Cinderella And Prince Dom (3 page)

“Dominant and submissive role playing.”

“Roles? As in I’m Cinderella and you’re the Prince?”

His lips curved in amusement. “Not quite. I am a Dominant who requires a submissive. I am your Dom and you are my sub. Those are our roles for the weekend.”

Jaimie stood. Yep. Her friend deserved a slow, torturous death. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not into kinky sex or pain. I agreed to a weekend of free food, being waited on, and having sex with my prince charming.”

“Come with me.” Without waiting to see if she followed, he left the room.

Once again, his deep baritone strummed through Jaimie, igniting a need to do whatever he asked. She found herself following him meekly into a large bedroom dominated by a bed on a pedestal. She pressed her hand into her stomach. Was he going to fuck her now? Oh god, she’d definitely made a mistake in agreeing to this.

“Stand in front of this mirror.” His arm swept out and pointed to an antique, freestanding mirror.

Jaimie obeyed. Her prince walked behind her, and they stared at each other through the glass.

“Tell me about your last lover.” His eyes, a greenish-blue, bore into hers.

“Mike was a dick.” Her nerves tingled. He was so close; she felt his warmth along her back.

“In what way?”

She drew her brows together. “This is personal.”

“I have my reasons for asking.” He stared at her, silently commanding her to explain.

She sighed, wishing she could see her prince’s face. “He was concerned with his own needs. Basically, he wasn’t much better than a rutting pig. He never got me off.”

To her surprise, he nodded. “How many lovers have you had that fucked you until you were screaming for release?”

Her heart thumped against her ribs, and she quivered deep inside her sex at the thought of that happening. “None,” she whispered.

“How many lovers brought you to your peak over and over until your orgasms ripped you apart?” He placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze holding hers in the mirror.

Jaimie’s jaw dropped. Damn, his questions had her clit throbbing and begging to be brought to peak over and over. Her panties suddenly went from damp to wet. “None,” she again whispered.

He brushed her hair to one side. “You give control of your body to me for this weekend, and I promise you will not go unsatisfied.” He leaned down and feathered his lips along the side of her neck.

She quivered inside. “I’m not anyone’s slave.”

“I’m not looking for a slave. I want a woman who is intelligent and knows her own mind.”

Jaimie tipped her head to one side to give him full access. It was getting hard to think with his warm breath in her ear. “Then why do you want someone who is submissive?”

“Because a smart submissive knows that when she gives up control, she gets what she wants.”

“What does she want?” Jaimie groaned. She knew what
she
wanted.

“She wants her Dom to take her on a sexual journey so she can discover what her needs are and have those needs satisfied.” His voice slid through her like warmed honey.

“You don’t know me.” Her breaths became short gasps when his tongue swirled in her outer ear.

“By the time this weekend is over, I will know every inch of you.” He drew in her ear lobe and sucked the soft flesh, then raked his teeth over her lobe. “I will know every secret your body holds. I’ll find all those sensitive spots that crave to be touched, and when I find and touch them, your pussy will weep for my cock, my sweet Cinderella.” He hands slid around her waist.

Oh my god
. Jaimie’s knees nearly gave out at the way he’d drawn out her role-play name, making it sound like he was saying Siiinnn-derella. No one had ever talked dirty to her like this. Mike’s version of dirty talk was to tell her he wanted to fuck, but that was it. Even his attempt to talk dirty had left her cold.

“First, you agree to be my sub. Think of it as though I’m your boss in the office.”

“This would be considered sexual harassment,” Jaimie said as she leaned back against her prince, shivering as his tongue traced the swirls of her ear.

He chuckled and lifted his head. “We’re creating our own fantasy world here. You ever been called up to the top floor to have sex with a rich CEO?”

“No. Where I worked, I was a peon. The CEO never mixed with us worker drones. Didn’t even have an office in our building.”

“That’s too bad. Did you have fantasies about being fucked by him?” His lips nipped along the side of her neck.

“No.”

“Why not?” He shoved the neckline of her top off her shoulder.

Jaimie wanted him to stop talking and keep kissing her. “’Cause he’s probably old and fat. With a beer belly.”
God, don’t stop.

His laughter in the hollow of her neck sent delicious cravings for his mouth against her skin from her tummy down to her curled toes.

“How about we pretend that I’m the CEO and I’ve called my lowly, naughty peon up to my richly appointed office for a weekend of overtime.”

“What do I have to do?” His hands skimmed down her sides, following her waist to her hips.

“You must obey me and do everything I tell you.”

“And if I don’t?”

His hands cupped her ass and squeezed. He lifted his head and watched her in the mirror. “Then I’ll have to spank you.”

Jaimie, floating on a haze of desire, nearly choked. “What?”

He pulled her skirt up, slid his hands beneath, and rubbed each palm across her cheeks. “If you are naughty, I’ll make you get on your hands and knees and I’ll spank you.” His hand snaked around her when she jerked away.

Shit! Lucy is so dead!

“There are other rules.” He shifted his hands until they rested beneath her breasts.

Jaimie was still trying to deal with the idea of being spanked. “More?” Her voice ended on a squeak.

“Oh, yes. A good Dom always has rules to help his sub. It’s my job to pleasure you this weekend, and I plan to make you scream with each and every orgasm. You will have so many orgasms, you won’t be able to keep count. To do this, I need rules.” He nipped her shoulder.

Jaimie groaned as an electrical jolt zipped from shoulder to her clit. “I can’t think when you do things like that,” she complained. Hell, she couldn’t think past his promise of multiple orgasms.

“Don’t think. Listen.” He lifted his head. “First rule. This weekend, your body belongs to me. In order to pleasure you, I require access. That means no bras or panties unless I give you permission.”

“I bought new, sexy lingerie for this weekend.”

He stepped back. “Remove your thong.”

Cold air brushed Jaimie’s back, and she longed to have him close. Hell, he could bend her over and take her right there and then.

“I don’t like to repeat myself. If you want sex, you will do as I say.”

Watching him in the mirror, she realized he was serious. Already she was recognizing the tone that brooked no argument, and surprisingly, that deep, honey-smooth voice of his made her go weak at the knees. Question was, did she really want to participate in this game?

She thought of what he’d said, what he promised, and remembered how Mike had left her unsatisfied. Her previous lover hadn’t been much better, so yes, she desperately wanted to experience the pleasure he promised. She instinctively knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

If he said he could make her scream and beg for release, she believed him. She lifted her skirt, exposing her black thong. She pushed the lacy fabric down her legs and stepped out of it. When he held out his hand, she picked up the scrap of silk and handed it to her prince.

He smiled, lifted it to his face, and inhaled deeply. “You’re turned on and wet, my sweet. Do you agree to be my sub?”

Jaimie nodded. “Yes. But no whips.” That kind of pain would kill her fantasy.

He lifted a brow, turned, and strode to one of the armoires in the room. From a drawer, he took out a whip with short leather tassels and ran his hand along its length as he retraced his steps. Jaimie turned to face him. He stopped in front of her.

“Choose a safeword.” He trailed the tip of the whip down along the buttons of her dress.

“What is a safeword?” Jaimie’s throat was so dry she could barely get the question out.

“It’s a word that when spoken, stops everything. If something gets too much for you, you say your safeword and I will stop, and then we will talk about why you needed to call a halt to whatever we were doing.” The whip continued its downward path.

“How about stop?” She sucked in a breath when the whip trailed across one breast, then the other.

He shook his head. “No. In role-play, the words no and stop don’t necessarily mean no or stop. Pick a word you’ll remember, a word that is not common in normal conversation. Like rose garden or buttercup.”

“Godmother.” The word blurted out as the whip stroked her breasts. She drew in a deep breath. His gaze held hers as the leather tassels danced down her belly, and even under her skirt, traveling up her thighs. She gasped when the tip brushed her sex.

His lips curved with amusement. He returned the whip back to her buttons. “Open your dress, Cinderella.”

Fingers shaking, she undid the first button. The whip guided her to the next.

“What do I call you?” She remembered that real names were not revealed. She kept her eyes on his, wishing he would take off his mask yet finding it incredibly arousing not to know what he truly looked like.

“Sir.”

She blinked, her fingers stilling. “Excuse me?”

A tap of the whip on her fingers had them resuming their task. “Or Master. That is what you will call me.”

She barely bit back a snort. “Not a chance.” She undid the last button and looked him squarely in the eyes, or at least what she could see of his eyes. “Sir. Or Prince.”

The whip parted her top, exposing the white scrap of lace that covered her breasts. With slow, careful movements, her prince, using the tip of the whip, had her bodice sliding down her arms. “Let it fall,” he commanded.

The dress slid off and pooled at her feet, leaving her wearing only the bra.

“Remove it.”

Jaimie unhooked the front clasp, and once again, using the whip, her Dom removed her last garment. She held her breath as he explored her body with the whip, caressing her with the leather. When he walked behind her, the tassels brushed against her ass as he trailed the tip up and down the curve of her spine.

“Breathe.”

She tried, but her body was so tense, waiting, wondering if he’d use the whip on her. Damn, she shouldn’t have told him no whips.

“Bend over. Hands to your ankles.”

Godmother
. She could speak her safeword and keep him from using the whip on her. But he hadn’t hurt her. Yet. He’d promised that if she gave him control, she’d know pleasure. Gulping air into her burning lungs, she slowly bent over and grasped her ankles. And waited.

She closed her eyes when the whip crossed her ass, then moaned as he skimmed it up through the crack then back down, sliding across her wet slit, playing her like a violinist putting bow to strings. She moaned as he touched her clit and danced the tassels down along her back and ass.

“Stand up.” He moved in front of her, holding the whip in his hand.

Jaimie stood and stared at his hands as they stroked the rod.

“What did you just learn?”

Confused, Jaimie frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just taught you a valuable lesson. What was it?”

The haze of desire faded. “You didn’t hurt me?”

“What else?”

“What you were doing felt good.”

He nodded and held out the whip. “This is a tool. Nothing more, nothing less.” He tossed it aside and tipped her chin up with one finger. “The lesson was about trust. Do you trust me with your body?”

Considering what he’d said and what he’d done, she nodded slowly.

“Say it.”

“I trust you.” She reached out to touch him, but he stepped back.

“I trust you,
Sir
.”

Swallowing a sigh of frustration, she repeated, “I trust you, Sir.”

“You will address me as Sir. Now, next rule. You do not touch me unless I give you permission. You may now remove your mask. If we leave the cottage, masks must be worn. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Jaimie removed her mask and waited for him to do so as well, but he didn’t. He stepped back to the mirror and pointed to a spot on the floor in front of him.

“Kneel.”

Remembering how Lucy had knelt before her wolf, Jaimie realized Lucy was into this kind of role-play. She planned to have a talk with her friend, but she walked toward her prince and dropped onto her knees. He stepped behind her.

She nearly gasped when she saw herself naked. Her breasts were full, flushed with desire, her nipples hard, rosy peaks. Her gaze dipped to her damp, blonde curls. The throbbing between her legs grew stronger. Embarrassed to her see herself like this, her gaze traveled up the mirror to her prince. She found it strangely erotic that he was fully clothed while she was naked as the day she was born.

“Hands behind your back and head down. You will not look at me until I say. Is that clear?”

She grimaced. “Fine.” A sharp tug to her hair had her adding, “Yes, Sir.”

“Better. Spread your legs apart.” She felt his hands on her shoulders, pulling them back. He walked back in front of her, blocking her view.

Jaimie stared at the thick carpet, then his shoes and the leather of his pants. She judged that his cock would be about eye level. God, she wanted to raise her eyes and see his impressive bulge. Hell, she wanted to yank that zipper down, free him, and take him into her mouth.

“What do you want, my sweet sub?”

“I want your, um, cock.” It felt strangely exhilarating to talk dirty. Remembering the rules, she added, “Sir.”

“Where do you want it?” He stepped close enough that his groin brushed her head.

“Inside me, Sir.”

“Be specific.”

“In my mouth and in my…” She’d never talked dirty before, but to say she wanted him inside her vagina didn’t sound sexy.

“Say it.”

“In my pussy, Sir.”

“That’s a good girl. Good girls get rewarded. You may lift your head.”