Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (51 page)

“Warming up already?” Cort’s snarky voice permeates the room.
“Interesting choice of location, Regina. You make me feel like a proud papa.”

I wait for Marcus to follow him into the room. I stare out the doorway for a moment in disappointment when he doesn’t show.

Cort kisses my cheek and turns to Fate. He kisses her full-on the lips and I stare in shock. He adds tongue and she whimpers. The poor girl follows his lips as he pulls away. Cort’s pouty, ruby-kissed lips hold the pull of the moon on unsuspecting females, even I’m not immune.

“Hmm… you were the best virgin I’ve ever had,” he murmurs with a dreamy expression on his face.

That was sweet in a weird kind of way until he goes and ruins it with, “Your sister was a close second.”

I punch him in the chest. “Behave!”

“I like you when you’re pissed. It makes me hot.” He jacks his pants up. “It’s too bad you dampen your power. I bet you could kick Marc’s ass if you were angry enough.” His eye twitches.

“Behave,” I say weaker this time. He misbehaves and you want to kill him, but one look at him and you want
to hug him and laugh instead.

He leers at me in a strange way. He hasn’t looked at me with heated eyes since we
made-out almost two years ago.

“What’s with the sexual connotations? You never act like this around me,” I say in confusion. I feel like he’s playing with me, and not in a good kind of way.
He looks sad for a moment and dread coils in my stomach. I don’t understand, but my instincts pick up all sorts of warning alarms.

“Shall we begin,” he gestures to me.

He looks to me as if I’m already Fate’s Master. He’s asking for permission after he already molested her lips. My question brought up something painful for him if he’s decided to play fair again.

“Where’s M
aster?” I ask with suspicion.

“He decided it would be for the best if I supervised you with Fate. He wishes to remain nameless.” I can tell he’s lying and he knows it. He looks away from me and walks across the room.

The only part of that statement that was remotely true is Marcus remaining only Master as his name. Only the Masters and Kristal know his true identity. None of the patrons, submissives, or clubbers know that Marcus ever steps foot into Restraint. When he does go there, it’s only for initiations and always through the backdoor. Even Ezra and Cortez hide behind the anonymity of the title
The Boss
and those horrible hoods.

What makes the statement untrue is that Cort would never instruct anyone because of his taunting personality. Also Marc would never allow him access to someone Cort deflowered in front of her horrified sister. And lastly is Cort’s strange sexual behavior towards me. He hasn’t even batted an eyelash at me for fear that our Master would yank them out at the root. The dread screams louder in my ears.

An ache forms between my breasts and I stifle my need to run up those steps and seek Jamie out or run screaming from the Brownstone looking for my AWOL Master. I push the pain away and focus on the task ahead.

“D/s has many forms. It isn’t uncommon for a couple not to wish for voyeurs. I’d like to figure out a way for Fate and I not to be sexual. I want our relationship to be true dominance and submission. I think we’d blow it if we had to play lovers. They won’t know that we aren’t behind closed doors. Does this make sense?” I decided to deal with the problem at hand and try to push the screaming to the depths of my subconscious mind.

“It would work. You’d still have to be affectionate, maybe touchy-feely. If your bond is strong enough no one would question it.” Cort takes on an expression of cleverness. You forget when you banter with him that he has a strong, intelligent mind behind the bravado.

“I need to see how much she trusts you and how well you respond to her cues. If she can follow your lead and do as she’s told, than you won’t have any problems. I know you’re both smart and I can see that she’s highly submissive. I worry that the club will be too much
for her, though,” he murmurs. 

I understand what he’s saying. Another misnomer is that anyone who isn’t familiar with the scene believes that it’s only in the bedroom and clubs that we engage in D/s. It’s a lifestyle and not one of our choosing. You’re dominant all the time. You’re submissive all the time. The only exception to the rule is a Switch and they are usually a dominant who wishes to relinquish control as a way to feel more in control.

Fate may be submissive, but that doesn’t mean that she’ll fit into Restraint. I’ll have to monitor her and do right by her. At home she loves structure. I tell her when and what to work on for
Empowerment
and she does it flawlessly with competent efficiency. We have chores around the house and hers are always completed. She even asks my opinion on who she dates. Just because she needs a Master in life, doesn’t mean she needs one in the bedroom, or a dungeon.

“What do you suggest?” I ask Cort business-like.

I’m ready to conquer this so I can move on to the next step of this journey. I need access to Restraint to help Ade and make my Master proud. I can’t do that by standing in the restraint room at the Brownstone. My Master is disappointed in me for some reason. I can feel it in the air. I want to prove to him that I’m worthy to enter his game.

“Kinbaku,” he says softly.

I want to freak out and scream, but Fate will feed off of my energy. I slowly draw air into my lungs and exhale quietly. I repeat this until I’m calm. I mustn’t upset the submissive.

Kinbaku was what I was the worst at during training. It’s the Japanese art of rope binding. Art and I are no acquaintances. I can command a computer to draw me a picture, but I can’t draw one from nothing. I’m proficient tying the knot-work, but not the art of knot-work. Both Marc and Cort tied me up for weeks. I tied Cort up in return only to fail time and again. We moved on to another subject and came back to it- twice. Marc gave up when I couldn’t tie him either.

I know that this is the last step of my training. It is two-fold, if I can conquer the rope and prove that Fate trusts me implicitly, I will finally earn the title Queen.

My mind goes into the mode I work with. I’ve never delved this deep while I’ve playacted as a Master and I know why. I’m not playing anymore. Queen and I are one and Fate really is our submissive. I’m not going to tie up a Master playing submissive; I’m going to tie up the real thing.

Fate’s face is flushed and she’s breathing in tiny pants of air. Her eyes are clear and trusting. I smooth her dirty-blonde hair back from her face and braid it. I don’t want to accidently knot one of her hairs into the rope. Having your hair pulled can be thrilling and pleasurable, but there is something ridiculously painful about just one strand being yanked. I don’t understand it, but it should be a form of torture.

She calms under my touch and I can feel her trust in me permeate the air. It calms me in return. Whereas she feeds off my emotions, I learn that I can feed off hers, too. We calm each other.
Fate is fond of dresses. She loves billowy, soft fabric that floats around her small frame. I pull her dress off only to discover that she is nude beneath. I smile when Cort hisses in a breath.
Yeah, how’s that abstinence treating ya, Cort?

Fate and Ade used to strive to be rail-thin in a quest to reach the perfect size zero. I made Fate eat healthy, stating that I was raising a daughter and I didn’t want her to feel bad about herself. I
know how horrible it is to feel uncomfortable in your own skin and I didn’t want her to experience it. I don’t like my body, but the difference between me and Ade is that I accept that I can’t change it.

Fate looks incredible. Her breasts have filled out to a large B-cup and her hips are shapely. The best thing I could have ever done for Fate was making her eat. Thin didn’t suit her, as she is now
, she’s gorgeous.

“Which do you prefer, Cort?” I tease him, “Teenage Fate or the new and improved adult Fate?”
He licks his lips a few times and doesn’t answer. The tent in his dress slacks does all the speaking for him. I smirk tauntingly at the man who isn’t getting any.

My mind slips back into the peace I find when I’m deep into creating a program from nothing. I begin by drawing her elbows behind her back until they touch. I weave the rope slowly with precise placement. The pattern begins to take shape and I refrain from smiling. I worry that gloating too soon will break my concentration and jinx me.

Fate’s huffing in huge breaths of air and it worries me that she’ll hyperventilate. A flash of silk in the corner catches my eye and I grab for it.

I hold her clear, blue eyes and wrap the Rococo patterned, violet silk and velvet scarf around her neck. I tighten it to the point that is she contin
ues to gasp she’ll asphyxiate.

“Look me in the eyes, Fate. Do you trust me? I’m not hurting you. It’s just an ordinary rope. When it was lying on the floor it was just an inanimate object, now it is an extension of my fingers. Think of the rope as your Master’s caress. Think of the binding at your neck as your Master’s soothing hand commanding you to calm yourself.” My voice is lulling- a tone I’ve never spoken in my life- it’s a cadence of Queen’s voice. I finally acknowledge that I’m Queen.

Her eyes cloud and glaze over. A satisfied smile flirts with her lips. She relaxes to the point that I have to hold her up.

I reach over and attach her bound arms to an eyebolt set into a hardwood beam on the wall. When she’s stable on her feet I resume my knot-work. I kneel at her feet and begin knotting her legs together. I don’t trust Cortez around my submissive. I create an intricate design that ensures that nothing larger than a fingertip could penetrate Fate’s bare folds.

Fate’s breathing peacefully, never taking her eyes from my face. She looks so serene that I understand the Switches better. Dominance is a huge high, but submission is a release on a level like no other.

I snake the rope between her thighs noting that it glistens as it passes her slit. I attach her thighs to her hands through the split between her legs. If she moves without permission it would rub her raw. I don’t want her to move- I just need her to trust me.

I stand and check her eyes and lips. I make sure she’s getting enough air and I tighten the scarf one more notch. Her eyes widen and a moan spills from her lips. Who would’ve guessed that scared, submissive Fate likes the lack of oxygen?

Administered correctly you’ll reach a level of euphoria upon climax. Marc taught me this trick by allowing me to choke Cort with my bare hands while Cort touched himself though his pants. It was a pity I couldn’t see anything, but I enjoyed the sensation of finally choking my frustrations out of Cort. He sagged to the ground when it was over and begged me to do it again. It brought a whole new meaning to why Ezra chokes the instigator.  

Fate’s lips pout as she pants without moving her throat. I decide that her lips are near perfect, the bottom one is slightly fuller than the top, which is a curved cupid-bow. I kiss her parted lips and she relaxes farther. She’s so languid that I worry she’ll spill to the floor into a pile of goo.

One more part of her body is left to knot- her breasts. I begin with a figure-eight pattern. I bind them up and out and apart. As my fingers weave, I notice how beautiful she looks as I bind her, truly a work of art. I’m no longer afraid that I will fail. I’ve already succeeded. Regina Regal always succeeds- eventually.

Her skin is flushed with arousal. I can smell her musky scent wafting up- it’s not unpleasant. It arouses me to know that I arouse her in return. As a Dominant it’s my responsibility to provide her pleasure, peace, comfort, stability, safety, boundaries, punishment, and discipline. It’s a huge undertaking, but for each that I provide, the sense of pride that infuses me is astronomical. Her arousal is the sweetest scent to my nostrils.

Her breasts are perfect handfuls with pearls raised at the tips. I allow myself a taste of one of her buds. She groans deep in her chest and falls lax. I decide that I can provide the sexual side of her needs after all. It’s a thrill. I’m not one to particularly find woman attractive, but the act of dominating her overrides my natural persuasion. Her need to please me creates a need inside of me to please her as a reward. I understand why the lines blur even for the most straight or gay Master. You’re their Master and you don’t want anyone else to provide what you should be giving freely. It’s territorial and possessive and all about pride and control. 

Her breasts are turning red from the restrictive blood flow. I nip her skin and she shudders. The sensations are stronger, livelier with the bindings.

The ache in my chest returns when I realize what I’ve missed out on during my training. My Master didn’t think I deserved this glorious sensation of having your skin touched when it was at its most sensitive. It was the same with the latex; he gave me a sample of a taste and selfishly took what he needed.

I’ll not treat Fate with that level of disrespect. She’s done no wrong. She has put her life in my hands and I will damn well reward her for it. The difference between Fate and me is that I should have demanded the respect the instant he disrespected me. Since I didn’t protest, I doubt he’ll respect me again for my lapse. I feel sicker inside, but this isn’t about me- it’s about Fate.
I kiss her sensually and allow my fingers to trickle down her abdomen. I wiggle my index finger between her folds, marveling at how difficult it is with the bindings. I reach behind her and tug at her hands. The movement flows down to the rope between her thighs. I make sure it doesn’t rub her too roughly. She groans loud enough that it echoes around the small room.