"Tch, tch, tch," Camus's tongue clicks disapprovingly as his full, soft lips barely brush the shell of her ear, " From now on, it's Yes Sir, or Yes please Sir."
He pulls away, one eyebrow raised expectantly. It's like a litmus test, to see how she responds. Can she even give up her blustery control?
"You sexy fucker," she barely breathes. Had he not been watching her pouty lips say it, he'd not have known.
One hand comes crashing down against her backside with a dull thwack.
She jumps, not that it hurt with the barrier of her clothes, but more that it was unexpected. The warmth of his hand, still on her ass seems to radiate forward into the bowl of her pelvis.
Camus' jaw tenses. 'Sir' is what he likes to be called, the title he had built this character around. He's not asked anyone to call him that in years.
"Y-yes Sir," the title foreign to her mouth.
"See, you can do it," his tongue seemingly licks the words off his lips. The honorific on her tongue clicks him deeper into his Dom character. God he wants nothing more than to paddle her red.
She hadn't expected the hint of praise in his words to settle and add to the warmth in her belly. She feels the tendrils of a praise kink start to worm their way into her. What will she do to hear outright that she's a good girl? When he steps away the air around her seems colder.
"Would you like that drink?" he offers, holding his hand out to her.
His abrupt switches keep making her head spin. Just when she thinks he's gonna take it a step further, he backs off. She would wonder what he is playing at, but the memory of feeling safe in his arms springs to her mind. She nods and reaches for his hand. He tilts his head and frowns just a little, curling his fingers into his palm, away from her.
"Yes, Sir?" she amends.
He smiles his approval offering his hand once again. His shifts from Dom to Gentleman are purposeful. Not to keep her unbalanced, though that is a happy side effect, but to keep him from ravishing her right then and there. He leads her to the couch and slips into the open kitchen to begin mixing a cocktail.
"Gin and tonic ok? I've just picked up some lovely lemons," he asks over his shoulder as he pulls bottles from a cupboard.
"Yeah, it's fine... Sir," she says, still unsure of what she should say.
One corner of his mouth perks up as he turns away from her. He pours ingredients into a shaker then caps it and shakes over his shoulder. She is unable to look away from him, not only because of his handsome face, but the quality of his hand movements were enticing. How he cut the lemons, squeezed out the juice, held the bottles as he poured; all done with precision and grace as if he was nothing more than a charming host.
Camus can feel the heat of her attention. It didn't occur to him that her steady gaze was founded in desire, or that he was simply gorgeous. He figured maybe she was making sure he wasn't going to slip anything untoward into her drink, as if he'd ever do such an abhorrent thing.
Maybe she was planning to work herself up into a bratty fit over some imagined slight. Her temper both rattles him and tantalizes him. He imagines himself with her tipped over his knee, like last week. Her ass striped red from the wooden spoon he'd just spied in the drawer. His cock does more than twitch in his pants.
Calm down, not yet, she needs the full disclosure, do this right, man or it's gonna go badly. His internal pep talk does little to abate the pressure seeping into his balls.
He brings two short glasses with ice, lemon slices and clear liquid to the couch. He didn't make them especially strong. He doesn't want either of them drunk for this, but a little social lubrication goes a long way.
"Thank you...Sir," her mouth and mind slowly getting used to the dominant title.
They sip in silence for a couple minutes as he gathers his thoughts. He calculatingly stays on the leather armchair with the ottoman between them. For one: it sits higher, a subtle way to show his dominance, and two: he needs the physical barrier as he talks about what he wants to do to her.
She's dying to ask what will happen next. She isn't even sure how to ask, but just when she musters the courage, he takes a big breath.
"So, here are the boundaries that I won't cross. I won't leave permanent marks and none temporary that can't be hidden easily by your clothes. I will not fuck you without a condom. I won't try to humiliate or belittle you, but I will call you out on your behavior. I'd like us to use the color system. Say 'red' and everything will stop. I will not question your use of the safeword, but we will debrief it after, so I know what went wrong." He takes a breath, trying to decide if there is more.
"What will you do?... Sir," she asks, both hands on her cold glass. All this is new to her and she's never had someone be so blatant. Was this negotiation? An interview? An orientation?
"I am going to punish you similar to what happened backstage, but more. I'll want you to say certain things, admit certain things. I want to fuck you." Oh god, just saying it out loud made him hard as a rock. "Your mouth, your pussy, maybe your ass, depending." He decided to throw anal on the table, just to see what she would do. "I will check in with you, so when I ask you 'what color' you can say 'green' to keep going, 'yellow' if you need me to slow down. Like I said, 'red' is available at any time whether or not I ask. But understand that if the scene stops, we won't start up again. I will take care of you after, body and mind for as long as it takes for you to recover."
The word 'recover' jolts her. This is real, this is actually happening. "What do I need to do?" her voice sounds much more controlled then she feels.
"You need to trust me or at least give me a chance to prove you can. You will obey me, give me control, ask my permission for everything, even going to the bathroom until the scene is over. And above all, use the colors to tell me where you are, I can't read your mind."
"Do I...do I get to, y'know orgasm?" Her words make her voice sound strange. She's never had to utter those words before. Orgasm was every woman's birthright.
"That depends on how good you are at begging," he crosses his legs, appearing casual and feeling anything but. She lets out a grunt of disbelief, barely keeping her eyes from rolling. Like she's ever begged for it.
"How long does this um... go on?"
"This is just for tonight, unless little brats don't learn their lessons," he hadn't meant to add the subby name, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. God he can barely keep himself in check and she'd not yet given him proper consent.
She is just looking down at the drink in her hands.
"How does all that sound, do you agree or have something you want to change?" He sounds so much more confident that he feels.
She brings her glass to her lips once more, letting the citrusy, botanical liquid slip down her throat. She licks her lips, sifting through his words.
She has no idea just how much her contemplation is testing his restraint. Of course he wants her to take all the time she needs, but damn if the way she licks her lips isn't making him dizzy with want.
Here now is the true make or break moment. If she says no, then he has to be done, has to get her out of here before he does something stupid. He'll have to relieve the pressure between his legs on his own, probably the second he shuts the door in her face. He suddenly has visions of his cum streaming down the glossy black back of the door.
"I-I'm not ok with my bum, not now anyway," she finally says, wanting to exert a little bit of her own will into this.
"Fine, that is off the table," he hadn't been planning on that anyway. He waits, his intense blue eyes boring into her.
She looks at him nodding, wondering what happens next.
"You have to say it out loud, Missy," his voice low, lust barely contained.
"Yes, I agree," she says shakily, before adding, "Sir."
Relief swells his chest. Thank god for his acting training, otherwise she'd have seen everything on his face. Knowing he gets to have his way with her gives him some mental breathing room. His raging cockstand however, has little such room.
"Well then," he leans back in his chair, swirling the ice in his drink, "as I asked before, where are my panites?" He holds his hand out expectantly.
"You meant that?" her neck flushes unexpectedly hot.
"Everything I tell you to do, I mean, little brat. And you are to oblige me immediately." He snaps his fingers demandingly.
"Oh," she hopes she is indeed ready for this.
He closes his eyes, shaking his head in seeming exasperation.
"Yes... Sir?" she ventures.
His shakes switch to a nod as his eyes open to lock onto her jade green ones. He does his best annoyed and stern look to cover his excitement and desire.
Helpless to argue under the weight of his very efficient blue-eyed stare, she stands, ruching up her calf length a-line skirt to hook a thumb on the soft blue waistband of her panties. Her hips wiggle just enough to pull them over her curves and down. It drives his insides to jelly as she holds them out on one finger towards him.
'Bring them here,' his fingers say as they curl in a come hither motion.
She steps toward him. Reaching over the ottoman, she places them in his open palm.
"Top off," he opens the underthings with both hands, making a show of inspecting them.
She pulls the light sweater up and over her head. He pushes the ottoman of the leather chair off to the side.
"Kneel," his tone is casual, but his desire is not. As she lowers to her knees he rubs the wet cotton panel between his thumb and forefinger. He can smell her arousal on them from here. His own crotch feels far too constrictive. He's got to have something to abate the tight ache between his legs before it takes over completely.
"Unzip me and take me out," he continues to rub the crotch of her panties as his other hand brings his glass to his lips. He sips at his drink as her fingers fumble at the fly of his jeans. He lifts just enough for her to work his pants down a little.
Shakily, she reaches under the black fabric of his underwear, he feels like soft velvet stretched over a steel rod. He springs free and she gasps. Yeah, she'd seen his cock before, but not like this. He looks impossibly bigger from this angle. She remembers just how good his long thickness felt inside her.
"Now, show me what your mouth can do," his hand gestures, making it clear what she is to do. Oh god he wants it, needs it.
Mel obeys him instantly, as if she'd been waiting for permission. He wondered if she'd have begged him for it. Too late now. Her mouth is warm and her tongue cups his underside.
"Mmm hmm," he hums in pleasure. He takes another sip of his gin and tonic as she sucks and moves her head up and down his long shaft.
This, this she could do. She was relieved to finally have something that was familiar in all this. She was more than proficient at blowjobs and often enjoyed giving them. His skin feels soft in her mouth. She swirls her tongue over his tip, little moans flow through her sinuses. Her hand starts moving in concert with her mouth.
Oh god, he hadn't expected her to be this good. He struggles not to just give in and fuck her mouth. He sets down his drink, then grips her hair, pulling her mouth away with a little pop. Her lips and his tip shine with saliva. Her hand keeps jacking him up and down.
"I said your mouth" he growls, batting her hand away with two fingers.
She smiles up at him coyly like she might with any guy. She is well aware of the effect she has.
"Oh little Missy, think you are so clever? Well now you are gonna take me deep, understand?"
She barely nods before he's pressing his tip to the roof of her mouth. The hand on the back of her head gives no quarter. He pushes in farther, still hearing her breath flow in and out her nose. He waits for her to breathe in fully, then flexes his glutes. He pulls her head down, plugging his tip into her throat, blocking her airway.
She willingly pushes him a fraction of an inch deeper, wanting to show off her skills. She rubs him against the back of her throat until it contracts and forces him back.
