Chapter 41

Kathleen

Ira is a remarkable expert. She knows how to stroke my clit, to work her fingers around the entrance of my slit until I'm squirming for release. It serves me right. This is what I get for daring to come without permission earlier. Ira is no longer going to go easy on me. I disobeyed. I am training to be her sub, and that means I need to obey to get what I want.

Namely, her.

"If you can come, my darling," she says while circling my clit and backing off as I am about to come, "I will fuck you until you understand that I am the only one in the world who can make you feel like this."

She's still not going to make it easy.

Especially when she looks at me like that, looming over me, half-naked and so perfect. Or at least I think so in my haze of wanting to come all over her hand.

Sometimes her fingers slip inside. I am so wet and spread that it's nothing for her. Yes, Ira, with her strong fingers, can still disappear inside of me without a bit of resistance. The S-word falls off my lips as she finger fucks me, hard enough to make my knees bob up and down near my head. She doesn't touch my clit until she pulls out and flicks it.

This is torture. Orgasm continues to build inside of me, but for minutes I've been denied climax. I'm squirming. I'm whining. I'm begging her with my eyes and the bite of my lips to finish the job.

She said that if I came, she would fuck me like that again.

Yet. She. Won't. Let. Me. Every time I reach the tipping point, her fingers pumping in and out of me with varying speeds and rubbing my sensitive clit, she stops and laughs at my tortured reaction. The more she fucks me, the more I hear that melodic sound of my body accepting her, begging her to fill me and have her way with me.

I can't stop trying to come. You'd think I would fall over the edge at some point, but Ira knows – she knows – when exactly to pull out or stop rubbing my clit. It doesn't help that she's giving me that smug demeanor I hate so much. She knows what she's doing to me. She knows how much I want her to claim me again.

She must know how much I want to please her.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Ira keeps her fingers inside of me this time, although they do not move. I look down, my mound gleaming in wetness and her fingers plunged in to the third knuckle. All she has to do is curl them and hit me where it counts… "Do you understand what I want from now on?"

I moan, my body desperately trying to claim what it wants. "I do." My voice sounds so far away. In a way, I do feel far away, looking into Ira's eyes as if she's from another planet. I want to go there! "I'm so sorry for disobeying you, Mistress. Please let me come."

"Then what?"

"Then fuck me. Please."

She sits back, fingers still in me, but showing me her prosthetic coming out of her pants – which are quickly discarded to the ground as well. Seeing her completely naked always makes me wet. She has a physique that makes you think of a model. No, not the super buff kind, but the kind who look so damn good they can model anything they want and get paid well for it. Her chest, her shoulders, her biceps, her back, her abs, her thighs… they're so proportional and strong that I almost ignore her prosthetic still covered in my arousal from earlier.

"Then come, Katie."

She thrusts her fingers back into me, curling them enough to make my core sing.

Instead, I do.

Her other hand grabs my breast, pinching my nipple while I begin to come. All I hear is my voice; all I see is her gaze. I can't blink. I can't look away. Ira has me so enthralled that I will lie here and ride out this orgasm while the one who regularly devours me looks like she's about to do it again.

I can't breathe. I can't move my legs. All I can do is climax and cover my Domme's hand in my apology.

She removes her fingers at the right moment. Because, for the first time in a long while, I squirt, relief washing over me as I cover my skin and the duvet beneath.

I mean, I'm not a porn star, despite my best jokes. Yet Ira grins, sampling a taste.

"It's sweet," she says. Her tongue feels like hell on my spent pussy. She gives my clit one cursory flick of the tongue before pulling her torso up and kissing my breast, my neck, my lips. "You've been a good girl, Katie. I think it's time you were forgiven."

At this point my brain is so far gone that I don't care anymore. All I can do is whimper as she enters me, her hips pushing my legs farther apart even though they're already that way.

Even so, she feels blessedly present inside of me. We're together. She's going to claim me once and for all.

"Ira…" I can't recognize myself. The way I feel, the thoughts I'm having, everything in between… they are not Kathleen Allen's.

She's not here. Katie's here. The woman Ira Mathison is taking as her sub.

"Ira… Mistress… thank you."

She's not moving inside of me. Instead, she props her arms up on either side of my head, easing in and out as she tests how ready I am for her. Oh, I'm ready. "Do you like this, Katie?"

My eyes roll back as my head hits the pillow. All four of my limbs are sore to the point I'm not sure I'll be able to move later. But I don't care. The only thing I care about is her weight on me, the potential energy in her hips getting ready to thrust up and deeper into me.

"I do." I savor the moment. Right now, I don't feel anything. Nothing but lust and desire. Nothing but comfort and protection. This is kinky, but it's also our way of making love.

Fuck me and that L word.

I don't care. Good God, I don't care! Maybe I love her. At the very least, I love this. I love moments like this, where it's her and me. Maybe I'm chained up. Maybe I'm obsessed with what she's doing to me. Maybe I'm dreaming of doing things like this to her in the future.

Who cares?

Ira kisses my throat, buried within me. This angle is almost painful, but in the best way I could have ever imagined. Who cares! She's rocking into me. She's kissing me. She's so comfortable that I can't imagine it being anyone but her.

She's the only one I could possibly let do this to me.

That's how good it feels. That's how much I want her inside of me, consuming me, making love to my body, my heart, my soul… every time she thrusts forward, I feel it inside. Nothing in my body rejects her. I know what's going to happen, and I'm so happy about it that I think… well, of course, this is what's going to happen.

Of course, she's going to fuck me like this. Of course, she's only interested in my body.

She may be a Domme, but I now know every inch of her soul. It's expressed to me like an open book. A will to take care of me. To shield me from the horrors of the world. To give me pleasure and not ask for that much in return, really. I don't have to think. I don't have to worry. Ira will take care of everything.

"Katie," she whispers into my ear, arms curled around my body, hips thrusting into my spread opening. Ira increases her speed, grunting every so often. Sometimes harder. Sometimes faster. Always needy. "Katie!"

"Ira…"

We're two fools trying to deny that we're falling in love. That I'm falling into this lifestyle. That she's capable of caring about only one woman. Oh, God, here it comes now, beating down into me, her breaths faster.

My heart racing. Her groans containing a vulnerable whine that only I have ever heard.

I wish I could embrace her, but I understand why she has me chained up like this. She couldn't trust me in our scene. That doesn't mean she doesn't trust me with her heart.

"Do you want me, love?" Ira almost sounds doubtful. As if I couldn't want her by this point. "Do you want to feel me like that inside of you again?"

I accept her kisses, her tongue keeping me from answering for more than a few seconds. "Yes," I whisper when I have use of my mouth again. "Always."

There's no way to know what I signed up for. I don't care. Ira's taking me, getting ready to claim me once and for all as her sub.

It feels so right. I feel so right.

"Shit!" The third hard orgasm of the night erupts from me. My body knows what it wants. It wants her. All of her.

"Ira!" Frenzy takes over me, and although I can't move, I can claim her like she claims me. If I don't let go, if I keep her inside of me forever, then we never have to be apart again. We could have a moment like this for the rest of our lives.

No, it's not possible, but my brain doesn't know that. Why would it?

She continues to push into me, although her breaths are so famished that I fear I'm going to lose her before we both get what we want.

My worries were in vain. Not one second later, Ira pushes down into me, sitting up, grabbing my spread legs and pounding into me at a tremendous speed that shows the kind of skill she has accumulated since we first futilely tried to hook up. I don't know where this strength and energy comes from. All I know is that she wants me that badly.

I close my eyes and wait. Oh, God. Oh, God.

The way she clenches my hips. The way she surges into me. The way she worships my body. The way she climaxes with her whole physique, as if having an orgasm with me is the greatest thing to ever happen.

The way we make love.

I scream. In joy, in pain, in threatening agony because my body desperately needs this to end but is afraid to let it go.

There's this one second. One quick, biting second in which I truly feel like we're one.

I don't even know what's happening beneath my waist. I'm more focused on the peak in her voice and the look of undeniable pleasure on her face. Oh, Ira. You can be vulnerable too.

As she comes down from her high, easing her thrusts and letting me land back on the bed, I realize something very dangerous.

I love her.