The Unexpected Dom 2

by Meghan Boehners

  "Mmmmmmmm," she whispered as he raised her hips. But his next shift meant that his tongue settled on her red nub, a soft touch like a promise, so mind-blowing she nearly exploded all over his lips, instantaneously.

  "God, Declan, that's amazing," she whispered, feeling his hands on her rear end, owning her. Using those muscled arms, he hiked her up a few inches, giving himself one hand to drive her crazy, sliding one finger inside and looping it up so that it set off unexpected waves of pleasure. This was what she wanted, what she craved most – the sense of connectivity, or freedom to love, of wonder and compassion.

  With, she noted, a $400 an hour Dom watching. “Go a little to the left, Declan. And for God's sake, stop using your fingers that way. It's a clitoris, not a guitar string!” Jennifer was annoyed but amused all at once. Who knew she'd give Declan a blow-by-blow critique? When he followed Miss Sally's advice, though – oh, the wellspring of joy...

  The intensity was almost too much. She bloomed with lust, all heat converging on her clit, as he licked it, slowly growing the release within, slipping his finger in and out, making her want more. Her legs began to shake, and she knew she would come like a freight train soon. Her hands sought him out, holding on for dear life, sliding and guiding him to find the just-right rhythm that would --

  "Oh, Declan!" She hissed, fucking his tongue, which licked her, hard, right where she needed it most. His tongue opened up, hot flesh on hers, as he gave her focused and expansive flesh play. Her whole body became one big muscled ball, surprising her after the day's crazy orgasmic activity, her dripping hole clinging to his finger, hands pushing his tongue into her, his head moving quickly to match her as she thrashed.

  "You are so good at this! Don't stop!" she implored, hands curling into fists of near-orgasm, her pussy crammed into his tongue as she groaned. This was an eternity of pleasure and now she felt so much so fast.

  His tongue stopped abruptly as Miss Sally used a long, thin cane to shove him from her dripping pussy, his face slick with her and her clit screaming in tense pain. “No!” she screamed, the agony of almost coming after all this too much to bear.

  Declan's face was utterly soaked by Jennifer's juices. He'd imagined he was John, going down on her in some hotel bed in a nameless town miles away, that he was some strange guys off the Internet giving her pleasure, but then – at the last minute – tormenting her by following the Dom's orders, leaving his cheating, lying wife in more agony in her body than he had in his heart.

  Though that was impossible right now.

  “Come here,” the dominatrix said, ordering Jennifer to the Sybian. Miss Sally's words rang out as she reached for the Astroglide, this time pouring it into her own hand and giving the Sybian's dildo a hand job. She stroked the plastic masterfully, as if a real, human man were attached to what Declan knew was about to be in his own wife's dripping pussy. His balls seized and he had to focus on his breathing, using steady patterns to will his orgasm down. Eighteen months of pure torture – exquisite submission – under Miss Sally's tutelage had, at least, taught him how to control himself in the face of overwhelming need.

  Those lessons had helped him rise to become CEO.

  Jennifer had no such advantage.

  “Come here,” she insisted, crooking one finger at Jennifer, and this time she obeyed instantly, clearly thinking she would finally get some release. She kept her eyes from Declan. Was she embarrassed? This was her show – not his.

  And, besides, he was still pissed at her. Who was “John”? Had she actually called him? Was this –

  “Climb on. But do not come, no matter what you do.”

  “WHAT?” Jennifer's outraged, incredulous shout was like heaven to Declan's ears. Aha! Careful what you wish for, Babe. Or what you find on my cell phone and contract for...

  “You heard me just fine, Jennifer,” the Dom crooned, stroking his wife's hip with a riding crop she had hidden behind her back. “You need some lessons in restraint. Declan,” she turned to him, her voice terse, “will watch. No touching for you, either. No coming.”

  “This is a Sybian,” Miss Sally explained, as if she were teaching a child the order of operations or the history of the War of 1812. She smacked the riding crop in her open palm, the red, long fingernails caressing the leather longingly, as if she were stroking a beloved cat. “It takes the place of a man for you.” She looked at Declan. “Because you don't have a real man.”

  He inhaled sharply, the thrill of her words making him ache for more. Jennifer turned to him, eyes wide and indignant, then looked back at Miss Sally and said, “You really shouldn't – ”

  “Don't tell me what to do.” Ice ran through Declan's body as Miss Sally smacked Jennifer's ass with the crop – hard. “Get on.”

  Jennifer opened her mouth to say something, looked at Declan, who tried to warn her, and then she said “But I –”

  Jennifer sank, quite suddenly, onto the Sybian, a good seven inches of thick, fake cock inside her as Miss Sally slapped her again with the riding crop, the stroke leaving a bright red square on her hip. She yelped, shocked by the instant filling, and Declan saw a mixture of relief and terror fill his wife's highly-aroused face, her auburn hair a mussed mess, her eyes half-lidded with the look of someone who wasn't quite in this world any more.

  Good. Declan knew exactly what would happen to Jennifer if she let herself climax, and he worked very hard to control himself as he imagined it. This wasn't just about his own pleasure – which was nearly overwhelming at this point, his gratitude for Jennifer's recent change almost as enormous as his anger towards her (and, right now, his cock) – but was more about Jennifer's exploration of a side of him, and her, that she was going into nearly blind.

  Miss Sally was about to remove the blinders that Jennifer had no idea she wore.

  A quick flip of the switch and the vibration mode was engaged. The Sybian Miss Sally used was a special design, she'd told him last year. The standard model wasn't enough. This had the base, which vibrated at varying intervals chosen by the Dom. The small plug at the bottom could have a series of attachments put on it, different sizes of dildoes and butt plugs as chosen for whatever needs the client might have – or whatever orders the Dom might issue. Declan noticed that this particular dildo that Jennifer now rode had little feelers that went out – one for her clit and one for her anus – and he suspected that the orgasm she was supposed to hold back would, in fact, be so explosive she was bout to receive the worst beating of her life.

  The only beating of her life.

  Unless “John” and Jennifer had actually met in a hotel room somewhere, and...

  “I can't!” Jennifer huffed, bucking against the vibrating cock that filled her, on her knees straddling the base, the special ottoman Miss Sally had designed holding Jennifer's weight as she threw her head back, trying to use every muscle other than her kegels to control the unavoidable climax. Declan watched her, fascinated, as his anger dissipated, his intrigue piqued. For here sat his wife, his lover, his confidante and the woman he'd tied himself to legally for good or ill, her face sweating and her body slick with juices and lube, clutching her skin and screaming through gritted teeth as the Dom she had hired made her ride these waves thought giving over to the uncontrollable.

  And if she did let herself orgasm, Miss Sally's punishment would tell him everything he needed to know about his wife.

  Was she a Dom or a sub? He was about to find out. His own hand felt like iron shavings drawn to a magnet, his cock the offending pull. His own orgasm was right there, on the surface, and he feared if he moved he would trigger it, shooting like a fire hose all over Miss Sally, who stood no more than two feet from him, her laser-focused attention on Jennifer's face, watching for tell-tale signs.

  This was no subtle ride, though, as Miss Sally instructed Declan to “Lick her. Now.” He obeyed, the thin skin of his rock-hard cock disturbed divinely, making him cringe, as he moved to position his mouth over the frantic Jennifer, who screamed, “No!” as his fi
ngers sought out her clit, his head bobbing and weaving to find it, his tongue hitting the spot just once as she grabbed his head by his hair and pulled, hard, smashing him into her pussy, the friction of the dildo against his cheek as she screamed.

  “OH MY GOD!” and fluid poured out, a slopping, slurping sound filling his ears as if he were underwater, his glutes aching as he squatted, Jennifer throwing her body in every direction as the Sybian pounded into her, shoving at her cervix, poking her G-spot and his tongue the finishing touch for her. She clawed at his hair, his shoulders, his back, the finally scratching her own skin, taking up great handfuls of naked breast, squeezing to release the muscular build-up of tension and need, her fucking and bucking almost enough to make him cum, too.

  Almost. One quick glance at Miss Sally from the cave of Jennifer's clit and labia was enough to cool him. A slow, evil smile from the Dom made him look away.

  Oh, dear.

  “Declan, stop!” Jennifer begged, twitching and roaring, but he couldn't, he had to keep licking, for he was under Miss Sally's spell, under her command, and if he stopped he, too, might get the cane.

  The cane that Jennifer couldn't know was coming.

  “You may stop, Declan,” Miss Sally ordered. He stood back abruptly, watching Jennifer's limp body struggle against the still-vibrating device, her skin red in splotches, her face torn between complete bliss and confusion.

  Smack. Miss Sally's crop his Jennifer's breast hard. “You shouldn't have done that, Worm,” she said to Jennifer, who didn't respond at first. Then, she looked straight at Declan, her lips a round “O” of shock, and touched the welt.

  “What are you doing?”

  Smack. A second welt on her other breast. “You defied my orders,” the dominatrix replied. Then rap rap rap, Miss Sally began beating Jennifer. She pulled out a cane and switched off, Jennifer screaming and struggling, still filled by the enormous dildo, the machine vibrating her past ecstasy and into torture.

  “No! Stop!” Jennifer screamed. Declan couldn't bear to watch, knowing Jennifer hadn't chosen this, knowing she was going to be permanently hurt by it all, wishing he had never brought her into this world, thinking he needed to use his own safe word to rescue her. The word stood on his lips, pressing from the inside of his mouth as his own hand grazed his cock.

  And then he knew what he could do to save Jennifer without stopping everything. A diversion. Licking his hand, he lubed it up and began stroking himself, watching the skin on Jennifer's tit rise as the welt took form, a reminder of her disobedience, three strokes of his foreskin and then –

  He came all over Miss Sally's raised arm, the semen shooting seven feet, pouring out over both of his Doms, his restraint so perfected he made not a sound, but Miss Sally's reaction perfect, for she stopped beating Jennifer and stood there, arm frozen in mid strike, her eyebrows simultaneously raised and furrowed.

  A bloom of triumph opened in his chest.

  Except that Jennifer looked furious.

  Oh, fuck.

  Son of a fucking bitch, what was that man doing? She felt red, her face red, her clit red, her skin red now from Miss Sally's smacks, and it was all one world, one being, the most integrated she had ever been, all one big flesh and nerve center nirvana. The appeal of being submissive finally made sense to her; she understood, just a tniy bit, what Declan had enjoyed about working with Miss Sally.

  Her body was on fire, combusted, one big supernova of flesh. And dammit, he'd stopped all that by breaking the rules and making himself orgasm. She knew him well enough to know that once again, he was exerting control. He had “saved” her from the beating, and while she got it – really, she did, and it was nice and chivalrous – she had long passed the point where she found that romantic or appealing.

  More to the point, she was pissed that he had just short-circuited the most phenomenal sexual experience of her life.

  And he was going to pay.

  The riding crop was sitting on the coffee table, the same table where Miss Sally now sat, glaring at Declan as if her eyes could summon a beam of light that would make his molecules stop moving. His jizz covered her skirt in thin arcs, the look almost fashionable, almost some sort of design house sample from some Italian couture line. Almost. It would have been funny if it hadn't interrupted what Jennifer had so desperately needed, the completion she felt as the crop and cane shot pain through her, the central line of fulfillment.

  Jennifer snatched up the crop and charged Declan, the thin square of leather striking his ribs with a satisfying thwack. “You disobeyed! You weren't supposed to come!” His face told her everything; he seemed insulted and hurt, self-righteous and angry, as if she just didn't understand that he was trying to be her white knight.

  “No, I...” he tried.

  She screamed, “Call me Mistress!”

  “Mistress, I am so sorry!” Some part of him receded into a role he played well, she noticed, in Miss Sally's presence. This was a more closed off Declan, not the angry asshole she'd grown accustomed to in recent years, but a calibrated, smooth operator who could turn himself into a stone when it came to submission. It wasn't as appealing as she'd thought it would be, for his submission seemed malicious. He did her bidding not because he wanted to, but because she made him.

  Miss Sally seemed able to get him to submit out of desire. How could his own wife tap into that? She wondered. Maybe it really was too late. Perhaps they had both gone on too long living parallel lives. A pang of guilt hit her, hard. She wasn't blameless; sex chats and emails had taken up her time over the past two years, right after Declan pulled away, so cold and unfeeling.

  But none of that mattered right now, right here, and she flung the crop against his shoulder in anger again. Feel, damn you, feel! she thought. Show me something! She beat him, feeling the handle bend, nearly break in two as she remained passive, barely flinching even when her next blow drew a small amount of blood.

  In fact, that seemed to make his eyes changes, soften a bit, as if she were reaching him. As if he enjoyed the pain, the bloodshed, this role playing, and – oh, Miss Sally! Jennifer had forgotten she was even here.

  The dominatrix stared at the scene, eyes narrowed, lightly dabbing at the semen that covered her skirt, observing everything. She held out the cane, extending it like a baton passed between runners in a meet, and said, “He prefers this.”

  Jennifer took it, speechless. She couldn't believe that in twenty-four hours she had gone from hopeless to hopeful to beating her own husband after fucking a machine in front of his professional Dom. None of this made sense. Here she was, abusing her husband, and his Dom gave her a better tool for it?

  His face was impassive, too, though his cock had sprung to attention. That surprised her; ready again? A look at Miss Sally triggered the Dom to say, “Now you're in charge, Jennifer. You tell him what to do next.”

  “I am done.” Jennifer set the cane down and slumped on the couch, boneless. “I don't want to be in charge any more.” The words 'sewer pipe' flitted through her mind, yet she couldn't bring herself to say them. In one sense she really was done, exhausted and spent and ready to end everything, knowing her marriage was over.

  On the other hand, the spark she saw in Declan's eyes – was she imagining it? If he wanted to end this, then he had to use his safeword. She wondered what it was. Yet another piece of information about her own husband that Miss Sally knew, but Jen didn't.

  The Sybian's cock was still coated in her juices and Astroglide. “Get on,” she ordered him. This time, she wasn't surprised when he complied. Now the entire scene felt like a pure performance, every moment just the present. Then the present. Then the present, all now and touch and senses.

  His ass hovered over the dildo as he squatted on the ottoman, those taut legs dusted with hair, his abs straining as he lowered himself, a quarter inch at a time, onto the plastic cock. His asshole expanded then contracted sharply, making him wince, and she watched with a sense of detachment, of curiosity, of arousal withou
t fear or judgment or worry.

  Of transcendence.

  A quick flip of the vibrator switch and Declan's face changed, his ass muscles working hard to keep up with the motion, riding the Sybian very slowly. Miss Sally said nothing, just watching and taking in the scene, hands planted firmly on her hips, a tight half-smile across her mouth.

  “No coming!” Jennifer ordered, not worried about compliance, for he'd just jizzed all over Miss Sally. No man over nineteen had a refractory period that was that fast.

  “Jennifer, may I make a suggestion?” Miss Sally had pulled out a compact and was lightly patting matte powder on her skin, inspecting her face in the little mirror.

  “Uh, sure.” Why the role reversal?

  “Make him touch himself but not come.”

  Declan groaned and Jennifer instinctively smacked him with the crop. Miss Sally smiled approvingly. “He broke my rules and ruined an experience for you. Make it hard for him. Make him test his own internal boundaries until he learns just how badly he has to want something – indeed, someone – and how to get it.”

  Jennifer smirked and nodded at him. “You heard that. Now do it.” Mesmerized, she watched as he pleasured himself under duress, forced to comply – but not really. She amended her thought, for he was doing this 100 percent of his own free will, wasn't he? He had a safeword. He was a submissive because he chose to be one, just as she, Jennifer, had done so under Miss Sally's orders.

  It really was freeing, exhilarating in a way she'd have never imagined, the physical sensuality certainly incredible but the mental paradigm shift even moreso. She felt completely free for the first time in her entire life.

  As she studied Declan's closed eyes, his contorted face, his sheer passion and attempts to control himself as the Sybian hummed and he thrust it into his ass, digging deeper and obviously hitting a spot that made his dick bulge nearly out of its skin, she saw the appeal. She really did.