Domina

He sat in the waiting area, entirely alone, trying to fight a nervous tap of his foot that gave him away whenever his attention wandered away from keeping it still. He had an image to maintain and it was not the image of a horny teenager who might have bitten off far more than he could swallow. 

Having stilled his foot for the umpteenth time that afternoon he fidgeted instead with the cuffs of his shirt, tugging at the fabric with his fingers and fussing with the buttons. He had made the decision to come here of his own free will and he could leave whenever he wanted, but if he made a bad impression on Lady S then she would pass her disappointment along to Natasha, and she was so very good at making him feel like he had failed her. 

“Mr Laufeyson?” 

He looked up and a woman stood before him dressed in neat office wear. Pretty, but not distractingly so. He stood up to greet her. 

The woman gestured towards the discreetly plain door that had to hide the rest of this establishment. “This way, please.”

As he followed her she handed him a sealed envelope. “Lady S’s instructions. Read them before she arrives, she’ll expect them to be carried out by the time she gets there. You’ll be in Room 3 today,” she added, each word delivered in precisely the same blandly professional tone. 

Room 3 was far less subtle than what he had seen of the place so far, with deep red walls, black leather furnishings, and a few pieces of expensive equipment arranged around the room quite artistically if not entirely tastefully. There was only so tasteful one could be about such things.

When the door closed behind him he opened the envelope, excitement and trepidation mixing as he pulled a single page from it, neatly handwritten and radiating the promise of sin. 

Undress and wait by the armchair, on your knees. 

Brief and to the point. Easy to interpret and just as easy to obey. He removed his clothes carefully, placing them neatly on the dresser by the door, shoes tucked into the shoe rack and jacket on the hanger. It wasn’t cold in the room but he was still shivering by the time he was down to his boxers, and then those were added to the pile on the dresser as well. 

He picked a spot on the floor and knelt, keeping his back straight but looking downwards as Natasha had always preferred. Hopefully Lady S’s tastes would run in a similar direction.

The door opened soon after – he had been just in time. He’d have to remember that, in the unlikely event that he ever returned to this place; Lady S would not leave any space for tardiness on the part of her clients. 

A pair of leather-clad legs halted in front of him, long and slim. He risked a glance upwards and was met with an angry glare. 

“Did I say you could look at me?” 

“No,” he said, dropping his gaze quickly. “I’m sorry.”

The vision above him was a breathtaking one, topped by bleached blonde hair and a coronet with golden horns. She looked angry and he wanted her to take that anger out on him, and he would do his best to make sure that made her feel better.  

She bent down and reached around his neck, her fingers brushing the back of his neck as she lifted his hair out of the way and she fastened something around his throat. A collar? He didn’t ask and she didn’t explain. 

“Up,” she ordered, and he rose to his feet at once. “Over there,” she said, “grab the straps.”

A few lengths of padded leather hung from the ceiling and he reached to take hold of the most conveniently placed ones. He could hear her moving about the room behind him, picking a few things up, from the sound of it. 

“Natasha said you like pain.” 

Before he could answer something snapped against his skin, swift and leaving a stinging pain behind it. He cried out in shock, almost stumbling but he kept his grip tight and held on, staying upright with some effort.  

He expected some small amount of praise for that, but all he got was another strike across his back, harder than the first, and then he felt a hand pressing down where his skin burned, adding further heat. He bit his lip, trying to keep some measure of control over himself. 

Lady S appeared before him, looking him over. A cynical smirk quirked her lips when she saw his straining erection. “Knew you’d enjoy that,” she said. “You look the type.”

Quite what that meant was left unexplained as she moved again. He turned his head to try to follow her movements and for that she struck lower, right at the base of his spine. There were rules to be followed and she hadn’t told him what they were, but if he broke one he was going to be punished for it.

Oh, she was a cruel one. 

He was a little in love with her already.

She timed everything perfectly, never pushing too far, getting damn close to his limit for pain, and when he was on the very verge of losing his grip on the straps and having to ask her to show some mercy, she stayed her whip hand and pressed herself against his back, leather cooling his skin. 

“You did well,” she whispered. “I’ll tell Natasha how good you were.” She moved to stand before him, reaching up to push a sweat-soaked lock of hair from his forehead. She smiled, and he could almost believe that she cared. 

Her hand closed around his cock, stroking slowly at first then speeding up. He gave up on keeping quiet and moaned as she worked him towards a climax, hips pushing forwards, pressing himself into her touch. He came in her hand, covering her fingers. 

She took a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her hand clean and then she reached up to remove the collar she had claimed him with at the start - hours ago, it felt like - and then finally she kissed his cheek, almost tenderly. 

“You can leave a tip at reception on the way out, if you like.” She said this just before she left the room, sounding certain that he would. 

He did, of course; she understood him perfectly already.