Page 232 of The Dommes

Things are going well. Kathleen and I have found balance in our relationship. I’ve learned to give up control as well. Like letting her pay for dinner without raising a fuss. Hey, I can get used to free food.

She’s talking about me getting a tattoo on my shoulder, though. Something like “Property of Kathleen Allen,” and, uh, we’re going to have a long talk about that. I know how this works. You get a tattoo with your girlfriend’s name on it, and the next thing you know you’re getting an artist to somehow turn it into your mom’s name.

Oh, speaking of, my mom and dad are back together for the time being. Don’t get too excited. This is like the third time since the divorce. Kathleen and I have a friendly bet on who will cheat first. Although last I heard from the Queen of TMI, the older Mathisons are shopping around the Manoir for a mistress like the Anderssens have. Ew. I’m never going back again.

“Once we have some time tomorrow,” Kathleen begins, flicking the hand towel against my shoulder, “we need to talk hotel business. My dad’s gonna jump all over my ass the moment the council approves the museum, and I need your input.”

“Oh, no, we’ll be still working together!” I grin. “Mayhap we shall find new places to copulate, Ms. Allen.”

“Why, Ms. Mathison,” she says, putting on a fake Southern Belle accent. With her dress and hair, I almost believe it. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to compromise me.”

“Darling, you’ve been compromised every which way to Sunday by now. I don’t think you’ve got an orifice left for me to penetrate for the first time.”

“Not true. I’ve got a left ear.”

“When did I fuck the right one?”

“Who said we can’t pursue both? You’ve got some holes I could fill yet.”

My ass clenches. Yeah, I don’t think so. I will do a lot of things for Kathleen, but receiving anal is about as appealing as bathing in liquid lava. Actually, I’d take the lava. I don’t care how good she can make it feel. No. Nooooo.

Okay, okay. Maybe one day. On her birthday. Ten years from now. Ask me about it then. Actually, don’t ask. I’m gonna conveniently forget riiiight… now.

“Anyway, when you’re not thinking about fucking my ear, how about we go start the movie? Think I’ll slip into something more comfortable.”

“This isn’t comfortable?” I brush my hand against her dress. “I could take it off for you.”

“As helpful as that would be,” Kathleen says, shrugging me off her. “I was thinking more along the lines of a T-shirt and some pajama bottoms.” She pats my arm. “You can stay dressed like this, though. Looks good on you.”

“Oh, sure, make me stay in the itchy clothes.”

“The more you wear scratchy clothes, the more likely I am to take them off you and lick your cunt during the boring parts of the movie.”

“Why would we watch a movie with boring parts?”

She glares at me, that hint of a Domme gleaming in her eyes. “So I can polish your pearl, dumbass.”

“Oh. Better pick a real snore then.” I follow her out of the bathroom. “If it’s really boring you might get a turn on the couch too.”

Kathleen opens a dresser drawer and gestures for me to unzip her dress. My pleasure. “There won’t be enough time. I’m suiting up the strap and eating you for forty-five minutes.”

That sounds… interesting. “Suiting up the strap, huh?” I slowly lower her zipper as she picks out a cute white T-shirt. She better not wear a bra beneath that. I wanna flick her nipples while we watch this long and boring background-noise-to-sex movie. “Is that what other Dommes are calling it these days?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got you a brand new one. It’s got ridges. For both of us.”

“Oh, Lord.” I don’t know if I’m intrigued or scared. So far, we’ve only dabbled in strap-ons for me, but I think I could get used to the idea. Of, you know, Kathleen getting all up in my physical business and hearing the crazy sounds I make when a once-in-a-lifetime woman finds my G-spot. Another thing I’m saving for her birthday! Or mine! I haven’t had a G-spot orgasm in five years. At least.

Just as Kathleen is about to shimmy out of her dress, the doorbell rings.

“Mother fucker,” she mumbles, smacking my hand until I zip her back up with a sigh. “This is what I get for taking my ban off visitors. I did that for you, you know.”

“You could’ve okayed your assistant and me.”

“It gets complicated then.” Kathleen fluffs her hair and smoothes out her dress. “Keep your cunt in your pants while I deal with this.”

“What would I be doing with my pussy without you?”

She steps into the maw of her apartment. “I dunno. Playing with yourself.”

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