Page 217 of The Dommes

Her hand presses against my chest, fingers curling up to walk to my throat and flick my skin there. “There is one thing I want, my prince.”

“Prince, huh? Now don’t inflate my ego too hard.” Also, I think this is the first night I’ve heard her call me so many nicknames. Could get used to that.

“Roll over.”

Her wish is my command. My aching body responds with alacrity as I turn on my stomach and stretch my arms above my head, touching the wireframe of her bed. Kathleen rubs my back, kisses my spine…

…And digs her nails into my flesh.

“How satisfying,” she purrs, and I am doing my damndest to not flinch or bite the pillow. “Digging my claws into the one who wants to debut me as a sub. And what do I get, hm? How will I make sure everyone knows that you and I had this moment?”

My head lifts off the pillow. Until now, I didn’t think anyone would know we had “this moment.” Until now, I assumed that the night I submitted to Kathleen Allen would be left in secrecy. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with the judgment, the gossip, or the women I usually do business with politely walking away when I have something to bring up.

Yet I am asking her to debut?I really am an asshole.

“I’d like to point out I’ve never made you bleed,” I growl.

“Don’t worry, my sweet prince.” She pats my cheek. “I’m not a sadist. I wouldn’t dream of causing you that kind of pain or scarring this glorious body of yours.”

All right, is she trying to flatter me? I have no idea.

“I’ve got my ways. Hold on. Sit still. This won’t hurt, but it might tickle.”

A drawer opens and closes. I’m not afraid, but I am wary, especially when something cool touches my back, Kathleen running her tongue over her teeth.

This something doesn’t hurt, but it travels across my skin, leaving behind its marks whenever Kathleen bends down to blow it dry.

“There.” Kathleen tosses whatever it was into her drawer. “Now come here, Prince Ira.”

Tonight I may be a prince to her queen, but I am still a prince, meaning I get a lot of wiggle room. Some would say that my being raised with money and social allowances have always made me a prince of some sort. Usually, when I think of others calling themselves prince, I think of those young, foolish jerks who are too big for their pants and drive me up the wall. You know the types. I don’t want to be that.

Here, though, alone with Kathleen, I don’t mind being a prince. Particularly if being a prince means pushing her onto her back and overtaking her with my body, lips, and every ounce of intent swimming through my veins.

“Ira…” I’ve missed hearing my name said that way.

I’ve also missed being in bed with her, Kathleen, the queen of my heart and body. The only one I trust with everything that I am. The good, the bad, the confused, and the ashamed. The little girl still inside of me never really went away when she came out as non-binary and started being called something else. I played with dolls. I read fairy tales. Deep down, there’s always been that part of me begging for my own prince charming.

She’s right here, beneath my naked body, seeing me for who I am.

I’d give her my life if I could.

“Ira…” she moans again, this time with my hips between her thighs. “Do you love me?”

I still my body long enough to tell her, “I do.” Then I’m back at it because I need her. I need her to be my girlfriend, my wife, my everything. I’ll be whatever she wants. She can fuck me with an Avalon all she wants. God knows I like it if it comes from her.

But not as much as I like being right here, reveling in my Queen.

Chapter 76

Kathleen

“Dawn Lovett is going to be the biggest pain in the ass about it,” Eve says, going over the list we’ve made on this lazy afternoon. I appreciate her taking one of her precious days off from school to stop by my place. Not to mention it’s raining outside, and it’s hell on her hair.

While the rain patters on the window, we draw up a list of the Dommes in our circle who will cause a stink after my debut. We’re also going over my debut as a sub, which is scheduled to happen this Saturday night. There’s nothing formal about it. Not like we called up the club and said, “Hey, so, I’ve got this girlfriend I wanna parade around…” Ira and I decided that it had to be that night, although she may or may not have made sure there would be a spot on stage for us during the busiest hour. Yikes.

Which means going over the details, because this is a delicate affair. Nobody will see it coming, which is both good and bad for me.

“Make sure you don’t wear something too trashy.” Eve downs the last of her tea before I pour her another cup. “Also, please don’t tell me she’s going to humiliate you.”

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