Chapter 2
Good Boy
Sinta Cora
Stepping out of the elevator and into the basement floor of Angel’s Fare, I quickly make my way to room number 16 – my designated space.
One of the regular guards stood before the door.
If something went wrong or I hit the panic button, he’d come running.
One of the fantastic security measures they had to protect us from overzealous clientele.
“Hey, Pete.” I murmur with a small smile.
“Mistress X.” He greets with a return smile. “You know the deal. I’ll be right outside, don’t hesitate to scream.”
“Thank you, Pete.” I laugh. “Try not to get too bored standing out here.”
He only offers a wink before stepping aside and opening the door with a code, closing it softly behind me.
The small closet-like room I enter precedes the play space.
Glancing to the right where a built-in bench and some hooks were – mirroring the left side – I noted the expensive distressed jeans, boots, and shirt folded neatly upon it, with personal items in a lockbox at its side.
Which meant the client was already inside and clad in his provided robe.
Blowing out a steadying breath I remove my own robe, placing it on a hook to the left side, and pick up the paperwork left on the bench for me to read.
Besides the mandatory contract stating my boundaries, his signed agreement to respect them, and a signed waver of his own boundaries and agreements, there was also a page stating some private facts about the client that could relate to our interaction.
Male, 18 years old, first time submissive.
Does not agree to fire or wax play, water play, blood play, or being restrained with cuffs, chains, and Fae-proof rope. Does not agree to breath play or restraints around the neck.
Understands the uses of his safety words; Red for stop, Yellow for slow down, and Green for continue. Understands the use of two-tap to stop a session should he be gagged and unable to speak.
Client agrees to no private information being exchanged, no use of pet names outside of the approved list, touch without obvious consent, and that actions not appropriate to the roll of submissive will lead to session termination or severe punishment of the Domme’s choosing.
Client has refused to give government name for session, has consented to state that they are a highly dominant dragon shifter.
Bulking, I reread the last line again.
Dragon Fae were rare and undoubtably at the top of the food chain.
I’d never met one, let alone had one as a submissive. Their natural dominance usually meant their inner creature wasn’t willing to bend or temporarily afford control to others.
Thinking it over, it perfectly explained his offer to pay an exorbitant amount for a measly hour.
One wrong move and he was likely to bite my head off.
Terrifying. But I’d learnt through my craft that terror wasn’t entirely…….. off-putting.
It could even be exhilarating.
Placing the documents into the lock box beneath my hanging robe, I check myself over one last time. Then I move towards the door.
The room was set for mood, all black and red with touches of velvet.
The space was lit by a large fireplace and a few luminescent red lamps.
It gave the illusion of shadows and silk and sin without depriving one’s vision.
Dominating the space was a large dark wood four-poster bed covered with simple crimson red satin sheets.
To its left a large wood cross littered with buckles and straps, and to the right a luxurious red velvet armchair with a pile of pillows at its side.
Along the wall behind the cross was an assortment of whips, floggers, paddles, gags, restraints, and other sexual tools.
Kneeling on the floor at the foot of the gargantuan bed was a large male; his head bowed, palms resting upon his thighs, and clad in a dark robe.
All I could see of him were the wide set of his shoulders and the riot of fiery red curls atop his head.
I studied the stiff bend of his neck and the tension in his spine.
Nervous? Or struggling with the submission?
Settled into my Domme mindset, I moved with confidence.
Silent, I take purposeful heavy steps into the room, my heels taunting him with each staccato tap.
Sauntering towards the armchair, I drape myself into it, lounging with my legs crossed at the thigh, one hand upon the armrest and the other resting on a knee.
I let the silence dominate for a moment, made him wait for me to interact.
I had to set a clear, immediate boundary. I was in charge; I led the session. He would wait for me.
Critically eyeing the flex and tense of his hands upon his thighs, the flickering muscle of his sharp jaw, I take in what I could now see of his profile.
Model-worthy looks. The kind girls fought over.
Slightly tanned heavily freckled cheeks that were sharp enough to cut glass.
Even in this human form the male reminded me of a dragon. The very feel of him permeated the air – fire and smoke and the distinct hum of a predator far more dangerous than yourself.
I itched to see just how far I could push him.
“I understand this is your first time.” I finally murmur. “And that you do not wish to share your name. That means we will have to decide on one for you.”
He moved as if to lift his head, maybe even to speak.
I crack down upon him.
“No.” I snap, striking my heel against the floor.
He jerks, his shoulders rigid.
“I did not give you permission to speak. I did not give you permission to move. Until I do so, you remain on your knees and silent.” I warn. “Should you be allowed to address me, you do so as; Yes or No, accompanying whatever names we agree upon.”
I wait for a moment, let the silence and the crackling of the fire fill the room, before speaking again. “Am I understood?”
It takes him a few heartbeats, the entirety of his being flexing.
But the guttural rasp of his deep tones more than made up for the delay. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Tapping my heel against the floor, I start with my basic questions. “You reviewed the list of approved names you may address me by?”
……… “Yes.”
Allowing myself a small secret smile, I murmur lowly; “Good boy.”
His reaction was immediate and telling.
Tense at first, I watched his hands clench and his shoulders tighten before the barest tremor shook his muscled frame.
I scented soft pleasure and the zesty twist of confusion – hesitation.
He was so new to this that he wasn’t even sure if he liked it.
“And what did you decide upon?” I prompt.
He hesitates, head tilting.
“You may speak it.” I purr.
“Domina.” Is his rough answer.
I raise a brow, surprised.
Most tended to stick with Mistress or preferred Madame. I’d had a few that liked to call me Queen, but they had been extremely submissive and favoured servitude.
Domina was a very strong title, originating from the Roman culture, and tended to be too emasculating or harsh even for a submissive.
It told me he was willing to bend, but whether he actually could or not remained to be seen.
“Do you remember your safe words?”
“Yes….. ah, Domina.”
Pausing, I decide to let it slide. He had addressed me correctly, but if he hesitated again, I would have to give him his first punishment.
“Tell them to me.”
“Red for stop, Yellow for slow down, and Green for continue. Domina.” He rasps.
“Excellent.” I praise, softly tapping my heel. “Your paperwork says you are a Dragon Shifter?”
Shoulders pulling taut, his head dips. “Yes, Domina.”
“Are your beast and I going to have issues? Will he accept my authority within this room?”
A shallow nod. “He is…… curious. I do not think he will protest, Domina.”
“Do you consider yourself a brat?”
A long pause. “No, Domina.”
I smirk, uncrossing my legs. “I will be the judge of that. Stand and undress, then return to your position.”
Standing slowly, he moves as if to face me, but I click my tongue and tap a heel.
Pausing, he seems to think for a moment before choosing to stay facing the bed, reaching for the robe’s sash.
Letting the plush black robe fall to the floor, I suck in a breath at the delicious body revealed to me. At the intricate black, grey, and orange Marks twining his shoulders and upper arms.
Strong, powerfully built, with long legs and a firm ass encased in tight black boxers he quickly shed, I had absolutely no doubt that the front was just as impressive as the back.
Watching him return to his kneeling position, I savoured the delicious play of muscle with each unwittingly tantalising movement.
“Good. Without turning around, I want you to pick up the robe and underwear. Fold them and place them on the end of the bed.”
He did so quickly, the items ending up more rolled than folded.
I would school him on that if he returned.
“Do you feel comfortable?”
“Yes, Domina.”
“Are you sure you want to continue on to sexual activities?” I push.
“Yes, Domina.”
I wait for a long, drawn-out moment, feeling a sort of anticipation. A vibrating excitement of what was to come.
I could scent his impatience, his growing arousal, that zest of confusion still lingering.
My beast roiled with it, stretching against my ribs in a sinuous movement.
Letting my legs part as I draped myself further into the chair, I lounged as if I occupied a throne.
“For the duration of this session, I will address you as; My Dragon. Do you have any objections?”
A poignant moment. The feeling of something large, something weighty, shifting through the room.
His dragon, I imagined, taking my measure.
“No, Domina.” His voice was hoarse, his throat working, and I was hit with an avalanche of spicy arousal.
Though his submissive nature was in question, he very obviously liked the pet name.
I hum a noise, again tapping my heel.
Then I suck in a breath.
“I want you to crawl to me, My Dragon. And then you will kneel at my feet.”
I thought he may hesitate, maybe bulk at the order, but his movements were fluid and sinuous as he settled onto all fours.
I was right. The front was as stunning as the back.
Rippling abdominal muscles, a stunning Mark across his chest, features worthy of a Greek god.
And piercing hazel eyes – a brilliant mix of golden bronze with flecks of green.
Openly perusing his beyond attractive physique, I allowed him to do the same, whereas normally I would have demanded he lower his gaze.
I would teach him that soon enough.
Prowling along the wood floor, he crawled to me with the look of a man starved of water.
Intent, determined, and wanting.
Waiting until he was before me, I watched him pause and hesitate just shy of fitting himself between my thighs.
I gestured him closer with a flick of a finger.
Licking his full cupids-bow lips, he moved between them, his shoulders pressing into my flesh, searing me with the heat of his skin.
I hook one leg over his shoulder in a slow movement, my heel pressing into his tight ass.
He shivers, eyes hooded.
“Eyes down, My Dragon. I will not allow you to top from the bottom.” I scold.
Eyes flashing a deep bronze – his beast pushing to the forefront – I held my breath for the long moment it took him to lower his gaze.
“You’re a very handsome boy.” I purr, lifting a hand to trace his jaw. “The other Doms would brawl to have you on your knees for them. But you’re my toy now, aren’t you?”
A harsh breath, his chest expanding against me. “Yes, Domina.”
I hum, playing with a curl of his hair. “Are you going to behave for me?”
“Yes, Domina.” A whisper this time.
His gaze was no longer on his lap, but higher. Not high enough to meet my own; focused lower on my body.
On my panty clad pussy.
“Do you want to touch, My Dragon?” I murmur, sliding a hand into his gorgeous hair. “Do you want to feel?”
A whole body shudder, his jaw clenching, his abs contracting. “Please, Domina.”
Dragging my nails along his scalp, I was pleased as he shuddered again, pressing my heel into his ass, pressing him closer to me.
The warmth of him made me want to undulate, to writhe against him like a cat in heat.
He ran hotter than anyone I’d ever bedded, almost like a fever.
It must be a dragon thing.
“You may touch me, My Dragon. But the lingerie stays on.” I order.
Breath shuddering, he slid large hands up my thighs, palming the tight flesh.
I arched into the heat of them, groaning as he traced my hips and swept them across the flat plane of my stomach. As he dragged his fingers under my breasts and circled around to palm my ass.
I let him lean forward and press his soft lips to my collarbone, to the centre of my chest. Let him gently suck at the plump flesh of my breast and bury his face in the valley between.
Palming his head with both hands, I thrust one into his hair and skate the other down the smooth hard plane of his back, dragging my nails back up to give him a bite of pain.
He moans, grinding against me, his hands clenching on my waist.
Fisting his hair, yanking his head back, I roughly nip his jaw but deny him the kiss he seeks.
“Crawl to the bed.” I order.
He groans roughly, grabbing at my waist and trying to press closer.
Yanking his hair, wedging a leg between us, I send him onto his ass with a rough shove of my foot, my heel resting in the centre of his chest.
“I said, crawl to the bed.” I bark.
He stares at me, tense, but I glare right back and press the sharp point of my heel into his sternum.
“You’ve just earnt your first punishment.” I purr.
Wincing, eyes dropping, I let him pull away and crawl to the foot of the bed, rising to follow him.
“Bend over the bed, face down. Feet planted on the floor.” I order.
Doing as instructed, I take in the delicious sight of him stretched out and prone, his form tensed to the point I worried he may snap.
I would have to rectify that. I wanted him languid and soft and begging for my touch.
Strutting to the display wall, I scoop up a crop with soft leather tassels and a length of thin silk.
Returning, I take a moment to pause and slowly, softly, drag the crop down his left side. Stroking his skin with it.
“The penalty for disobeying an order is five lashes. I will pause and check with you after each one, so that you can use your colours if needed. Do you understand?”
“Yes Domina.” He breathes, face buried in the silk sheets.
Like he was trying to hide from me.
Placing the crop beside him, I climb onto the bed and straddle his back, reaching for his hands.
Tugging them above his head, I pin them flat, holding them there and retrieving the strip of silk with the other.
I feel his breathing increase as I begin to bind his wrists in a simple knot.
Finished, I drape myself over him, pressing my lips to his ear, enjoying his shudder and moan.
“Be a good boy, and I’ll reward you afterwards.” I husk and grind my hips against him.
He writhes beneath me.
I quickly climb off of him.
“Do not move your hands. I will add a lash to your punishment if you do. Understand?”
“Yes Domina.” He grits.
“Good boy.” I murmur as I retrieve the crop.
Dancing it lightly over the round globes of his ass, I tease him for a moment. Letting it play over the tight flesh and entice him to grind against the bed.
“You will count them for me, My Dragon. Five lashes.” I order.
I do not wait for an answer before delivering the first lash.
With a flick of my wrist I paint a slash of red across his left cheek – not hard enough to cause agony but equal to a slap.
He tenses, sucking in a breath. “One, Domina.”
“Colour?”
“Green, Domina.”
“Good boy.” I purr.
Striking out at his right cheek, I give it a matching mark.
He jerks with the sudden strike, ass clenching.
“Two. Green, Domina.”
Running the crop up his back in a soft glide, I drag it back down onto the flesh of his left cheek, holding it there.
Waiting, waiting.
His breath hitches, body shifting.
And I strike.
Cracking it across the already tender flesh, I listen as he gasps a strangled shout and moans, his body becoming fluid as he undulates against the bed.
“Three. Green, Domina.” He grits out, panting.
Striking the right cheek, I harden the blow, testing his boundaries, needing to see his reaction.
He jerks and muffles his cries into the bed, his back a feline arch.
Pausing, waiting, I frown when he fails to count or give me a colour.
Tsking, I press the crop into his right cheek, pausing the almost desperate grind of his hips.
“What did you forget, My Dragon?” I scold.
He stills, emitting a sound close to a whine.
“Naughty boy.”
Showing no mercy, I rain down two hard blows onto his already abused cheeks, painting the all-too biteable flesh with blushing red.
Jerking, gasping, he produces a deep rumbling groan—the sound a purr from the chest of a languorous beast.
I place the crop against his ass, pressing down, my threat clear.
“Five….. and six……. Domina.” He pants, his voice small.
Trembling, soft, muscles quivering, back arched.
His ass painted with my marks.
Right where I wanted him.
Stepping closer, I run a gentle hand over the sore flesh, my chest rumbling with my own soft, echoing purr. “Colour, My Dragon.”
He shifts, whimpering. “Green, Domina.”
“Such a good boy.” I hum, placing down the crop and running both of my hands over his ass. “I want you to crawl up the bed and lay on your back, hands above your head.”
Stepping away, I watch with satisfaction as he does as he's told.
Climbing up after him, I enjoy the blazing lust of his eyes as he watches me move, straddling his hips.
He throws his head back at the intimate touch of my barely-covered pussy against his cock.
Stretching over him, I grasp his wrists, adjusting the knot so a length of the silk is free. I thread it through a bolted metal loop – trapping his hands above him.
Shifting back down, I rub my breasts against him, delighting in his tortured groan and the feel of his hot breath against my skin.
“Wouldn’t want to have to punish you during your reward.” I husk.
He looks up, pinning me with those unreal hazel orbs, features twisting with a wicked mix of lust, helplessness, and a beastly sort of hunger.
The vibrant orbs pull me in like pools of liquid lust.
“Please, Domina.” He begs.
I move until I’m kneeling between his legs, my palms resting on his thighs, my gaze eating up the sight of his rigid cock.
Long and thick, ribbed with veins and a perfect mushroom tip, I stave off the urge to choke myself upon it.
“Rules. You are not allowed to talk, not a single word. And you are not allowed to come.” I tell him. “If you do either, I will redden your ass until sitting becomes an impossibility.”
Holding that molten gaze, I hitch a brow, ignoring the flashes of bronze, the feel of his Dominance pressing against my skin. The pressure of his beast encroaching on me, trying to bend me.
Snaking out a hand, I grab and squeeze his balls.
Not hard enough to damage, but enough to make it very, very obvious which of us is in charge.
“Am I understood?”
Jaw clenching, eyes rolling, hips jerking, he lets out a hiss of sound.
“Yes, Domina.” He chokes.
Leaning down, he watches as I blow gently against the tip of his member. Writhes as I tease him with the barest of touches.
“Good boy.” I purr.