2. Mistress Samantha
Mistress Samantha
Sam
In hindsight, saving Q for last might not have been the best tactic. By the time she got to him, her anxiety had wound tighter and tighter with each ‘practice’ session with a different sub. It might have been better to rip the Band-Aid off, so to speak, and get him over with first.
Too late now.
She kept her practiced smile on her face as she sat down across from him. Did her expression feel a little tighter than it had for anyone else? Yes. Not that she would admit to it.
He’s just another sub. He’s just another sub. He’s just another sub.
Except he was looking at her with heat in his eyes that none of the other subs had. His eyes weren’t on her face, they were on her breasts. Sam felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed.
Dammit.
He wasn’t supposed to be looking at her like that.
It was much easier to deal with him when they were operating on the hostility left over from high school. When he was looking at her like he actually wanted her…
Crap. It wasn’t just her cheeks that were heating.
“Hello, I’m Mistress Samantha,” she said, crossing one leg over the other.
She realized, about halfway through the evening, being called Samantha made her feel a little more like an actual Domme, more formal.
Speaking had the fortunate side effect of drawing his attention back up to her face, which she hoped he wouldn’t realize was a little flushed.
If he was disconcerted at being caught staring at her boobs, he didn’t show it.
“I’m Q, Mistress Samantha.” The charming smile that flashed across his lips was enough to make her blush a little more. “It’s nice to meet you.”
It had been that smile that had first attracted her in high school.
Clearing her throat, Sam adjusted the clipboard on her lap to give her something to do with her hands.
This felt a bit like sexy stranger role play except she wasn’t sure she wanted to find Q sexy.
From his reaction to her appearance in the Dominance class a few months ago, she’d assumed he’d lost any interest in her. Actually, he’d been pretty hostile.
Then the prank war had started.
Mistress Julie had checked in to make sure she’d be okay being paired with Q for this class while he learned how to be a submissive.
‘Okay’ wasn’t exactly the right word, but she hadn’t wanted to back down, hadn’t wanted him to feel as if he’d scared her off.
She probably owed him an apology from high school, which she hadn’t cared about giving him when they’d first run into each other at Marquis because he’d been such a jerk.
Or while they were messing with each other…
but now that he was looking at her like this, she was uncomfortably aware of their past. He looked a bit too much like when he’d asked her to prom.
They had limited time right now, and it was more important to go over his sheet and limits than anyone else’s since they already knew they’d be paired together. That’s what she told herself.
Chicken.
Yup. Bwok, bwok, that was her. She had a first-place ribbon in avoidance.
“Is there anything on your ‘want to try’ list you’re most interested in?” She got right down to business rather than trying to start an awkward conversation.
“Not really.” Q leaned back in his chair, watching her closely.
“I’ll admit, I am more interested in the domination part than any particular toy or implement.
Being spanked didn’t do much for me when I had to try it during the Dom class.
I liked being bossed around by a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. ”
His grin flashed again, and Sam did her best to ignore the impulse to squeeze her thighs together.
“Do you have any particular objection to being spanked? Or whipped?” She was curious since he hadn’t put either under a soft limit.
“No objection, though I’m definitely not a masochist. I’m more of a hedonist.”
Interesting. Personally, Sam liked a bit of pain with her pleasure, but she could work with that.
During the class, they’d go over a lot of the things Q professed he didn’t have much interest in.
That could be good practice for her since he would probably have a pretty low limit on what was pleasurable or arousing for him.
She looked down at the clipboard again, even though she didn’t really need to. She practically had his limits list memorized.
“Yet you indicated an interest in cock and ball torture?” That didn’t sound like something a non-masochist would be interested in.
Q’s grin widened.
“Curiosity killed the cat. I’m not sure I want to know, but since it’s an option, I have to know.”
Lifting her head to stare at him, Sam pressed her lips together in amusement, trying to hide her smile.
“You were one of those kids who burned their fingers on the stove after they were told not to touch, weren’t you?”
“Twice.” Q laughed at her expression. “I had to make sure it was the same the second time. I’m guessing by the way you phrased the question that you weren’t?”
“No.” Sam had always been cautious to a fault. She’d been a good girl, not wanting to cause her dad any trouble when they already had enough issues. “I didn’t even touch it the first time.”
“That was probably the smarter thing to do,” Q admitted. “But then, I always knew you were smart.”
Dammit. She shouldn’t like being complimented by him so much.
She was losing control of this little interview.
Q
Q knew he wasn’t being a very good submissive, but he didn’t seem to be able to help himself. Sam had always had a way of making him fumble over his words… and he wasn’t feeling particularly submissive tonight. Which was a problem.
Despite her outfit, he had the strongest urge to peel her out of the Domme attire and find the sweet subbie underneath.
Bad Q. Wrong night. Try again some other time.
As if she heard his thoughts, she sat up a little straighter, her hazel eyes turning flinty. Damn. That was hot. She’d gone from uncertain and nervous to Mistress Samantha in a heartbeat.
Okay, now he was feeling a little more submissive. The change in her had triggered a change in him, and he found himself automatically sitting a little straighter, his eyes dropping, and his attention sharpening.
“What’s the most painful thing you’ve experienced that you also enjoyed?”
“Nipple clamps.” Those had hurt, but they’d also felt good. At least until they came off. He hadn’t loved how sensitive his nipples were afterward rubbing against his shirt, but he could tolerate it.
Mistress Samantha nodded thoughtfully.
“Do you have a preference for what you’ll be called during the class?” She hesitated, trying to figure out the right words to use, and Q realized what she was talking about.
“Q, when you’re talking to me, but I like being called a ‘good boy.’” While he understood the derogative connotations some black men would feel about the terminology, he’d felt nothing but envy when he overheard male submissives earning the accolade in the club.
He’d wanted to be told he was someone’s good boy.
Sam nodded, relief sparking in her eyes, but only for a moment, then she looked away again, down at her notes.
“It’s not marked on the sheet. Do you have any sexual limits for the class?”
It was a standard question and one Q had thought long and hard about once he knew he would be paired with Samantha.
A lot of casual sex had gone on during the Dom class, but it wasn’t really for him.
By the end of the class, he’d kept any sensual play to toys and fingers.
He’d planned to do the same for this class…
until he found out who his Domme would be.
High school Q was all for fulfilling that old fantasy, the one where he’d take her to prom and lose his virginity to her on prom night. Not that he was still a virgin, but just knowing this was a second chance for the night he’d wanted… yeah. That wasn’t something he could turn down.
“No limits.” He met her gaze, smiling at her. “I’m here to pleasure you however you wish.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the magnetic attraction simmering between them growing exponentially as their gazes held and the front of Q’s pants tightened.
Hands clapping made them jump. Mistress Julie was back on the Marquis’ stage with Master Law beside her, and she was smiling at all of them.
“Great job today, everyone. I hope you enjoyed your practice negotiations. Next week, we’ll be doing some hands-on practical work.
If you have any questions about limits or your negotiations, Master Law and I will hang around for a little longer.
Otherwise, thank you for being here, and we’ll see you next week. ”
That was that then.
Damn. Q had been enjoying himself and wasn’t quite ready for it to be over.
“Want to go down to the bar and get a drink?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through, but he didn’t regret them.
Sam blinked, turning from Mistress Samantha back into Sam with that one movement.
“A drink? Like a date?”
She sounded more surprised than put off, so Q tried not to be insulted. Especially since, before tonight, they’d had a pretty volatile relationship. It was probably time to call a truce before the cock and ball torture started happening.
“Not a date…” Yeah, he didn’t need a repeat of what had happened when he’d asked her to prom. The sting of rejection had faded, but that didn’t mean he was going to set himself up to do it again. “Just… I thought maybe we could talk. Clear the air as it were.”
He waved his hand, and Sam nodded slowly.
“You’re probably right.” She took a deep breath, appearing more uncertain of herself than she had all night. “Sure, let’s do a drink.”
Something in Q’s chest squeezed. She said yes! And it wasn’t as though she would change her mind tomorrow because they were doing this right now. Maybe he’d even finally find out what had happened all those years ago when she’d said yes at first, then changed her mind.