Page 59 of At Her Will

Her mouth went to a thin line. “I’ve never been a fan of the term ‘boys will be boys.’ There shouldn’t be a minimum age requirement for compassion.”

“No, but it’s what you say, about the brain? Kids sometime don’t think about things until they happen. Especially when they in a pack. The brain don’t work at all then. Adults harboring a mean spirit because they afraid, or don’t like something different from what they know can be the same. When them boys reached the fence, turned and noticed he wasn’t with them, the bull was already charging. They froze.”

“You didn’t,” she guessed.

“He was so small. Trying to run, so scared…” Rev lifted a shoulder. “God helped me distract the bull, and we got him outside the fence. The youth pastor gave them all a stern talking-to. Then made them read scripture on the bus for an hour, while the others got to help the farmer milk the cows and feed the chickens. Turned out okay, thank the Lord.”

He turned his attention back to their surroundings, to what Trey and Sy were doing, to the flow of conversations around them, to Lottie, now sitting between Britt’s spread knees, her cheek on her Mistress’s inner thigh.

That wasn’t the whole story. The lifted hairs on Vera’s neck, her heart punching a harder beat against her ribs, told her so. “You stopped him, didn’t you? The bull.”

His gaze moved back to the table, rested there a moment, then he lifted it to her face. “Not me. I just said ‘God help me save this boy. Don’t let those boys live a life knowing they got him killed, bearing that burden. And don’t do that to his momma.’”

“So what happened?” She wouldn’t order it, because a command felt wrong for this. But she hoped he would tell her.

His brown eyes moved over her eyes and lips. “I ran at the bull and dodged to his right, catching one of his horns. We kind of turned in a circle, and I was able to bring him down to one knee and hold him. I didn’t want to hurt him. I sang to him. I don’t remember what.”

A half smile touched his lips. “But it settled him down a little. I still had a pocketful of grain from where they’d let us feed the goats, and I gave that to him. Once Sammy got to the fence and the others pulled him over it—he was shaking so bad, they had to help him—I let the bull go and walked out of there, calm like the farmer would, so he wouldn’t want to chase me. He was calm enough then that he let me.”

He touched her hair, feathering a lock through his rough fingers. Silas and Trey had stopped talking, and though she didn’t look their way, Vera was sure they were tracking the unprecedented sight of Mistress Vera hanging onto a man’s words like a besotted schoolgirl.

Knowing that didn’t stop her from doing it.

“You know the thing about that day I like to remember the most? Sammy was so scared he’d wet himself. One of the boys was wearing gym shorts under his jeans because he plays sports after school, and he gave him the shorts. They could have made fun of him, but seemed all of them let God open their eyes to how wrong they’d acted. They put their arms around him, and when it come time for them to sit on the bus reading the Bible, Sammy chose to sit with them. He say he got inside the fence and threw a rock or two, too, so he needed to read the same lessons.”

“Sounds like a good kid.”

“They all good kids. Just sometimes get off the path, like we all do.”

Vera gripped his hand. Rev’s eyes fell to that contact. “When I touch you and you talk about the strength and gentleness in my touch,” he said suddenly, “that strength is God’s, but it part of me, too. So I like that you feel it that way.”

Vera explored his palm, stroking his wrist as she considered his large hand, all it was capable of doing. As she did, his head tilted over hers, so she lifted hers to brush her nose along his jaw and cheek.

When she turned so she was hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder with him again, she dropped her touch to his thigh. Her tender caress became something else as she slid a proprietary hand up from there to fondle his balls and semi-erect cock through his slacks, and stroke the muscles of his abdomen above their waistband.

That gingerbread color darkened like brown sugar as she leaned against him and spoke in his ear. “Spread your knees wider for me, Rev. When we’re in a place like this, your cock should always be accessible to my touch.”

As he stole a glance at the other two men, she dug her nails into his testicle. Just enough bite to yank his attention back where it belonged. “A Mistress exercising ownership is normal here. Sy and Trey won’t stare while we’re at a table together like this. It’s rude and disrespectful to the Dominant. It’s only allowed if I give them the privilege of watching.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“They’re like you, Rev. As they watch, they imagine their own desires, what shape they take under a Mistress’s hand. But I won’t do that tonight. Not until I know more about what you really need from my control.”

However, she would stroke and fondle to her heart’s content. His cock stiffened to full mast, filling up her grip the way a bat would if she slipped her hand up its broadening length.

She knew he’d be thinking of all the things she’d told him, about focusing his energy on her demands, about finding the soul in the gaze. Offering the soul and body together was a mind-altering combination. As she met his gaze, that energy linked with her own.

She wanted to take him to a private room and straddle him, rock back and forth in that seesaw motion that would increase the sensations between their bodies, the depth of their joining, the feel of him inside of her. She wanted his seed and her own response to make that movement all the more pleasurable, the climax even more intense. She would lean back on her elbows and have him suckle her breasts while she cupped his head, rubbed herself on him, felt his cock grow harder and heavier.

For tonight, that would stay the stuff of fantasy. Because though he was responding to her, they’d come up here because of the sensory overload. He was powerfully aroused, but his shoulders were tense, his eyes squinting a little as he processed her touch, what it meant, with all the noise and humanity around them.

She didn’t deny something strong was going on between them, but that was all the more reason to slow it down. He needed a slower pace, and maybe she did, too. She was the Domme, in control and in charge of his wellbeing, for this. She’d told him as much, and she would live up to it, taking care of him in the ways she knew. The Mistress in her knew the restless, unresolved feelings he might be feeling could shoot him into sub drop. He needed grounding.

“Sy, Trey.” Vera caught their attention. “Would you provide some instrumental backup to Rev while he sings?”

Sy gave her a surprised look, followed by speculation, the experienced musician surfacing. “Sure he wouldn’t prefer to choose something on the karaoke machine? Singing with a live band is a different animal.”

“He prefers live music. He sings for his church. He’ll keep pace.” She disengaged her hand from Rev’s and tapped the top of it, bringing him out of his head. “Will you sing for me, Rev?”

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