Dominance and Deception (15 page)

"Hmm. That should do it."

Footsteps approached, sounding slightly different from before, and then, without warning, she tore off the blindfold. The light in the room was dim, so it only took a second for my eyes to readjust and to seek her out. And when I found her...

I'd seen her Domme for Santoro in a corset and lingerie, but this was entirely different, and for a moment my mind went blank as my eyes swept over her. Her red hair was down around her shoulders, framing her pale face and the darkly dramatic eye and lip makeup she'd applied. Further down, her bra, thong and stockings were all complex swirls of black lace that left little to the imagination, and her heels were just chunky and platformed enough for her to be comfortable walking in them.

The overall visual effect was breathtaking, and I couldn't hide my arousal from her—why would I have wanted to? But this went deeper than the way she was dressed—the attitude she exuded was something I'd never seen before. She was dismissive, haughty, predatory, and as her eyes flicked down to my hardening cock, then back up to my face, she arrogantly arched one eyebrow.

It was as if Faye's extremely bitchy twin had stepped in, and I barely recognised her. I was taken aback, and as she interpreted the expression on my face she let the facade drop, giving me one of her warm, suggestive Faye-smiles to reassure me she was still in there. I laughed softly, shaking my head in admiration, and she winked at me before slipping back into character, tapping her riding crop against her palm.

"Something funny,
boy
?” she demanded, her gaze icy and her low, husky voice disdainful.

"No, Mistress,” I told her, unable to completely screen the amusement from my words.

Disapprovingly, she flicked the crop down on my thigh, and pain flared there, a sting that faded to a slow burn.

"There better not be. Because this is no laughing matter."

I lay still, sensing she had more to say, and she didn't disappoint me. Shifting her weight seductively from one foot to the other, she contemplated my bound and naked body. “I heard something about you. I heard you have a high pain threshold, and I'm sure hoping that's true. Wanna know why?"

I nodded, and she let me get away with it, telling me, “Because I've also heard you're a Dominant. And if you can Dom worth a damn, which I
highly
doubt...” Despite her words and her demeanour, her eyes were shining with amusement at the put-down, and I bit my tongue to stop myself from telling her exactly how well I was gonna Dom her later.

Beginning to move around to the side of the bed, she continued, “...then you'll know the amount of torture you can inflict on a willing subject with a high tolerance for pain."

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she scratched her nails down my stomach. “Tell me your safe word, boy."

Unable to resist, I said pointedly, “It's ‘revenge', Mistress."

Her lips twitched as she struggled to hide a smile, and she took a second to get herself under control before responding.

"Really? I was just thinking something along the same lines. And I'm the one with the bound and helpless victim."

Leaning in to kiss me, swiftly and violently, she gave me a smile that went straight to my erection.

"Use it if you need it, boy, because there's no way I'm going easy on you. I held back with Santoro because he doesn't do mind-fucks. You don't get the same luxury. So... Where should I start?"

Recognising a rhetorical question, I kept quiet, captivated by the movements of her body as she paced around the bed. For long moments she deliberated, her eyes hungry as they traversed my figure.

"Pain...?” She snapped the crop down on my thigh again, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. I gritted my teeth and bore it without a sound, and she nodded her appreciation.

"...or pleasure?” She ghosted her fingers over my cock, lingering for a couple of seconds against the sensitive head. The feeling was electric, and I tilted up my hips a little, seeking extra friction. Faye dropped her hand back to her side, giving a slight smile at my frustration as I scowled at her.

I really am gonna make her suffer for this later...

"Since you're such a sulky boy,” Faye said, mild disapproval in her tone, “we'll start with a little pain and go from there. Say, twenty?” She raised the crop and waited for my reaction.

"Not like I'm in a position to say no, Faye,” I told her, deliberately neglecting to call her ‘Mistress', and she gave me another warning strike to the thigh.

"Don't fuck with me, detective,” she snapped. “You have no idea what I'm capable of."

To illustrate her point, she began to lightly tap the head of my erection with the end of the crop, the sensation more pleasurable than anything else. I felt myself getting impossibly harder, even when she increased the force of her strikes a fraction. Then I saw her stance change a little as she lifted the crop higher, and my brain screamed out a warning just as she brought it down sharply against my thigh, a scant couple of inches from my aching cock.

I hissed with reflexive relief, looking up at her with new respect. She was good.
Really
good.

"Try my patience again, and next time I'll be aiming a little to the left,” she told me coolly, giving me a second to contemplate that before moving on. “Twenty strikes, then we'll see. Count along, detective."

She dealt out the blows steadily against my thighs, and I marked each one with the appropriate number, grateful she hadn't insisted that I thank her after each stroke, the way she did with Santoro. When she had dealt the twentieth stroke, she set aside the crop, running her hands over my burning skin instead.

"The thing I've found,” she said thoughtfully, “is that the key to a successful scene is contrast. You cause the pain, and then you can just smooth it away..."

Her hands were slow but firm against the afflicted areas, massaging away the worst of the hurt and leaving my skin tingling. For the first time since she'd tied me up, I began to relax, enjoying the contact. After a minute or so, she turned her attention from my thighs to my chest, sitting beside me on the bed and trailing her fingers over my nipples and down my ribcage.

"Good boy,” she said softly, and I gave her a slight smile, relinquishing myself to her control. I still planned to punish her when this was through, but in the meantime I'd enjoy the moment, since I was incapacitated.

When she'd had enough of running her fingertips across my chest, she straddled me on hands and knees, holding her hips above mine and giving me an amazing view of her cleavage. It was a tantalising reminder of what—under normal circumstances—I'd be able to take advantage of.

"You know what?” she asked, leaning forward to brush her lips against mine.

I lifted my head from the pillow to meet her, attempting to take control of the kiss, and she allowed it for a couple of seconds before pulling back.

Then, meeting my eyes, she told me, “I could really fuck you right now. I mean, look at you..."

As if her body and her words weren't enough of a turn-on, she reached one hand down and stroked up my cock, teasing me until I groaned with frustrated longing.

She released her hold immediately, keeping her hips balanced just out of reach, and continued, “Just look at you. All hard and ready for me to just sink down and ride you with all the strength I have until you come..."

The mental image was so powerful I had to close my eyes against her gaze to keep myself in check.

"Then do it, Mistress,” I said, my voice emerging lower and huskier than I intended it to.

She laughed softly, the sound going straight to my cock, and lightly bit each of my nipples before blowing a light gust of air over the moist skin, tormenting me.

"You think I'm gonna end this scene so easily, detective? No way. I
like
having you in my thrall..."

Kneeling up, still straddling me, she slipped a finger inside her thong, moaning under her breath as she touched herself.

"But I'm so turned on that I can't focus. It's a problem, detective. I'm gonna need a little help, here..."

The last word was almost lost in a gasp as she rubbed harder, beginning a rhythm we both knew by heart. She'd come within a minute if she continued that way, and I tugged at my bonds, needing to go to her aid.

"Get me out of these,” I growled as she began to tremble, her muscles tensing more with every second that passed. “Let me touch you."

Faye stopped herself moments before she would have come, breathing heavily as she whispered, “You wanna help? Then let's see if your tongue is any substitute for my fingers, boy..."

Tasting her sounded pretty good, and I waited while she shimmied out of her thong and knelt over my head, within reach of my mouth.

"C'mon, detective. Impress me, and maybe I'll let you come tonight."

Her distinctive scent and obvious arousal were irresistible, and I began as soon as she got close enough, just tasting her hot, wet skin for long moments before zeroing in on her clit for a split second. She cried out as I drew back again, taking my time, deliberately frustrating her.

"Think very carefully before you decide to keep that up,” she said sharply, and I turned my attention back to her clit, amused.

"That's it... Make me come..."

Somehow, the order sounded impossibly sensual spilling from her lips. Spurred on by her whispers and sighs, I kept up my assault on her clit, varying in pressure, tempo and direction, until she ground against me and came with a cry of ecstatic relief.

Feeling accomplished and a little smug, I waited for her to recover as she curled up beside me, letting the mask drop for a couple of minutes. I could only lay there, my arms tethered, neglected and longing to hold her.

After she'd given herself a while to gather her composure, she rose from the bed, establishing distance and dominance between us again.

"Not bad, detective. Let's see what else we can do with you tonight..."

Now that her panties were off, she snapped her bra undone and let it fall to the carpet, leaving herself clothed only in black lace stockings and heels as well as one of the light chokers I'd picked out for her to wear to work in place of her collar. Turning to her play-cabinet, she pulled out a paddle—small, light and easy to wield.

"Now...since you held out on me, I think I'm gonna remind you who has the power here. By the end of the scene, you're gonna be begging me to let you come."

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her overconfidence, but she didn't look intimidated.

"You don't believe me, detective? Permission to speak freely."

Seizing the opportunity before the offer expired, I told her, “If you think you're gonna have your
Dom
begging, you're sadly mistaken, little tease."

"Well,
Sir
...” Faye said, heavy sarcasm in the word, “we'll see."

Her shoulders were squared the same way they got when she found a forensic sample she couldn't puzzle out, and if it was anyone else she was challenging I'd have had no doubt she'd triumph.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up her hand.

"Permission revoked, detective. Shut the hell up.” Punctuating the words with a smarting slap from the paddle, she turned her back and deposited the implement back in the cabinet.

"I was gonna go for a little more pain, but you decided to smart-mouth me, so instead, we're gonna work on that begging I was talking about.” She sat between my spread legs, settling down, and made no attempt to hide the way her eyes swept over my body, finally coming to rest on my face. “If you come before I tell you to, detective..."

You'll what?

I bit back the irreverent words in case she decided she'd rather go and make some coffee and leave me to think about it for a while. She read the question in my eyes, however, and said, “Then you forfeit the right to get your own back, because I swear to God, I'll safe word every time you lay a hand on me for a month."

The words were light, as if it'd be no big deal for her. I knew it'd almost kill her, but she'd do it, and the thought of how much it would depress us both was enough to blackmail me into compliance.

She was
really
good. Maybe better than I was in the mind-fuck stakes. The knowledge just turned me on further, and from the look on her face, she could tell, letting enough of her own show to make me curse the cuffs she'd restrained my wrists with.

"What do you want, detective?” Her words were quiet and breathy, and her fingers danced up my thighs as she waited for my reply.

"I wanna get out of these cuffs, drag you on top of me, roll you over and fuck you until you can't move,” I said, and she shivered lightly, trying to keep calm.

"Too bad,” she said, throwing a nonchalant facade up as she shrugged and closed her hand around my cock again, beginning to move slowly. I swallowed the urge to groan as she continued, “We're doing it my way today. And you will
not
come from this."

Before I could ask what, she leant forward and took me into her mouth, her hand still at work as she moved her tongue into play. She'd been doing this to me for long enough that she knew every trick I loved, and she didn't hesitate to use them now, keeping it slow, torturing me with every flick of her tongue until I couldn't watch her anymore for fear of losing control.

When my jaw began to ache from clamping down on the moans I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of voicing, she took a break, her mouth still so close that I felt her every word as she said, “You're gonna have to let it out sooner or later, detective... I'm not gonna think any less of you for sounding like you're enjoying yourself..."

She waited a couple of seconds for my reply, then shook her head with a grin.

"Stubborn boy,” she said, sighing distractingly against my attention-seeking cock. “I haven't even started playing hardball yet..."

To prove her point, she returned to her ministrations with added determination, her loose hair falling around her face as she coaxed me to the edge with a skill that seemed effortless. Breathing hard, I wrenched at my restraints, knowing it was futile but too frustrated to care.