Page 111 of The Dommes

Her Katie.

It’s happening. My brain explodes in relief, in the knowledge that I can release everything I ever thought I knew I wanted. It doesn’t matter. This is where we are now. This is who I am in this moment.

Her sub.

“Oh, God!” I don’t merely praise some faceless entity. I praise Ira as well, my mind completely losing it. All I feel is her crashing into me, taking me so roughly that my legs jerk back and forth from the force of her thrusts. My own arousal is running down my legs. My teeth rip apart my bottom lip. I hear her warning to not come, that she can feel me tightening up, but I don’t care.

I can’t control it. This is so fucking hot. I’m her bitch. The only one I trust like this, and now I’m her fucking plaything.

My head hurls back. I scream as she pulls my hair.

That’s right. I’m clamping down on her prosthetic, refusing to let it go as I ride out a long, hard orgasm that even blows my fucking mind.

“Ira!” I whine, her thrusts now completely overtaking me. I’m rocking on my legs. I’m watching the carpet and the ottoman rush back and forth as my head bobs from our movements.

I’m coming.

“Oh, shit.” Ira’s fingers are digging so hard into me that there’s no possible escape. Not from her. Not from my…

From the one who owns me.

A heavy groan fills the room. I feel so small. So helpless. So this is not my problem. Whatever is going through Ira’s head as she starts to come, it’s no business of mine.

I’m too preoccupied with what’s about to happen.

“Do it! Please!” I long for it. To feel that warmth, that sense of her claiming me and further turning me into the very thing people hate me for. “Please! Ira! Do it!”

I’ve never sounded so desperate before. My orgasm lasts longer, taking my eyes away from me, my sense of smell, and even my ability to do anything but grip the ottoman and feel this wondrous person lose herself.

The first hit is the most satisfying. That sense of “I did it, I got her to do it…” I moan from the reprieve.

We’ve slowed down, but as I’m about to collapse toward the ottoman, Ira grunts, and I realize that we’re not done. This is the third time this has happened. This is the most traditionally unromantic position to be in. But shit-fuck-shit, was that the best!

She carefully pulls out of me. I know why she’s being cautious. I’m so deliriously wet that I don’t know where I end and her ego begins. My inner walls are shaking in that post-orgasmic reverie they love so much, and Ira is the collateral damage of the quake inside me.

It’s too much.

Just as I’m about to close my eyes and focus on the pleasure spreading through my body, Ira snatches my hair again, pulling me up and smacking my ass so hard that I cry out.

But I don’t say my safe words. Because I know what I’ve done. I must be punished.

“You’re a bad, bad slut.” Ira’s fingers curling around my neck are almost as menacing as the words she calls me. Yes, yes Ira. I am a fucking slut. I came even though you told me not to, because I could not help myself. I sucked the soul out of your body and am now making a mess all over your carpet. Then again, not my fault you fucked me so wide open that here we are.

“Did I, or did I not, tell you not to come?” She squeezes my breast through my corset. “You had one rule to obey, Kathleen. One fucking stupid simple rule.”

She’s angry at me. Like, legitimately angry.

It dawns on me – she didn’t plan on that yet. She was going to fuck me to get us both riled up for more fun. Then I went and started coming, and the next thing she knew, she was so turned on that she couldn’t help but indulge my crazy cries. I’m a bad sub for not obeying…

…And for embarrassing her Mistress.

“I should cut you loose and throw you out.” She smacks my ass again, and I squeal, if only because it stings. “I have no use for a sub who does this to me. Give me one good reason to keep you here, Kathleen. Tell me why I should give you another chance. Why should I even bother punishing and training you to fit my vision? You’re a pointless endeavor.”

Would someone please shoot me? This is turning me on again, my core echoing her sentiments as I lose my shame down my thigh. Gravity is on my side.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, unsure of what else I should say. “Please forgive me, Mistress.”

One last spank to make me think. “You’re not sorry. You’re a hungry wench who went ahead and took what she wanted. I don’t have room for women like that in my life. If you’re my sub, then you are obedient. You didn’t even try, Kathleen.”

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