My Kingdom for a Corner (5 page)

They were perfect together, and he would prove it to her. By Sunday, she would know they were meant to be together, two halves of a whole. He put down his binoculars as she headed for the building. A few moments later his intercom buzzed and one of his workers informed him Mistress C was here to see him.

“Send her up.” He glanced at the table where he’d laid out a beautiful outfit for the full-figured woman to wear. While she’d been fighting with the idea of bringing her suitcase upstairs, he knew she wouldn’t need it. He had everything she would require, from clothes and toiletries, to food and, of course, sex. He’d keep her full, and happy, and well fucked for the next two and a half days.

He hadn’t planned on their relationship starting out with sex, but when he’d seen her at the party, his plans to sit and talk with her had gone out the window. She’d made him lose control and throw aside his ideas, to center on his baser needs.

Two days ago, the same thing had almost happened. It had taken every ounce of his control to walk out of her office after watching her follow his commands so beautifully. First things first today, getting her properly dressed, some rules, and then some fun, for both of them.

Before she left this weekend, they would know each other, not only physically, but mentally.

A rap on the door let him know she’d arrived. He let her wait a minute and knock one more time before he crossed the floor and opened the door.

“Come in,” he stepped out of the way, shutting the door as she came inside. “There was a part of me that wondered if you would come. I’m glad to see you here.”

“I’m generally up for anything new,” she replied. She went to the couch and sat down. Strike one, as far as he was concerned. “This is something way off the grid for me.”

“Good.” He stayed where he was, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to keep you out of your comfort zone. The first rule is you will obey. I will hear no objections this weekend. Is that clear?”

Her face hardened just a little, her eyes narrowing. A small grin tugged at the side of her mouth, then it was gone. “Understood, Mr. Oliver. Or should I call you Master?”

“I’m not your Master—yet.”

This time her smile stayed in place. “Keep dreaming, Mr. Oliver, and that is the last smart-assed remark I’ll make this weekend.”

He shrugged. “The comments I can handle. The attitude I can’t, or should I say, I won’t. You may call me Mr. Oliver, and I will call you missy.”

“Missy?”

“Short for Mistress C.” He walked toward her. “By the way, how did you come by that name? There is a C in Francesca, true, but I don’t see why they used the C out of it.”

She laughed. “It stands for Mistress Cunt. I had a sub that, shall we say, thought I was a bit harsh. He called me Mistress Cunt, which of course I couldn’t let stand. He found himself without a Mistress. After that, I heard that people in the community were calling me Mistress C for short, and I rather thought it was a badge of honor, it was a reminder to them that I don’t stand for bullshit from my subs.”

He sat down across from her. “Neither do I. You sat without permission. Shame on you.”

“I didn’t know we’d started.”

“We started the minute you walked into the room.” He sat back, stretching is arms along the back of the couch. “The first thing we need to do is discuss our contract.”

A look of approval crossed her face and he nodded ever so slightly. “I agree to lead you this weekend, to give you pleasure, and sometimes pain that will be pleasurable for you. I agree to take care of all your needs, in any way that shall arise. Do you agree to give me control over you for the weekend?”

“Yes.” Her quick answer surprised him. He knew she still had doubts, but he could see that she wanted to play, that this was something she was going to do, even if she had to force herself to be submissive. She was exploring. That was good for him.

“Everything we do this weekend will be safe, sane and consensual, as it always is in our lifestyle. If at any time you are in pain that could lead to damage, it is your responsibility to tell me. What would you like to use for a safe word?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, her voice low. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You know the rules. It needs to be something you can easily remember, and something that you wouldn’t normally say in a scene.”

She was glancing around the room now, as if trying to find an object that would give her inspiration. Finally, she said, “Shortbread.”

“Excuse me?”

She nodded to where a tin of shortbread cookies sat on a side table. “Shortbread.”

“So be it.” He had to give her credit for ingenuity. He didn’t plan on her using the word, but it had to be done. Rules had to be followed so that safe guards were in place, just in case. He handed her a pen and watched as she signed the agreement. He signed right above her, and then gave a copy to her. He watched her fold it in half and put it in her purse. Now that the formalities were over, it was time to play.

“Stand up.”

He nodded at her compliance. “Strip.” He had to give her credit. She had not one ounce of modesty in her. Of course, that would be hard in the long run, when he was trying to find things that would take her out of her comfort zone during public scenes. Being naked didn’t bother her. But then again, being naked, and dominated, probably would. If she wore her name as a badge of honor about not taking any bullshit, then she wanted to appear strong to others. All he probably needed to do to keep her in line was threaten to take her downstairs with a collar and leash.

“I have something for you to wear, something that will please me.” He pointed to the chair where he’d set out the clothing.

Her sharp intake of breath let him know she wasn’t happy with the costume he’d selected for her.

“You’ll need help with the corset,” he said. “Put everything else on, and then bring it to me. He kept his back to her, trusting that she would follow his instructions. He could hear her moving, heard a deep grunt that came, he was sure, when she put the thigh-high boots on. Figuring out the size she wore hadn’t been easy, until he discovered that the sub of one of the Doms who frequented the club worked at a shoe store Francesca frequented.

The heels were rather high, but he knew they would make her look spectacular. When she appeared before him, she wore the boots, a gold chain belt around her waist, leather cuffs around her wrists, and nothing else. She held out the corset.

“Will you assist me, Mr. Oliver?”

He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Kneel down, with your back to me.”

A deep flush spread across her face, and he knew the idea of kneeling wasn’t one she appreciated. This would be an early tell. If she refused, things would end here. After a few moments hesitation, she put the corset next to him on the couch, turned, and knelt down gingerly.

It was, he was sure, one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life, and she’d done it fairly fast. It should make for interesting conversation in a few moments.

“Arms out.” Her obedience made him wonder if he’d been wrong all along. He’d thought the first few hours of this weekend would be spent in her arguing with him, and while he’d told her he wouldn’t accept it, he’d been prepared to look the other way for a small portion of it. Maybe they could start playing immediately, and have a weekend of hedonistic pleasure that would make them both thirsty for more.

His hands brushed her breasts as he reached around her and wrapped the leather corset around her torso. Today’s corset was red, tomorrow’s was black, and the one he’d selected for Sunday was whalebone. It would be the most uncomfortable, but he wanted it to make a lasting impression, which meant he wanted it to be the last thing she wore here—for this weekend, that is.

Once their relationship was in full bloom, he would want her naked while she was here, even in winter. Playing with the temperature could provide hours of fun for the both of them at that time.

He zipped the corset up before he ran his fingers down her shoulders. “Turn to me.”

She scooted around, just as he’d hoped she would. The movement made her breasts, squeezed together by the corset, jiggle where they weren’t covered by the leather.

“Delicious,” he said. “That’s one word.”

She frowned, then said, “Should I have brought a dictionary with me?”

“Perhaps. Now I want you to give me one word, about your feelings at this exact moment. One word only.”

“You’re kidding me, right? If we’re going to play analyst and patient, shouldn’t I be on the couch?”

Oliver chuckled. “I would think someone who hasn’t had an orgasm in two days would remember how I punish smart-mouthed subs, or those who just flat out disobey me.” It was hard not to laugh at the shocked look on her face. “That’s right, I know you followed my orders, which I appreciate. However, if you continue with your ways, I will push back the timetable for your orgasm. I hope those words make my point. Now one, tell me one word that describes how you’re feeling, and be honest.”

He watched various emotions play over her features, from nervousness to just a little bit of anger. Finally she said, “Trepidation.”

“Excellent word,” he replied. “Now, give me one more.”

“A little foolish.”

Oliver frowned. “That’s more than one. Tell me why you used three words when I asked for one.”

“Is there a word limit on that, too?”

He sat back and shook his head. “You really don’t want to come tonight, do you? No limit. Explain yourself.”

“Because I don’t feel totally foolish, but I have to admit to feeling a little foolish. I feel like a tart.”

“You look like one, and I rather enjoy it, since I dressed you this way.” Too soon for sex, he repeated to himself as she cocked her head and gave him a look that made his already hard prick throb. Don’t let her take control.

“Stand up.” She had to put her hands on the couch to obey him, and when she bent over her breasts spilled out from the top of the corset. Her nipples were hard and rosy red, and the urge to suck was strong.

Not yet, he repeated, not yet.

“May I cover up?” she asked when she was back on her feet.

“You may not.” He nodded to the right. “Go to the kitchen table and retrieve the items that are there.”

“Oh, I’m on a scavenger hunt now. Goodie.” Her gait was uneasy as she moved away, and he watched her with appreciation. Her bare ass was gorgeous, and after he whipped it tonight, it would be even more spectacular.

He was pretty sure her reaction to the event he had planned would be like fireworks going off in his dungeon.

When she came back, she jiggled the delicate gold chains he’d laid out on the table.

“Missing something from my outfit, am I?” She gave him a brilliant smile. “A woman loves to get jewelry.”

“So she does.” He held out his hand and she put them in it. “Stand here.”

At least she was obeying him in some things without giving him lip, he thought as she moved into position. “Here’s the plan for the afternoon,” he said. “I’m going to attach your wrist cuffs to the belt you’re wearing. Then, I’m going to give you an hour to walk through the house, explore things, get the lay of the land, so to speak. After that, you have a half hour to write down three words about how you’re feeling.”

“You’re big on the words and feeling thing, aren’t you?”

Oliver sighed. “You’re dangerously close to losing orgasm privileges for tonight. Once they’re gone for the evening, any problems I have with you will carry over until tomorrow. If you can’t keep from smarting off every few minutes, you won’t climax all weekend, which would be a true shame because you look so lovely when you come.”

Her lips were clamped together now, and he wondered if she’d say another word the rest of the evening.

“Do you understand my instructions?”

“Yes. Explore, then write down three words about my feelings.”

“Very good.” He attached one end of the chains to her cuffs, the other to the link around her waist, keeping them taut so that she had very little room to move her arms.

“At the risk of being labeled a smart-ass, how am I supposed to write if my arms are tied to my waist?”

Oliver sat back, admiring the image in front of him. Damn, she made his dick hard. Screw letting her get acquainted with what she was feeling, he should flip her over and fuck her until she fainted.

Instead of following through on that idea, he said, “You’re a smart woman, you’ll figure it out. You have an hour and a half. I’d watch the clock if I were you.”

“Fine, look, write. I can handle that.”

“And have your nose in a corner when I return, specifically one in the dungeon.”

Her hackles were back up now. “Excuse me? You want me to stand in a corner?”

“Did you hear me say stand? No, I want you to kneel there, with your nose pressed against the wall. I should think it’s a very self-explanatory order.”

“I don’t kneel in corners.” The angry timbre of her voice made him smile.

He stood and ran his hands down his thighs. It was either that or touch her, and now wasn’t the time.

“As I said before, you’re dangerously close. Think on that before you make statements about not doing something. Have a good hour and a half.”