Do it like Magic Mike (Regular Sex Issue 3) (2 page)

‘Okay, okay,’ I yelp,
scared to look down in case she’s ripped them off. ‘Don’t hurt me! Yes. I do. I
like it... mistress.’

I chuck that in
because I’ve seen enough porn to know that she’ll probably love it. She pauses,
and I can feel her breath tickling my ear.

‘Say that again,’
she says softly, and her hands slide to my belt buckle.

Is it me, or did
her voice just shake the tiniest bit?

‘Mistress,’ I
whisper, and this time I’m brave enough to lift one of her hands to my mouth
and kiss the back of her fingers. ‘Tell me what you want from me. It’s yours.
Anything.’

I can feel sudden
indecision radiating from her, even though she’s behind me. It’s dawning on me
slowly that Laurel isn’t entirely sure what she is or what she wants, and I
feel the balance of power shift a little back in my favour.

Right. I’ll play
her game. For now.

She slides around
to stand in front of me again, and I don’t miss the flicker in her eyes as she stares
me down. Oh, Laurel. She’s trying so very hard to be brave, and I really do admire
her for it. She’s ballsy, and she’s absolutely fucking mesmerising.

‘What do you want
me to do next?’ I ask softly.

Her gaze shifts
down my body and then slowly back up to my face again.

‘Strip.’

I wonder what happened
to make her this way as I reach for my buckle. I unbutton it and slip the belt
from my body, whip-quick so that it slashes and cracks the air. A flash of
naked horror crosses Laurel’s face before she catches it and rearranges her
features back to unreadable. Too late, Laurel. I see you, and now I know
exactly what you need, and newsflash, it isn’t what you think it is.

I drop the belt
and reach for the button on my trousers. She holds up a hand to pause me while
she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, crossing those long legs of hers and
licking her lips. She clicks a button on a remote on her bedside table and
music fills the room, a low pulsing dance beat, the kind you can fuck to.

‘Make it look
sexy,’ she says, folding her arms delicately beneath her tits.

‘You want me to
give you a show?’ I say, back on safer territory now. I’ve received plenty of
lap dances, I know how this goes. Admittedly, I’ve never given one before, but
hey, I’ve seen those Magic Mike scenes on YouTube. If that’s what the lady
wants, she better make sure she’s got some cold water at hand because I’m a
fucking sex professional and she is going to get HOT in that PVC over the next
few minutes.

She doesn’t
answer my question, just stares at me speculatively.

Fine. I lift one
shoulder, a shrug, and then I slide my hands down my abs slowly and reach for
the button of my trousers, rolling my hips suggestively to the beat.

She flicks one
eyebrow up, and I swagger slowly closer, locking her gaze as I move. She
swallows, and when I come to a halt in front of her, my slowly thrusting crotch
is level with her eyes.

Is that amusement
I glimpse there? She’s turning out to be such an enigma. I can’t tell if she’s scared,
or amused, or turned on. She seems to be juggling all three emotions at once.

Me, I’ve got the
raging horn now, so I turn my back on her and put my hands behind my head as I
thrust some more, really giving it some as I reach down and let my trousers
drop. Oh yes, baby.

She slaps my ass
when I bend down to remove my clothes, and I just soak the pleasure in and give
her a little twerk for good measure before I turn back again, standing only in
my black Calvin’s. Her gaze is everywhere, and I know that horny is now the primary
emotion sitting firmly in her driving seat.

I take a chance,
dropping on my knees in front of her in time with the music, shimmying my
shoulders for her pleasure as I lean back on my heels. My cock is rock hard,
and I could come on the spot when she reaches out the pointed toe of her boot
and runs it down the very evident curve of my erection.

‘I like the way
you dance,’ she says, massaging me with the sole of her shoe. ‘Now do as you’re
told and strip naked.’

I should probably
care that the heel of her boot is perilously close to my balls, but man, what
she’s doing feels good.

Strip naked?
Hell, yeah. If this is what it feels like to be a sex slave, bring it on. I’ve
been missing out big time.

I slink to my
feet, brushing against her as I rise, and I whisper ‘yes mistress’ in her ear
as I pass. Her creamy cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes sparkle as if she’s
been drinking, and her lips pop apart as I slide my hands inside my trunks and
rub my length. I close my eyes and put my head back as I get into it, knowing what
she wants to see. When I open my eyes, she’s uncrossed her arms and her hands
are splayed flat on the mattress, her arms braced straight against her sides.
It’s a move that’s pushed the swell of her tits together and I badly want to
get her naked too. If I just tread carefully for the next few minutes we can
both get what we need tonight. Laurel thinks she wants control, but I know what
she really needs. I’m going to give it to her soon too, but right now, I’m gonna
take my Calvin’s off and let her see my cock, because she wants to see it and I
want to show her.

I slide my trunks
down in one fluid move and step out of them, flicking them away with my toe so
I can feast on that gratifying flicker of amusement in her eyes again.

And I do, but it’s
replaced quickly by lust as her eyes settle on my straining, naked cock. I’m in
front of her again, and I stroke myself, up with the beat, down with the beat.
Up, down. Up, down.

‘More.’ Her voice
is thicker and I put my spare hand behind my head and thrust into my palm. Christ,
I need to be careful. This feels so fucking good I could come, and that isn’t
the objective here. Not yet, anyway. Her mouth is so close to my crotch that I
have to close my eyes, look away and count to ten slowly.

‘Make yourself
come.’

Fuck! That
sounded so damn sexy coming from her mouth, I almost go past the point where I
can hold it. I open my eyes and look at her. I don’t want to do what she tells
me anymore. How should I play this?

The last thing I
want to do is make her angry, because I know that she doesn’t really know what
to do with this Catwoman persona she’s created. It’s all very well owning
shackles and whips. It’s another thing completely knowing how to use them for
pleasure as well as control. While I was on my knees just now I spotted the freshly
discarded packaging from her cuffs and boots, plus an unopened bullet vibrator
stuffed under the bed. I’m dealing with a rookie, but everyone knows a rookie
with a gun is ten times more dangerous than an experienced shooter. Besides,
Laurel isn’t just a rookie. She’s running scared from something, or somebody.
Right now I’m just glad that somebody isn’t me, because I want to bang the
living daylights out of her before morning.

‘If I come now, I’m
not going to be any use to you.’ I’m playing tactically, falling back down onto
my knees. ‘Let me please you first, mistress.’

I lay my head on
her leg and look up at her, and she looks back at me, startled.

‘Err...’ she
says, and I put my hand on her knee and bat my eyelashes.

‘Please?’ I say,
and as she sits there thinking, I reach for the zipper nestled between her
tits.

‘Mistress?’

She looks down at
my fingers.

‘What would you
like me to do?’ I’ve planted the seed and now I wait for her to accept command
back and tell me to strip her.

Slowly, she
stands.

‘Take my boots
off for me.’

Well, I can’t say
I’m going to be sad to see the back of them. They’re sexy as fuck but they’re lethal
weapons. I glide my hands up her calves and slide the zippers down one by one.
I help her out of them, placing them under the bed by the box they’ve only
recently vacated.

‘Now get up and
unzip my suit.’

I look down to
hide my smile, and then from my position on my knees, I place a single,
lingering kiss against the PVC outline of her mound. She stares at me, wide
eyed, and I stand up as if she imagined it even happened.

‘My zipper,’ she
whispers. She’s a head shorter than me now that she’s free of those boots, and
the scales of power re-balance in my favour once again.

‘Can I kiss you?’
I ask, because I suddenly want to, fiercely.

She shakes her
head. ‘No kissing.’

I look at her,
taken aback. Kissing is one of my things. ‘None at all?’

‘Not on the
mouth.’

For a few seconds,
we stare at each other, and I have to work hard to remember that I’m being paid
for this and what the customer wants the customer gets.

I say nothing and
reach for the silver tag of her zip. It’s cold, and I know it’s going to slide
easily down. I resist the urge to go fast, to reveal her quickly, to pull it
from her body so I can see her curves.

Her breasts
strain inside the PVC, and the moment I begin to move the zipper down to her
midriff the two sides of the material pull apart and gape with relief. It looks
like she’s wearing one of those too revealing catwalk dresses, her nipples only
just covered.

I’m having
trouble regulating my breathing. Laurel sweeps her hair over one shoulder and
then runs her fingers down the edges of the material and delicately peels it
back far enough so her tits are fully on show.

‘I asked you to
undress me,’ she says, her voice husky as she plays with her hard nipples. Man,
was I right about her rack. Bigger than cooking apples, a damn fine handful, and
I’ve got big hands.

‘I know what you
asked me to do,’ I say softly, as I hook my thumbs into the shoulders of her
suit and peel it slowly down until she’s naked from the waist up.

She’s all
luscious long hair and bare curves, like a fabulously slutty mermaid, and I’m
the helpless fisherman that she’s lured onto the rocks.

‘You should
probably ask me to touch your tits now.’

We both know that
I’m fully aware that she’s not a real dom, but I keep the pretense up for her
benefit.

She nods.

‘Do it.’

Jesus, I wish I
could kiss her. I’ve never seen a woman more in need of it.

I reach out my
hands, but I don’t do as she expects. I stroke her hair, smooth it with the
flat of my palms, and then run the back of my fingers over her jaw. She can’t
stop herself from trembling, and she closes her eyes when my thumb slides
across her bottom lip.

‘Don’t kiss me.’

‘I won’t,’ I
promise, letting my fingers move down the column of her neck and fan out over
her shoulders. She’s delicate, but somehow she’s strong too. It’s a heady
combination.

And finally, I
cup the weight of her breasts, warm and heavy in my hands as I move my thumbs
across her nipples. I don’t wait for her to ask me to dip my head. I’m there,
open mouthed on her skin, trailing my tongue over the slopes and dips of her
flesh. Jesus, she’s glorious. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck
on it, licking around and over it until she gulps and grips my hair.

‘More?’ I ask, watching
her eyes as I hold her tits and slide hot kisses all over them to her other
nipple.

She nods, greedy.

‘More.’

I mouth her, then
slip my hands down her body to cup her ass cheeks and lift her up to my hungry mouth,
letting my cock press against her PVC-clad crotch when she wraps her legs
around me.

Can you rip PVC?
I wish I knew for certain, because if it was a sure move I’d make it. I just
don’t want to risk looking like a prat if I try and fail. Although to be honest,
I’m that fucking hard I think I could probably rip it with the force of my cock
alone.

When I look at
her again I can see my own slightly delirious lust mirrored in her eyes, but I
can see other things there too that remind me I need to slow down. I have to,
because I don’t want to just break her man drought. I want to change her misconceptions,
to show her that things don’t have to be the way she thinks in bed. Someone has
made Laurel think that the only way she can enjoy sex is to control it, and I
want to show her that she’s wrong.

So I place her
gently back down on her feet and pull back with my hands resting on her
shoulders.

‘Permission to
take control?’ I ask, and I see and understand the battle that goes on behind
her troubled gaze.

‘You can take it
back anytime you want,’ I add quietly, rubbing my thumbs over her raised collarbones.

Her eyes are
sombre now, serious and full of questions. When she eventually nods, I feel as
if I’ve won the goddamn lottery.

I lower my head
and brush a kiss over her shoulder as my fingers trace down her stomach to the
zip of the catsuit. I draw her into me and snake my arm around her waist, then hold
her there for a few seconds, my other hand toying with the metal between our
bodies. She’s so tense, and instinctively I kiss the top of her hair as I lower
the zip to its base just over her mound. My fingertips linger there, far enough
inside to graze between her legs. She sways into me, and because I know she
expects me to push my hand further inside, I ease it out instead and rest my
hands on her hips, slowly rolling that PVC suit down over the curve of her ass.
I can’t tell you how much I want to drag it off and throw her on that bed, but
I force myself to go slow, revealing her inch by creamy inch. It’s around her
thighs now, and she’s biting her lip. She doesn’t look very dominant this
second.

She looks...
wrong-footed and vulnerable, and again I wish I could kiss her because that’s
what she really needs right now.

So I kiss her
face instead, her eyes, her jawline, and as I peel the suit down her legs, I
lower myself down and leave a ribbon of kisses down her body, between her
breasts, over her ribs.