhound. A sense of dread enveloped her as she heard a shuffling, she turned to find Victor chained to a wall. He didn’t appear worse for wear, but he sat with a power-restricting amethyst around his neck, completely nude on the hard stone floor. Why would a human have need of power-restriction?
As quick as the vision swallowed her, it dissipated, leaving her a swaying mass on her knees.
Katherine gripped her elbow, leading her to the office in the back. “Sit down, love.”
When she left to retrieve a cool cloth, waves of nausea crashed into Bianca from the head down. For a moment, she pressed her forehead between her knees to keep from puking on the floor. After all, she’d have to clean it up.
Katherine returned and dropped the dripping cloth across the back of her neck. The coolness seeped into her skin and she drew her next breath easier.
“What did you see?” Katherine asked. She usually asked, but sometimes, if the visions were personal or of no significance to the group, Bianca didn’t share. It allowed her to keep certain bits to herself if only for a short time. Sometimes she shared strangers’ visions with them because at one point in her life she considered it a service, and her duty. Others were beyond her help even with foreknowledge.
Humans remained a strange breed; they touted the need for divine intervention, but when the other-worldly showed up, they refused or professed disbelief. Her insight required a hard balance, especially when people expected it of her.
The clarity of the vision already began to recede. “I don’t exactly know. I saw my crown guarded by a hellhound in a room with a human chained nearby.”
“What human?”
Bianca attempted to fabricate an explanation for Victor without scandalizing Katherine. She remained the most innocent of the bunch, and Bianca didn’t want to taint her sensibilities.
“Well, he is actually a friend of mine.”
Her friend’s face hardened to unreadable. “A friend from now or a friend from before we left the void?”
“We became friends last night.”
Bianca dropped her expression to avoid the weight of Katherine’s gaze.
“Oh, and how did you two meet?”
Bianca finally glanced up, yanking the cloth from her neck, in order to hold her head straight. “We met at the club.”
Katherine stood with her hands on her hips. “You mean Hades and Cloris’s sex club?”
Guilt niggled at Bianca. Even mentioning sex to Katherine and a blush climbed up her neck and into her ears.
“Could this man have been sent by Hel to entice you and lead you away from us?”
Irritation quickly chased away her need to protect Katherine’s innocence. “I think I can handle myself, you know. I have for a couple thousand years.”
“I am well aware of your capability to care for yourself, but I don’t want you to fall into a trap of some kind”
“You think I’m easy prey for a honey trap?”
“No, but I think you’ve been on edge and lonely lately.”
Katherine’s intuition remained spot on. Bianca’s emotions roiled on a daily basis and last night was the most like herself she’d felt for a long time. She loved every second of commanding Victor around. So far it was the closest she’d come to using her powers since the events in the Underworld, and she longed to connect to her magic again. The memory of Victor on his knees for her brought out the animal inside her, and it wasn’t to be hidden or denied. She wanted to bring him down and raise him back up. She wanted his voice in her mind, and both his body and heart in her hands. She wanted to own him.
The idea of owning someone scared her, and she stood up and walked away from Katherine before she might guess the war in her mind. The battle with Hel in the Underworld had lasted for less than an hour. She’d avoided using her active power, the ability to control any being, for almost a century. And since she used that power against Hel, the current goddess of the Underworld, her magic didn’t want to be hidden away again. If she truly let her guard down the entire human race would suffer for it.
Katherine followed her pacing track across the floor. “What is it?”
Bianca stopped and met her eyes. “I wasn’t drawn into a honey trap, but I do like this man.”
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