Page 11 of Disgrace

The chair scrapes with the sudden movement of Jason standing, he takes three large strides and is directly in front of me. His foot taps the inside of one of my knees. I resist the pressure, my jaw clenching tight enough to make my head pulse with the pressure. The thought that this is never going to work flashes across my mind and I exhale in a loud puff through my nose. Jason drops to his haunches and lifts my chin so I am staring directly into his golden brown eyes. The look of adoration goes some way to appease my anxiety. His dark, lust-filled stare is deeply erotic and calms me enough that the slightest pressure from his other hand has my thighs spreading wider under his fingertips. He groans with satisfaction and draws in a deep breath.

“Hmm, fuck, Sam…You have no idea what you do to me like this. I am one lucky man.” His smile is so genuine it steals my breath like a hit to the chest. My own timorous pleasure at his words tips my lips into a reciprocal smile. He stands up, keeping his hand under my chin forcing me to arch and stretch my neck to keep eye contact.

“Tell me what you are, Sam.” His deeply possessive tone sends an erotic chill up my spine and settles in a swirl in my tummy. I struggle to swallow the lump the word I know he is waiting to hear are creating in my throat. “Sam,” he repeats with more force, “tell me what you are.” His grip tightens. His eyes darken with resolve and unmistakeable possession.

“Yours.” I barely get the word out. My voice is croaky, but I feel the truth of my declaration like it is carved into the ancient oak of the St Andrew’s Cross he is no doubt going to tie me to. As if reading my mind, he scoops me up, with no effort at all, into his arms and carefully places me on the plinth that holds that very cross. He methodically straps my ankles and my wrists and only pauses once he is finished. I don’t bother testing the restraints. I know he is more than proficient at his job; I am just struggling with mine. I haven’t ever been a willing submissive for my own pleasure, and this new role is testing me on every level.

“What are you, Sam?” His throat obviously constricts, and he slowly swallows. The gravely words escape on a whisper.

“Yours.” I raise my chin and meet his gaze. I feel a fire burn inside me, a scorching flame, fuelling the sort of strength I know I am going to need… if I am, in fact… his.

“Mine.” He cups my neck and swoops in to steal a kiss that takes us both by surprise with its intensity and urgency. He rests his forehead against mine while we both regain our breath. He runs his hands down the length of the necklace then twists and loops it until it is wrapped several times around my neck. He unclips it to make the last few loops. The single strand is now a tight choker, holding my neck straight and high. “Safe word, Sam, what’s your safe word?” His lips are at my ear, and his cool breath chills my skin, goosebumps dance on the surface like little beacons of panic.

“You said we’d go slow, Jason.” My voice is pitched with worry, and his hand instantly soothes with a gentle stroke down my cheek. He plants a tender kiss on my lips.

“We will go slow but I want you to be able to stop this if it even gets to be a little too much. I am not going to ruin this opportunity with my impatience…” I nod with relief and understanding. “So a safe word?” he repeats.

“Switch,” I say after a moment of thought. I struggle to swallow, my throat is so dry. Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so conflicted, so turned on, so alive. I have been numb for so long I no longer have the strength or will to fight this pure desire saturating my soul.

He gives a curt nod and flashes a wicked smile. He slips two fingers through the choker tightening it and restricting my breath in one move. I gasp, my body tenses, and my muscles flex against the restraints. I feel the intensity of my desire like a molten pool of liquid building in my core. My eyes widen when the next whispered words cut the sexual tension with a precision scalpel.

“Not anymore, Sub.”

Jesus, I am a lucky man. I’d pinch myself right now if I thought she wouldn’t notice. She notices everything; her eyes are bright and curious, scrutinising my every move. Dark pools of desire blend with a mixture of wide-eyed innocence and trust. That fucking trust is what makes me the luckiest man alive. She may have reservations about the role I want her to play but she trusts me enough to try, and that is such a fucking turn-on. She’s not just a Domme; she the best damn Domme in the city, and I have her tied up and trembling.

Luckiest. Fucking. Man Alive.

I stand inches from her naked body, naked save for the diamond choker I bought with her delicate neck in mind. My jeans hang loose, and I ditched my shirt the moment I sat down to watch her strip. The heat between us is charged, and tiny sparks like a live current jump the sliver of distance between our bodies. I draw in a deep breath. I can smell her arousal, and she is intoxicating, sweet, and sinful. My hand is still twisted into her collar, and with the smallest clench of my fist, I can restrict her airway, but my hand is relaxed…for now.

I place my finger on her mouth and push between her soft, full lips. Her sweet little tongue eagerly wraps around my digit, and she sucks me in on a moan. My cock hardens, uncomfortably restricted in my jeans, but this feels so good. I pull from her mouth and draw the wet tip of my finger along her collarbone and slowly down between her breasts. Her gaze never leaves mine but her lids flutter closed when I reach the tiny landing strip of hair pointing directly to her centre. I sink my hand between her legs and swirl my thumb in a steady pattern around her clit. Her breath hitches, and she bites back a whimper that lurks at the back of her throat. I bite my own lips to keep from smiling but flash a wicked grin when I sink two fingers into her fresh wetness. That whimper she tried to hold back escapes, and her hips sink on my hand, greedy for a little more. She sighs with a grumble of frustration, tugging against her restraints even as her lips curl with a knowing smile. This is a game she is familiar with, I am sure. She sucks her lips into her mouth, and I can see she is struggling to hold her tongue. I help her out and cover her mouth with mine. My smile spreads wide as I try to crush that grin off her lips. My tongue dives and plunges, tasting her and swirling in a delicious dance with hers. I pull away, and she wraps her lips tight around my retreating tongue, sucking it back into her mouth. I can feel the erotic pull of her sucking me like that deep in my balls.

A low groan rumbles from my chest, and she giggles. This may be a challenge for her, but I can see she is fully prepared to test my own skill set every step of the way. I relax with a deep sense of calm because this is no challenge at all. I believe we are made for this, made for each other, and her breathtaking smile and soaking wetness clenching around my fingers are all the evidence I need.

“Do I make you happy, sweetheart?” My breath whispers across her skin, but she is instant ice in my hand. Her eyes glaze and all colour drains from her flawless skin.

“Switch.” She mouths the word but there is no sound. I only see it because I am staring with utter confusion at her face. She’s like a statue, a shell, no little tells from her sweet body silently begging me for more, no sighs or cries…nothing. One second she is warm and sentient to my touch; the next she is frozen.

I have so many questions, but I don’t voice them now. I lean up to unstrap her wrist, my hand stretching across her face. She flinches away from my reach, and her body begins to shake. She’s sucking in large gulps of air, but she seems to be struggling to breathe. Her chest rises with building panic, and her lips are tinged with blue.Shit.

“Sam, look at me.” I keep my voice calm but stern. I don’t know where the fuck she has gone but I need her back with me. Just me. “Look at me, Sam.” I repeat just as firmly. Her eyelids flutter, and her brows knit like she is trying to concentrate, but she doesn’t seem to be able to focus. Her eyes fix on mine, but they are vacant pools of sadness. I manage to unclip her arms and hold her steady, afraid she will fall if I release her. Her arms fall lifelessly to her sides and she sways unsteadily. I deftly unclip her ankle straps and sweep her into my arms before she falls. I step quickly over to the bed and grab the loose silk sheet at the end. It’s large enough to wrap around both our bodies, but it’s thin, and the room is air conditioned to a cool temperature. It won’t afford much warmth, but my body heat will. I cocoon her in my arms and wait. I slide us up the bed and lean against the headboard. Her body still trembles, but her rapid deep breathing has calmed.

I rest my lips on her hair and lay kiss after kiss, gently rocking and squeezing what comfort I can. I am good at what I do. My role as a Dominant is as natural to me as breathing. Although one can learn how to be a good Dom, to be the best, I believe, has more to do with natural inclination than anything that can be taught. I know how to read people. I see them in their masks, and I see them at their most raw, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that, for Sam, I just triggered something bad.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep, but I wake when I feel her wriggle in my arms. They protectively lock on instinct in a frame around her. I look down and see her big soulful eyes looking at me with such sadness it cleaves my chest apart. I bury it, though. She doesn’t need my worries piling on top of whatever shit-storm she is currently processing.

“Well, that was new.” I exhale a light laugh because I can see her face is a picture of turmoil and devastation. I can deal with sadness. What I don’t want is regret, and she needs to know nothing has changed. Her lips falter with her first attempt to smile at my comment. She swallows thickly and draws in a deep, slow breath.

“I need to leave.” She drops her head and averts her eyes. I try for calm, but it comes out as a frustrated, loud exhale. She shifts to move but I just grip a little tighter.

“You need to talk to me.” She shakes her head.

“Jason, you don’t want this…trust me. This is all wrong.” Her voice catches, and I don’t know whether to shake her or just hold her some more. I hold her. I lift her chin up so she can see my eyes. I have to credit her strength because she doesn’t shy from the contact. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“I want you, so I think you can.” I know she feels unbearable sadness for whatever reason, but I won’t let her give up on this. I flash my most confident smile, which causes her brows to wrinkle with suspicion. Suspicion is better than sadness. “You would feel more comfortable at home?”

“I would.” Her voice is filled with resignation. She closes her eyes this time, but not before I see the hurt settle in deep. She drops her head, again.

“Okay.” I lift us both from the bed and place her carefully on her feet. Her hands reach for my hips to steady herself, but she quickly lets go. I don’t say a word when she turns and walks away. I don’t speak as we both quietly put our clothes back on, and I remain silent until she is sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

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