Page 15 of Halloween Treats

“Already begging. I knew you would. It’s who you are.” Before I can ask what he means, he pulls his hand out from between my legs. I bite my lip to stop myself from protesting, and watch as he picks up the paper he dropped down in the seat next to him. Pulling me a little closer, his arm tightens around me before he starts reading.

“Number one, you will at all times carry a cell phone with which I will provide you. Whenever I text or call you, you will respond immediately.”

That doesn't sound too bad. I always have my phone glued to my hand.

“Number two, you will always wear skirts or dresses with no underwear. I want nothing coming between me and what’s mine.”

I just nod my head in agreement. I also always wear skirts; it’s the best way to show off my heels, but I’ve never gone without underwear. I guess I should be thankful we live somewhere warm.

“Three, all meals are to be eaten together, and by my hand.”

“Like, you make them?” I ask, wondering about his strange wording.

“No, kitten, I mean you sit in my lap and I feed you.”

I’m starting to think I’m not going to like some of the Mistress Contract rules.

“Four, where I go, you go.” And there it is. I wouldn't have to wonder what he was up to. I would know if there was another woman, though I don't really think there would be. I’d never seen him with one before, even though they were always throwing themselves at him. But in all fairness, I didn't think he was going to bust out all this kinkery either. “Unless I tell you to be someplace else,” he finishes.

“So you want me to pretty much be your assistant again, but this time you get to fuck me when I annoy you.”

“Watch your mouth, kitten.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Instead I just glare into his dark eyes, making him flash his perfect white teeth at me. It’s then it hits me that I’ve never seen him smile like that before, and I can't help but stare.

“No, you're not my assistant, I have someone for that. You’re my submissive, and I’ll want you by my side for whatever I might need—reading me my emails while I eat your pussy, sneaking you under my desk to suck my cock to get me through boring meetings, or just laying you naked across the couch in my office so I have something beautiful to stare at all day.”

I’ve heard of Dominant/submissive couples before, but that seems a little over the top, even if my body seems to find the concept intriguing. This is Vegas; everything happens here. Sex is openly talked about, and no subject is taboo. And for some reason, the first thing that pops out of my mouth is, “Do I have to wear a collar?”

I can't decide whether I want him to say yes or no. He sits and studies my face for a second.


Yet another question pops out my mouth, and I wish I could take back. “Do you always collar your women?”

“No, I don’t have women.” He says the word in a tone that implies he’s annoyed I asked. “And no, I’ve never collared anyone before, but with you I seem to be a little more possessive.”

He traces his finger along my neck where the collar would be, and for some reason it makes me wish I had it on now. I’m curious how the weight of it would feel, and what it would be like to be possessed in that way.

“Speaking of the possessive tendencies I seem to have around you, that leaves me with my final two rules. You’re never speak to another man unless I grant you permission…” Before I protest, he finishes my thought for me “…Except those men you consider your family.” I should object, but those are the only men I talk to unless I’m working, and I seem not to be doing that for the time being, so the point is moot. It’s best to pick my battles with a man like Charles.

“Lastly, when we are around other people, if I don’t have a hand on you, then you must have a hand on me.” His finger continues to trace my throat like he’s outlining the collar I’ll soon wear.

“So I’m glued to you unless you dismiss me? Does that about sum up your rules?”

“I would never dismiss you,” he says softly, a hurt tone in his voice. No, maybe he wouldn't, but he does like to push until I dismiss myself. Sometimes he gets mad and storms out, but he’s never told me get out or to leave a room.

He puts the list down and wraps both arms around me, picking me up and carrying me across the room. He places me on the edge of the bed, and then removes my wings. I scoot to the middle and lie back on the soft red bedding. I’m surrounded by the silky smooth material, and my over-sensitized skin tingles at the sensation.

“Aren't these against the rules?” I pull at the string of the thong, wondering if I need to take it off. I’m being bold and I don’t care; my body is on edge. A flash of disappointment hits me when he shakes his head. My body is screaming for me to cum.

“Leave them on, kitten. I need something between us tonight.”

“You're not going to…” I let the words hang in the air.

“Not until you beg me.”

“Hmm. Then I guess this is going to be a long thirty days for you,” I retort, but even I don't believe my words.

“Oh, but you will beg me, and it will take everything in me not to cum all over myself.”

It’s crazy how easily his words make my whole body come to life. It’s so different to anything I’ve ever felt before. Charles has awoken something in me; something that has been smoldering there since the first time I met him. That first spark hit, and then it almost died when I found out who he was. Now he’s feeding it again, making it burn brighter and hotter than ever. It’s almost like he can see me better than I can see myself. More importantly, he's making me feel desired. It’s like I'm the most perfect thing he's ever seen and he’s worried I could slip from his hold. Maybe that's just how a Dominant talks, but either way, I like it.