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By C. A. Taylor
2 The Mistress
Throughout the next two weeks, William thought back often to the evening in the warehouse, outrage warring with longing. ‘She kidnapped me!’ William fumed to himself. ‘She kidnapped me and chained me to a chair! Then what did she do? Oh, right, then she gave me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. What the hell?’
By turns confused, angry, and aroused, William dwelt not only on the events of that night, but also on how he had reacted to the situation. It was fine to say that there was no way to predict what would happen. That he was a civilized man who had not been raised to offer violence to a woman. Who respected the law and those who enforced it.
Yes, all of that was fine. Nevertheless, it didn’t explain why he had unresistingly gone along with her demands. Why he had followed her orders. How few questions he had asked. He hadn’t even really tried to control the situation. If he approached negotiations in his work as he had that evening, he’d be out of business.
So why had he been so willing to let her control the show? Why had he responded to her overt physicality with such passiveness? And why had she heated his blood more than any woman he had ever known?
Annoyed, William discovered he was once again daydreaming about that encounter when he should be looking over the case file sitting on his desk. Worst of all, William knew that although his mind might be confused, his body had no such problem. Again and again, he had awakened from dreams of that encounter, hard and aching.
Giving up trying to concentrate on work, he decided to leave the office early and put in some extra gym time. Maybe he could find a racquetball partner before the courts filled.
Arriving early, he nabbed a parking spot in the garage, and headed inside the upscale gym. To his delight, he found Jeremy Miller in the locker room, and challenged him to a game. Jeremy and he had both graduated from Harvard, William on a scholarship and Jeremy as the scion of New England old money. They had both accepted offers from the same large law firm, where Jeremy was now a junior partner in the Real Estate division. Jeremy’s wife, Greta, worked as William’s secretary, and they often spent time together, relaxing on the weekends and complaining about judges and clients.
Two hours later, relaxed and aching, he walked from the gym to his car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.
A lone figure separated itself from the shadows behind him and silently approached.
“Hold it!” The policewoman whispered as she placed her hand on William’s neck. “Don’t turn around,” she grated, something hard digging into his back. Directing him with the hand at his nape, she walked him over to her police car, parked in the darkest corner of the garage.
Placing him to one side of her cruiser in front of the car hood, she stepped back. “Remove your coat and suit jacket,” she commanded.
William turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, and was stunned to see her pointing her service revolver at him.
“Turn around, William,” the officer ordered evenly. “Remove your coat and jacket, and stop making me repeat myself. Now place the clothing on the back seat of the car,” she continued with her program.
Once that was done, she told William to spread his legs and lean forward over the hood with his arms spread wide. He moved very carefully to carry out her orders. Tension was singing through his body, tightening his groin.
The policewoman quickly and professionally frisked him, again relieving him of his phone, keys, and wallet, then fastened his hands behind his back.
“Kneel, William.”
“You know, my pants were completely destroyed from doing this last time,” William bantered nervously.
“William,” she warned.
“Are you in the habit of kidnapping and raping random guys, or am I special?” he continued.
Turning him to face her, the policewoman pulled him to her and gently pressed her soft, warm lips to his. “I may have kidnapped you,” she admitted carelessly. “But there was no rape, William. You told me you wanted me, asked me for sex, and you begged me for your release. Your defense won’t hold up in court, counselor.”
William’s cheeks and neck heated as he remembered writhing under her and begging her to let him come.
The officer’s lips curved in a smile, following his thoughts. “Now, on your knees, William, and be silent, or I’ll gag you.”
Slowly obeying her orders, he barely had time to recognize another strip of black fabric coming at him before he was again blindfolded. William gasped as he once more fought down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him at the loss of his sight. Without delay, she raised him to his feet and placed him in the cruiser.
William remained silent during the ride. Controlling his panic, he thought back to the origins of his fear of absolute darkness.
He had been seven and Katie five. They had snuck out of the house, away from the babysitter they loathed, and headed for the junkyard.
They were strictly forbidden to go there, so of course it was their favorite haunt. They had been playing a game of hide-and-seek, he remembered. He didn’t remember what had startled them so badly, but they had both begun running, looking for someplace to hide. When William found the refrigerator, turned over on its side, it had seemed perfect.
They had crawled inside, and William had pulled the door closed on top of them. They had both been quiet and felt very safe until William tried to open the door. When he realized they were trapped in the darkness, the panic had descended. They had been trapped for over four hours before they were found. He had tried to comfort his baby sister, but the feelings of panic and helplessness in the dark had never left him.
Needing the distraction, William turned his thoughts to the policewoman driving the car. He couldn’t deny the excitement he felt at being handcuffed and again kidnapped by her. The physical proof of that excitement was pressing against his trousers. Arriving at their destination, William interpreted sounds indicating a garage door opening. Hearing the garage door roll shut, he was unsurprised when the engine cut off and he was hauled from the car.
Still blind and bound, he was pulled reluctantly through the garage, along a hallway, then down a flight of stairs.
The Mistress allowed him to take the stairs at his own pace, then marched him across the finished basement to the large, white iron bed that occupied the far wall. Without warning, she pulled William around to face her, then grabbed his shoulders and shoved. Overbalancing, William fell backwards, crying out as he landed in the middle of a soft, fluffy bed. Tensing, William’s uneasiness increased. His captor’s unpredictable behavior left him feeling threatened and vulnerable.
Though questions bubbled to his lips, he did not voice them. For the first time his true situation occurred to him. No one knew where he was, his hands were bound uselessly behind him, and he was in the power of a woman he did not know. His gut curled tighter and he felt the first surges of adrenaline hitting his system.
“Feeling a little uncertain, William?” the Mistress asked.
“A little,” William admitted.
“Good.” She smiled as she looked down at him. He was clearly rattled, and she planned to keep him that way.
William had landed, half reclining, in the middle of the bed. Climbing onto it, she straddled his hips and reached around, attaching a second set of cuffs to his left wrist. She then removed the original handcuff from that hand. Using her weight and bracing him against her knee, she pinned William’s right arm under him, and pulled his left hand out and up, attaching the other end of the handcuff to the left side of the wrought iron headboard. She then attached the cuff on his right hand to the right side of the headboard.
Arms stretched out and up, William shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Is the blindfold really necessary,” he asked. “It makes me very uncomfortable not to be able to see what you are doing.”
“Taking away your sight heightens your other senses,” the Mistress responded. “And I want you highly sensitized to what I do to you,” she added, her voice velvety soft.
Sucking in a breath, William’s body responded to those simple words. He could feel heat and desire coursing though his body, bringing his cock instantly to attention. A small moan escaped his lips in unconscious anticipation.
The Mistress watched him carefully for a moment. She had already noted the correlation between his heightened tension and the blindfold. She now noted that his communication skills were also affected. Once the blindfold was in place, William rarely spoke, and then used as few words as possible.
She removed his shoes and socks, then pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his light blue oxford shirt, bunching it up over his arms and exposing his muscled chest and abdomen. Satisfied, she got off the bed and looked at him. Lying there shackled to the bed, blind, his chest rapidly rising and falling, he looked delectable. The blindfold accentuated the sharp planes of his face. High cheekbones, firm, sensual lips, and a strong, square jaw indicated a strength of character she was eager to explore.
She removed her uniform shirt and pants, revealing a blue lace bra, matching garter belt, and blue silk stockings. She wasn’t wearing any panties.
Returning to William, she slowly removed his belt, trousers, and underwear. “Cross your ankles, William,” she commanded next. Baffled, William complied, and felt something silky as she bound his ankles with his tie, forcing his knees apart. He felt himself swell painfully at the thought of how vulnerable and exposed he must look.
“How do you feel, William?”
“What?"
“How do you feel, right now, William? Here with me, helpless and exposed. How does it make you feel?”
Inhaling, William tried to find an answer for her. “Tense, I guess,” he finally responded.
“Do you like it?” the Mistress asked.
“I’m not sure like is the right word,” he responded. “I’m not sure what I feel.”
Nodding and sitting down at the foot of the bed, the Mistress hooked her silk-clad legs under William’s knees, spreading him wide. Gently trailing a finger up the sensitive underside of his shaft, she watched William’s reaction. Inhaling sharply, he clenched his hands into fists, and tensed his thighs and abdomen in response. Gently encircling him, she slowly ran her hand up and down his tender flesh, eliciting a groan from him. “Do you like this, William?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied through clenched teeth.
“William, do you remember asking my name last time we met,” she asked. He nodded.
“What was my response?”
“You told me you were ‘the mistress of my fate,’” he answered.
“Yes, William, and when we are together I am your Mistress. I want you to address me as ‘Mistress’. In answer to my questions, you are to say, ‘Yes, Mistress,’ or ‘No, Mistress’. Do you understand?”
William balked. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to get the words past his lips. Something twisted in his gut as he slowly responded, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good, William. Now let’s try again.” As she stroked him, she asked, “Do you like this, William?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She then quickly ran a fingernail down the sole of William’s foot and he involuntarily jerked it away from her. “Do you like that, William?” she asked.
“No, Mistress,” he responded promptly.
“Good, William. Now there is one other phrase you may use. If you wish to ask a question or want permission to speak for any reason you may say, ‘Please, Mistress’. You may only say it once, and you must wait for me to acknowledge you and give you permission to continue. Use this phrase sparingly or it will be forbidden you. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure, Mistress,” William responded.
She slapped him sharply on his inner thigh, and he flinched.
“No, William. That is not a proper answer. Try again. Do you understand when and how you may use the phrase ‘Please, Mistress’?”
“No, Mistress,” William replied.
Patiently, she once again explained the parameters to him, and then resumed his catechism as she learned his preferences and tolerances. William slowly became more comfortable with the ritual replies as the Mistress catalogued his responses to everything from light tickling to raking claw marks across his exposed and helpless body. From kisses to nibbles to bites. Never concentrating on one area too long, she left trails of reddened skin over his arms, chest, legs and groin.
William tolerated the multi-pronged assault as long as he could, his nerves stretching tighter with each touch of her diabolical hands and lips. Finally, his head reeling from sensory overload, William softly whispered, “Please, Mistress.”
“What, William?” she gently responded.
“Please, Mistress,” he gasped, “I can’t take any more.”
Again, the Mistress was pleased at his ability to accept his helplessness and her control over him. He had lasted longer than she expected.
Relenting, she applied a condom to his engorged shaft, and slowly crawled up his body, trailing her lips and tongue across his flat, muscled stomach, stopping to lave each nipple, and finally planting a searing kiss on his lips as she impaled herself on him. William convulsed with pleasure as she tightly encased him and began to slowly ride him. Rocking and grinding her hips against his, William thrust his hips up to meet each stroke. Unhooking the catch at the front of her bra, she leaned forward and nudged William’s lips with her freed breasts. Groaning, he accepted one breast into his mouth, suckling and nibbling greedily. His actions sent a frisson of fire straight to her belly, and she quickly found her own release, crying out as she came.
William paused and held still as the last echoes of her climax shuddered through her body, then he tried to resume the rhythm stoking his own desire. Placing a hand on his chest, the Mistress stopped him. “William,” she said, “you must ask for and receive my permission every time before you may have your own release.”
Protesting, William tried to drive himself deeper into her slick sheath, but she lifted herself off him. Breathless with need, William capitulated and begged, “Please, Mistress.”
“What do you want, William?”
“Please, Mistress. Grant me my release,” he pleaded.
Receiving her permission, he finished to a resounding climax that left him gasping and seeing stars behind his blindfold. As his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, gentle hands cradled his face, softly caressing his jaw, his lips; long fingers ran through his tousled hair.
With one final, sweetly gentle kiss, she rose from him. First donning her own clothes, she then dressed William, secured his hands behind his back, and returned him to the parking garage. Once there, she gave him the now familiar command, “Kneel.”
As he submitted, she placed her hand on the nape of his neck and then unlocked and removed the handcuffs. With an offhand, “See you later,” she climbed back into her cruiser and drove away.
Removing the blindfold, William continued to kneel in a daze for several moments, trying to come to grips with the emotional and physical rollercoaster generated by the mysterious blonde cop. William had never met a woman who affected him this way. He responded to her on a primitive level that made rational thought out of the question. She was both compelling and a little frightening. William was entranced.
Over the next few weeks, he made inquiries into who the blonde police officer might be, but without results. He looked for her in the evenings as he was on his way home, but she had disappeared. Repeatedly his mind replayed his encounters with her. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Hell, she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d dated. But there was a confidence, an authority that radiated from her, making her uniquely desirable. The mysterious woman was quickly becoming an obsession.
He suddenly realized he has never seen her unclothed. Strange, it didn’t occur to him at the time. He had not felt self-conscious with her, even though he was all but naked. However, what his mind kept returning to was the experience itself. The fear at being tied down, controlled, helpless. The raw panic at being blind. And yet, it was the biggest turn on of his life. It was almost a compulsion. How could that be? What did it say about him?
He was a very successful lawyer. He had made it on the associate track of one of the major law firms in the city, specializing in high profile divorce cases. On the brink of being offered a partnership, William had inexplicably resigned from the firm. Though he never talked about it, he found the courtroom wrangling over peoples’ broken lives to be sad and vaguely unsettling. Instead, he had opened his own practice. A skilled negotiator, he had slowly developed a reputation for reaching quiet, equitable settlements among his very wealthy clientele. The asset distribution may have been less satisfying, but they avoided a nasty court battle and all those tabloid headlines. He was also usually able to minimize the pain a divorcing couple routinely inflicted on each other.
And the key to these successful negotiations was the power and confidence he radiated. People liked him and trusted him. They confided in him, and sought his advice. In short, he was used to being in charge. In control.
So why did being utterly helpless turn him on more than any other experience of his life? William wasn’t sure he wanted that question answered, but he also couldn’t dismiss it. The puzzle of the mystery woman and his very complex response to her continued to occupy his thoughts, and, especially, his dreams.
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