Mistress Felicia ran a gloved hand through his hair. She
grabbed a fistful of it at the nape of his neck, forcing his head
back.
Kingsley didn’t speak.
“I will hurt you the way you like being hurt tonight,” Mistress Felicia said. “And in no other way. Tell me what
you like.”
“I will, Ma?tresse.”
“Do you like this?” she asked, tugging harder on his hair.
“Do you like being treated like property?”
“Oui, Ma?tresse,” he said.
“Do you like pain?”
“More than anything.”
“How much pain?”
“All the pain,” he said.
“You’re a masochist?”
“You could call me that.”
“What don’t you want?”
“I don’t want a collar,” he said. “I hate them.”
Mistress Felicia laughed and pulled harder on his hair. His
eyes watered from the pain. She was good, very good. “I won’t put a collar on you. Nothing on your throat. Nothing but my kisses.” She brought her lips to his neck and bit
the skin over his jugular vein. The bite turned into a kiss and
back into another bite. “Your neck is too delicious to cover it
up with anything but my mouth. And besides, there are other
ways to enslave men that don’t require collars.”
She tossed her riding crop onto the bed and took him by
the wrist, bringing his hand between her legs. She wore nothing beneath her leather skirt. He cupped her there, the base
of his hand against her clitoris.
“One finger,” she whispered. “One.”
He slipped one finger between her folds and inside her. So
warm, so wet. He closed his eyes.
“You like it inside me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“If you survive the pain I’m going to inf lict on you, I’ll let you inside me again. I might let you put your cock in me. If
you take everything I give you.”
“I promise, Ma?tresse, I can take it.”
“What’s your safe word?” she asked as Kingsley continued
to stroke inside her body with one finger.
“I don’t have one.”
“Choose one.”
“I don’t need one.”
“You have f lashbacks from recent trauma. You need one.” “If I have a f lashback, consider that my safe word.” Mistress Felicia laughed, and Kingsley felt her muscles gripping his finger. Two weeks… He was dying to be inside her.
The wait would almost kill him. But for all that, he wanted
the pain she had to offer even more than the sex. It had been
so long since he’d let himself have the type of pain S?ren had
given him when they were teenagers. He hadn’t planned on
submitting to anyone tonight. But now that Mistress Felicia
was here, he realized submission was what he most wanted. Kingsley nearly groaned aloud in disappointment when she
took his wrist again and moved his hand from her. But then
she opened his pants.
“Don’t get hard,” she ordered.
“It would help if you left the room, Ma?tresse.”
“You’re a big boy. You have self-control. Use it.” Kingsley focused his mind on things unlikely to arouse
him—politics, airplane crashes, a bad case of the shingles,
vanilla sex.
“Good boy,” she said, slipping two fingers between her
breasts and from her corset producing a leather strap. “Fuck.” He sighed.
“Eventually,” she said, and wrapped the strap around his
testicles and the base of his penis. Cock ring. Pleasure and
torture all in one.
“You have a beautiful cock,” she said, massaging it with
both hands. The leather of her gloves abraded, and he quickly
grew hard from the bite of the seams against his most sensitive skin. She grasped his cock by the base and slid her hands
up and down the shaft. Fluid appeared on the tip and dripped
onto her gloves.
“Eager, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t had sex in two weeks,” he confessed. “Eager is
an understatement.”
“It’s such an impressive erection, I’d hate for you to lose it
before I had time to enjoy it.”
“You’ll enjoy it,” he promised, as she traced the edges of