Just For You, Sir (Doms of Decadence)

Just for you, Sir

Doms
of Decadence

By Laylah Roberts

Copyright

Laylah Roberts

Just for you, Sir.

© 2014, Laylah Roberts

[email protected]

laylahroberts.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

This sto
ry contains explicit sex scenes and light BDSM. R18

Editor: Khriste Close

Cover Design by:
Erin Dameron-Hill

When had
paddling a sub’s ass become a chore?

Derrick
struggled to keep his boredom hidden. The sub tied to the spanking bench deserved his full attention. Anything less was an insult.

“How are you doing, Tara?” he asked,
putting the paddle aside. Tara was one of the waitresses at Club Decadence. Since moving to Austin, Decadence had become like a second home to Derrick. His old friend, Roarke Landon owned the BDSM club.

“I’m good, Sir,” she murmured, letting out a soft sigh as he ran his hands over her bottom.

He smacked one of his hands down on her butt. “Give me a color, sub,” he said in a low voice.

“Sorry, Sir. Green, Sir.”

Usually, the sight of a sub tied down awaiting his pleasure would have his cock hard and throbbing. But he barely felt a stirring as he rubbed her ass. Moving to the small table that held a number of toys, he picked up a Hitachi wand. The cord was extra-long, easily reaching the bench he had Tara secured to.

Derrick parted her labia and ran the wand over her lips. Tara let out a low cry, her body shuddering.
She was slick with need and he knew she was close to the edge.

“Wait for permission to come,” he ordered.

“Oh, oh, please, Sir,” she begged.

“You can do better
than that,” he said sternly, holding the large head of the wand over her engorged clit. She shuddered, her whole body writhing. Sweat coated her naked body.

“Please, Sir. Please let me come.”

“Not yet.”

“Oh
hhh.”

He actually felt a small spurt of amusement, imagining the
names she was calling him in her head. As her breathing grew quicker, her hips thrusting up as far as they could, he knew she was near the end of her endurance.

“Please, Sir. Please, let me come.”

“You may come.”

One, two, three seconds and then she exploded, rocking against the bench, moisture coating the wand. Derrick held the
vibrating head against her pussy for a long moment, dragging the orgasm out before pulling the head away. He turned back to find Tara lying limp against the bench.

He pulled back her long hair. “Okay, sub?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” She opened her eyes to stare up at him dreamily. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.”

He undid her bonds, wishing he felt more for her than slight affection. Tara would be a perfect sub for him. He could keep his heart out of it, while giving her everything she needed.

But
he knew he’d soon grow bored and that wasn’t fair on her.

He helped her sit up, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as he cleaned up the area. Around him the sounds and scents of Decadence started to filter in.
Tara kept her eyes lowered respectfully.

“
Master Derrick?” Tara queried as he handed her a bottle of water and a small square of chocolate.

“Yes, Tara.”

“Is there something I can do for you? I mean, you gave me such pleasure that I would like to return it.”

He cupped her chin, raising her face. “Your job is to do exactly as I say, that pleases me.
Understand?”

She nodded, disappointment filling her eyes and he felt like an
asshole. Sighing, he rubbed her shoulders. “Want me to find you another Dom?”

Tara shook her head.
“No, thank you, Sir. Its busy tonight, I should go help Tilly.”

He frowned slightly at the fatigue in her voice. She looked a little too pale for him.

“I thought you were finished for the night.” All the wait staff at Decadence were submissives. They could play after their shift was over or on their night off.

“I am, Sir. But Tilly could use some help.”

“First, I want you to rest,” he told her. “Come, I’ll find a free sofa and you can have a lie down.”

“I don’t need to
rest, I have things to do,” she countered stubbornly.

He grabbed her chin
again, raising her face as he stared down at her. “That wasn’t a request, sub; you will immediately get off that bench and follow me.”

Swallowing heavily, she dropped her gaze immediately. “Yes, Sir.
Sorry, Sir.”

That was better.

Derrick turned away, not looking back. When he found a free sofa in a quiet area of the club, he made her lie down then he spread the blanket over her.

“I’m going to get you a drink
,” he told her, something with sugar. “Do not move.”

He strode over to the
nearby bar area where Alex and Dylan stood chatting. Dylan, who was an ex-marine and built like a tank, ran the club. Alex, a soft-spoken man with a backbone of steel, looked after the staff.

The bartender, James, was pouring a drink for a Domme at the other end of the bar.

“Everything okay?” Alex said. He was the ideal Dom to take care of the subs who worked in the club, he had endless patience, but he knew when he had to push.

“Yeah,
Tara just looks a bit pale for my liking. She wanted to come back to work. I want her to rest for a bit.”

Alex frowned. “
I’ll take her some orange juice and check if she’s okay.”

Dylan nodded, his gaze caught on
Tilly, a pleasantly curvy, shy sub, who was currently cleaning tables; her shoulders slumped and head down.

Alex sighed as he picked up the glass of juice. “You’ll take care of
whatever is going on with Tilly?” he asked. Dylan nodded.

As Alex passed Tilly, he stopped and bent his head to quickly speak to her. Tilly glanced over at the bar then nodded and walked
over to them.

“Master Alex said you wanted to speak to me, Sir?” she asked, standing in front of Dylan
, her gaze on the ground.

Dylan was quiet for a long moment. Tilly shifted her weight from one foot to another then stopped abruptly
, as if realizing what she was doing.

“
Tilly, tell me what’s wrong,” Dylan demanded.

“Nothing
is wrong, Sir.”

Derrick let a smile slip. The little sub was not a good liar.
Every inch of her body screamed that something was upsetting her.

He settled back on a barstool to watch.
The bartender handed him a whiskey. Although he never drank before a scene he often enjoyed one after.

“Tilly,” Dylan warned. “Do y
ou want to change your answer?”

Tilly shook her head, her curls bouncing around her head cheerfully.

“Look at me,” he told her.

She raised her head instantly and Derrick
immediately felt concerned at the sadness present on the little sub’s face. Women brought out his protective instincts, subs even more so.

“Last chance, sugar.”

Derrick raised a brow. He’d never known Dylan to give a sub more than one chance. Then he looked down into Tilly’s eyes and saw the misery there and he knew why Dylan was giving the little sub another chance to speak out.

She shook her head and Dylan’s gaze hardened.

“Take off your top,” he ordered.

She was wearing
a loose, sleeveless top and short skirt. Tilly gaped at Dylan, her jaw dropping open. From what Derrick knew, this particular sub wasn’t comfortable being naked.

But s
he pulled off her top without a word, revealing a lacy, red bra. Far racier lingerie than Derrick had assumed would be underneath her rather modest clothing.

“And the bra, Tilly.”

She hesitated for a long moment.

“That’s five, Tilly,” Dylan said. “When I give you an order, I expect instant obedience.”

She raised her gaze, her eyes flashing with defiance, but she quickly lowered them, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing her breasts.

R
eaching out, Dylan cupped both breasts in his hands. Tilly jumped slightly and Derrick could see the pulse jumping in her neck. But she stood still as Dylan ran his thumbs over her nipples.

“What do you think of these breasts, Master Derrick?” he asked as Tilly’s breath quickened, the nubs stiffening and deepening in color.

“Beautiful,” Derrick replied, biting back his smile as the little sub glanced up at him with surprised eyes. The girl needed a boost of confidence.

“Aren’t they?
Full, round and responsive. I think they’re missing something, though.”

Tilly’s worried gaze turned back to Dylan.

“James, hand me my bag,” Dylan ordered without taking his gaze from the anxious sub before him.

The quiet
bartender handed Dylan his bag of toys. Dylan reached in and pulled out a pair of nipple clamps that were attached with a long, silver chain.

“Give me a little help?” Dylan asked
Derrick.

“Certainly,” Derrick replied, rising from his seat
to step behind the sub. He brushed his chest against her back. She shivered.

“Easy, love,” he murmured in her ear as he cupped her full breasts and held them up for Dylan.

Slowly, Dylan placed one clamp over her left nipple then tightened it.

Tilly took in a sharp breath then let it out slowly.

“Okay, Tilly?” he asked.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Dylan placed the other clamp on her right nipple then nodded at Derrick.

Derrick cupped her shoulders, giving them a brief squeeze before moving back to sit at the bar. Dylan tugged on the chain
linking the two clamps and Tilly sucked in her breath, a mix of pleasure and pain filling her face.

There was a small weig
ht attached to the chain. Dylan let the chain go, and the weight pulled at her nipples.

Dylan pulled over a bar stool. “Lean over it.”

Tilly nibbled at her lower lip as she lay over the stool. Dylan grabbed her around the waist, lifting her so her legs were off the ground, her breasts dangling down, and the chain pulling at her nipples.

“Five then. You’ll count and ask me for another.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He lifted up her skirt, revealing lacy, red underwear. Dylan pulled them down below her
tense butt cheeks.

Dylan rubbed his hand over bottom. “Relax,” he told her.

Tilly snorted softly. Derrick had to bite back a smile. Glancing over at Dylan, he saw his friend’s amusement. But none of it bled into Dylan’s voice.

“Something you want to say, sub?” he asked sternly.

“No, Sir,” she replied, taking a deep breath and releasing it.

Dylan smacked his hand down on one cheek with a loud
crack.

“Ow. One, Sir. May I please have another?” she asked.

Her other butt cheek was given the same treatment. These weren’t light little love taps.

“Two, Sir. May I have another please?”

Dylan continued on. By the fifth smack, Tilly was just beginning to relax. Dylan helped her off the bar stool, holding her around the waist until she was steady.

With a gasp, she reached around and
quickly pulled her panties up before yanking her skirt down.

Dylan leaned back and grabbed hold on an empty bar tray, handing it to her.

“Back to work, sub,” he said gruffly.

Tilly’s eyes widened, filled with shocked dismay. “I can’t walk around like this!”

Dylan narrowed his gaze. “Excuse me?” he growled.