A woman who wore as much lingerie as Abby did,
wanted
to be looked at, admired, lusted after. But between her father’s iron-fisted upbringing and her fear of being rejected because she had a body like a 1940’s starlet instead of a 2000’s waif, she kept it under wraps. Or, more accurately, under gender-neutral business suits that gave no hint to the tantalizing lace and silk hidden underneath.
Tex moved his mouth over her ear. “They can’t see us, but we can see them, can’t we, pet? Just a few feet away from where you swallowed my cum.” Abby shivered and he grinned. “It’s different when your head’s not buried in my lap, isn’t it? Being able to see them. Watch them. Do you think any of them had their fingers in their cunts this morning? Like you’re doing now?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He licked her earlobe. “My greedy little pet, rubbing herself in public. Can’t get enough, can you, pet?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“That’s how I like you. Greedy, and horny, and following my instructions. Is that pussy wet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I like it soaked. You’re going to wear your sopping wet panties to lunch, pet. No changing just because you bought fresh ones. Fuck, I love smelling you when you’re turned on.”
As luck would have it, a sedan actually pulled into the lot and started backing in just two spaces down from them. Tex had pulled the Hummer straight into the spot facing the brick building, so he and Abby were now looking directly across the back seat at a guy in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair parking his BMW. Abby gasped.
“Keep touching yourself, pet,” he commanded, his voice full of warning. “If you don’t get off, I will get you off. And then I’ll make you
keep
getting off until you’re crying, begging me to stop.”
Abby threw her head back against his shoulder. With her free hand she actually pressed
his
hand a little harder against her throat. She moved her hips languidly, riding her own hand. “Fuck,” Tex growled. “There’s my good girl. Are you looking at him, pet? Keep looking at him. He’s so close. So fucking close.”
Abby held his hand harder against her delicate throat. Mark didn’t tighten his grip though, choosing instead to let her control how much pressure to exert. They hadn’t done anything like breath play and he suspected she wasn’t actually trying it now. She just wanted to reinforce his dominance over her since they were in an unfamiliar environment and there were no other outward trappings of her role as his submissive, such as being naked while he remained clothed or wearing her play collar. She needed that reaffirmation of their respective roles as submissive and dominant.
He took his right hand, which had been resting on her hip, and slid it around her waist. He pulled her against him in a steel grip, a primitive sort of bondage that required only flesh and bone. Abby was trapped in his embrace. She couldn’t fight or get away. She was also completely and totally
free
. And she recognized it, knew it for what it was, because she writhed against him passionately, the wet sounds of her fingerfucking competing with the soft moans in her throat.
“Come.” he commanded. “Come for your Owner, pet.”
She shuddered and arched her back, then slammed back into him again as she came, not loudly this time but still fiercely, panting and squirming and grinding in his lap. He held her until it was over then he trailed kissed down her cheek and along her jaw and on that spot behind her ear that made her putty in his hands.
“My precious little pet,” he whispered in her ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
They sat outside on a sidewalk cafe since it was a beautiful afternoon. True to his word, Mark had made her go to lunch in her wet panties. Abby shifted slightly uncomfortably in the seat as he grinned at her. She narrowed her eyes at him.
It sometimes astonished Abby how much Mark knew about her, without her having to say anything at all. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was that easy to read or because Mark had super secret psychic abilities. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. She glanced at the menu and ordered the house salad. As they waited for their lunch, she announced, “Maybe after this we’ll head to the nail salon for a mani-pedi.”
Mark narrowed his own eyes and she smiled. But also true to his word, he didn’t object. It was pretty obvious to Abby at this point in their relationship that Mark was the most reliable man she’d ever met. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. If he said he wasn’t going to do something, then he didn’t. Abby’s other boyfriends had been ridiculously unreliable, making plans and breaking them at the last minute or making plans with other people and not bothering to tell her about it.
Mark kept things from her, that was true. But that was part of the Dom/sub dynamic, she’d discovered. It reinforced his control and kept her constantly guessing. And while she may not always be comfortable with that, she also understood the she wasn’t supposed to be. But in the other vanilla part of their relationship, Mark never did that. He always kept her in the loop about his plans. He was always honest, always reliable, and always showed up when he said he would. Mark was a man she could count on.
“On second thought,” she said, “I’m tired. I think we should just finish up lunch and call it a day.” She couldn’t be sure, but she swore he visibly relaxed at her words. She smiled to herself.
At his house, Mark took most of the bags from her and helped her carry them into his bedroom where he laid them on the bed.
“I have something for you,” he told her.
Abby’s heart fluttered. “A present?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She tried to reign herself in. Mark had just spent quite a bit of money on her this afternoon. Abby wasn’t greedy. She didn’t expect Mark to give her gifts every minute of every day. But it was hard to contain her excitement at the prospect. Because Mark’s gifts weren’t like other people’s gifts. Whereas her other boyfriends could barely be counted on to toss her a birthday card or maybe some tickets to a show she’d been dying to see, Mark’s gifts were truly amazing.
With Mark, it wasn’t the money. He was truly the embodiment of ‘It’s the Thought that Counts.’ Because Mark’s gifts were incredibly thoughtful. Shampoo in her favorite scent, shoes from a designer that she’d only mentioned in passing during a casual conversation. Mark’s gifts were the direct result of him being
genuinely
interested in everything about her. And that was a feeling that Abby had never had, from anyone.
He turned to the dresser and her heart skipped a beat. But instead of opening the top drawer, his hand passed over the second and down to the third. He gripped the handle and pulled. She held her breath. A whip? More chains? Some strange and terrifying thing she never knew existed? She resisted the urge to close her eyes as it slid open.
Except it was empty.
She blinked at it.
He turned to her and grinned. It took several long seconds before Abby actually understood. Her jaw dropped.
Ignoring her, he walked to the closet and opened the door as well. “There’s space here for you, too.”
Crossing the room back to her, he held up his hand. Abby tore her gaze away from the half empty closet to the small silver key glinting in Mark’s hand. She plucked it from his fingers and turned it over to examine it.
“Now you don’t have to borrow one from Slick when you to want to surprise me.”
He gave her a quick peck on the lips and left the room.
Abby stared at the dresser and the closet for a long time after Mark left the room. She looked down at the key in the palm of her hand. She suppressed the urge to squeal with delight. She stuck the key in her purse, pulled out some of the things she’d bought earlier, including the red corset, which was gorgeous. She added a pair of jeans she’d bought at the mall and a blouse to the pile and began putting them away.
Out of curiosity, she opened the top drawer again and fingered the toys there. A few of them looked scary, like gigantic plugs, and a few of them were scary and also
odd
looking.
And even though she examined every inch of a six inch stainless steel tool that looked like a tiny pizza cutter except with spikes on it, she still couldn’t figure out what the hell that would be for, so she put it away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask Mark about that just yet. He might mistake her curiosity for interest, and she didn’t think she wanted her curiosity to kill her cat, especially not with a medieval torture device.
She thought better of putting the red corset away and instead began to undress, hanging her blouse up in the closet and folding her trousers and putting them in her new drawer. She chose a pair of elegant black stockings that Mark had bought for her and sat on the bed to put them on. They were luxurious and topped with a two inch wide band of lace. She slipped her high heels back on and put the corset on, pressing it against her back and fastening the hooks in front. She crossed to the mirror and took her hair down, shaking it out over her shoulders.
The black lace overlay of the corset went well with the black stockings and the overall look was that of a courtesan or an upscale, turn of the century cabaret girl. Abby ran her palms over the front of the bodice. She’d never felt sexier. She turned back to the dresser, searching for the best way to please Mark after he’d been so wonderful today. She made her decision and attached her collar and cuffs.
Halfway down the hall, Abby was grateful that Mark’s bedroom, hallway, and living room were carpeted. Because otherwise her knees would be bruised to hell and back from all the time she spent crawling around. She rounded the corner of the long hallway and tightened her jaw. She had the ball gag secured, hanging loosely around her neck over the collar. In her hand was the small plastic ball with the bell inside. In between her clenched teeth was a black leather riding crop she’d located in the toy drawer. Mark was on the couch, channel surfing, but stopped when he saw her. The look in his eyes had been liquid dark and scorching.
She was slightly disappointed that the only reaction he had was a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. But his eyes darkened, like they always did when he was aroused. She sighed inwardly and wondered what the hell it would take to actually
surprise
this man. Determinedly, she crawled up to him and stopped. He took the crop out of her mouth.
“Pet?” Mark asked casually.
She looked up at him and considered batting her eyelashes at him but didn’t want to turn the whole thing cheesy. Especially since, truth be told, butterflies were crashing around in her stomach in anticipation and anxiousness. “Sir. Please, whip my pussy.”
He reached down, took hold of one of the rings in her collar and pulled her up to her knees. He kissed her fiercely, tongue taking possession of her mouth. “Of course, pet. You know I love pleasing you.”
He turned off the television and tossed the remote onto the couch. He affixed her gag properly and then directed her to lean over the coffee table so her ass was exposed. She hadn’t put on panties in order to accommodate her request.
Her reques
t. She’d asked him to whip her most sensitive parts and she hoped to God he was telling the truth about her loving it because she was more than a little nervous.
The whip ended up on the couch alongside the remote, and Mark got to his own knees beside her. He tilted her head, so her cheek was resting on the cool, smooth wooden surface of the table and she was facing him. The ball was in her left hand. She clutched it tightly. He began by rubbing her ass with his hand, massaging it. She closed her eyes as some of her trepidation melted away.
He started with light slaps with his bare hand and as they increased in power, he rubbed her warming skin between each blow. Abby loved this part. Ever since that first spanking with the belt in her mouth, she’d come to love the sharp sting of his hand and then the spreading warmth that came right after. He paused and rubbed his hand between the dampening folds of her pussy.
“Don’t come, pet,” he ordered. “I know you like your spankings, but if you come, we can’t have some real fun.” Abby bit down on the ball gag and tried to keep from humping his hand. He tapped her inner thigh. “Time to turn over.”
He helped her lie down on the table, ass as the edge, feet spread wide and resting on the floor. He massaged her lower belly and moved down to her thighs, purposely skipping her pussy. She whimpered in frustration. “I know, pet, I know,” he said gently. “Just hang on. For me.” He tapped her cunt lightly and she jerked. “Hold still,” he said firmly. “I can strap you to the table if I have to, but I’d rather you do as you’re told.”