His Cold Blue Command

by A. J. Downey

I laughed and some of the ice was broken, some of the nervousness fleeing before his good humor. I think I liked it when he joked. He was so serious all the time; brooding. I hopped up and he brought the chair back over, setting it in front of me. He hitched up his slacks out of habit and sat down, pulling the chair closer and resting his hands on my knees.

  He looked up into my eyes, and the somberness he always held was back. I tilted my head and reached up, touching the side of his face. His eyes closed and he turned his face into my hand, brushing the heel of my palm with a light touch of his lips, breathing me in. His hand left my knee and cradled the back of my hand, returning it to the tabletop by my hip.

  “What happens now?” I asked, and it came out scarce and breathy. He did that to me. His presence, his touch, and we hadn’t even really gone there. I swallowed hard and suddenly wondered if I was in some sort of trouble here. Not with him, or this job, or any of that… but me, my heart.

  “Now, we talk. We discuss what you like and what you don’t. We discuss what you’re willing to try and what you aren’t.”

  I smile and ask him, lightly teasing, “Is this what it takes to play with a lawyer?”

  “Explain.” Again with that clipped and cultured tone; commanding.

  I lost my easy smile, “It’s what you sound like,” I said. “Like this is some kind of contract negotiation.”

  “Isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow and pinned me where I sat with his look. I didn’t answer, my voice fled. I didn’t know what to say that would please him ‒ and I felt like that was worth working for. His smile was so rare, I liked it when I found it and brought it out of him.

  He smoothed his hands up and down the tops of my thighs, and I closed my eyes and shivered lightly. I heard him smile. He let out a little hum of appreciation at my reaction and I opened my eyes quickly to see it. It was there but tried to disappear quickly. It was shy, I guess; took some coaxing, like a scared rabbit.

  “You like that,” he said, and he wasn’t asking, but I answered him anyway.

  “Yes, I like to be touched.”

  “What else do you like?” he asked and I licked my lips.

  “I, uh…” I felt myself blush and he tipped his head, considering me.

  “You’re not very experienced,” he murmured and his hands stilled on my skin. “You don’t know what you like.”

  I bit my lower lip and shook my head, timidly. It was kind of embarrassing when you stopped to think about it.

  “I like that,” he said and his hands returned to my knees.

  I swallowed hard and asked faintly, “You do?”

  “I do; it means I can show you new things, and that there will be a lot of new things.”

  “That sounds… nice.”

  “Okay, how about this? We’ll go slowly, and afterward, I want you to go home and think about what we did. I want you to write down how you felt, what you liked and what you didn’t and I want you to leave it here for me to read the next time you’re here.”

  “You want me to keep a sex diary?” I asked.

  “A journal, yes. I also want you to tell me if you don’t like something, but I am not fond of the word ‘no’ so I want you to pick something else.”

  Oh my god, he wanted me to choose a safeword. This was for real. His expression neutral, searching my face for any unease, but I had always been crap at hiding my feelings, so I was sure that all he saw was the spark of eagerness there.

  “Um, I don’t know what.” I laughed nervously. “There are so many great words, beautiful words…”

  He smiled and it was genuine. “What are some of your favorite things?”

  “I love flowers, lilies and roses are my favorites but that’s because my grandmother grows them.”

  “So those are probably not something you would want to use.” His smile grew and his hands resumed stroking over my skin. I shivered and took a deep breath in through my nose, letting it out slowly. His hands on my skin felt so nice.

  “How about the old standbys for now… Green for ‘go’: you’re fine’; yellow for ‘slow down’: and that you need to process; and red for ‘stop’: you legitimately can’t handle or take anymore and need to stop.”

  I nodded and murmured, “Okay, I can remember that.”

  “Is there anything you know you don’t like? Like, can’t stand the idea of, right off the bat?”

  I thought about it for him, and I mean really thought about it and slowly shook my head, “There’s nothing I have tried that I didn’t like, I mean, not yet…”

  “Ah, not true, something just occurred to you,” he said and he was right.

  “Of course, as soon as I said it, I would think of something,” I said, laughing nervously.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his voice as hard as the look he gave me. “Honesty before humiliation,” he added and I could respect that.

  “I, um, I really didn’t like it when I, um,” I laughed and looked at the ceiling, “Oh, god, I feel so weird sitting on your dining room table naked, talking about this!”

  “Don’t. It’s just you and me, and I happen to like that you’re sitting on my dining room table naked… and I could listen to you talk about anything. What didn’t you like?”

  He was being patient with me, and I could tell this wasn’t going to go any further unless I said it and so I bit my lower lip, considered who I was talking to for only half a second and blurted out, “I really didn’t like it when my last boyfriend came in my mouth.”

  He paused, considered me, and said, “Duly noted. Now tell me why you didn’t like it.”

  “Seriously?”

  He gave me a flat look and I dropped my eyes to where his hands rested on my knees. I rolled my lips together and said, “He wasn’t nice about it. I mean, it was one of the reasons I broke up with him. The first time, it scared me, and I asked him not to do it again but he didn’t listen. The next time, he grabbed my hair and, um, sort of made me swallow. It was the worst thing… I really didn’t like it.”

  He nodded expression grave, and stood up slowly. He hooked his hand around the back of my neck, cradling my head and dragged my forehead gently, carefully, to his lips. He pressed them to my forehead in a sweet kiss and murmured against my skin, “Good girl, thank you for telling me,” and the anxiety and tension that had come with the memory eased out of me, draining from my muscles. It was replaced with a golden little euphoric glow at having pleased him, and I liked that.

  “Lay down,” he ordered and it seemed the time for negotiation and conversation was over. I lay down, the tabletop cool against my back and he unwrapped the bundle beside me. I went to look and he stopped, raising his eyebrows and saying, “Ah, look away.” I licked my lips and turned my face towards the kitchen. Away from whatever it was, he was doing.

  My nervousness was back, and I chewed my bottom lip lightly as I heard things subtly click together as he moved things around.

  “I would like to try a little bit of everything,” he said gently, pulling up his chair and retaking his seat. He grasped one of my ankles and I inhaled sharply. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I relaxed and he wiggled my ankle back and forth with his hand, signaling I should loosen up and let him move it for me. I complied and he brought my leg up, spreading me, placing my foot on the arm of his dining chair. He did the same to the other leg and nudged my knees apart.

  “The last time I was in this position it was a very uncomfortable doctor’s visit,” I murmured, and he chuckled darkly.

  “Yes, but I don’t believe your doctor did this,” and he kissed the inside of my thigh.

  I sucked in a deep breath and said, “No.”

  “An excellent point you’ve made, though. Are you on birth control?”

  I colored and said, “No, I was hoping you would wear a condom…”

  “I had planned to anyway, but are you opposed to birth control?”

  “No, I just… I’m not with anyone, not dating; I didn’t see the need
to put any chemicals or hormones into my body it didn’t need.”

  “Fair enough,” he whispered, and his voice was huskier somehow, and I realized he was looking at me, his hands roaming gently along the outsides of my thighs, under my ass, and along my hips, his gaze devouring my pussy like it was a work of art.

  It should have felt weird, but it didn’t. I felt… beautiful. Desirable and alluring, and that was new to me. New to me, but I definitely liked it.

  “I’m going to touch you,” he warned and then his fingers were trailing along my inner thighs. I closed my eyes and couldn’t escape the wanting moan that escaped me. I jumped slightly when his fingertips grazed my asshole.

  “A little bit of everything,” he reminded and plunged a digit into my vagina. I arched and cried out a little. That little bit of contact so welcome, the anticipation killing me, the surprise overtaking me. He pumped his fingers in and out of me, and I sucked in a breath, holding it.

  “Breathe,” he reminded me and I did, and his fingers were suddenly gone, as fast as they had appeared. He touched my backside again, using my wetness to tease at my asshole then pressed something against it. It slid in easily and didn’t hurt at all.

  I didn’t ask what he’d just put inside me, but he said, “Just a little lubricant. Give it time.”

  I bit my lips together and breathed deep and even, letting out a quick little “Mm-hmm.”

  Oh, my god, this was exciting. The unknown, having his hands on me, in me, I wanted more, and I waited, I would be lying if I said patiently, for what he was going to do next.

  He held up a pair of neon pink silicone balls, a loop on one end, a silicone thread between them, connecting them.

  “Do not let these fall out,” he warned. “I will find a clever punishment if you do.”

  I blinked, in surprise and he pressed them into me. I was wet, and they slipped in effortlessly. I closed my eyes and sighed at the full feeling they gave me. It was just this side of being any kind of satisfying. I bit my bottom lip, my arousal deepening to levels of insanity. I wanted him. I was desperate to sit up and grab him. I wanted to pull his mouth to mine and devour him… but I didn’t. My curiosity at what he would do next ran deeper.

  He raised a small little anal plug of the same bright pink, a blue artificial gem at its base. It wasn’t very big at all, not intimidating in the slightest and my slight anxiety at what he had planned for my ass abated.

  “Not going any bigger than this, not tonight,” he breathed and his dark eyes, the way he looked at me, stole my breath. Carnal lust, power, and pleasure played out in their depths as he pressed it to my ass. I squeaked slightly in discomfort but it didn’t last more than half a second and the anal plug was in. The full feeling in my pussy with the balls he had placed in it had been nothing as compared to what it was now. I writhed slightly and he smiled carnally, and gave the outside of my thigh a stinging slap.

  “Stop moving!” he ordered and I instantly stilled. He grinned then and said, “You need some decoration, I think.”

  I heard chains rattle and cold metal touched my stomach. I jumped and he laughed, a delighted sound with a slight edge of cruelty to it. The metal dragged across my skin and I shivered at the sensation. I closed my eyes as he circled my left nipple with it first, then dragged it between my breasts to circle the right. My palms were pressed flat into the table top by my hips, fingertips pressing harder into the wood. My chest heaved with breaths as I struggled not to move, to hold still under the tickling sensations he wrought.

  He brought up one end of the chain and I realized it had three, each end capped with a metal clamp, thick, shiny black rubber over the pinching tips. He pinched a nipple between finger and thumb and drew it out from my body, settling the clamp around it and easing it on. I hissed, his eyes glued to my face but expression neutral.

  “Too much?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  He turned a screw on the clamp and the intensity eased marginally. He mirrored the action on the other side and I felt myself grow wetter between my thighs, and I was already wet, to begin with. I clenched up tighter, remembering his admonition about keeping his other toys in place. I was determined to not find out what he would consider a ‘clever punishment.’

  He tugged lightly on the chains attached to my nipples and I cried out, arching slightly.

  “Oh!” he tsked. “I told you not to move. I was going to leave this one off, but now…”

  He pressed his fingers against my slick pussy lips and rubbed at my clit for a moment. I pressed my lips together, a moan trying to find its way past them, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to move again.

  He chuckled, and again, it held that slight edge of cruelty, as he gently pinched my clit and clamped carefully above it, watching my face intently. I bit my lips together and turned my head and he stopped, adjusted the clamp, and tried again. He eased it on and I panted. There was so much going on right now; I wasn’t sure I could deal with all of the sensations bombarding me at once.

  “Sit up,” he demanded, and I slowly and carefully sat up. I pursed my lips ‒ putting my legs together caused the clamp to pinch uncomfortably, so I left them slightly open. “Come on, on your feet, that’s it.” He helped ease me to the floor and I gasped.

  “I want you to clean this table,” he said evenly. “Then I want you to pour me two fingers of whiskey and bring it to my chair. Put the rest of the toys on the kitchen counter for now.”

  “Yes, sir,” I murmured, at a loss for what else to say. He closed his eyes and it looked like he was listening to the sweetest music. I stared at him, slack-jawed with the moment. My discomfort, temporarily, was forgotten.

  “I don’t hear you moving, Ally…”

  “Sorry,” I moved slowly, the weight of the chains swinging, the stimulation almost too much. I gasped and he pushed the chair he’d been using in and went to his wing-backed chair in the living room. I expected him to swing it around so that he could watch me, but he didn’t. Instead, he peeled out of his shirt the rest of the way and let it fall to the floor, with a pointed look at me over his shoulder.

  I couldn’t help it, I smiled and shook my head. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get that.”

  He grinned back at me and went and sat down. I bent to pick up the shirt and gasped at the chains dragging on the sensitive points of my body. Taking it to the laundry closet, I slid the doors open and grabbed the furniture polish and a rag, taking it back to the table. I moved the toys and I swear, I grew wetter with every step I took. I was so wet I could feel it slick the inside of my thighs. I clenched hard, scared the damn weight of the balls inside of me would cause them to slip free. I couldn’t clench my legs because of the clamp to my pussy and I was so frustrated by that.

  This was diabolically clever in its own right; I didn’t want to even know what he would come up with if he really put his mind to it. I sprayed the furniture polish onto the table and swiped it across the surface where I had been. The clamps on my nipples had felt good at the start, but the longer they stayed on, the more they began to burn with a sharp ache.

  By the time I put the cleaning supplies away and poured his drink I was ready for the whole mess to be off and out. I went to him and held the glass down to him. He looked up at me without taking it and said, “Come stand in front of me.”

  I did as I was bid and he gestured for me to kneel. I did so, awkwardly, on the plush area rug and he smiled, accepting the glass when I held it up to him. He took an appreciative sip and let his gaze rove over me and my pussy gave a throb that was echoed by my heart.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, and cupped my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

  “You are too,” I murmured.

  He smiled, and it held sadness. “Not on the inside.”

  “I think so,” I murmured back.

  “Hush. I’m going to look at you, finish my drink, then I’m going to fuck you on my coffee table.”

  I gasped, my eyes widening even as my body cried
out, god, yes, please!

  “I would really like that,” I whispered, transfixed and unable to look away from those soul-deep dark eyes of his.

  “I would really like that…” He said the words slowly, and his voice trailed off. He looked at me expectantly and I swallowed gently, my mouth suddenly dry with how much I wanted what he was offering.

  “I would really like that, sir.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured and sipped his drink again.

  When the whiskey in his glass was a little more than half gone, he said, “Undo my pants.”

  I knelt up, staring up his perfect body, rippling with muscle, and gently fed the tongue of his belt through the piece of leather holding it close to his body. I flicked the tongue of metal out of the hole and the leather gave with a little sigh. My excitement spiraled tighter and tighter, my pussy very nearly throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

  “I like the way you perfume the air,” he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as I unhooked the decorative piece of fabric from the beltline of his slacks, working the button free. I slowly lowered the zipper and he said, “Bring me out of the front of my boxers and put this on."

  He slipped a condom out of his pocket and held it out to me. I swallowed hard and plucked it from his fingers, putting it between my lips so that I could use both hands to bring him out of his pants. He was hard and throbbing, the middle of his cock thick and heavily veined. I stroked him from root to tip, his foreskin peeling back and pre-cum slicking my fingers. He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes closed, his head tipping back to rest on his chair-back.

  “Oh, god, that feels good,” he murmured. He let me do it for a while before commanding strongly, “Stop.” My hand instantly stilled.

  I waited, plucking the condom out of my mouth and he looked down at me. “Put that on me, Bright Eyes.”

  I opened it, my body aching, burning, and needing his still cool touch before I felt like I would go insane. I rolled it onto him awkwardly. I had only put one on a man once or twice before. He was patient with me, watching me with no expression. Once I had the condom rolled to his root, he downed the rest of his glass and held out his hands to me. I held out mine, to place them in his and he helped me up.