Subordination:Chronicles of a Domme(9)

“Are you all right?” William asked, his warm breath scorching against my ear.

“Oh yes,” I murmured. I brought my legs to wrap around his hips as my arms encircled his neck. My fingers gripped the strands of his hair. With a harsh tug, I commanded, “Fuck me until I can barely walk.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He slowly eased his cock out of me before slamming back inside. His hips began to pump relentlessly. He slid his arms under my knees, widening my legs almost to the point of pain. His muscled thighs slapped against mine, causing a delicious burn on my skin.

I brought my hands to clutch his thick biceps. My fingers gripped his skin so hard that I knew he would have bruises the next day. I wanted to leave my mark on him—his Mistress’s brand. The one who owned his body and commanded him to use it for her pleasure.

“Mmm, I’m so close. Make me come.”

The languid strokes of a warm tongue brushing across my cheek brought me slowly back to consciousness. I groaned in both disappointment and frustration at my missed orgasm and my slobber-covered cheek. I swatted my hand at the furry face assaulting me. “Stop it, Oakley.”

With a grunt, I pulled the covers over my head. At the wetness dampening my panties, I rolled my eyes. A fucking sex dream. Had I reverted back to a horny teenage girl? Ugh, how absolutely ridiculous. It was even more infuriating that it had been William starring in the fantasy. “I make one mistake, and now it’s going to haunt me forever,” I muttered.

A hearty yip came in my ear. Popping my head out of the covers, I peered at the clock on the nightstand, which read eight thirty. “It’s too early. We sleep in on the weekends, remember?”

The brown, short-haired dachshund wagged her tail at me before again treating me to another tongue assault. I brought my hand out from under the covers to scratch her tiny head. “You know, for such a small dog, you’re a major pain in the ass.”

A barking fit commenced at the petting I was giving her. I knew she wasn’t going to stop until I fed her. Giving an exasperated sigh, I flung back the covers. “Fine, fine. You win.”

I padded across the floor through a maze of boxes to the kitchen of my basement apartment. It had been home for me since I left for Atlanta after transferring from the community college to Georgia State. The house belonged to the elderly mother of one of my dad’s old roping buddies. I’d been offered it rent and utility free in exchange for keeping an eye on his mother and helping her with things around the house. In the last four years, Lola had become like a grandmother to me, and I was really going to miss her.

After pouring Oakley’s food into her black bowl with sparkly skulls and crossbones painted on the sides, I headed back to the bedroom. While the bed was taunting me to climb back in, I ignored the temptation and went over to the closet. Since it was my last weekend before moving, I wanted to go running one last time at my favorite park, and the earlier I got there, the less crowded it would be.

So I pulled on my sports bra, threw on a spandex tank top, and then my jogging pants. After I slid into my favorite pair of Nikes, I gave Oakley a good-bye scratch behind the ears before heading out the door.

Kennesaw Battlefield Park was a fifteen-minute drive north from my house, but I didn’t care. I loved everything about the wood-lined trails, not to mention the sense of history that enveloped you. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough, you could almost hear the artillery fire and cannon blasts that echoed through the forest during the Civil War. Today more than anything, I wanted to make it to the top of the mountain and look out over Atlanta’s skyline hovering on the horizon before my world once again became rolling hills and mountains.

After a quick Starbucks stop and making my way through Saturday morning traffic, I pulled into a parking space at the Visitor’s Center. I grabbed my phone and headphones out of the passenger seat and threw open the car door. A few warm-up stretches later and I broke into a run up the trail.

As Awol Nation’s Sail began playing in my ears, I almost tripped over my feet at the irony. Images like from a reel of film assaulted my mind. William’s teeth grazing over my skin…my clit. His hands cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers. His tongue plunging in and out of me. His eyes never leaving mine as he brought me to the brink.

My breath began to quicken not from the exertion of running but from the illicit flashbacks torturing me. But then the desire I felt became replaced with disgust. I shook my head as I pushed myself harder up the path. What the hell had I been thinking letting him get me off? I just had to go and cross the line my last night of work. Yeah, he was the hottest sub I’d ever had, but did that mean I had to lose my mind like some sex- crazed maniac?

In the distance, a figure crested the hill on his way down from the mountain. Something about the man appeared familiar. Over the years of running at the park, I was used to seeing fellow running acquaintances. But as the incredibly built man grew nearer, my stomach lurched. Oh no, no, NO! This wasn’t possible. I couldn’t literally be running into someone I’d been in a scene with the night before. In the five years I’d worked at 1740, I had never, ever run into a client.

We were within a few feet of each other when he gave a complimentary nod of hello. Then he literally skidded to a stop, sending bits of gravel flying around us. Just as I started to pass him, acknowledgement of who I truly was flashed on his face.

FUUUUUCK! With everything I had in me, I raced ahead.

“Mistress Juliette?” he called.

Those two little words from his mouth sent me tripping over a limb. FUUUUUCK! As I sprawled onto the ground, my knees bumped along the uneven terrain. Once I came to a stop, pain raged all through my body, although it was excruciatingly centralized in my right ankle.

I rolled into a sitting position and brought my hand to my tennis shoe. “Fuck,” I muttered again. It was to address both the pain and the fact that a shadow had crossed over me. A bulky shadow belonging to the only sub I had ever let myself go with.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Mistress.”

My gaze spun wildly around the clearing. “Stop calling me that!” I hissed.

“I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

Damn, that voice of his. Momentarily forgetting my ankle, I could feel myself growing wet just from the deep timbre, not to mention how sexy his concern was.

“No, actually, I’m not.” I jerked my gaze from my foot up to his handsome face. “My ankle is throbbing like a motherfucker, not to mention I’m mortified as hell I just busted my ass right in front of you.”

The corners of his lips fluttered, and I could tell he was fighting the urge not to laugh at me. Without a word, he knelt down beside me. “Let me take a look.”

I jerked my foot away from his overeager hands, which caused me to wince from the pain. “I think you’ve done enough already.”

Cocking his dark brows at me, he said, “My Mistress’s health and well-being is always my utmost concern.”

I fought the urge to smack him and not so he could get off on it. “Here’s a newsflash for you. We are not in 1740 anymore, Toto, so this whole sub taking care of his Mistress bullshit isn’t going to fly.”

“I’m not into dog play,” he countered, with a wink.

“Yeah, well, last time I checked, you’re not sporting my collar, so I’m not your Mistress.”

“Ouch, you really bring out the claws when you’re hurting, don’t you?” When I opened my mouth to lay into him again, he brought a finger over my lips. Instead of being angry at the touch, I couldn’t help remembering what those fingers had felt like on my body last night.

I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. After taking his finger away, William said, “Like you said, we’re not in 1740. Quit your bitching, and let me check out your ankle, okay?”

“Are you a doctor or paramedic in real life?”

He smiled, causing those delicious dimples of his to pop out. “No, not quite.”

“Then how do I know you’re actually qualified to look at my ankle and not just wanting to cop a feel of my foot?”

With a chuckle, he replied, “Don’t have a foot fetish either.”

He slid my tennis shoe off, causing me to hiss. “Answer the question.”

“Easy now,” he murmured.

“What qualifies you to look at my ankle?” I demanded.

“I used to be a football coach.”

“Professional?”

He laughed. “No, high school.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

“Yeah, you bandage at least one sprained ankle at every game.” He glanced up at me. “Yours doesn’t feel sprained, but it’s definitely swollen. I have a first aid kit in my truck. I can bandage it for you.”

I eyed him suspiciously. As a submissive, I knew he truly subscribed to the code of conduct that his Mistress always came first. But we weren’t in the club, and although club management did background checks that rivaled the FBI, he was still a stranger to me. Well, a stranger who I’d seen naked and bent over a spanking horse.

Knowing that I didn’t really have a choice, I huffed out a frustrated breath. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you take care of my ankle.”