At Her Command

AT HER COMMAND

By Dana Drake

Copyright 2014 by Dana Drake

Smashwords Edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this story may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage or retrieval system
, without written permission by the
author, except for brief quotations embedded in reviews.

Publisher’s note: This is a work of adult fiction. If you
are underage or offended by depictions of sexual activity
and sexual dominance
and submission, discard this ebook. All names, characters, places,
and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to real persons, places or events is
coincidental.

Cover
Photo
Credit: Erwin
Usman, London, UK

CHAPTER
ONE

“
Your
Honor, in
Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co.,
Inc.,
the Court held that a color could meet the legal
requirements for trademark registration under the Lanham Act,
provided that it had acquired secondary meaning in the market.”
Nathan Scott watched Chief Judge Parker Madison beaming from the
bench, as attorney for the defense Bridget Kelly, made the most
ridiculous argument he’d heard in twelve years of patent-trademark
litigation. “Mr. Scott has failed to prove that the color of his
client’s trademark has acquired a secondary meaning.”

“Your Honor,” Nathan stood to address the
Court. “Ms. Kelly’s has failed to show the relevance of
Qualitex
to the case at hand.” Judge Madison’s expression
morphed from warm, imbecilic infatuation to cold indifference.

“I believe it’s my job to determine
relevance, counselor.” He glared at Nathan, turned back to Bridget
Kelly, and regained his stupid smile. Nathan sat stone-faced at a
slow boil. It was pointless to refute Bridget Kelly’s specious
arguments. She might as well be singing
Three Blind Mice
.
Judge Madison was going to rule for her client regardless of the
law. It was the third time in a month that she’d kicked his ass in
Federal Court, despite her clients not having a straw of evidence
or the law on their side.

Bridget Kelly was tall, five feet
nine-inches, and at least six-two in her five-inch pumps. She made
no bones about relishing looking down at Nathan and the other male
attorneys with her ice water blue eyes. Female attorneys feared
her. She wore her thick mane of black hair down on her shoulders,
and dressed in dark suits that accented her curves. Judge Madison
adjourned at three o’clock, it was Friday after all, and he had a
weekend of golf planned. Nathan was reaching under the table for
his briefcase when a pair of legs came into view. He followed them
up to the black wool skirt, past the crisp white blouse to Bridget
Kelly’s sparkling eyes. “Too pissed at me to let me buy you a
drink?” Nathan sat up too quickly and saw stars. He didn’t have
anywhere to go. He was divorced now, a single man for the last
twenty-six days.

“Uh, sure, I guess so.” He felt his face
flush hot. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the one who made
people squirm and blush, not the other way around. He stuffed his
papers into his briefcase and stood, acutely aware that she was
taller than him.

“Mind if I drive?” she asked, as they boarded
the elevator.

“Of course not.” She led him to silver BMW
328, and unlocked the doors with her key fob. He started to walk
around the car and get her door, but she was too fast. He squeezed
the seatbelt as she rocketed out of the parking garage onto
Jamieson Avenue. She drove to the Red Hat, a hole in the wall that
lawyers on expense accounts would never set foot in, and parked in
the side lot.
“All the better,”
Nathan thought.
“I might
be accused of collusion if I’m seen with her, the way things are
going.”

He ordered Dewar’s. She ordered Glinlivet.
“I’m buying, Nathan. How about joining me?” He nodded, refusing to
turn down eighteen-year-old Scotch. “Cheers.” She held up her
tumbler. They tapped glasses. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a
while,” she said. “Well, ever since I heard you were available.” He
looked into her ice water blue eyes and was frozen, unable to look
away. Heat radiated from his face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your divorce, twenty-six days ago.” He felt
the color drain out of his face.

“How did you know about my divorce?” Bridget
sipped her cocktail and smacked her lips.

“This is so good. I’ll order us another.”

“How did you know about my divorce?” She
stared at him.

“I know a lot about you, Nathan. I know you
grew up in Richmond, Mechanicsville, actually. You attended William
and Mary and the University of Richmond Law School. You married
Patty Ann Scott, nee Ortell after you graduated; you had no
children together. You grew apart due to your long hours and her
constant travel with her hotel chain.” Nathan stared, realized his
mouth was open and slammed it shut, clicking his teeth. “I can go
on if you want.”

“What’s up with you, Bridget?” Nathan felt a
stab under his sternum as he inhaled. “Are you some kind of
stalker?” She wrinkled her chin.

“I suppose-- but I’m not a malicious one.”
The waitress brought the second round. “It’s just that I recognized
something in you, the first time we met in the courtroom.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I buy you dinner? We can talk.”

“You won’t tell me otherwise?”

“Uh... probably no.” She was enjoying playing
him like a fish.

“Alright then.” He followed her to her
car.

“Aren’t you going to get the door for me?” He
rushed around the car before he could catch himself, his face
blushing hot. He stared as she gracefully slid onto the leather
seat and swiveled, drawing her long, shapely legs into the car.

“
What the hell am I doing?”
he asked
himself, as he walked around the car and got into the passenger
seat. She drove north on the George Washington Parkway and crossed
the Memorial Bridge into Washington, DC. He held his breath as she
careened around the Lincoln Memorial and turned on 23rd Street; he
pressed his right foot hard on the floor, as she whipped around
Washington Circle and ran the light at Pennsylvania Avenue. She
stopped in front of Felipe’s Restaurant and waited for Nathan to
open her door. She took his hand as she stepped out of the car. He
felt a jolt of electricity run up his arm to his chest, as she rose
to her full height and looked down at him.

“Bonsoir, Ms. Kelly, comment allez-vous?” the
burley maitre d’ gushed as she air-kissed both his cheeks.

“Bien merci, Paul,” Bridget said, with what
Nathan suspected was a perfect French accent. “Comment ca va?”

“Pas mal.” He rocked his open hand in a so-so
motion, smiling broadly. “But now that you’re here, everything is
better!” He led them to a table. Nathan slipped him a twenty,
palmed in a handshake. The wine steward swooped down on the table
like a vulture, as a young Hispanic man splashed ice water in their
goblets.

“Bring us a bottle of Chateau LaGrange, 2006,
Henri.”

“Of course, mademoiselle, excellent choice.”
The sommelier bowed and backed away from the table.

“You come here often?” Nathan asked. Bridget
smiled and sipped her ice water.

“Only when I make a kill in the
courtroom.”

“So that’s what I am, a victim?” She touched
the back of his hand. He struggled to sit still as electricity shot
through him.

“More like a trophy than a victim.” The
sommelier appeared before he could reply. They brought five
courses, followed by a cheese course and dessert. He had just cut
into his raspberry cheesecake when he felt her warm, slightly
moist, bare foot against his leg. Nathan’s swollen penis pressed
painfully against his shorts at an obtuse angle.

“What were you going to tell me? And what
about the trophy business?” he asked in a shaky voice, as she
caressed his leg with her bare toes. She smiled. Her clear blue
eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

“I have a hunting instinct.” She sipped her
coffee, holding the demitasse cup with her fingertips. “You were my
prey. I said
were
, not
are
. I’ve already ensnared you
in my web.” Heat flashed over Nathan’s face.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes... yes it is,” he stammered, searching
for words.

“I’m taking you home with me tonight.” She
squeezed his skin with her strong toes.

“And if I say no?”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t just...”

“Why can’t I?”

“Listen,” Nathan said much too loud.” He
blushed as the couple at the next tale turned. “I have a say in
this.”

“You do. You don’t have to come home with
me,” Bridget said, just above a whisper. “But you will. You
wouldn’t miss the opportunity for all the money in the world.”

“What makes you so sure of yourself,
Bridget?” She smiled and discreetly licked her lips with the tip of
her tongue. She took his hand.

“You’ve been searching for a dominant woman
your entire life, one who would take complete control of you,” she
said in a low, even tone, “a strong, beautiful woman, who would
completely dominate you, in every facet of your life.” Nathan
winced in pain as his cock throbbed, pinched inside his pants. He
started to gasp and checked himself, taking in slow shallow
breaths. “Your marriage fell apart because your wife didn’t give
you the structure you needed.” She squeezed his hand. “I will.” The
sharp pain stabbed Nathan beneath his sternum again as he stared
into Bridget’s pale, blue eyes.

*****

He muscled the valet out of the way to hold
her door, noticing the wry smile on her face illuminated by the
dome light. He tried not to think about anything, as he slid into
the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. “We’re going to my
home, in Dupont Circle. You’re going to spend the night with me,
Nathan.” She looked straight ahead as she sped up New Hampshire
Avenue and around Dupont Circle. “If I’m right, you’ll be spending
a lot of nights with me, serving me, and doing my bidding.” She
turned left on Swann Street and turned into the only private
driveway on the block. She waited for him to open her door and
walked up the wrought iron stair to the back door, as automatic
security lights illuminated their path. She handed him her keys.
“It’s this one.” He unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it
open.

She walked in ahead of him. He followed her
like a puppy through the kitchen to a large living room. Nathan
studied the furniture, Persian rugs, grand piano, and oil
paintings. Bridget Kelly’s clients were paying her well. Nathan
instinctively stood by the couch as she closed the blinds. The
house smelled clean, of lavender and beeswax. She opened a liquor
cabinet and handed Nathan an ice bucket. “There is a dispenser on
the freezer door.” Nathan half-filled the insulated bucket. Bridget
poured one tumbler. “Undress, Nathan. I’ll keep you naked when
we’re alone.” She said it so matter-of-factly, that he stood there
like a deaf mute, staring at her. She sipped her Scotch. “I have
many virtues, Nathan.” The glint in her eyes sent a chill up his
back. “Patience isn’t one of them.”

“Why should I do what you say and get
undressed?” he asked half-heartedly.”

“Because I said so, Nathan; because that’s
what I want.” She looked down at his swollen penis bulging in his
pants. “By the look of your cock, you want it too.” Nathan drew in
a deep breath. There wasn’t enough air in the room. “Take off your
clothes, now.” There was no anger in her voice, only quiet
determination. He stared at her as he removed his suit coat and
laid it on a chair. He removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt
quickly, with quiet, practiced movements. He started to sit to
untie his shoes.

“Stop,” she said in the same even tone. “You
may not sit on the furniture without my permission.” Nathan
swallowed the lump in his throat and bent to untie his shoes. He
stepped out of them as Bridget sat back and crossed her long,
shapely legs. He removed his trousers and stood for a moment,
feeling ridiculous in boxer shorts and socks, with his stiff cock
protruding like a tent pole. “Everything Nathan,” she whispered. He
pulled off his socks, pushed his shorts off his hips, and stepped
out of them.

His face burned hot as he met her gaze. Her
cool eyes sparkled with amusement as he stood there naked and fully
erect, his pulse pounding in his ears like a tympani. She stood and
approached him, slowly swishing her tumbler of Scotch in a lazy
circle. He broke free from her gaze and looked at the floor,
staring at her black, five-inch pumps, as she moved into his
personal space. He felt her cool breath on his cheek.