Page 145 of The Dommes

Every time I think about Katie in that collar I bought her, I shudder in delight. Of course, I contain these shudders, but I can’t help but think about her moaning beneath my body, her ass as pink as her lips, my fingers driven deep into her as she begs for me to pull her hair and call her the filthiest names I can come up with.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Mistress. Tell me when. I need you.”

She needs me. Did you hear that? Katie needs me.

“Damnit, Ira, are you listening to me?”

No, Dad, I’m not. I don’t care about work. I care about that woman taunting me with her heart and body. A part of me wishes that I could tell you all about it, how our relationship isn’t going to work in the long run, how I almost don’t care…

How I want her anyway.

Yet I don’t tell you these things, Dad, because you’ll shut down and pretend you don’t know anything about that. In a way, you don’t. Even though you’re divorced, you have an ex-wife you’re still in love with and who loves you too. If you can’t figure that out, then how can I figure out my own relationship?

We’re human. Mad, crazy humans with too much money and not enough heart to deal.

“Is this how you want me, Mistress?” Kathleen bends over the ottoman, one foot on the floor and the other leg kneeling beneath her chest. A stiletto heel taunts me, beckoning me in the air to come touch her. “Because I think you do.”

I meticulously pick my tools a few feet away. Hard to do when Kathleen is so willing for me to dominate her tonight – and dressed like this. I’ve got her wearing a baggy pink T-shirt that hangs so enticingly off her body that it’s all I can do to keep from grabbing and fucking her right now. Everything sure is ready, although mind over matter says I don’t feel a thing. Certainly not the heat building in my groin, demanding the rest of me to indulge in the skin pressed against a pair of dark and sheer pantyhose.

Usually, I’m not so captivated by pantyhose, tights, etc. Not like some I know who center their whole fetishes around them. When I envisioned Kathleen in that T-shirt, however, I dithered between a cute thong and pantyhose. Once I thought of heels, I knew it had to be hosiery.

Shit, did I make the right decision.

Her collar glistens in candlelight. Blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. That was Kathleen’s styling. I forgot to mention what she should do with her hair when I emailed her my plans for the evening.

Dinner at my place. Drinks at my place. Sex at my place.

I want tonight to be all about us. Our fantasies, especially since we’re on the same page. It’s beyond liberating to see Katie so relaxed in the environment I’ve created. Not once has she seized up or come close to saying her warning word. Her body language calls to me. Her voice is sweet and inviting.

She’s mine.

So there’s this gorgeous woman, wearing nothing but a T-shirt, pantyhose, and black stiletto heels, bent over my ottoman and looking coy at me. Her ass wiggles back and forth as I take my time going through crops and floggers I’ve amassed over the years. Some of them I bought purely for aesthetics and should probably be displayed instead of kept hidden away. Others are tried and true favorites. Every time I look up at her, I see her wetness has spread more along her pantyhose. It helps that they’re so tight that they contour every crevice of her waxed mound.

I didn’t tell her to do that. She did that on her own, and I am not complaining. What a sweet surprise to find once in a while. Perhaps I’ll return the favor shortly.

“You’re fine where you are. Just hold tight, my darling. Think about why you need to be punished because I’m going to ask you in a bit.” Oh, but what to punish her with? I’ve got so many fun things, but they can’t be used on every woman. No, women have their own tastes, desires, and the varying things that they respond best to. Like my hand. Or a crop. Or a whip.

I think we both enjoyed the crop last time.

However, I recently went shopping. By that I mean I visited my favorite online shop for kinky equipment with Kathleen in mind. What do we have yet to do? How can I make her come harder and harder each time? How can I come harder? It’s not enough to have a good orgasm time and again. With someone like Kathleen, only the best is acceptable.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Katie dearest.” I make my pick. When I approach her, I see her grinning over her shoulder. “First, I want you to tell me why you need to submit.”

That grin flickers. Kathleen is still learning that spankings and orgasm denial don’t come for free. The point is to help her unload, mentally and physically. Yeah, I’m that kind of Domme.

I want to see my sub’s face overcome with ecstasy and escape.

I crave to see her relieved to be free from the confines of reality.

I need to take her to a new paradise where it’s only her, me, and the pleasure we create.

First, I need to know why we’re doing this. It’s not enough to spank her and hear her moan. I need to have a purpose for every strike to her flesh.

“I…” Kathleen looks away from me, her ass stops wiggling, and for a moment I worry she’s going to get up and take off her collar. “I’m still learning how to let go.”

“I know, lovely.” I touch her ass, delighting in the rough feel of the pantyhose. My knuckles graze her wet folds. I decided not to pack tonight, so some things are a bit new for me as well. Such as how much these tailored pants constrict around my loins when I’m getting aroused. “Something must have triggered you to come to me again. Why do you need help?”

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