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She’s not mine, and she surely isn’t ours.
Fuck.
I’m in deep shit.
Chapter Seven
Leather
Being on stage makes me feel…alive. It gives me the sense of control I was never allowed. The control that was taken away from me. I have power over myself, over the situations in my life, over everything.
Relief.
Tugging on the leash, he crawls behind me. He licks the back of my boots with each step, thanks dripping from his lips in a plea. He doesn’t hesitate to stand when I yank him up and point to the cross. If anything, he’s more than ready for it.
We once talked about him being a brat on stage and me teaching him a lesson, but I don’t know my limits on it. Therefore, it’s been put on the back burner.
I make quick work of strapping him into the cuffs, lopping the rope into an intricate harness around his lanky body. Using the rope, I make a cock and ball ring of sorts, tightening just enough without hurting him.
“Color?” I mutter, standing before him.
“Green,” he whimpers, his legs shaking harshly as he lets the restraints hold him. “Please, Mistress,” Charles begs, hands extended and legs spread on the St. Andrews cross. Taking a deep breath, I watch his cock jump as I send another swat to his pecs, the flogger smacking his skin tightly as he jolts with a deep groan.
“You like that, little sub?” I purr, dragging the sweaty leather across his welted chest. The mixture of reds against the pale cream flesh is intricate, enticing. Addicting.
“Yes, I love it, please give me more Mistress,” he sobs. His body stiffens as he waits for the next hit. As I whip down on his erratic chest, he pleads for more. Again, he stiffens up. It hurts a hell of a lot more when you’re tense, and it’s not particularly safe, so I wait. After several beats, the whoosh of the whip splits the air as it cracks on his chest.
“What do you think, baby boy? Can you handle more?” I mock. He nods frantically, his body shaking and fists clenched. “Sorry, I can’t understand you, want to try that again?”
“I love when you whip me, Mistress. Please.” He begs on repeat, sticking his tongue out as a sign of submission. I can tell he looks about ready to pass out, so I don’t want to go too hard on him. I check him over continuously as we go to ensure he’s okay, never missing a beat when I think his breathing is off or he becomes too pale. As his Domme, it’s my job to ensure he’s safe.
Unlike the Dom I used to have.
“Color?”
“Green,” it comes out in short pants. “Please, Mistress, more, Mistress.” His pleas are choked as I suddenly reach down, fisting his dick. The whines are like music to my ears, waiting for him to push on.
Moving my leather-covered fist over his swollen head, his body goes absolutely rigid. A rough feeling takes over my back, almost like I’m being watched. Which is unusual because I’m putting on a show. No, this is like a heavy gaze, one that knows they shouldn’t be looking. Though, I don’t know who it is. Looking into the sea of people, it’s hard to even see anyone besides the first three or four rows of people.
Shaking it off, the heavy weight still lingers. Huffing a greedy laugh, I decide that I’m not in the best head space.
“Keep going, Mistress,” Charles mutters, looking me dead in the eyes. Usually, that’s a solid sign of disrespect. Yet, Charles knows when I’m off. It’s like a sixth sense for him.
I raise a single brow, hoping my eyes portray that I’m not exactly stable at the moment.
His own eyes show me that he’s ready for the pain.
One wicked smirk later, I’m in the mood to break him.
“What do you want?” I hiss, roughly tugging on him. “You want me to stick your cock in me? Feel my warm pussy wrapped around your tiny cock?” Shallow groans are heard from the audience, but I’m not focused on them. I’m focused solely on Charles. He’s definitely not small if anything, he’s on the bigger side, but making fun of him seems to turn him on. Who am I to deny him of his wishes? Free pass to be a bitch basically.
Also, it’s a heady feeling being able to take back the control I have lost. I have never spun out of control, but I have gotten close before. Thankfully, I keep in tune with myself and him, for both our safety.
“Color?” I mutter, tossing the flogger to the side.
“Green,” he grunts back. Dropping to my knees in front of him, I take his hardened length into my mouth.
“You’ve been such a good boy, I feel like giving you a treat.” Taking him in one go, the tip of my nose touches his pelvic bone as I swallow him all the way down. I wrap a single hand around my throat, and his bulge pops from inside my throat as it’s shoved down.
