It was still early when Morgan arrived home from work. The driveway was empty and she wondered how Finn was fairing at his job with his wounds from the night before. Her own arousal was becoming more nagging the more she played with him. Every time he knelt before her a familiar need pulsed through her veins.
When she walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner she thought about how lucky her subs were. Most dommes expected their subs to do the housework, but cooking was an activity she enjoyed. It was peaceful and allowed her another outlet for creativity. It was also an act she considered vanilla. Whenever she cooked she escaped the lifestyle for a little while, just long enough to miss it.
She began dicing carrots and potatoes, thinking back to the events of the morning. It was her responsibility as his trainer to figure out what he wanted and guide him to discover what his body and mind could handle, and what they couldn’t. As far as she knew there was no such animal as a no limits submissive or slave, though they could have no limits in a certain area. Some slaves even had no limits in multiple areas, but everyone had limits somewhere. Even she had limits as a domme, and if her limits clashed with his desires she would have to make the decision whether she was the best trainer for him.
During her commute, she had been mulling over possible reasons why he hadn’t locked the bathroom door. Had he purposefully left it unlocked so he could be caught? He enjoyed being punished, that was clear. And that was fine, she could play the disciplinarian to his ill-behaved boy. It would just mean that if she needed to extinguish a behaviour her methods would have to involve discomfort he wouldn’t find pleasurable.
She also had to consider that maybe he hadn’t wanted to be caught for the punishment, but for the embarrassment. Did she need to be the horrified girl to counter his ashamed boy? Or had he left it unlocked because he had planned on behaving himself, but wasn’t able to maintain control? Self-control wasn’t one of his strengths, and neither was waiting.
Once the food was almost done she went to change her clothes, knowing he would be home soon. She put on a short black dress and black boots. Though it was more stereotypical dominatrix than she normally went for she felt it was fitting since the key to releasing him from his chastity was in her bra.
About thirty minutes later the front door opened and he walked in holding a black duffle bag in one hand.
“Go put your clothes away then bring me your collar,” she ordered as soon as he had taken his boots off.
He looked up at her, his distress made clear by the lines on his face. He silently walked back to the bedroom, and several minutes later emerged carrying his collar. He sat down slowly at her feet, his face scrunching up in pain.
“Good boy,” she praised, bending down to buckle the collar around his neck. She handed him a plate of food off the table then watched the fork shaking in his trembling hands while he shovelled food into his mouth.
After they were finished he followed her to his room where she stripped him out of his dirt covered clothes and took off the chastity device. His body responded eagerly to its freedom, hardening almost immediately. She smiled at his instant reaction and ran her hand down him so she could hear the breath suck in through his teeth.
“You need to take a shower,” she said, leading him to the bathroom. “Make sure to wash yourself well,” she instructed before sitting down to supervise.
He got in and began washing his body, avoiding spending too much time on his nether region.
“I told you to wash yourself well,” she scolded, noticing the evasion.
His hand went back to his freshly released prisoner, slowly rubbing soap over it.
“Make sure to get all of it,” she said.
He ran the soap over and underneath, his eager muscles starting to clench.
“Enough. Put your hands on top of your head,” she directed.
“Please, Mistress…” he started, wrapping his hand around himself.
She grabbed the ring on his collar, pulled his head down then smacked his red striped backside as hard as she could with the palm of her hand. Both his hands flew to his head, and tears flooded down his face when she brought her hand down again. “I don’t like having to repeat myself,” she said, releasing his collar.
He stood frozen under the stream of water, his hands clasped firmly in his hair.
“Get out and dry yourself off.”
He stepped out carefully, his body jerking with every movement. She handed him a towel and he reluctantly let go of the grip he had on his scalp to take it from her. He was harder now than when he had been touching himself, a response that could only be the result of the punishment she inflicted.
Once he was dry he followed her to his bedroom and knelt down on the floor.
“I already told you once today that as soon as you realize you don’t get to do anything without my permission your training will be much easier,” she reminded him, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
He continued to whimper, staring at the floor.
“Is your need getting in the way of your better judgment?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” he mumbled, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.
“I see. This is your first official day of training, so maybe it’s unfair of me to expect you to have any amount of self-control when you’ve never had to have any in the past. I’m not an unreasonable mistress. I’ll allow you to come if you can make me come,” she bargained with him. “Do you want to please me?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said eagerly, standing up from the floor.
“On your knees,” she commanded. “You need to prove yourself with your mouth before you’ll get an opportunity to prove yourself with your cock.”
He got to his knees and crawled towards her, the image making her arousal drench the insides of her thighs. She leaned back on the bed and opened up to his mouth, then remembered how inept he had been the last time.
His tongue licked her frantically, lacking rhythm and direction. “Slow down,” she instructed, knowing he was trying to rush the process so it could be his turn.
His tongue slowed but still wasn’t anywhere near where it needed to be.
He pulled away and sat back on his heels. “You obviously don’t like how I do this.”
“Have you ever made a girl come with your mouth?” she questioned.
“I’ve never had one complaint.”
“So you think they enjoyed it?”
“I don’t know, but I think you’re harder to satisfy than other women,” he said, looking up at her defiantly.
“Is that so?”
Morgan leaned back in the driver’s seat, contemplating her recent decisions. They had spent the remainder of the night in awkward silence, and now she had to focus on work. She looked up at the two-story group home, preparing for the chaos she usually encountered when she walked inside.
The television blared from the living room, and several different radio stations were competing with the sound from upstairs. She wandered down the entryway then glanced into the family room, returning the waves of the two men seated on the leather couch.
“Is Natalie here?” she asked.
“Office,” they both replied, pointing up the stairs.
She turned and walked up the steps, glancing through the open doors of the bedrooms as she walked by.
“Hey,” she said when she walked through the office door, shutting it behind her to try and block out some of the noise.
“Hey,” Natalie replied, flashing a toothy smile when she glanced around her computer monitor. “What’s wrong?”
She took a seat at the other desk and opened her laptop. “Nothing, why?”
“You look… annoyed,” Natalie said, her pixie face bobbing to the side.
This was one of the biggest issues with her choice of work. Everyone was an expert in behaviour. There was nowhere to hide. Dommes were even worse. They were masters of reading body language. “I’m not annoyed.”
“You sound annoyed,” Natalie prodded, sliding her chair back from her desk.
“How do I sound annoyed?” she replied, trying to focus on the Emails littered across her screen.
“Now I know you’re annoyed,” Natalie said, bobbing her head back the other direction.
“Because you’re annoying me.” She continued scrolling, refusing to make eye contact.
“Come on, tell me. It’ll make you feel better.” This was another problem with her chosen field. Not only did everyone know when there was an issue, but they all wanted an opportunity to help fix it.
Natalie got up from her desk and went to lock the door. “Lexa told me about your new toy.”
“Of course she did.” She slammed her laptop shut knowing there was no escaping the conversation.
“Come on, it’s not like it’s a secret. At least not among us.”
“I know.” Nothing was sacred within the community, especially not among dommes of the same chateau.
“So what’s going on? Maybe I can help,” Natalie said, sitting back down in her chair. Her right leg crossed over her left then bounced anxiously.
Her eye’s wandered over the various degrees and training certificates that hung prestigiously from the wall behind Natalie’s desk. It always amazed her that the chateau’s resident bubbly blonde with her teased up hairdo and uncouth demeanour was also the only domme there who held a doctorate degree. “It’s not something that can be helped. This whole thing was just one big mistake.”
“Why? What happened?” Natalie asked, brushing a wisp of hair away from her face.
“He’s too fucking selfish!” The words burst from her lips, but she didn’t care anymore. Her frustration was at an extreme on too many different levels and she had to release some of the tension. “I’ve made him come twice. Twice! He can’t even get me wet. And he doesn’t care! He thinks it’s my problem, not his.”