The Negotiation: A BDSM Romance

2017 | Fiction & Poetry

Sebastian stared at her. Like magic, she now conveyed complete respect and submission. His cock stiffened immediately at the sight of her downcast eyes and patient posture. If he told her to get him off with her mouth alone, he had no doubt she’d find a way to open his fly, free his cock and get the job done.

Great. Now he was rock hard and throbbing. He might not like her, but he definitely desired her.

“Do you agree to serve me for the entire scene?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You will not be gagged. I do not want you to scream. Can you manage that control?”

“Yes, Sir.” She sounded confident, but not in a boastful way. How she could be that assured with a new Dom, he had no clue.

“And, of course, you won’t come until I give you permission.”

“I understand, Sir.”

He stood up. “Let’s go, then.”

She hesitated for a split second, so brief that if he hadn’t been staring at her he might not have caught it. Whatever caused it, though, evaporated immediately and she rose gracefully, her feet apart and her hands behind her back.

“Wait,” he said. He walked over to her.

She wore a red silk dress that should have clashed with her hair but didn’t. The cut of the dress was very simple, with a high neck and almost no fabric at her shoulders. Alongside her breasts, the silk draped under the arms, giving him easy access. He reached in on both sides, closing his hands on her braless tits. They were full and warm. Her nipples were already beaded, but he pinched them and used the roughness of his thumbs to draw them out. If he’d had some water handy, he would have soaked the fabric of her dress so that everyone could see how aroused she was.

He pulled up the skirt. “No panties. Good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

She was right to feel proud of herself. She’d dressed with a Dom’s need for contact in mind. Another sub would have put on some garter belt and frilly stockings, all of which would have had to come off.

He held the skirt up with one hand and ran the other palm along her thigh, straight up until his thumb was at her clit. She was aroused as well. He looked down. She had a small tuft of auburn curls just above her cleft. “Very neat.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Her eyes were still downcast. “Look at me.” Those magnificent green eyes met his. He craved this connection with her, although he couldn’t have said why. She was impossible as a sub, but there was something about her that woke him up.

She was gorgeous. She hid behind her beauty the way he hid behind his reputation as an asshole. Right now, though, he felt like he was seeing the real Isabelle. Vulnerability lit her mossy green eyes from deep down.

His thumb was sliding lightly along her delicate folds and slick channels. Not to torque her toward climax but learning her. Sensing what pleased her. He wanted to find her down-deep place, to reach beneath her mask of beauty.

Her eyes widened and her lips, a lovely warm pink that appeared to owe little to lipstick, opened slightly. She licked them with the tip of her tongue.

He bent as if to kiss her. Her eyelids dropped a bit, perhaps because she was tracking the progress of his mouth. But something about her hooded eyes sparked his suspicions. Maybe she really was a calculating bitch. Just like maybe he really was a bastard.

He let the skirt drop. “Get your things. We’re in the big room tonight.”

Christina Thacher (Author)