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She wasn’t going to.
“Sit in the chair.”
Monique obeyed, careful to keep the smaller ice cube within her as she eased back into her seat and pressed her hands against the hard wood. Her skin was on fire. Freezing. Freezing with fire. She didn’t know if she wanted Helen to fuck her or stay like that until the end of dinner. Good thing she had a Domme to make the decisions for her.
“Down there.” Helen yanked on Monique’s hair, pulling her down toward the floor.She’s not kidding, is she?Eating herMistress for dinner with ice in her mouth was easier said than done. “Hell, yes.” Helen clutched all of the curls on Monique’s head, pushing her mouth closer to spreading legs. “I trust you know what to do.”
Monique nearly gagged dealing with everything at once, but she persevered. Her tongue pushed the ice forward against Helen’s slit. The easy motions overcoming Monique’s Mistress, however, did not come as easily forher.So Helen coached her, telling her to take it easy, to go slow, and to remember to breathe. Monique didn’t need help with any of that, but she enjoyed the sound of Helen’s soothing voice.
Yet the worst part was what happened between Monique’s thighs. Her new black dress was wet, and she didn’t know if it was from the melting ice inside of her or what her body knew to do on its own. The best part? She didn’t care.
“That’s it.” The ice was small enough to ride on Monique’s tongue up and down her Mistress’s folds. “Good girl.”
That simple comment filled Monique with so much joy that she almost forgot where she was.In public, with my Mistress. Doing what we do best.
“Stop.”
Monique halted, easing her mouth away from Helen’s thighs. She looked up into a beautifully stern visage and pressed her face against Helen’s waiting palm.Is it my turn, Mistress? Let it be so.
“Up.” Monique didn’t need to be told twice. “Remember your safe word?”
“Yes!”
The next few moments were nothing but a shocking, whirling blur. Helen grabbed Monique by the shoulders and whipped her around, shoving her chest onto the table and lifting her skirt again. Monique was so wet Helen had no problem entering her with two fingers on the first try.
Monique squealed into the tablecloth, the mounting invasion of her body blowing her mind and everything she thought she knew about depraved, unholy kink scenes that ruined a woman. The squeezing of her hips was only matched by Helen’s strength when she pulled Monique back, taking every knuckle Helen offered before she inevitably introduced a third finger once Monique had proven prepared.
But none of that was as sweet as the way Helen pulled Monique’s perfectly curled hair.
“How’s this, Princess?” The pain on Monique’s scalp was only rivaled by the pain between her legs. When Helen pulled her hand away, Monique’s thighs were eager to get back to it. “Is this what you wanted all along?”
She could only whimper again.
Her next forward stroke came with something to prove. There was nothing sophisticated about the way she fucked Monique. From beginning to end she was a crude, degrading woman in a designer dress taking her girlfriend like an animal that could no longer control herself.Because of me. How dare she? Taunting Helen like that!How dare I… find a way to orchestrate this again.
Every thrust brought with it more pleasure than the last. Helen yanked on Monique’s scalp one minute and pushed her down onto the table the next, one body overshadowing the other. “Tell me how much you like it,” Helen sweetly growled into Monique’s ear as her three fingers searched deeper, deeper, harder.
Monique’s lips twisted as she fought to speak.
“Thank you, Mistress!” she cried. “Please, give me more!” An orgasm traveled through her. Moans fell from her lips. She clamped down on Helen and encouraged her to give up what she wanted: proof that Monique wasthatirresistible.
Helen was gone in fewer than five heartbeats. Monique didn’t need to see her Mistress’s face to know that the reason three fingers fired toward her core meant Helen lived vicariously through her, imprinting her whole world, her identity on the woman who hadn’t been touched like this in years.No, not like this.Not with the trust and understanding that Monique had been searching for in her kinky relationships since the day she grew up.Mark me as yours, Helen Warner.Out of all the women Helen could easily have, there was something about Monique Grant that made her unable to control herself.And I reap the benefits.
“Yes, Mistress…” Monique murmured against the wrinkled tablecloth. “Thank you.”
Helen finally came back to her senses, hands clasping Monique’s back.
“That should tie me over for now.” Somehow, Helen managed to be more kempt once she decided that was enough of that.
Monique stood up, encircling her sore and needy arms around her Mistress. As a grateful kiss fell upon Helen’s throat, Monique was not surprised to discover two firm hands on her wrists, gently pushing her away.
“No.” Monique was eased into her seat. “Now we eat dinner.”
Helen returned to her seat and poured herself another glass of wine. Not even two minutes later, the waiter arrived with their meals.
Monique stared at her plate of food, no energy within her to eat. Helen went about as usual, wine washing down her meal as she talked about her parents’ latest messages from Wyoming and some idle thing that happened in her office the day before.
Finally, she said, “Eat up. You need your energy for later.”
