Page 169 of The Dommes

She is nuts. And it turns me on.

“Good girl,” she growls into my ear, bending me over a tiny table and lifting my skirt. “Nice and wet.”

If she says so! This has gone by so quickly that I haven’t had time to think, Gee, am I wet yet? Guess we’ll find out when she shoves that thing in!

I mean, I’m guessing I’m wet. I feel like I’ve been perpetually wet since yesterday morning when I had that delicious sex dream and woke up to my Domme’s delightful fingering. Then she took me back to her place after work, where I cooked a simple but scrumptious dinner using whatever I found around the house. Usually, I’m a mediocre cook, but that spaghetti came out fork-licking good.

Then Ira drew us a bath, where she kissed me all over and I washed every inch of her.

Then she took me to bed. And took me.

Today, I did not wake up to her knocking on my door. Instead, I woke up to Ira still sleeping, arm flung over me and mumbling something about taxes and investments. Adorable.

Now we’re here, in this closet. When our meeting finished, I knew something was up when Ira took me by the wrist and guided me down an empty hall.

I love it when she drags me somewhere for a quickie. Do you know how hot it is when your partner wants you so badly that she’ll corner you in the office, whisper in your ear, grab your ass, and haul you in your heels down for whatever she wants?

Yeah, me neither until a few weeks ago. Not until that presentation in front of the council when Ira Mathison took me to a room and fucked my brains out.

Now, she’s all about her pleasure. Makes sense, considering the long scene we’ve been having for a day and a half. I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how reasonable she’s been as a lifestyle Domme. I knew this shoe was going to drop, though, and now here we are, me taking my mouth off her and getting bent over so she can fuck me with her prosthetic.

This isn’t the lovemaking from last night. This is full-on something else.

I gasp into a dingy corner of the maintenance closet as Ira spanks me. Not hard, but enough to make me quiver and know what she’s going to do to me.

“They have words for the kind of woman who does this sort of thing.”

Don’t I know it!

Ira is about one inch away from my opening. The anticipation kills me, and I lose myself all over my thighs. I would’ve been embarrassed a few weeks ago. Now? I love how it riles Ira up and makes her growl one of the foulest words anyone can utter to a woman.

I’m debased, and I love it. Fuck me up, man.

She slaps her hand over my mouth as she thrusts into me. Good thing, and even better timing. It catches me so much by surprise that I cry out loud enough to alert someone in the hall.

We’re being kinky, but we don’t want to be caught. I don’t even think we’re getting off on the prospect of being caught. We’re lost in our world of sudden sex and debauchery. It’s for us. It’s private. It’s something that could get us in big trouble if we were caught.

I can safely say, though, that I don’t give a shit about what could get us in trouble once Ira is inside me, fucking me with the intent of getting us both off as quickly as possible.

We’re due for lunch somewhere, after all.

“You like it like this?” Her words sink in along with her prosthetic, and here I am, trying to decide which I want to pay more attention to. “You like it when I fuck you on a whim?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I can barely speak with my mouth pressed against the wall. Shit, I can barely speak with her fucking me like my sole purpose is to be fucked. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She likes it when I thank her. Not that she’s ever said it, but I can tell from the way she reacts every time I say those words.

“Do you want to come, darling?” Ira’s other hand moves from my breasts to my slit. Her finger carefully strokes my clit, and my knees buckle. The only reason I don’t fall is because she’s got me impaled. “Do you want me to come with you?”

My knuckles turn white as I clench this table. “Yes, Mistress!”

She pulls my hair, worn down today. “Then take me until you can’t anymore.”

Those aren’t the last words she says to me. I’m almost embarrassed to share what else she says because Ira is fully in “debase my sub” mode, and as much as I love it, it’s the kind of loving it that I want to keep completely to myself. If you knew what she’s started calling me these past two days, I would die. Die.

I feel like I’m dying anyway because my body is completely accepting of Ira stroking my core and her fingers rubbing my clit.

I’m not going to last ten more seconds. Orgasm has already started to spread through me, and if I were under orders not to come, I would disobey them without meaning to. I’m past my rebellious phase of being Ira Mathison’s sub. I want to please her. I want to be pleased by her. Go ahead, Ira. Fuck me until I can’t walk out of this closet without your help.

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