My Kingdom for a Corner (3 page)

The last thing she wanted, though, was a Dom thinking he could have control over her. Still, it had been so fucking good. Her clit tightened as she thought about him pounding into her. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to come leaning against the door to her office.

“Work,” she told herself, “that’s what you need to do. No more Santa. One-night fling. Just work.”

Hours later, she’d edited stories, talked to her brother Francis, who was on his honeymoon with Saffron and not willing to stay on the phone long, and completed her appraisal of several potential covers for the February issue of
Salacious
. She wished Francis had been more agreeable to business talk. She needed to discuss a new feature one of the writers had come up with, a monthly column featuring Doms/Dommes from around the city, giving advice to newbies.

While she’d been trying to take her mind off last night, she’d expanded on the idea, thinking they could talk the Dominants into giving classes at Mr. Oliver’s. Tonight she would talk with the proprietor about the idea, and see if he thought it would work. It would be a foot in the door for Fingertip Fantasies, and soon they might be in bed, so to speak, with the popular Dom.

Thinking about the idea took her mind off Santa, at least for a little while. He kept creeping back in, inserting himself in the classes as teacher, using Francesca as the student who would help him demonstrate his ideas.

“Stop it!” she said to herself more than once as she tried, as hard as she could, not to think about her handsome one-night stand.

Finally, around three o’clock, she’d repeated the phrase one-night stand to herself until she finally got the idea that she wasn’t going to sleep with Santa again. It had been exhilarating, but it was over, despite what he’d said as he’d exited the room.

If they did meet again, she needed to remind him she wasn’t a submissive. She had subs of her own, which meant she wouldn’t wear a collar, and she wouldn’t be told what to do.

She was perusing an advertising report when there was a knock at her door. After she’d given permission, Sally opened it and came inside.

“It’s time for my spanking, Mistress.” Without being told, she went to the cabinet against the far wall and retrieved a riding crop. She handed it to Francesca before she went to the edge of the desk. Once she’d lowered her panties and lifted her skirt she bent over the wood and clasped her hands behind her back.

Francesca admired Sally’s submissiveness for a few moments, knowing that the wait would increase the pleasure Sally would receive from the crop. She also took the time to wonder where the afternoon had gone. Between working and thinking about Santa, the time had just slipped away.

“I want to say once again what a fine job you did in setting up the party last night,” she said as she stood.

“Thank you, Mistress C.”

“Since this is a reward, I’m going to let you select the number of cuts you receive from the crop. What number would you like?”

“Twenty, Mistress?”

A frown marred Francesca’s features. “So small a number? That’s not like you at all.”

Sally kept her face turned away from her, but Francesca was pretty sure she was smiling. The sub was very relaxed, which meant she was excited about something, and Francesca didn’t think it was about the spanking she was going to receive.

“You’re meeting your new Dom friend tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Regret washed through her as she realized she hadn’t even asked her assistant about last night. She’d only been worried about Santa.

“His name?”

“Sir Striker.”

Francesca laughed. “I know him. He’s a very good choice for you. Santa did well.”

“I think so,” Sally replied. She wiggled her bottom, and Francesca knew she was getting antsy, that she wanted the promised swats. Francesca would make her wait just a little longer. The main receptionist would warn her when Mr. Oliver showed up, and she would invite him to witness the rest of the Sally’s reward, however many swats that might remain. Maybe Francesca would even see if he wanted to give a few licks of his own.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Francesca said. “However, that doesn’t give you the right to lower the amount of swats I’m going to give you. We’ll start at forty, and see if I think that’s enough.”

She picked up the crop from where Sally had placed it on the table. Taking an end in each hand she tested its strength, even though she’d used this particular implement on Sally more than once with wonderful results. Still, she always liked to get the feel for an implement before a spanking.

After a few more moments of making the sub wait, Francesca gently caressed her bottom with the crop. Sally’s soft moans let Francesca know the sub was ready, but starting a spanking too soon wasn’t a good thing. Sally would know when the true spanking started, and she knew the way Francesca liked things done.

She delivered a few more soft swats, then the spanking started, the sharp sound of the crop hitting Sally’s bottom filling the room. When Francesca reached ten, her assistant’s voice rang out.

“That is ten, Mistress C. Thank you very much for the spanking. I would like you to continue, but only if it pleases you.”

For an answer, Francesca swatted her bottom again, and again, and again. They made it through twenty with the required response from Sally, and she was almost to thirty-six when she realized they were not alone. She’d settled into a good rhythm, and whether the door was open or closed, her employees knew better than to interrupt her when she was spanking someone.

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the doorway. Santa stood there, casually leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes alight with interest. He inclined his head ever so slightly, as if he were giving her permission to continue, and Francesca felt a surge of anger pass through her.

Who the hell did he think he was? And why the fuck hadn’t the receptionist called to tell her he was here? And where was Mr. Oliver?

“Mistress C?” Sally’s voice was full of uncertainty, which angered Francesca even more. The only thing Sally should be feeling right now was pleasure.

“It’s alright, Sally,” she said, stroking the crop gently across Sally’s reddened behind. “We have a guest, one who has inserted himself into a private situation.”

“My apologies,” Santa said. He came inside and closed the door. “The receptionist was busy, and she just waved me back.” He walked to where he was facing Francesca. “If I may?”

He wiggled his fingers, and Francesca knew exactly what he meant. She nodded, and when he went down on one knee and started playing with Sally’s pussy, the sub cried out in pleasure.

“You may not climax until
I
give permission,” Francesca told her.

“Yes, Mistress C.” From the sound of her voice, Francesca guessed she was right on the edge. She started to spank her again, landing the cuts a little more forcefully, making sure to hit a welt or two that had already risen. Sally’s deep moans told Francesca she was close to the edge. When they hit fifty, she barely got the proper wording out. It crossed Francesca’s mind to stop, but she wanted to postpone it a little longer, keep the pretty sub on the edge.

During the last ten swats she glanced a few times at Santa, whose gaze went between where the crop landed on Sally’s abused bottom to Francesca’s face.

Finally, at sixty, after Sally had recited the proper words, Francesca ordered her to climax.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she screamed as her body shook. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” they replied, almost in unison.” Francesca rubbed Sally’s hot bottom until her sub stopped quaking, then she gave her a gentle pat. “You may go meet your new friend now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She hurried from the room. The door closed firmly behind her.

No longer caring if Mr. Oliver showed up, Francesca worked her panties down her legs. She sat down in her chair and threw one leg over an arm. She lifted her skirt to reveal her pussy.

“Eat me.” She watched him pick up the crop and do with it as she’d done before the spanking. It seemed much more flexible in his strong hands, bowing up between his arms.

“If I do, it will be on my terms.”

“I said, eat me.”

He leaned against the edge of her desk. “Tempting, but no.”

“We are in my office now. You will do as I say.” She opened her top drawer and pulled out a steel ruler. “I’ve used this on subs before. Would you like to taste it on your ass for your disobedience?”

His laughter made her furious. “I’ll wager my crop against your ruler. Besides, is this any way to treat an invited guest?”

Realization slammed into her as she stared at the man in front of her. Holy hell, Santa was Mr. Oliver.

This woman made his dick harder than it had ever been. She’d done it last night, and she did it right now. Truth be told, she’d done it the first time he’d ever seen her, at a
Salacious
party when he’d first moved to Seattle.

He’d seen her across the room, watching as she’d used a belt on a male submissive while another woman stood nearby. He’d wanted to talk to her then, but he’d been distracted by Doms coming up and welcoming him to the city. When he’d looked back, she’d been gone.

Then, real life had gotten in the way. He’d had to travel to Scotland a few times, to take care of family business when his aunt had passed away. She’d been childless, and had left everything to him. Now that was all taken care of, and he was free to live his new life here, in America.

And he knew just the woman he wanted to live it with.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself before I fucked you last night. My name is McDunn, Oliver McDunn.”

“You lying little bastard,” she whispered, her green eyes flashing in annoyance.

“On the contrary, you didn’t want my name. You just wanted my prick.”

She spread her legs even wider. “Eat me. Now.”

“One day, yes, I will, but only after I’ve tortured you into sweet submission and you’re begging to come.” He moved fast, pressing the edge of the crop against her clit. She swatted it away and he laughed. “Feisty. I like that.”

“I’m not feisty, Mr. Oliver. I’m a Domme. I’m a confident, assertive woman who doesn’t need you to control me. If you want a sub, look elsewhere.”

“Tsk, tsk, Francesca. Even you know that many confident, assertive women are submissive. Just because they’re subs doesn’t mean they’re doormats. They enjoy giving over, allowing a man, or a woman, to lead them to the ultimate pleasure, as I did you last night.”

She snorted and he wanted to burst out laughing at her bluff. “Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Mr. Oliver. I needed a dick, and you had one. It was sufficient, that’s all.”

He sat down on the divan, stretching his legs out in front of him. “We both know you came harder than you ever have. You can deny it, but I felt it as you squeezed my prick.”

She glanced away from him, and Oliver smiled. “I’ve come to discuss our relationship.”

“Relationship?” She turned her attention to the papers on her large desk. “We don’t have one. We fucked. End of story. We’re going to discuss business, nothing more.”

Oliver straightened, crossing his legs. “You’re under the impression I want to change you from a Domme to a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. What I want is to help you explore your submissive side with me, in private, between the two of us.”

“I think you have a hearing problem, Mr. Oliver. I don’t have a submissive side.”

Stubborn, which meant she would be all the more fun to play with. “You’re lying to yourself, Ms. Steele. I happen to know that you were desperate to know who Santa was last night, and it’s not because you wanted to thank him for sitting on his lap. It’s because you came so hard you just had to know who provided you with such exquisite joy.”

Her cheeks reddened, and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “If you want me to eat you, Francesca, we do it on my terms, where I will once again prove that you would enjoy being led into submission, just like last night.”

She fiddled with papers on her desk, and the fact she hadn’t denied what he said, or screamed at him yet again, let him know she was thinking about his words.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

“Screw you.” She continued to rifle through papers.

“I said stand up. Don’t make me repeat it a third time.”

She sneered at him. “Why, is it like a curse? Do you turn into a toad after your orders are disobeyed three times in a row?”

“I’m offering you a taste of pleasure, just like you had last night, but you have to follow my instructions. I won’t ask again. If you don’t want to play, then I will leave, and our assistants can hash out the business arrangements together.”

Oliver could swear he could hear the wheels in her mind churning as she mulled over her answer. He’d give her a few minutes then…ah, there it was, just like he wanted. She stood up and faced him.

“Only this once,” she said, the words holding absolutely no conviction. “And it’s only because I want you to eat my pussy.”

“Oh, I will, right after you suck my cock.”