Hot, Rich and Dominant 4 - Making a Scene

by Amy Valenti

  A harsh ringing noise jolted me out of the fantasy and into disorientation, and after a second I realised my phone was ringing. Only one thought had me flicking off the vibrator and reaching for it—it could be Marc.

  As my arousal began to fade, I scrambled to reach the cell phone, which I’d left on the nightstand. Elation filled me as I scanned the caller ID, and I hit the call button quickly. “Hello?”

  “God, Nell, it’s good to hear your voice.” Marc’s familiar tone made me melt inside, and I lay back against the pillows as I replied.

  “Yours too. I’ve missed you.”

  A slight pause on the other end of the line had me momentarily anxious, but his next words explained it. “Have you just been touching yourself, my sub?”

  I closed my eyes, embarrassed. “Yes, Sir. Is that against the rules?”

  “No. It’s fucking hot.”

  I smiled at the desire in his voice. “How could you tell?”

  “There’s just something in the way you speak when you’re close to getting off. Are you naked?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I glanced down at the vibrator still mostly buried inside me, wondering if I should mention it.

  He exhaled hard enough for me to hear, and it was all too easy to imagine the lust in his expression. “If I had my way, I’d be driving over to be with you as we speak. I want you so much it hurts, Eleanor.”

  My pussy squeezed around the vibrator, and I caught my breath at the sensation. “I wish you were here.”

  Marc sighed. “Me too, but I won’t be finished up here for another couple of hours. Do you have other plans, or can we get together later?”

  I couldn’t help my emphatic response. “You’re kidding, right? Of course I want to see you!”

  The smile in his voice gave me shivers. “Good. Come over anytime after eight-thirty. But for now, I have enough time to listen to you getting off for me. Are you wet?”

  “I…” God, I couldn’t tell him about the vibrator now… “Yes, Sir.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Marc asked, a slight edge of command to his voice.

  Damn it. “Ummm… I have a vibrator inside me right now.”

  Marc’s laughter sounded startled. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me, Nell. Is it switched on?”

  “It was before you called,” I admitted, still embarrassed at having to talk about something so personal.

  “Turn it back on.”

  I did, and couldn’t help a light gasp as the vibrations resumed. “It’s on, Sir.”

  Marc growled, “Fuck, I want to be in its place.”

  I whimpered my agreement—no toy could ever compare to his incredible cock.

  “Were you close when I interrupted you?”

  Squirming against the mattress, holding the base of the vibrator to keep it firmly inside me, I nodded, then realised he couldn’t see. “I was, Sir.”

  “What were you thinking about? Fuck yourself with the vibrator and tell me.”

  I recounted my fantasy slowly, working the vibe in and out of my saturated pussy at the same time. When I got to the part where I’d been riding his cock, Marc groaned with frustration. “You have no idea how much I wish that was happening.”

  “And then you called me, Sir,” I finished, sliding the vibrator in deep at the same time.

  “How inconsiderate of me,” Marc teased. “I’d love to know how that fantasy would have ended.”

  “I think you already know,” I said shakily as my inner muscles contracted with another surge of warmth.

  “Why don’t you let me hear it?” His voice was low, rough with desire.

  I tried to gather enough poise to conclude the fantasy, but all I could focus on was the heat and slick friction between my legs. “I’d ride you until we both came…”

  “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

  I could only pant, too breathless to speak now.

  “Come on, baby. Let it out.”

  Slamming the vibrator home one more time, I let the orgasm take me, Marc’s husky voice encouraging me through the intense pulses of my release. I barely understood the words, but knew he was enjoying my gasps and moans, longing to be here with me. As the climax faded, I reached down to turn off the vibe and set it aside, then curled into a ball, still trembling with aftershocks.

  “I love hearing you out of control,” Marc told me, the tension in his voice making it clear he wasn’t in a place where he could jerk off and gain some relief of his own.

  “If you’ll let me, Sir, I promise to suck you off later.” My mouth watered at the thought.

  He groaned softly. “I’ll hold you to that. But I have to go, beautiful. See you later?”

  “You couldn’t keep me away.”

  * * * *

  Since Marc lived in the good part of the suburbs, I opted to drive over, the radio turned up high and a smile on my face. It had been too long since I’d seen Marc, and I couldn’t wait to bury my face in his shoulder and inhale his intoxicating, masculine scent again.

  As I slowed to turn onto the short private road leading up to Marc’s place, a light blue Prius appeared there, waiting to merge into the traffic of the main road. Expecting to see one of Marc’s housemates driving, I tried to identify which of them it might be, but a chill went through my blood when I recognised the driver.

  The blonde woman from outside the awards ceremony. The one Marc had gone over to talk to, but hadn’t introduced me to or mentioned since.

  Had Marc put off seeing me for the past couple of hours because he’d been with her?

  As if sensing my stare, the woman glanced at me. Then, as if she recognised me from that night, she gave a slight smile and pulled out into traffic, leaving me unable to interpret what had just happened.

  Trepidation rising in my stomach, I turned onto the street she’d just left. Could I storm up to Marc and demand to know who she was to him? We’d never outright promised each other that our relationship was exclusive, though from the way he’d reacted when I’d implied he might have women’s clothing around because he was seeing other women, I’d assumed we were on the same page there. If I was wrong, could I handle it? I’d have to walk away from him—I just wasn’t wired to be one of many women, even if Marc said I could date other men too.

  I parked in front of his place and sat for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. There must be some other explanation. You have to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he marched up and accused you of cheating every time you spoke to a guy, you’d be pretty freaked out, right?

  Decision made, I got out of the car and headed for the door. I’d be calm about it. If the subject came up, I’d discuss it; if not, I’d leave it for another time—

  Marc opened the door just as I raised my hand to knock, and I blinked, startled, up into his beautiful face. The warmth I saw there melted some of the tension from my body, and I returned his smile instinctively. “Hey.”

  He drew me into his arms without hesitation, and I pressed against his deliciously firm body with a sigh. I’d talk to him about the blonde later. It had been too long since I’d been in his embrace, and I didn’t want to spoil the mood.

  Marc drew back first, to search my face. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Just missed you, that’s all. Everything go okay this week?”

  He grimaced at the question, but his demeanour was casual. “Moving a little slower than I’d like, but it’s coming along.”

  Sentinel, the friendlier of Marc’s two cats, came to wind around my ankles, and I made the most of the distraction to pull my mind in a happier direction. Crouching to make a fuss of the purring ginger furball, I asked, “So, what’s the plan tonight?”

  Marc didn’t answer, and it wasn’t until I glanced up that I realised I’d gone to my knees in front of him without realising it. He raised an eyebrow as he stared down at me, and heat rushed through my body in response.

  “Let’s go upstairs and figure that out,” he said fi
nally, holding out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me upright, then curved a hand around the back of my neck—exactly as I’d fantasised about him doing earlier.

  I was more than happy to go along with that, and let him steer me upstairs towards the dungeon—exactly where I’d hoped we’d go. The second he shut the door behind us, he grabbed my waist and spun me around to push me firmly up against the wall. Holding me there with his body weight, his growing hard-on pressing against me, he claimed my lips in a kiss that was almost vicious in its intensity.

  He’d undone my jeans before I’d had time to do more than moan against his mouth. As he yanked them down over my hips, taking my thong with them, I kicked off my shoes so there was nothing to stop me from stepping free of the clothing. Fumbling with his suit pants, I managed to free his cock, smiling at the way he gasped into my mouth as I palmed it and slid my hand firmly upward, from the base to the head. So hot and hard—God, I want this inside me…

  Before I could get to work teasing him in earnest, he broke the kiss and spun me so I faced the wall. I spread my legs as he rubbed his cock between my thighs, and braced myself against the wall to give him easier access. His light, teasing caress between my buttocks made me shiver with lustful, but after only a few seconds he moved on past the hole and between my labia.

  We both cried out as he thrust deep inside my pussy. No foreplay necessary—I’d been wet since he’d taken me by the back of the neck, downstairs.

  “That’s better,” he murmured against my shoulder, and I laughed breathlessly, arching my back to give him a better angle. He pressed deeper, withdrew almost entirely, then drove in again, setting a fast, provocative rhythm that made my knees tremble. Each thrust hit my G-spot perfectly, and Marc’s secure grip on my hips felt divine. I rested my forehead on the wall with a moan and met his thrusts as best I could.

  Marc reached around with one hand to cup my mound, spreading his fingers on either side of his shaft as he worked in and out of me. The pressure on my clit sent my pleasure skyrocketing, and I wobbled, hazily realising that Marc was helping to hold me up with the hand between my legs.

  He growled appreciatively as my internal muscles rippled, poised on the brink of release, and he thrust faster, more shallowly. It was too much, and I clawed ineffectually for grip on the smooth wall as my body shook with a devastating climax, my knees giving way just as they had in my fantasy earlier.

  Marc held me up until I could take my own weight again, his breathing laboured in my ear. Shaking with blissful aftershocks, I leaned hard against the wall and tried to get my breath back as he pounded into me a final few times. He came with a breathless curse, his hips grinding hard against my ass, and I turned my head over my shoulder to kiss him while he regained his equilibrium.

  Carefully, he withdrew from me. “Come on, beautiful.”

  On shaky legs, we navigated the dungeon to collapse on the bed. He was still fully clothed, though his pants were unfastened, and I was bare from the waist down. To remedy the situation, I wriggled out of my shirt and bra, then set to work on Marc’s button-down shirt.

  Once we were fully naked, he pulled me into his arms and sighed. “Thank god it’s Friday.”

  Amused, I kissed his chest. “Think you can relax for a while now?”

  “Oh, we’re not done, Eleanor. I have a whole scene still planned out for you. That was just to take the edge off.”

  I swallowed hard, my imagination running riot. “What kind of scene, Sir?”

  “No feathers involved. I promise. They’re on your soft limits list for now.”

  That was one reassurance, at least.

  “How do you feel about canes?”

  Chapter Four

  I jerked upright abruptly. “Canes? As in, implements of schoolroom torture?”

  “Not the way I use them.” He smiled at my strong reaction, seeming completely unrepentant for what he was planning to do.

  “I… Uh, I don’t…” The words died on my lips, but nothing more coherent rose in my consciousness to replace them. I’d never seen anyone being caned in real life, but in books, movies and on TV it was always dramatic and excruciatingly painful.

  You like pain. Admit it.

  Not that kind of pain, surely. Caning was a punishment for a reason.

  Marc joined me in sitting up, and took my hand. “Is your reaction based on experience, or pop culture?”

  I shook my head. “No experience, thank god. It’s just…” Words failing me, I mimed swishing a cane through the air, imitating the whistling-cracking sound the ones in movies always made.

  He watched me carefully. “Those sound effects are added or enhanced in post-production, you know. Sure, you can make those noises with a cane, but they’re mainly for psychological effect before you actually hit the target, who’s generally pretty warmed up by that point already.”

  “Okay,” I managed, filing away the information with not a little relief. “But they do hurt worse than most other things, right?”

  “They can. But you’re thinking of punishment canings. The way I use them is more sensual.” Teasingly, he ran the side of his index finger over the swell of my breast, tapering off as my nipple rose into hardness to meet his touch.

  I closed my eyes, desire rising to lessen my fear, but no further caresses followed. Confused, I looked over at Marc to find him studying me intently.

  “What?”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Nell. I know what I’m doing with all this. I practised for hours on inanimate objects before I ever went near a submissive with any of the impact toys I use. Do you trust me to take care of you?”

  I trusted him with my body, at least. My heart? That was a different matter, but I wasn’t going to get into that with him now.

  “I trust you.”

  He took my hand, squeezed it lightly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not sure many people would say that to someone who’s planning to bruise them, though…”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not a very respectful mode of address, my sub. I think I need to put my collar back around your neck, so you remember who’s in charge around here.”

  As if I could have forgotten!

  Unashamed of his nakedness, as always, Marc got up and headed over to the toy cabinet, where he retrieved my play collar. Never one to pass up a free show, I pillowed my head on my arms and watched his taut, defined muscles ripple with his movement. There was just something fascinating about the slight dimples above his tight ass.

  He glanced back over his shoulder and broke into a slow smile. “I can feel your eyes on me. I think I’ll have to blindfold you.”

  My heart skipping, I sat up. “Anything you say, Sir.”

  Marc went back to his rummaging, selecting a few things I couldn’t see. Acting mostly on instinct, I slid off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling with my hands clasped behind my back and my knees together, my back straight but my head slightly bowed.

  He took a couple of minutes to come back to me, and by that time I’d slipped into a calmly anticipatory mindset, ready for anything Marc had planned for me.

  Well, maybe. A shadow of uncertainty was still lurking in the back of my mind about the cane, but I did trust him. I’d try it before I decided I didn’t like it. God knew I hadn’t thought I’d love being spanked or tied up or flogged or paddled, either, and I’d done all that.

  Marc laid a hand briefly on the top of my head, bringing me out of my reverie. “You’re learning. Good.”

  The simple pleasure of his approval made me smile, though I kept my eyes cast down.

  Marc crouched beside me, tilting my chin up until I met his gaze. “I’m going to push you tonight, Nell. If you feel that anything’s too much to handle, what are your safewords?”

  I gave them, reassuring us both that I remembered. He nodded, then eased me into a gentle kiss. My entire body was tingling by the time he broke off again, my pulse elevated and my pussy tightening around nothing.

  For one second
more, he just looked at me. Then he said, “Remember that I… Remember that I care about you. No matter what happens once I put on the collar.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He stood up again, moved around behind me. “Hair.”

  Used to this by now, I gathered my hair away from my neck so that he could slip the play collar around my throat. As always, I closed my eyes and silently thrilled when he put it around my neck. This time, after he’d buckled it, he tugged on it firmly enough to remind me why it was there.

  “While you’re wearing this collar, unless I directly address you, you don’t have permission to speak unless it’s to give your safeword. Moans and sighs are allowed, but no coherent words. You don’t have permission to raise your eyes from the floor, though you will be wearing a blindfold for some of the time, so that won’t be a concern then. You do have permission to orgasm unless I decide to explicitly forbid it. Is that clear, my sub?”

  “Yes, Sir.” His low, stern tone was unbelievably hot. I remembered how it had affected me that first time he’d used it, in his office a week ago. It had the same effect now. I shivered.

  “I’ll be tying you so you’re unable to move freely during this session. Do you need to use the bathroom before we start?”

  I almost told him no, but the idea of being caned while being desperate to pee didn’t appeal. Keeping my eyes lowered, I said, “Just in case—please, Sir.”

  “Go, then. And be as quick as you can. Don’t make me come looking for you, or the punishment I’ll give you won’t be a boring and slightly painful one, like the one at the office.”

  I thanked him and headed across the dungeon to the bathroom at a swift walk. Shutting the door behind me, I felt the intensity of Marc’s Dom presence fade and let out a long, slow breath before attending to business. Once done, I lingered for a couple of seconds to gather my nerves, admiring my collar in the mirror. I almost spoke to my reflection to psych myself up, but remembered Marc’s directive in time. I was pretty sure ‘no speaking’ also meant when I was alone.