7. Mistress Kat
7
Mistress Kat
I pivot to face Raul, who still stands unmoving and looks more glorious naked than any Italian marble statue. But his eyes are dark and unreadable.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth to him. Though it’s necessary to buy us the time we need, I wish he wasn’t put in a position he has to protect me from. I’m gonna bet a man like Raul, the big guy who’s used to leading, doesn’t submit to just anyone, especially in this situation. Will he set aside his pride this one time and play a submissive because Núria’s safety is riding on it?
I’ve researched the hell out of this lifestyle before I came here. I find the dynamic between a Dominant and a Submissive fascinating. Before tonight, I would’ve sworn I couldn’t surrender to someone the way Núria did to Knight. But it took me seconds to make the decision to let Raul spank me earlier. It didn’t feel as if I lost control because it was my decision. I still had power over what happened to me. But maybe that’s the key? I trusted Raul to protect me while I was in a vulnerable state. Trust being the operative word.
Will Raul feel the same about me?
Beads of cold sweat make my palms clammy, and I fight my need to rub them on my thighs. Studying the BDSM world doesn’t mean I have any idea what to do. This whole situation orchestrated by Fox feels wrong to me because the first rule I remember is nobody should be pressured to do this.
“Tick-tock, Mistress Kat,” the robotic AI voice of Fox warns.
I slash my crop at the camera in one swift motion with more bravado than I actually feel. “Don’t rush me. This is my scene, and I’ll decide what happens,” I snap.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Raul whispers.
“Me, too.” I look him in the eye and add, “But we’re not doing this if you don’t want to. We’ll find another way to earn the time.”
“What does it matter? You got caught.”
I give him a brief smile. “Or did I?”
His eyebrow rises in understanding. “Do what you need to do. I’ll play the game. You trusted me earlier. I’ll trust you now, Kate.”
My heart lodges in my throat when he uses my real name. “Thank you, Raul.”
“Are we playing or what, Mistress Kat?” Fox’s AI voice breaks into our hushed conversation.
“Fox would want a show,” I caution Raul.
“Then give him a show. Strap me to the cross. I can take whatever you throw at me.”
“Choose a safe word.”
He looks into my eyes, then says, “ Esmeralda. ” Emerald in Spanish. “Like your eyes,” he adds before taking my hand and lightly squeezing it. “Game face on, Mistress Kat.”
Still unsure what to do, I step back into what I think is a dominatrix stance with my booted legs in a V. Then I inhale deeply.
You’ve got this, Kate.
“Will you accept me as your mistress, Toro?” I demand.
Raul’s face is now a mask of disdain, which is what Fox expects he would feel in this predicament. He gives me a curt nod.
I snap the crop against the leather of my boot, creating a loud crack amplified by the acoustic of the cave-like space. It’s louder than I expect, and even Raul flinches.
Even though my heart beats a mile a minute, I lower my voice to a sultry but commanding tone when I say, “Use your words, Toro.”
Fake it till you make it.
“Yes, I accept you as my mistress.” He complies in a clipped tone, despite standing tall, gloriously naked, and full of defiance.
“Very good,” I approve. “Then let’s begin. Come.” I lead him to the cross and instruct, “Step on.”
I secure one of his wrists to the leather buckle on one of the top limbs of the X. Then I move around him, trailing my fingers over his six-pack, right oblique, and around to the breadth of his exposed tattooed back. As long as I’m doing this, I may as well make it look good. But I wasn’t expecting the feel of ridges over what’s supposed to be smooth skin. Flattening my hand over his massive trapezoid, the impression of raised skin becomes clearer. Raul’s muscles stiffen at my touch.
Are these scars?
It’s not surprising for a soldier who has served his country and allies in hostile territories to have battle scars, but the crisscross lines across his upper back seem extensive. My breath catches in my chest at the realization of what those scars could be.
“Raul?” I ask, my voice a mere wisp against his ear.
Instinct guiding me to the realization of the pain those scars would’ve caused him.
“Get on with it,” Raul hisses at me, breaking me out of my trance.
Realizing I broke protocol and character, I quickly snap out of it and strap his other wrist.
“Careful, Toro. You remember who’s in charge, right?” I caution in a sweet voice. When he doesn’t answer, I flick the crop around to his chest and bring the tip to his cheek, using it to turn his head. “Do you?” I reiterate the question.
“Yes. You are, Mistress,” he answers.
“Good boy,” I coo in his ear, my lips brush the lobe. It may be my imagination, but I swear a shiver runs up his spine.
Still from behind him, I quickly strap his ankles and render him immobile. My squatting stance leaves his jewels hanging right in my face. With the tip of my crop, I caress Raul from his left ankle slowly up to the inside of his bulging thigh, and give a small flick to his nuts. It shouldn’t hurt him, but I gotta give an excellent performance for our audience.
Raul grunts and bucks at his restraint. His biceps bulge, showing off impressive, sculptured arms.
“That’s for your insolence,” I state, circling around to face him. I wink, and his eyes smolder with heat. Is he plotting his revenge on me for that little stunt, or did it actually excite him?
Either he’s an excellent actor, or his reaction is real. Whatever it is, it gains us five minutes as I hear the indicator ping. Fox seems to like it when I put Raul in his place. So, I push further and continue to circle him, inspecting my prize with a predatory interest. Really taking in every inch of this magnificent specimen of a man spread out for me.
Oh my, he’s built as superior as I imagined. God does have favorites.
I bestow an angelic smile on him as I stand before him. “Just breathe, Toro,” I soothe in a calming voice. In contrast with what I did earlier, I use the flat tip of my riding crop to caress his balls, and his already thick, semi-hard rod rises even higher, as if saluting me. He sucks a breath through his teeth and his muscles tense. The alternate sensation of pain and pleasure seems to break down his pretense of defiance.
“You like that?” I ask.
This time, Raul bares his teeth as if he wants to charge and gore me with his horns.
“Whip him. What are you waiting for?” Fox eggs me on.
Raul stiffens, and his eyes sharpen as he glances at the camera, directing his anger Fox’s way.
Whoever’s behind Fox obviously doesn’t know what this is about. He just wants me to torture Toro, and that’s not happening. If I’d torture anyone, it would be Fox. With the crop rigid in my clenched hand, I’m about to lash out at the motherfucker.
“Mistress Kat,” Raul stops me. “I can handle it.”
“He just enjoys watching as you’re punished,” I say, gritting my teeth.
Raul says louder for Fox. “I deserve the whip.”
I know he’s trying to ease my mind about hurting him and I’d be stupid to throw away the work we already put into this. So, I straighten my spine, then swish the crop against the outside of Raul’s thigh three times in quick succession. His leg jerks at the sting, but this time, though his expression is far from what one expects from a submissive, he purses his mouth shut.
Ping.
That’s another five minutes.
I close the space between us until I’m merely an inch from him.
“You take the crop well.” I validate his restraint for Fox’s benefit, while stroking the sting off Raul’s thigh with my palm for Raul’s and my sake. Like a school teacher—a naughty one—I push for more. “Will you behave from now on?”
“Yes,” Raul answers, his eyes boring into mine.
“Yes, what?” I question with a tilt in my head and keep my gaze on him.
To my surprise, Raul bows his head, then says, “Yes, Mistress.”
Ping.
“He likes that ,” I whisper.
“Seems he isn’t the only one enjoying this. You’re good at this,” Raul whispers, his voice husky. His hot breath brushing my neck as he bends his head close enough to nip my shoulder.
I can’t resist brushing the tip of my fingers over his engorged cock. “I can see that,” I tease before stepping back.
“You’re on your way to becoming a very good bull.” I give him a proud smile. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be worshipping me.”
Ping.