Chapter 75

Ira

The moment I'm on my feet again, Kathleen kisses me, her strength pushing through my body as she takes my face into her hands and works her fingers down my neck. I'm stirring. Not merely from lust and my desire to have her, but from the thumps in my chest, coming from my stupid heart that's in love.

"Did you leave your ego at that door?" she asks, nails biting my skin. "Are you in control of your dominant tendencies? Because if you're not, I will make your life hell tonight."

Oh, boy. "I did. I am yours." As long as she keeps touching me, she can do whatever she wants. Well, within reason.

She's looking at my chest, at my golden zipper sticking out because you'd think my clothes had minds of their own. "I've thought a lot about what I want to do to you. You may be surprised. I don't want to punish you for anything… unless that's what you want."

"Not tonight."

"No, not tonight. Tonight is about something else." She unzips me, tortuously. Heaven forbid she go for it like if we were vanilla. "Tonight is about sharing something tender. Wholesome."

She's not smiling. She's 100% serious.

"If I feel your sincerity tonight," Kathleen continues, lowering my zipper and getting a gander of my black silk boxers, "then I will not only give your family the money you need, but I will give you me." Her lips press against mine. "Forever."

Death is about to claim me. Did she say she would be mine… forever? Does that mean she would also… you know…debut for me?

"I am serious, Kathleen."

"No. Mistress."

I swallow. "I am serious… Mistress."

"That's the spirit." She kisses me again, harder, squeezing the back of my neck and holding me to her, as if I'll make my escape any moment now.

No.

She's letting the world know that I belong to her. We may be the only ones in this apartment, but fuck me, the world will know I'm hers.

Let it be known that even though I walked in willingly, I am still who I am. When the woman I love – let alone lust after – pulls on my tongue and snakes hers around it, I am going to damn well try to turn the tables. I don't mean to do it. I'm perfectly content letting her run the show, but damnit, she tastes so good, and I want her to feel how much I want her!

She pushes away, finger beneath my nose.

"Don't." I'm further scolded with a click of her tongue. "You don't get to do that tonight, Ira. I'm the one in charge. If you can't behave, I'll have to restrain you. Understand?"

It's weird having your own words thrown back at you. I bet she loves this.

"I understand, Mistress."

"Excellent. Now try not to touch me. You can touch me when I think you've proven yourself worthy."

The words are different now. The intent isn't.

We Dommes play a lot of games with our subs. It's a part of their training, their servitude, and a way of expressing love and adoration. When a Domme says, "try not to touch me," that means they're testing you. Not just your boundaries, but your self-control. Very rarely does a Domme not want to be touched. It's more like they want a reason to restrain and punish you later.

So when I clamp my hands on her hips the moment she starts kissing me again, I know I'm misbehaving. I don't care. I deserve what's coming to me.

"I think you did that on purpose." Kathleen pushes away, walking to my pile of clothes and picking up my tie. "Are you being insubordinate on purpose, Ira?"

"No."

"No, what?"

I grimace. "No, Mistress."

She clasps my hands behind my back and knots my tie around them. It's a loose knot. I could easily break free, but I choose not to. I want to see where this is going.

About five million different directions. Fifteen, if I count the money she's promised me.

"That should keep those grabby hands off me. What, do you think I'm some idol you can grab off the mantle? You lot." I'm shoved back, her disgust overplayed by holding a kernel of truth. "People like you think you can have whatever you want. You do the bare minimum to get us, and you do the bare minimum to keep us. Did you think I would be satisfied submitting to you and having boring vanilla sex for the rest of my life?"

For the love of mercy and all the good in this life, she pinches both my nipples.

"Well, do you?"

"No…" Okay, this hurts a little. I'm not used to pain. I'm not used to a woman grabbing my chest and giving me a purple-nurple like this is second grade. "It's not right or fair to you."

"To me? You're right." She releases me, but the soreness remains. To say I feel knocked down a single peg is an understatement. This is starting to feel too real. "Other women may be satisfied with kowtowing to you for the rest of their lives, but I deserve better. Don't I?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I'm not on autopilot. Katie truly deserves better than being made someone's plaything. She's strong. She's independent. She's opinionated and doesn't give a fuck if you disagree. For someone to take her and reduce her to nothing more than a submissive stereotype is wrong. They would break her spirit. They would take the great thing about her away from this world.

When I realize I probably came off sounding like that kind of person this whole time, I want to punch myself in the face.

"Do you know why I so eagerly eat you out?" Nails trace trails down my abdomen, dipping into my navel, and playing with the tops of my pubic hair as it pokes out from my boxers. My cunt rushes with heat, with anticipation. Of course, I don't get a touch. "This may shock you, but there's little in the actual act itself that's fun for me. What gives me pleasure is giving you pleasure. When I'm down here…" she points inside my pants, "I feel like I'm the only woman in the world who matters to you. That's an addictive feeling, Mathison."

I think about asking her to prove it right now, but I would be overstepping my bounds. Hey, I'm learning!

"So, I would ask you… how would you worship me?"

I knew it. I knew that's what she wanted. For me to make her feel like the Queen on the chessboard. Even a Pawn can kill her, you know, but only in certain ways. The Queen can annihilate the Pawn in almost any direction she pleases.

"I'd kiss you all over… Mistress." I suck my lips in, wetting them, imagining them on every soft spot of her body. "You deserve to feel like a queen. I'd bring you so much pleasure that you'd…"

"Let me guess. Come really hard."

I clap my mouth shut.

"That's not enough. I need to feel like you live to worship me, Ira. I want you to use everything but your hands on me to make me feel like the woman of your dreams. You've been waiting and aching for what you see here forever. Make me believe it."

She reaches into my boxers and touches my mound. Although I try to contain it, a groan still echoes in my throat. Yup. I'm wet.

"We're not even going to touch in a bit. But you're going to make me feel like the fifteen million bucks you want from me."

Her hand strokes my cunt for a few more seconds, forcing me to face my desire and hold back any impending orgasm. I bet she'd love that… if I came all over her hand without permission. Maybe that's why it didn't work out twelve years ago. I sensed the Domme in her and panicked.

I'm not panicking now.

"Sit." Kathleen pushes me down into the nearest empty chair, unrestrains me, and stands about ten feet away. Her legs open, her arms cross again, and her visage sets in a callous, stoic look that makes me shudder.

I'd love for her to look at me like that while I held her down and fucked her brains out.

Alas, I am here in this chair, half naked and with my breasts and genitals hanging out like the biggest pervert in the room. Kathleen, dressed in her pajamas, will not relent control to me tonight. Or at least not right now.

"Touch yourself. For me."

Cute.

It's not often I masturbate in front of a woman, let alone one I've Topped more than once. That's usually reserved for very specific types of D/s play. I mean, that is what's happening right here, but not what I would normally have in mind.

I'm doing this for her. To entertain her. To turn her on. Not for my own pleasure.

I'm doing it to make her feel special and adored. My head enters that kind of space the moment I touch myself. Slowly, I stroke, pushing my finger down until my back arches, giving Kathleen the view I know she wants. "See what you do to me?" I would say, if I didn't think it would piss her off. "I can't stop touching myself around you. You're so gorgeous and irresistible that, instead of putting my hands all over you, I'll sit over here and come on myself."

As if she reads my mind, she says, "Don't come. Manage to do that, and I'll give you exactly what you're thinking of right now."

Right now? What I'm thinking of? What's that? Do tell, Kathleen.

All right, we've reached a point where I'm not sure what I'm thinking. Because A) My cunt is exposed 2) It's wet 3) I've got my hand on it 4) I'm fucking masturbating and 5) Kathleen's nipples are poking out of her shirt, and I can't tell if I should stare at those or her beautiful face.

She glances down with a sigh.

"You know, Ira." Speak to me, my Queen. I am your pretty Pawn. "I was doing a scene like this that fateful night at Midnight. You know which one I'm talking about?"

My hand stills. "I have a good guess."

"Indeed. I was with a very nice-looking lady that night. I don't remember her name, but she was beautiful. Breasts so hard you could eat breakfast off them." Kathleen turns on one bare foot, hiding a grin as she thinks of this mysterious stranger I've never met. "And let's not forget how eager she was. First thing I had her do in that room was start stroking herself like you're doing. I do love seeing someone work themselves. You can learn a lot. Particularly how they like having their bodies handled."

Does that mean she's taking notes?

Also, let's take a look at this. Kathleen is telling me this story for a reason. Obviously, she would've thought of it anyway, but she didn't have to tell me about this girl who's more beautiful and probably bigger in the chest than me. Not unless she had a specific purpose. And if it's not to humiliate me, then it's to tell me a message.

As I touch myself faster, forcing my body to refrain from orgasm even though this gorgeous woman I love is standing before me, nipples hard from my performance, I realize she's studying how I touch myself. So she can do what I like in the future.

"Does this please you?" I ask, trying to keep my sarcasm to a minimum. I do want to please her. I want her to be so hungry for me and my body that she can't help but come over and spread her legs across my lap and sink onto what I offer my stunning goddess when I remember to wear my goddamn prosthetic that I left at home tonight like an idiot.

I touch wetness on my fingertip. Great. This is going to get pretty difficult soon. But she said she would give me what I wanted. And I want her.

"I'm pleased, Ira. You're very stunning like that."

Stroke my ego while I stroke my clit, why don't you?

"Stop."

Oh, but I was getting to the good part – where I start going faster, touching myself below and imagining all the things I would like to do to Kathleen Allen. Things I've done before, and things I've yet to try.

I would probably come. Not sure I care. She didn't care that one time.

The moment I stop, however, she steps forward, gripping either side of my armchair as she gives me a fantastic view of her breasts within her shirt.

"You did well. Would you like your reward?"

Do dogs want their treats? I'm a simple person, Katie. You know I want my reward.

"Yes, Mistress."

She sinks to her knees, hands moving from the chair to my legs. Kathleen rubs my stomach, my thighs, and the sides of my ass before sticking out her tongue and tasting the arousal spreading across my slit.

Her eyes do not leave mine. I nearly die from the shock hitting my system.

Her breath, her lips are better than my hand could ever be. Damn straight this is a good reward. After that talk she gave me about what she likes about…

Uh. Uh.

This isn't like any oral she's given me before.

First of all, those teeth are damned dangerous. Pretty sure you're not supposed to bite the flesh… not that she's doing that. And, sure, she's grazed my cunt with her teeth before, but this is a warning shot. She's putting those incisors in my skin enough to let me know that one wrong move and goodbye all sanity, this woman now owns everything that made the doctor call me female at birth, and girl by anyone who didn't like the way I looked.

It's hot.

Holy fuck is it hot!

My thighs shudder. Not in orgasm, but in absolute wonder that a woman could make me feel this way. I'm not quite claimed. Definitely held in place. Definitely under control, with no way to fight back or reclaim what is mine – like my clit that she sucks while my legs attempt to spread wider in my falling pants and she stares at me like she'll eat me alive.

Teeth aren't my only concern. Kathleen knows what she's doing, and I trust her. However, she's a little too good at what she does, because there's her tongue, massaging my slit and tasting my clit. Her lips work my neither lips whenever she finds enough room to make me appreciate my God-given cunt. Oh, and those freezing cold blue eyes staring into mine, determined and bold.

And so, so beautiful.

I'm being blessed. This talented woman has chosen me to receive her erotic gift, and to push her away, to deny what she wants to give would be a terrible thing to do. I have to obey her. No, I need to. I want to know in what other ways she loves and adores me.

And how I can adore her in turn.

There's one problem. I'm human. I'm someone who has had a lot of time and practice holding back orgasm, but there reaches a point where I am gonna come. Kathleen is pushing me to that point, with her tongue swirling and lips pursing around every part of me. My hands squeeze the armrests. Strange sounds of frustration come from my throat. I'm trying damned hard to not come all over another Domme's face. If our roles were switched, or if we were being vanilla? Fuck yeah! I'd hump her face and send everything I have all over those pretty pink lips.

No. I need to obey.

Much to my chagrin, Kathleen eases off my cunt. It's covered in her saliva, my own wetness, and the hot breaths and body heat of two people losing themselves to this damned moment. Cruel. Cruel.

"My poor baby." She turns her lips into a fake frown. Her fingers flick against my mound, teasing it. "You want to come, don't you? You're fighting back the urge to grab the back of my head and drive your cunt in my face and make me choke on you. How admirable of you to hold back."

Fuck you, Kathleen.

"Why, if I do anything else to you, everything is going to spill out of there, isn't it?"

I don't say anything. She fucking knows.

"All right. I'll take care of it."

Foolishly, I believe that means she's going to let me come. Haha. Nope.

I'm a na?ve idiot when it comes to submitting to a woman.

She makes me get up and finish undressing as she goes into the bedroom. I'm not invited in there. Instead, she returns what feels like fifteen minutes later, when my pelvis has embarrassingly dried even after all of that. I have no idea why. It's like my body knows to defer to her wishes, and she wants me back at the beginning again.

I need relief, and I needed it twenty minutes ago when she was all over me.

"Sit down, Mathison."

I obey, but only because I once again foolishly believe she's going to get me off.

Hahahahaha!

When I see the Avalon Lite in her hand, I know I'm done.

"Don't give me that look," Kathleen says playfully, her hand wrapping around the base of the Avalon as she approaches. It's not until she's securing it between my legs, as if she's seen me do it a hundred times before, that I notice the tiny vibrator beneath the ridges that go right against my cunt. Oh God, oh fuck it all, that shit is already buzzing. Increase the flow of blood, why don't you? Not like it hurts down there or anything. That painful ache of desperately needing to climax. This isn't metaphorical blue balls. This is gender-bending black and blue balls.

Kathleen gives me a cursory lick before standing back up. She ties my hands behind my back again, and neither of us wants to laugh at her plaything sticking up from my pelvis. I'm trying not to think about it.

Shiiiiit.

"I know it's a lot, baby." That cooing drives me up the wall and makes me want to do whatever the fuck she wants… especially if it means a happy ending for me. "You're a good sport, though. So I'm going to give you the best thing possible."

I don't expect anything now.

"My pussy," she whispers in my ear.

For a split second, I allow myself to believe I get to fuck her. Only a split second, however, because soon I'm on my knees on the carpet, watching Kathleen shake off her shorts and underwear. Both are kicked across the room until I'm staring up at her beautiful slit now covered in the finest blond hairs.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Kathleen sinks into the chair I was in, spreading her legs wide open so I see nothing but what's between them. She's wet. Really, really wet.

Did this do that to her?

"Tell me it's what you wanted. And mean it."

I mean, I'm looking right into your body, aren't I, Kathleen? I'm always down for that. "There hasn't been a moment where I haven't wanted any part of you."

Her domineering smile falters for a moment.

"Eat my pussy, Mathison."

How do I say no to that?

Let's get a grip. Whenever I'm between a woman's spread legs, it's because I'm spoiling her. This is true as a Domme and as… well, whatever this is. There are times I use it as a tool to bring her to the edge and then deny her orgasm, but usually, if I'm going down, my tongue dipping between folds and my nose inhaling the heady scent of a woman's natural, sweet odor, it's because she deserves to be spoiled.

Even this woman, with her arms crossed on her chest and her face as sour as a lemon orchard, deserves to be spoiled in the most intimate way possible.

Don't get me wrong. I love doing it. With her. Kathleen's scent and taste alone are enough to turn me into a slobbering mess who gets lost in the world she creates, either as a Domme or a sub.

My tongue moves between her folds, flicking against her clit, dipping into her entrance, and teasing her with the tongue fuck I know she wants. The last time I did this, she screamed for nearly five minutes. When her hand snatches in my hair and holds me on her pussy, I think, well, there are worse ways to die. Might as well drown down here with my hands tied behind my back and a vibrator raging against my cunt.

"Holy shit you're hot."

Kathleen tastes like ambrosia, as befitting a goddess of her Olympian standing. The deeper my tongue goes inside her, fucking her as my nose rubs her clit, the more I realize this Domme only cares about her sub idolizing her until she's become one with the universe, the stars and planets around her.

I can do that for you, Kathleen. For you, that is the easiest thing in the world. I can't imagine any woman more deserving than you.

You. My Queen. My Goddess.

The woman I would marry and spend the rest of eternity with if given the chance.

Can you feel it? Can you feel how eager I am as I lick, tickle, and fuck you? Do you like the way I sink my tongue so far in that you squirm enough to tell me that this is heaven to you? Do you like how the tip of my tongue comes out, covered in your wetness, and contours around your sweet clit? Your voice is firm, but your resolve is weakening. You want me to fuck you as much as I want to do it.

Any apprehension I felt when I walked up here is gone now. I don't care if she ties me up. I don't care if she directs what I have between my legs and says, "I'm your God, honey."

I don't even care if she pushes me onto the floor, crawling over my supine body, straddling my head, and sitting on my face until I can barely breathe.

"You like eating my cunt, huh?" Kathleen laughs, too amused for her good. Meanwhile, I'm down here unable to answer because her pussy is rubbing all over my mouth, my nose, my fucking forehead as she marks me all over. "Tell me how much you love me with that thick tongue of yours."

I mean, I thought that was a given.

Nevertheless, I obey, not that I wouldn't anyway. Yet I'm elated to drive my tongue inside her, taking my chances to breathe whenever she lifts her hips off my flesh. She's fucking my face as much as I'm fucking her folds. And it's killing us both.

I want her. I want to feel her climax all over me, hear that beautiful voice scream, and taste her.

Kathleen doesn't say anything. She's too lost in the moment, driving her hips down on me, pulling my short hair, and bracing her feet against the carpet as she fills my mouth with her wetness. A lot of wetness. As she cries out, rhythmically taking me, I taste a wave of her sexual energy as it washes over my tongue and runs down the back of my throat. Is this what it feels like for her when I do the same in turn?

"Shit." She rolls off me. My face is hot with her. I don't want to think about it. I want to think about her body collapsing from orgasm, her chest heaving into the air with every languished breath.

"Kathleen," I say, then correct myself, "I mean, Mistress…"

"What?"

I brave pulling my hand out of my binds. I caress her stomach, pushing my fingers into her cleavage and reveling in the shape of her breasts. Those hard nipples are about to puncture holes through her T-shirt.

"I love you."

She lets me touch her. For some reason, that makes me grateful. I don't think I could bear her denying me the gift of reveling in her beautiful, glowing body. That would be true torture.

Kathleen sits up, stroking my shoulder. "You must, if you're lying naked on my floor with my pussy all over your face."

"Oh, is that what happened?"

I'm kissed, eased over, and straddled across the hips. Kathleen's slick thighs rub against my skin, and I don't think twice as the prosthetic – which is hers, mind you, not mine – is guided into her.

We both sigh in contentment. Yet mine is short-lived, because Kathleen moves, swallowing something we share inside her, claiming this extension of our mutual ego with her entire body.

I don't need to be told what to do. I don't need Kathleen to command me, and I certainly don't need to be talked to like a sub to satisfy this bucking woman.

My hands take her hips. My body lifts off the floor, thrusting into her, the vibrations hitting me right on the clit and making me want to come sooner than I'd like. I don't even know if I'm allowed to come. It doesn't matter. It's forever her and me, and that's all I need.

Our eyes don't meet. Hers are closed, but mine are devouring her. There's something magical about the way she fucks me. Although Kathleen has ridden me like this before, let alone after dominating someone, this is completely different. She's losing herself to everything. Everything. The room. The city beyond these walls. The world. My body is merely a conduit for taking her to a higher, more orgasmic level of existence. I don't know what it feels like for someone so confident in the way the world declared her to have sex. I will never know.

I do know what it feels like on this end. I feel like a stallion. Hey, don't laugh. You get what I mean. One of those wild stallions that's used to having their way across the open plains. Taking what I want, when I want. Then along comes this woman claiming she can tame and break me in. She captures me, traps me in her pen, and hops on for the ride of her life.

The longer this goes on, the more I'm convinced this stallion can accept a rider after all. Just her, though. I don't want anyone else to have this privilege.

I think it's safe to say she feels the same way about me.

It doesn't take long for her to come again. I'm driving deep into her, searching for the most sensitive places a woman hides within. Even though I know where they are, it feels like a more strenuous task when that woman is a Domme and you've got this blasted vibrator buzzing against your most sensitive skin.

Kathleen is the most stunning specimen in the universe as she loses it all over me. It's not only her clenching form or the bounce of her breasts within her shirt. It's the way her hips slam against mine, the wetness covering my pelvis, the moans of exasperated pleasure, and the way she completely abandons everything holding her back from expressing how she feels.

No words pass between us. They don't have to.

"Fucking hell," she finally relents, falling against my chest when she can't bear to go any longer. Except she's not about to forget me, her loyal sub who has stayed true this whole time. Kathleen inhales, forcing her chest upward as she kneels beside me and wraps her hand around our prosthetic.

I lay back on the carpet. Might as well.

"Come for me, baby." She squeezes; I grimace in painful pleasure. "You've earned it."

She's not gentle.

The Avalon jerks against my mound, rubbing the ridges against my clit while the vibrations claim my entire pelvis. I want to come now, but Kathleen is quick, diverting the vibrations before I have the chance to climax. Instead, I'm stuck here, feeling orgasm at the edge of my body and brain while the loveliest woman in the world masturbates me and occasionally kisses the tip of our shared prosthetic. Because I know it's not mine, even if it looks like one of mine. It's hers. I know my Katie takes good care of her playthings, and that includes me.

And it, which is plenty wet from her riding me, and let me tell you, that alone should be sending me to the moon. I was worthy enough to be on this end of her lovemaking.

Instead, it's marking me with agony. I take her wrist and groan, venting my annoyance.

"I wanna see you explode, Mathison," she growls. "Do it for me."

For you, Katie? I'll come five times. Instead, I have to be content with one. A big one.

It begins in my core, expanding in heat and desire until I'm engulfed in such an intense climax that I think I might… well, no, I'm pretty sure I'm dying. This is truly, surely the feeling of someone on the brink of death. I've got a heart attack coming, and the only one keeping me from keeling over is Kathleen, the woman pushing the vibrations hard against my skin and rubbing the ridges in circles on my clit. I know exactly what my body is going to do. So does she, as she coaches me through my orgasm.

She yanks the prosthetic away just in time for me to burst. I can't see it, but I feel it: my squirt, which I love to claim my beloved with, is now all over her floor. There's nothing more humbling than that.

When I do come back to the real world, I'm still groaning because of my poor, stupid cunt, which is being taunted by the vibrations again. Before I can be in a world of trouble, my Kathleen pulls it away and presses her mouth against my slit with soothing breaths.

If I were more connected to this world, I would find it so fucking hot.

Kathleen pulls herself up and breathes into my ear. "I love you, too."

It's sweet. It's wholesome, despite the mess I've made in my Queen's apartment. If I spent the rest of the night down here, feasting on my own relief and the knowledge that I was a good sub who did exactly what Her Highness commanded, I could go to sleep easily. Hopefully, wrapped in her arms.

"My, my, you are incredibly wet," Kathleen muses above me.

I barely open my eyes. "I hope so. I came hard enough to shake the whole building."

"I like that, you know." With the Avalon in her hand, she kneels between my spread legs. It would be a glorious sight to behold if it weren't for how placated I am. "How long have we been screwing each other now? If anyone knows that I'm not afraid of putting my partner away wet, it's me." Her tongue flicks against the tip of the Avalon, and I sigh, wishing once more that this were a different kind of night. "There's so much we can do with this state of being you sport right now, Ira."

When she slaps a harness on the floor next to us, I suddenly realize what she's planning.

"Whoa, whoa." Don't get me wrong – the way she confidently snaps on the harness is hot. I'd pay for a professional photoshoot to capture the sight of my smoke show of a girlfriend kneeling with her thighs spread, the Avalon Lite securely snapped to her pelvis as she leans back and stretches her shoulders and spine. "Pink. Pink."

"Hm? I wasn't doing anything without warning." Her glowing demeanor does not falter as she looms over me, her Avalon Lite a stalwart reminder of what I probably look like to the number of women I've taken to bed over the years. Dear God, Kathleen was not kidding when she promised me she was familiar with the line of strap-ons and packing prosthetics. I do not doubt for a second she knows how to use that thing.

On me!

"You really want to, though." I attempt to keep my voice even as my body goes through a hundred scenarios. It's tired. It's turned on. It's wary as heck.

"Of course I do. What, do you think you're the only one who likes to pound some soft flesh until it's nice and red? Sweetheart, I wrote the book."

Did she have to put it that way? "Pardon me for breaking the scene, my Queen, but I think you'll find that certain parts of mine are not as well-acquainted with such majesty as, uh, others you may have been with."

"What others, Ira?"

"You know, the… others…"

She grins. All teeth, no leverage. "We're all allowed our boundaries, of course, but I'd like to point out you've been in places I don't usually allow people, either."

"I am well aware."

Her nose is close enough to mine that I smell her sweat. "All the more reason for me to claim the cunt you're so protective of."

Why are my thighs trembling? Any other woman between my legs, and I'd say it was nerves. Like an alarm sounding that sends every guard in a one-mile radius on alert. Or… is it possible that I like the idea of her just… going… crazy…

In me?

A ginger kiss tugs on my bottom lip before Kathleen covers my chin, my throat in her possessive love. I'm lulled back down to my post-sex haze, where I lay prostrate on the floor, spread eagle, naked, and wanting her. So, this is how it feels, a voice in my head muses as she presses the length of her body against mine, the Avalon rubbing on my mound. One of them finally got a hold of you, Ira. This is for all the other women whose minds you blew with your thunder hips. God knows I'm wet enough.

Still, I've rarely been fucked like that. It's not even something I deem submissive, necessarily. I just like to fuck. To penetrate. To take on that mantle when I'm in the bedroom, feeling like the biggest bitch in the room who makes women feel so good they don't know what planet they're on anymore. I've helped women come from just penetration for the first time, for fuck's sake. I know it's possible. I've seen Kathleen do it a dozen times because her clit was too out of the way to stimulate while searching for the center of her body. Some of us are that good! I'm kinda proud of that!

I'm really proud of that!

"Who was the last one to part these lovely waves you have between your legs, Ira?" she innocently asks. "With something bigger than their fingers."

Good God, of course, she puts it that way. "I don't remember their name."

She laughs. "You're kidding."

"No." I clear my throat, realizing once again that I'm lying naked and spread eagle on her living room floor. "Random hookup in LA. They barely spoke English. I was in the mood to experiment… so when we got back to their room and I realized what they were packing too, I decided to stay and try my luck instead of bailing. Felt like the… courteous?... thing to do."

"Did you like it?"

I know this is part of the scene. Kathleen wants to fuck me, like that, and she's attempting to draw out of me a fantasy that I might be harboring. One I may not even realize was deep down in my psyche, being someone like me, after all.

"Yeah."

"What did you like about it?" Her sultry voice pulls me back in, her inquiry heavy enough to shake me up but her whole vibe is simply… pure. She's not going to do anything I don't consent to. That much I know. But she'll taunt me. The prosthetic rubs along my slit, stimulating me just enough to make the rest of my body tender. "And how can I focus on that?"

"Guess it depends on what you get out of it, my Queen."

"Oh, there is so much to enjoy on this end, isn't there, Ira? Like the exquisite faces and sounds you are sure to make as I fuck you, knowing that I did that to you."

I see how it is. She wants me to give her that. That intimate part of myself that very few will ever see again.

Fitting, isn't it? I've taken from her. Taken, taken, taken. Now here I am, not just proving my love and devotion to her, but giving. My body, my propriety; my heart, my innermost desires.

Yes, I want you to fuck me, my Queen. Those are the words I should say. Instead, all I can manage is, "Can we at least not be on the floor?"

"Ah, of course."

I think we're going to the bedroom when she helps me up, but it's her couch, covered in decorative pillows, that accepts my naked body as she pushes me forward like an indelicate doll. My arms instinctively wrap around one of those soft pillows as Kathleen rolls me halfway onto my back, my ass digging into the crease between the couch and its cushions.

She's on me, kissing me, swallowing any drop of shame I may feel in a moment that does not call for it.

"Say it," she whispers in my ear, hand on my pussy as I make the most pathetic, feminine sound anyone has ever heard me utter. "Say what you're thinking, Ira. Tell your Queen what you desire, and she'll make it come true."

I give in. My arms wrap around her and bring her closer to me, her T-shirt delightfully soft against my nudity.

"Fuck me, Katie." My gasps wreck me, but I let them flow. "Make me feel what you do."

Her purr in my ear is accompanied by a knowing thrust between my legs. Just like that, I'm penetrated by the bestselling model on the Avalon website. "I thought you'd never ask."

Instantly, I'm whisked away to another place. One that exists right here at this moment. Nowhere else. No when else. I don't compare her to me. I don't even compare her to the select few who have felt me like this. There's no point. Because nobody does it like the woman you love.

She's in me. I'm a part of her. I'm given a glimpse into her mind, her being, as she gently makes love to me again. I sense a desire to go harder, faster, rougher, but Kathleen refrains. I said the word Pink only a few minutes ago, but it's now a foggy memory.

Because I'm gone.

Should I be amused – embarrassed? – that I orgasm again so quickly? Is it because I love her, and anything she does to me will make me come? Is it because deep down I have wanted this from a dominant woman for years? Or because I'm so loosened up that just paying attention to my most sexual places will make me cry out in erotic bliss?

Maybe it's because she knows what the hell she's doing. And here I am, taking it.

Freeing, isn't it?

"That's it, baby." Her thrusts are more relentless as she braces herself against my shoulder, simultaneously pushing me down onto her couch while letting me know she's there and not going anywhere. Not now. Not soon. Certainly not until I've had my fill of her and she's finished proving her point to me. The one that says You're mine, Mathison. That includes your pussy. "Come for me, hm? Come for me and tell me who rules your soul."

My words are choked in my throat. Yet I somehow manage to say, "You!"

Her breaths are likewise harried. Her voice is likewise peaking. "That's right. Tonight, I'm your Domme, Ira. Now, fuck me as much as I fuck you."

That's right. I don't have to be so passive. That wouldn't be my submissive style.

As soon as I raise my hips to meet hers, I'm knocked into the crevasse of pleasure that I've only heard about on the lips of those certainly blessed by life.

What the hell is this sound I'm making? I've spent most of my post-pubescent life practicing my speech until my voice is deep enough to pass for masc in any situation. Not like I'm ashamed of my natural tone when laughing with friends or getting cozy with my girlfriend. But this? A girlish shriek of orgasmic tranquility as I hand over all of my pain, my anxieties to an experienced Domme that I love? The sky wept with God's tears, because I, Ira Mathison, have just unleashed the unholiest sound to ever come from my liar of a throat.

I draw Kathleen into me. I urge her to touch my breasts. I yearn for her to come too, sounding as pleasantly fucked as I do. I want to feel every inch of my body as I'm both consumed and consuming. Never before have I felt so at peace with who I am in such a bare moment. Kathleen. She did this to me.

She sets me free, too.

Reality crashes back down, right along with Kathleen's body as she collapses on top of me. Her hips are no longer moving. Her lips no longer kiss me. Instead, she buries her head between a pillow and my neck, stirring within me, impaling me to her couch.

Why the fuck is this so hot? And how do I get more of this, like, right now?

She kisses my words away, dipping her tongue into my mouth until I forget how to speak. Her fingers fork around my nipple. She doesn't have to say a thing. I know what she's thinking, and I agree. I am beautiful. I am legendary. I am hers.

"Did you enjoy that?" she whispers into my ear.

I nod. "That was intense."

A heavy laugh echoes against the pillow. Finally, she pulls away from me, loosening the straps around her waist. She may choose to wield that thing differently, but she's not a pro-packer like me. But I wouldn't mind borrowing that for a hot minute. She could ride me. I'd happily be her living fucktoy like that.

"You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen," she says.

Why the hell does that make me feel good? Since when do I like that kind of validation?

My hand lands on her leg. "I'm ready to go to bed." I'm so exhausted. Exhausted enough to sleep for the next twelve hours straight.

"Of course, love. I was about to head there myself when you showed up."

I force a smile through my tired muscles. "What were you going to do in bed?"

She rolls her eyes. "Sleep." She helps me off the couch, touching me like the delicate doll she's created. "Sorry that's not exciting."

Quite the contrary. Sleeping with Kathleen is the right level of excitement for me.

I go into the bathroom to clean up and take stock. Did that really happen? Was that what I was so apprehensive about? That wasn't so bad. Then again, that wasn't as heavy as I expected from another Domme… but Kathleen isn't the kind of Domme that turns me off. No, if she was, then I wouldn't be in this apartment trying to win her at all.

I wouldn't be in love with her.

Kathleen's in bed, hair down and wearing nothing but her T-shirt. I mean nothing. I get a kick out of seeing her push back the covers on the other side of the bed, flashing me her bare skin. Doesn't take much to make me stir again, as exhausted as I am.

"So I'm staying the night?" I lean in the bedroom doorway. I'm still naked, but not shy for her of all women to see me bare. No prosthetics, no bindings. "I'm not banned from the queen's intimate presence?"

"Of course not." She pats the space beside her. "My darling needs aftercare."

Me. I need aftercare. That's… well, it's not funny. It's not a riot. It's not really anything in my mind. "You sure about that? I don't think my boundaries were pushed that hard."

Her look tells me to watch it.

Oh, I'll watch it. Because I want to get in bed next to her, to watch the lights go out and feel her wrap around me, our skin caressing, teasing, and lips pushing together over and over again as we navigate the currents beneath these bed covers.

"Anything else you need from me tonight?" I comb my fingers through her hair, enjoying her body leaning against mine in her big bed. Kathleen has a softer mattress than I do. Softer covers, too, although I win in the sheet department.

Her hand presses against my chest, fingers curling up to walk to my throat and flick my skin there. "There is one thing I want, my prince."

"Prince, huh? Now don't inflate my ego too hard." Also, I think this is the first night I've heard her call me so many nicknames. Could get used to that.

"Roll over."

Her wish is my command. My aching body responds with alacrity as I turn on my stomach and stretch my arms above my head, touching the wireframe of her bed. Kathleen rubs my back, kisses my spine…

…And digs her nails into my flesh.

"How satisfying," she purrs, and I am doing my damndest to not flinch or bite the pillow. "Digging my claws into the one who wants to debut me as a sub. And what do I get, hm? How will I make sure everyone knows that you and I had this moment?"

My head lifts off the pillow. Until now, I didn't think anyone would know we had "this moment." Until now, I assumed that the night I submitted to Kathleen Allen would be left in secrecy. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the judgment, the gossip, or the women I usually do business with politely walking away when I have something to bring up.

Yet I am asking her to debut?I really am an asshole.

"I'd like to point out I've never made you bleed," I growl.

"Don't worry, my sweet prince." She pats my cheek. "I'm not a sadist. I wouldn't dream of causing you that kind of pain or scarring this glorious body of yours."

All right, is she trying to flatter me? I have no idea.

"I've got my ways. Hold on. Sit still. This won't hurt, but it might tickle."

A drawer opens and closes. I'm not afraid, but I am wary, especially when something cool touches my back, Kathleen running her tongue over her teeth.

This something doesn't hurt, but it travels across my skin, leaving behind its marks whenever Kathleen bends down to blow it dry.

"There." Kathleen tosses whatever it was into her drawer. "Now come here, Prince Ira."

Tonight I may be a prince to her queen, but I am still a prince, meaning I get a lot of wiggle room. Some would say that my being raised with money and social allowances have always made me a prince of some sort. Usually, when I think of others calling themselves prince, I think of those young, foolish jerks who are too big for their pants and drive me up the wall. You know the types. I don't want to be that.

Here, though, alone with Kathleen, I don't mind being a prince. Particularly if being a prince means pushing her onto her back and overtaking her with my body, lips, and every ounce of intent swimming through my veins.

"Ira…" I've missed hearing my name said that way.

I've also missed being in bed with her, Kathleen, the queen of my heart and body. The only one I trust with everything that I am. The good, the bad, the confused, and the ashamed. The little girl still inside of me never really went away when she came out as non-binary and started being called something else. I played with dolls. I read fairy tales. Deep down, there's always been that part of me begging for my own prince charming.

She's right here, beneath my naked body, seeing me for who I am.

I'd give her my life if I could.

"Ira…" she moans again, this time with my hips between her thighs. "Do you love me?"

I still my body long enough to tell her, "I do." Then I'm back at it because I need her. I need her to be my girlfriend, my wife, my everything. I'll be whatever she wants. She can fuck me with an Avalon all she wants. God knows I like it if it comes from her.

But not as much as I like being right here, reveling in my Queen.