Chapter 51

Ira

"Kid, I had no idea that you were somehow involved with that woman."

That's the first thing my father says to me when I sit next to him in his favorite Good Ol' Boys club. The same one we last talked about women in. Cigar smoke is thick, in part due to my father puffing away on one of his vices. That and women and booze, like the brandy he's hucking back like he'll never have the chance again.

My father knows how to hold his liquor, so I'm not worried about him getting drunk. I am, however, worried about him running his mouth and pissing me off.

"I doubt she brought it up." Ever since that fateful lunch, I've wondered how Stephanie May ended up in my father's bed. A lovely thought that haunts me. "We didn't split amicably."

"Whoa, I figured there was a bit of a witch in her." My father attempts a hearty chuckle, but it comes out in a wisp of a breath. "She's a wild one, eh?"

I keep my face straight as I look into my father's eyes. The host of the club comes by with the scotch I ordered and asks if I need anything else. What I need is a lobotomy.

"How in the world did you meet her?"

Donovan Mathison isn't the kind of man to give up his secrets easily, even to his kid. Nevertheless, he winks and says, "Your old man has his bag of tricks!"

"She happened to show up somewhere you were at and flirt with you, didn't she?"

"Well, I…"

Now I'm chuckling. "It's fine. I'm over it. You didn't know since I never told you about us. I only went on two dates with her anyway." Plus, my father doesn't read the scandal rags like my mother does. She knew about Stephanie, but not my father. "Next time, though, maybe ask if they tried getting into the family through me first."

"Erm, about that…"

I don't like that tone in my father's voice. When I look up from my scotch, I see him shifting in his leather chair, belt buckle straining against his abdomen as he changes positions for the third time in ten minutes.

"You're not… still dating her, are you?"

"Now, Ira…"

"Fucking hell, Dad."

"We're adults, aren't we? You said so yourself, you only went on two dates with her."

"Yes, Dad. One of those dates included… you know."

I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to bring it up. Surely everyone knows about "the code." Between fathers and their masculine children, "the code" includes not talking about having sex with the same woman, even if you know it's true. For all I know, we have bedded the same woman before. Doesn't mean we want to know details. In fact, thinking about it makes me want to vomit my scotch. It also makes me angry on my mother's behalf, even though she's probably out drowning her love sorrows in some young man's abs.

We Mathisons have a certain way of taking care of personal problems.

"That's neither here nor there."

"If you say so."

You couldn't cut the tension with a battleaxe. This is why I dread what my father is going to say next. It can't be anything good.

"So, about Kathleen…"

Sigh. "We've made up if that's what you're asking." I know it is. "She sends her apologies for her outburst the other day. Stephanie shook more than a few things up."

"Ah." My father relaxes in his chair as if everything is right again in his insular world. "That's good to hear. The only thing your mother and I could talk about after that debacle was your tiff with Kathleen."

It was a bit more than a "tiff," but I'm not going to bring it up.

"I know your mother has been pushy about you and Kathleen, but she does it with a well-meaning heart. Silas's girl has a good head on her shoulders and, outburst aside, is more refined than most ladies of her background. Not to mention she's a looker, ain't she?"

My lips stay taut as I hold back an exasperated sneer. "I do find her beautiful."

As if the cosmos heard my cue, my phone buzzes with a text. While my father drinks more brandy, I pull it out and see the chimes are from Katie.

"Hello, lover. How are you today? I'm feeling… restless."

I hide a smile as I covertly reply that I want more information. Even though I know exactly what she means since it's been two days since we… made love.

Made love. I can safely say that's rarely happened in my life. Lovemaking, that is.

"I want you, Ira. I want you to take me."

Ahem.

"Anyway, enough about love," my father interrupts. "We're all damned by it no matter what, so there's no point discussing it unless there's real news." What a fancy way of brushing off the fact he's dating Stephanie. "I hauled you here to talk about the restorations beginning on Monday…"

He rambles about the crews, the permits we're still waiting on, and the budget allocation. It's all stuff I already know, so I covertly text Katie and tell her I can't wait to see her ass in the air again. Also, I love how forward she's getting about her desire to submit.

Not only submit. Submit to me.

Every time I think about Katie in that collar I bought her, I shudder in delight. Of course, I contain these shudders, but I can't help but think about her moaning beneath my body, her ass as pink as her lips, my fingers driven deep into her as she begs for me to pull her hair and call her the filthiest names I can come up with.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Mistress. Tell me when. I need you."

She needs me. Did you hear that? Katie needs me.

"Damnit, Ira, are you listening to me?"

No, Dad, I'm not. I don't care about work. I care about that woman taunting me with her heart and body. A part of me wishes that I could tell you all about it, how our relationship isn't going to work in the long run, how I almost don't care…

How I want her anyway.

Yet I don't tell you these things, Dad, because you'll shut down and pretend you don't know anything about that. In a way, you don't. Even though you're divorced, you have an ex-wife you're still in love with and who loves you too. If you can't figure that out, then how can I figure out my own relationship?

We're human. Mad, crazy humans with too much money and not enough heart to deal.

"Is this how you want me, Mistress?" Kathleen bends over the ottoman, one foot on the floor and the other leg kneeling beneath her chest. A stiletto heel taunts me, beckoning me in the air to come touch her. "Because I think you do."

I meticulously pick my tools a few feet away. Hard to do when Kathleen is so willing for me to dominate her tonight – and dressed like this. I've got her wearing a baggy pink T-shirt that hangs so enticingly off her body that it's all I can do to keep from grabbing and fucking her right now. Everything sure is ready, although mind over matter says I don't feel a thing. Certainly not the heat building in my groin, demanding the rest of me to indulge in the skin pressed against a pair of dark and sheer pantyhose.

Usually, I'm not so captivated by pantyhose, tights, etc. Not like some I know who center their whole fetishes around them. When I envisioned Kathleen in that T-shirt, however, I dithered between a cute thong and pantyhose. Once I thought of heels, I knew it had to be hosiery.

Shit, did I make the right decision.

Her collar glistens in candlelight. Blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. That was Kathleen's styling. I forgot to mention what she should do with her hair when I emailed her my plans for the evening.

Dinner at my place. Drinks at my place. Sex at my place.

I want tonight to be all about us. Our fantasies, especially since we're on the same page. It's beyond liberating to see Katie so relaxed in the environment I've created. Not once has she seized up or come close to saying her warning word. Her body language calls to me. Her voice is sweet and inviting.

She's mine.

So there's this gorgeous woman, wearing nothing but a T-shirt, pantyhose, and black stiletto heels, bent over my ottoman and looking coy at me. Her ass wiggles back and forth as I take my time going through crops and floggers I've amassed over the years. Some of them I bought purely for aesthetics and should probably be displayed instead of kept hidden away. Others are tried and true favorites. Every time I look up at her, I see her wetness has spread more along her pantyhose. It helps that they're so tight that they contour every crevice of her waxed mound.

I didn't tell her to do that. She did that on her own, and I am not complaining. What a sweet surprise to find once in a while. Perhaps I'll return the favor shortly.

"You're fine where you are. Just hold tight, my darling. Think about why you need to be punished because I'm going to ask you in a bit." Oh, but what to punish her with? I've got so many fun things, but they can't be used on every woman. No, women have their own tastes, desires, and the varying things that they respond best to. Like my hand. Or a crop. Or a whip.

I think we both enjoyed the crop last time.

However, I recently went shopping. By that I mean I visited my favorite online shop for kinky equipment with Kathleen in mind. What do we have yet to do? How can I make her come harder and harder each time? How can I come harder? It's not enough to have a good orgasm time and again. With someone like Kathleen, only the best is acceptable.

Otherwise, what's the point?

"I've got a surprise for you, Katie dearest." I make my pick. When I approach her, I see her grinning over her shoulder. "First, I want you to tell me why you need to submit."

That grin flickers. Kathleen is still learning that spankings and orgasm denial don't come for free. The point is to help her unload, mentally and physically. Yeah, I'm that kind of Domme.

I want to see my sub's face overcome with ecstasy and escape.

I crave to see her relieved to be free from the confines of reality.

I need to take her to a new paradise where it's only her, me, and the pleasure we create.

First, I need to know why we're doing this. It's not enough to spank her and hear her moan. I need to have a purpose for every strike to her flesh.

"I…" Kathleen looks away from me, her ass stops wiggling, and for a moment I worry she's going to get up and take off her collar. "I'm still learning how to let go."

"I know, lovely." I touch her ass, delighting in the rough feel of the pantyhose. My knuckles graze her wet folds. I decided not to pack tonight, so some things are a bit new for me as well. Such as how much these tailored pants constrict around my loins when I'm getting aroused. "Something must have triggered you to come to me again. Why do you need help?"

Katie bites her lip and digs her elbows into the ottoman. "I've been thinking a lot lately about my career. What am I doing and where am I going after the remodel is done? Is my whole life nothing but fixing things? Maybe I want to manage. Maybe I want to take charge of my family's financials. Then I think… shit, that's a lot on my shoulders. You know?"

"I know." I pull a long piece of black silk from my sleeve and drape it across her back. "I know that kind of pressure. I'm an only child like you."

"Yeah, but you're… you. I'm not as confident as you. I'm a woman to the whole world."

Oh, yes, I'm very aware of how womanly you are, Katie. I don't say that, however, because she means something else. "That's true. It's unfair that people take you less seriously. Including your own family." I don't tell her about my struggles with getting people to take my gender – or lack thereof – seriously. It's not about me, such as my father introducing me as his "kid" or even his "prodigal son, wink wink" to his friends but hurling his knowledge that he's keenly aware of how I was born when he's in a "mood." Or my mother, as well-meaning as she is, telling people I am this, I am that, as if you can box one person up in a menagerie of labels and that's all there is to it. Or how I feel when she and I are alone, like this, and I face the fact that she makes me feel quite womanly as well. The best lovers always do.

But it's not about me. It's about her.

My hand is tender against her cheek as I draw the silk up and cover her eyes. Katie clenches but accepts my blindfold. I tuck it beneath her ponytail.

"Also… I really shouldn't have lost my cool at your house the other day. I'm sorry about that, Mistress."

In truth, I had almost forgotten about that. Feels like water under the bridge now. Why should I care that she embarrassed us in front of our families? I don't know how her father took it, but he hasn't come after me yet. Safe to say this is bothering her a lot more than it is me.

Not that it's a problem. I can punish her for it if she wants.

"You've learned your lesson, I'm sure, but if you need me to knock the worry out of you, I can do that, my sweet."

Her leg shakes on the ottoman. I don't know if she's cramped, or if she's thinking of something that bothers her. Either way, I need to help.

"What do you want me to do?" I kiss her forehead. "Do you want me to spank you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Her cry as I strike her flesh through the pantyhose is so delectable that I'm tempted to keep it up until she can't bear it anymore. Except I have other plans. It's not enough to spank her and fuck her tonight. I need to draw this out. I need to hear her cry from other sources. I need her to feel what it truly means to submit and surrender to someone like me.

Nevertheless, I spank her again. Her knee slides off the ottoman, her hips bringing it back up so she stays presented to me. I appreciate the gesture.

"You're so fucking hot in these things." I draw my finger down her slit, feeling her heat, her arousal. Everything. If I could, I would sink my finger into her. "It's a pity I have to do this."

Ripping a hole in a woman's hosiery so you can access her body is like unwrapping a present on your birthday. Sometimes I'm convinced that's why feminine people wear these things. Of course, I know that's not true, but when someone like me is wound up and ready to pounce, they are going to think about these things.

Especially when you're given a woman's pretty, pink, wet pussy as a reward. Not to mention her ass that has been marked with your hand.

Ah, whoever said that I don't appreciate the extreme of a good binary? I may straddle the middle, but Kathleen is extremely feminine. Outside… and in. She's as hypnotically herself as she is a reminder of who I might have been in another life.

Her whimpers are a sonata as I bend down and bury my nose in her scent. Heady, intriguing, beguiling. No two women have the same exact perfume. They may be similar but trust me when I say that a dominant would know exactly which woman was theirs even if blindfolded. Assuming they were already familiar with her scent, of course.

"I want you to think about every negative thing you've been feeling lately," I say, my tongue touching the edge of her folds. "Think about them while I start to purge your body."

"Yes, Mistress."

I jump in, wrapping my tongue around her clit, snaking it up her slit, and slipping it deep within her – or as deep as a tongue can go. Every bit of her is delicious. Once you've dived in, you can't bring yourself to escape the sea of a woman's essence.

Particularly if that woman is Kathleen Allen.

I don't tell her to stay quiet. I don't want to punish her like that tonight. I'd rather listen to her voice peal every time I caress her clit, taste her arousal, and lightly smack her ass. Besides, she's completely dedicated to me as her Domme now. I don't need to make her hold back what she really wants to say – aside from her safe word, of course.

I doubt I'm going to hear that tonight.

My tongue goes on a journey across her body, tracing patterns on her inner thighs, touching her core, and parting her folds so I can feel her wetness spill into my mouth. Yet it's not until I go upward, touching a place I have yet to explore, that Katie finally gasps in surprise and pulls away from me.

"Relax, darling," I say, bringing her hips back to me. "You want to purge those negative feelings? You need to feel something new."

Leisurely, I run my tongue across every slit I find, but I take my time with her higher one.

"Ira…" Her sweet whimpers tell me I'm doing a good job. "Please, fuck me."

"I would love to," I mutter into her flesh. "First, I have a surprise for you."

The tiny metallic toy with a flared base touches one of her lower cheeks. As if she instantly knows what it is, Kathleen juts forward, trying to get away from the invasive toy.

I won't let her.

"Relax." I tease her pussy, wetting the toy until it's so slick in my hand that I almost drop it. Then I push it toward her puckered opening, delighting in the way her whole body shivers – although shivering does not help me fuck her ass. "Didn't you hear me?" I pinch her cheek. "Relax and let me in."

After one deep breath coming from my blindfolded princess, Katie slightly opens her legs more and pulls on one of her cheeks, opening herself to me and the toy soaked in her wetness.

Once I get past her initial resistance, it's easy to penetrate her. The toy sinks to the flared base, a silver chain hanging from the end and bumping into her mound. I tug on the chain and bring it along her slit, listening to her moan, and feeling her tremble.

"Do you like how that feels, Katie?" I already know the answer, but I want to hear it.

"Yes…"

"Has anyone ever entered your ass before?"

"N… no."

"Not even with a toy like this?"

"No. Are you going to…?"

I hear a wistful tone in her voice. "Not tonight. One step at a time."

Trust me, parts of me have other ideas. Sometimes, though, I do have control over them!

"Now, tell me again what you're so uptight about." I stand up, admiring the chain dangling from her ass. "I'll give you a spank for every one. When I spank you, think of that problem being banished from your mind."

It takes a few seconds for her voice to come into focus. "I feel inadequate."

You may think it's cruel to spank a woman for confessing that, but the moment my hand strikes a clean spot on her skin, she wails, that cry ridding her soul and body of anything that ails it. Namely, feeling inadequate. Do you think she feels that way now? Hardly. She submits to me, yes, but I'm providing a service.

"Do you still feel inadequate?"

"No…"

"What else?"

"I feel like I'm not doing enough for my career."

Spank!

"I don't want to disappoint my family."

Spank!

Her thighs glisten from her arousal making its way down skin and curves. Between the plug in her ass and the spanks she receives, Katie is probably halfway to orgasm. With each spank, she spreads her legs on the ottoman more, urging me to fuck her forgotten hole. In time.

"I feel insecure about the way I look."

My hand hovers, ready to come down again, but I can't bring myself to do it. Not until I get some clarification. "What do you mean by that?"

Her ponytail trembles along with the rest of her. Is she crying? No, no, Katie, don't cry. Use your safe word before you're brought to tears! "I kinda meant what I said at your house. Sometimes I feel I could be any blonde in your bed."

"Don't think that." My palms, my fingers massage her bruised flesh and gently tug on the chain hanging from her ass. "You know what? It's true that I think blond women are the most gorgeous, but I didn't think that until I met you twelve years ago."

"Really?"

"Yes, Katie. I think you created a complex in me."

Her tiny grin soothes my nerves. "I'm done confessing, Mistress. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

I stroke her hair, watching that blonde hair I just confessed to loving spill over her side and brush against the ottoman. "Do you feel better?"

"I do. But I would feel even better if you…"

Two steps ahead of her, I round the ottoman. "Would give you myself. Yes, I figured. Your only order is to not make me come. You'll be happier if I don't yet anyway."

I don't give her time to answer before I shove myself in her face.

Her fingers clench the edge of the ottoman for balance as I take over everything, giving over to my own urges for her. Her muscles relax without contest. Her muffled voice acclimates to moans. Her teeth graze my flesh, but it doesn't hurt – in fact, it feels pleasurable. I told her to not make me come, but it's going to be difficult.

I hold her head between my hands as I thrust against her mouth, delighting in eagerness of her kissable lips and the hot breaths enveloping me. I wonder if I took off the blindfold I would see her gazing at me, adoring me. I don't risk it, however. Looking her in the eye really would make me come, and I'm determined not to yet.

All I want is to fuck her.

This is my way of purging my negative thoughts. I don't need to confess them to her. She knows my insecurities, and I have plenty of them, like anyone else. I'd rather rid my mind of them this way, however. It doesn't hurt anybody, not even her. In fact, I hear that whine in her moans that begs for more.

"Right there." I can't hold back the gravel in my voice. "Now you can't accidentally say anything more."

She tries to follow me as I pull away, but my hold on her head keeps her back. She's soaking wet on both ends, and I'm about to burst.

Everything hurts, in a delightful way, as I round the ottoman again and bring her hips toward me. "Say it, darling," I growl. "Say you want me to fuck you."

"I do, Mistress." Her gasps sound like they're from another world. Good. She's entering a better headspace. "Please! I can't take it anymore. You've got a plug in my ass and…"

She sounds like a maniac when I pull apart her folds with my thumbs and shove two fingers in her "And me in your pussy. I know, darling."

So it begins – and ends.

I welcome the sounds of her moaning, crying out, and near shrieking as I thrust into her, grab her ponytail, and tug on the chain in her ass. It's all a symphony of pleasure to me. A symphony I appreciate more now that my knuckles have made their way home into the depths of Kathleen's sumptuous body.

Her heat astounds me. She nearly burns, her need for me the fire that's calling this moth to the dangerous flame. I can't help it. I need her as much as she desires me. I'll push in as deep as I can, feeling her innermost places and preparing to devour her, to mark everything I touch so no other could possibly think they can have her.

It's these barbaric moments that make me feel the closest to heaven.

"Ira!" She's screaming my name, but I can't listen, because I'm so awakened to the slickness of her flesh and the tightening of her inner walls. "Please, please let me come!"

I want to. I want to do more than that. Like push my other hand down my underwear and touch where her tongue was only a moment before. I'd have to take off my clothes to mark her. But it's fine. She knows how badly I want her; she can't get enough of us making love.

The sound of our bodies conjoining. The scent of her, of me, of us becoming one. The taste of it on the air. The sight of my fingers sliding in and out of her glistening folds, feeling how ready she is inside to take me.

It all becomes an erotic symphony that is truly a banquet for this Domme's senses.

But it's not enough. I pull both hands away from their targets, feasting on my need to come but denying myself all the same.

And denying her.

"Ira Mathison I swear to God…"

I yank her off the ottoman, the chain slapping against her calves as I make her walk in those stiletto heels to my bed. She lands with a soft thump as I push her down, drawing her legs up onto the bed and shoving her pink T-shirt up so I see a hint of those hard nipples and can watch the jiggle of the underside of her breasts every time I slam into her. I don't need these damn pants. What I need is to wrap my legs around Kathleen and ride her to orgasm.

I also rip off her blindfold.

Fuck, I was right when I said I would lose it looking into her eyes. And yet I can't help myself. My hands hold her down by the shoulders as I reclaim her center with half my hand. The gasp, the widening of her eyes, those sweet blues sparkling as they gloss over and she returns to a world where she begins to come over and over.

My hands hook beneath her knees and hold them up, granting me a better angle to take her. I'm so deep, so far in that I can barely thrust in and out. It doesn't help that her constant climaxing has her clenched down on me like a vise. I've barely registered that I've been touching myself as well, dangerously close to the edge.

"You want me to come, don't you?" Sometimes I don't recognize my own voice when I'm like this. It's terrifying, mystifying, and so fucking amazing that I want to stay like this with her forever. "You want to surrender to me?"

"Yes…" Her eyes clear long enough for her to hear me. "I surrender to you."

Those are the words that kick my ass and send me over a dangerous edge.

I've reached the point of no return. Katie's moaning as loud as I am groaning, her body shaking from my hand as she completely surrenders to my whim. I feel her orgasm once more, those muscles massaging my fingers until I finally give her what we both want.

"Ira!" No matter how many times she cries my name, it never gets old. "Oh, God."

Not bad company, if I do say so myself.

My hand stills inside her, deep, giving her what she begged for. I redirect my energy to my own clit, the relief flooding through my thighs unlike any other high this world can give you. Not only on my end. Looking at Katie gasp at how I fuck her tells me that this is also the best high of her life. In that moment, as I reach deep into her, and her body shudders all around me, it truly feels like we have nothing but one another in this world.

I almost forget what I'm doing. As climax clocks the back of my head, I cry out in my need for her. She braces against my elbows as I heave my thighs up and unleash myself on her stomach. Her eyes roll back. I feel like the ruler of the fucking world.

"Ira…" Her whisper haunts me as I lose my energy.

I land on her, sucking her nipples and throat, my mouth everywhere at once, I swear. Katie closes her eyes and presses her hand against her forehead, heaving deep and yet shallow breaths as her center relaxes around my submerged knuckles.

Slowly, I pull both my fingers and the plug out, amazed that one woman can be so wet. Her legs stay spread as she watches. I wait for her to freak out on me like she did that first time, but all Katie does is fling back onto my bed with a mighty sigh. Now there's fluids on my fucking bed. I drag myself to the nightstand to get tissues.

Kathleen helps me clean up, still wearing the T-shirt and torn pantyhose before kicking off her heels and disappearing into my bathroom. I search for my pants. It's not a romantic moment. It doesn't have to be.

Considering my doorbell is ringing, it's probably a good thing we're not in flagrante.