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  A knot inside her twists tighter as she bares her teeth and bites deeply into the sinewy place where his neck curves into his shoulder, and a tiny strangled pleading sound finally escapes his throat. She breathes her permission, and he shoots uncontrollably in silver streaks up his smooth belly to his sternum, an offering for her to enjoy.

  She is full, her body wanting to be emptied, her mind resolutely resisting. She pushes away the urge. Disengages her boot heels from where they have made deep depressions in his thighs, hooks her foot behind his knee and flips him efficiently onto his side. He cannot see her face. She nudges him into a fetal position and curls up behind him, his sweet ass against her heat, which she refuses to press into him. With her cheekbone against the flat place between his shoulder blades, she lies awake, stroking his hip and allowing him to drift. It’s dark, quiet. She does not sleep.

  LA SEXORCISTA

  Valerie Alexander

  Nate liked suffering. He liked it a lot. He liked the sting of a crop on his thighs and the abrasion of carpet on his nipples, followed by the cut of Kendall’s insults. He liked the initial strike of a cane on his bottom and the secondary bloom of pain through his body. He loved being slapped across the face and called a filthy slut boy right before he came, against Kendall’s orders, thereby earning more blows from her hairbrush.

  “I really love you,” he would mutter into the leather of her boots, right before the steel-reinforced toe kicked him off.

  Kendall was the mistress of his dreams. He knew he was lucky to have her. She was remote, ice blonde and elegant: Grace Kelly with a whip. She never had sex with him, because she had no interest in his cock. He’d been her sub for seven months and he’d still never seen her naked. He dreamed of that and dreamed of fucking her too. He rationalized that his enforced chastity was for the best, that sex with her would take him from obsession to full madness. He would want her all the time then, he would weep and howl and beg for more until she cut him off.

  But one night she cut him off anyhow, and all his worst predictions came true.

  “I need help,” is what he said on the phone to his friend Patrick. “I will do anything to drive her out of my mind.”

  “She won’t talk to you?”

  “Oh, she’ll talk. We’ve talked about it. She just says she’s bored and needs something new.”

  “See a pro domme, Nate. Just shell out the cash and do it.”

  “Pro dommes don’t work for me. The fact that I’m paying, the whole checklist the dungeon does—I might as well be giving instructions to my housecleaner. I can never forget that I’m the one in control.”

  There the matter lay for another nine days of agony, nine days of pining for Kendall’s silver-backed hairbrush and the exhilarating thrill of her scorn, until he could barely distinguish the rawness of his fingers from the chafing of his cock. Then Patrick came through for him with a phone number.

  “They call her La Sexorcista, because she can make you forget anyone. She’s good—she knows how to get inside your head.”

  “A pro is a pro, even with a fancy hook. And a ridiculous one, I have to say.”

  “Just schedule a session, Nate. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

  In the end he did it, only to prove how futile it would be. He didn’t speak to the dominatrix herself; an assistant, probably one of her real subs, made the appointment. And an odd one it was, the address an abandoned gas station in a bad part of town. “So she’s going to pick me up or what…?”

  “Just go into the gas station. She’ll direct you from there.”

  Paranoid scenarios ran through his mind, but the very act of agreeing to the abandoned gas station had sparked his interest. If throwing him off balance was part of her game, La Sexorcista—or Sofia as her real name was—was off to a clever start.

  That Friday night he arrived at the gas station. It was dark and locked, the disconnected pumps ghostly in the night. He waited outside in the humid dark until a police cruiser slowed down enough to eye him suspiciously. He circled the back of the station, where he found an unlocked door.

  He entered a dark room redolent of gasoline and tires. Enough streetlight spilled through the windows to illuminate the cement floor, a pair of coveralls on a hook, shelves and a long table. It was definitely not a converted dungeon. That was clear from the oil stains and the faint ghost of automotive fluids lingering in the air. Kendall wouldn’t have been caught dead here.

  Boot steps clicked on the cement floor. He turned to see the pro domme walking out of the shadows. So this was La Sexorcista. She was Mexican and she was pretty and above her black thigh-high boots, she was naked. That was all he could see at first, full breasts and a soft stomach curving into round hips, and bare skin everywhere he looked. She had almond-shaped eyes that were black as obsidian and loose dark hair that waved past her nipples.

  She didn’t carry a riding crop or a single tail or even cuffs. A sinking feeling went through him. She was just a hooker, a hooker with a hook, who thought a first-class professional fuck would be enough to exorcise Kendall’s memory. It wouldn’t. She didn’t understand submissive men at all.

  “Don’t talk,” she said. Her voice was coolly indifferent, not scornful like Kendall’s. “I am Sofia. You speak only when I ask you to, and you call me Mistress. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Go into the corner where that chair is and get undressed. Fold your clothes neatly in a pile. Then come back here on your knees.”

  Apparently they weren’t going to go over the safeword he’d given her assistant, or any kind of rules. Well, then. This was nothing like the dungeons he’d tried when he was younger, but so far it was titillating.

  He resisted the urge to look back at her as he undressed. A naked pro domme. That was a first. It wasn’t that he didn’t like vanilla sex—he did, and he liked cuddling too. But tonight he was paying to be debased and disciplined by someone so masterful that she expelled all thoughts of former mistresses from his mind. He was paying for an exorcism.

  The room felt chillier when he was naked, and it made his cock hard. Degradation did it every time. He dropped to his knees and crossed the room on them, the merciless cement hinting at hardships to come. Once in front of her, he kept his eyes obediently on the floor.

  “Get up and put your hands behind your back.”

  From the shadows she brought forward a table of implements. He tried to identify them in the diffused streetlight and she said, “Eyes on the ground,” in that same authoritative voice. He obeyed.

  Sofia walked behind him. A moment later, soft black leather cuffs enclosed his wrists. With the click of the lock, his stiff cock began to ache. Working with easy proficiency, she bound him from his hands to his biceps in a black leather arm-binder.

  She stepped back and regarded her work. “Not bad. You would look even better with your legs trussed apart, but we need you mobile tonight.”

  Mobile. That said he was going to be put through his paces.

  Sofia inspected him with detached interest, pinching his nipples and tugging lightly on his balls. “So you’re the man who lost his mistress. And now you’re heartbroken. What was it about you that made her want to leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what was it about you that should have made her stay?”

  “I—” And there it was, that unanswerable question: why would any mistress love him? “I don’t know.”

  She snorted. “A self-aware sub is a joy indeed.” She stroked his cock. “At least this is a decent size.”

  His blood surged. Kendall never handled his cock. He snuck a look at Sofia, who he could see now was somewhat petite even in those black boots, and had light stretch marks on her stomach. She was pretty, and her black, long-lashed eyes were mesmerizing, but overall she was hardly a goddess of perfection as Kendall always presented herself. And yet she didn’t seem concerned in the least about her stretch marks or her nakedness or her slight pooch of a stomach.
It was as if he was no more than a toy or a piece of furniture.

  “Go stand in the corner.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t question me.” She slapped his mouth, lightly. “I was hoping not to gag you tonight, but apparently you haven’t been adequately trained.”

  She slipped a rubber ball into his mouth, the kind dogs chased for fun. “Now go stand in that corner. Don’t make a sound until I summon you. And if that ball falls out of your mouth, the session ends immediately.”

  He shuffled into a corner so far from the ambient streetlight that he felt invisible. Nevertheless he stood obediently at attention, a submissive soldier waiting to be of service.

  Sofia yawned and stretched her arms over her head. She was easily the most confident, self-possessed woman he’d ever met, naked or clothed. She was looking through the table of implements—which he still couldn’t view from his dark corner—when the door opened and a woman in a black tank top and jeans entered, her blonde hair in a ponytail. She paused with obvious hesitation.

  Sofia snapped her fingers. “You’re going to have a long night. Get started.”

  Kendall walked into the spill of streetlight.

  Nate stifled a choking noise. This couldn’t be possible. He was paying well, sure, but Kendall wasn’t a pro domme. In fact, she sneered at the idea of anyone earning her favors other than through her whims. I can’t be bought, she’d reminded him more than once. Yet here she was, stepping out of her heels and pulling off her tank top, then timidly reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

  She nervously looked around the empty gas station as she slipped down her jeans and panties. She hadn’t spotted him yet in the shadows. His teeth clenched around the dog ball. Seven months he’d spent in her service and not once had he seen her naked. Her small breasts and narrow back seemed unexpectedly frail.

  A mix of pity and arousal went through him as she knelt on the chilly floor and looked up at Sofia.

  “Why are you here?” Sofia asked.

  “To serve you.”

  “Serve me how?”

  “However you need. I’m your dog.” Kendall bent over and kissed Sofia’s boots.

  His mind reeled. He’d always imagined Kendall imperious 24/7, whether dealing with waiters, ordering new shoes online or paying her water bill. But Sofia snapped a metal collar around Kendall’s slender neck and confirmed the unimaginable reality: Kendall was a switch. He wondered how long she’d been serving Sofia. Obviously she’d confided in her about their relationship, or Sofia wouldn’t have known to set up this scene.

  Sofia threw something across the room and said, “Get it.” Kendall scuttled across the cement on all fours, picked it up in her mouth and returned with it. A leash, of course. She’d done that same trick to him, spanking him when he didn’t move fast enough to fetch it or, god forbid, dropped it from his teeth.

  “Good puppy,” Sofia said, stroking Kendall’s cheek. “Now bark like a dog for me.”

  Nate held his breath. His poised goddess would never bark like a dog. But she did it; his beautiful mistress began to bark while naked on all fours, a scenario so ludicrous and undignified that he knew he would never jerk off to thoughts of her again. Her mystique was evaporating by the second, but he barely cared because his cock was harder than ever at seeing this incredible and shocking performance. He wanted Sofia to show him every part of Kendall’s body. He wanted Sofia to keep topping her, topping them both, commanding them to serve her and fuck her and adore her.

  Sofia took Kendall’s chin in hand. “You’re going to do whatever I say tonight, just as a loyal and obedient little dog does. Right?”

  Kendall nodded. He could only see her ponytail moving up and down, but he could imagine the pleasure—or fear, or both—in her eyes.

  “Good girl. Get on the table.”

  Kendall climbed up on the long black table and opened her legs, looking like a naked buffet. Sofia tied her arms and feet to the table with effortless knot work. Tie me up, he thought. Bind me, use me, make me your slave.

  Kendall was fully bound now, legs open. Sofia walked around her, idly pinching her nipples and flicking her clit. Kendall whimpered, a noise Nate had never heard her make but which seemed to be her version of a plea.

  Sofia turned, her black eyes piercing the corner where he stood. “Come here,” she commanded. “And drop the ball.”

  Nate’s stomach lurched with excitement. What was happening seemed like an impossible dream as he walked toward the table. When Kendall saw him, she went very still. She looked at Sofia in confusion.

  “Surprise,” Sofia said, tickling her clit. She looked at Nate as he let the dog ball drop from his mouth. “You’ve always wanted to fuck her, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Which Mistress?” she asked with a mean smile, taking hold of his cock.

  “You. You are my only Mistress.” The only mistress in the room, in his opinion.

  She rolled a condom over his cock, palming him before dropping his shaft. Swiftly she undid his arm-binder. “Give me a show. Both of you. And make it hot or you’ll both get the switch.”

  He searched Kendall’s face for a hint of reluctance as he mounted her on the table, but her pale eyes were dazed with bliss. Hesitantly he ran his fingertips over her tits. She felt like a stranger, no relation to the cool and disdainful mistress he’d fucked so many times in his mind. She was simply Sofia’s pet, a proxy he could use to impress. He sucked her nipples, but when Sofia sighed with boredom, he quickly moved between Kendall’s legs.

  His eyes had adjusted to the dimness now and with her legs tied apart, every detail of her pussy was exposed. He swallowed and slid two fingers inside her. A creamy heat enclosed them and she twisted on the table, whimpering again. He didn’t know if Kendall was this wet and horny for him or for the perverse thrill of obeying Sofia, who watched them without expression. He didn’t care. He was going to demonstrate exactly why any mistress should want to keep him.

  He fingered her pussy and another soft little moan escaped Kendall. Sofia laughed. “Something you want to say, Kendall?”

  “Please,” Kendall whispered, her cheeks visibly coloring even in the dim light. “Fuck me. Please, Nate.”

  He positioned his cock against her slit and drove all of the way inside her. She felt as tight and smooth as he’d always dreamed, and he reminded himself that this was Kendall, his mistress, who’d dominated his dick and his brain for months. But now that he was fucking her, and she was twisting eagerly against her ropes, he could only think about pleasing Sofia. About showing off his endurance to her, the skills of his hips and the control of his cock—and the possibility that she might, someday, be his mistress, rather than his pro domme. That she might snap that metal collar around his neck and claim him as hers.

  Sofia stalked around the table, cropping them lightly and warning them away from imaginary infractions, but he listened to her every word, more in tune with her commands than Kendall’s cries. His balls were tight and his entire body ached to unload inside Kendall, but he wouldn’t come until Sofia said so.

  Kendall arched her back, moaning in gratitude for each thrust of his dick. Their stomachs were slapping together and a fiery brightness was ascending from his balls to his spine when Sofia dropped her crop.

  “You two do look good together,” she mused.

  Nimbly she climbed onto the table and settled herself on Kendall’s mouth, facing Nate. Reaching between her legs, she lifted her clitoral hood as Kendall’s tongue disappeared inside her pussy.

  Nate leaned over Kendall, her sweat-dampened chest clinging to his, and licked Sofia’s clit. She squeezed her breasts and undulated on Kendall’s mouth like a snake. It was everything he’d ever wanted and never expected to get, a domme naked and moaning on his face as she exploited all of his submissive desires. Sofia rode both of their mouths now, pushing her salty heat onto their tongues without shame as they licked and sucked her as artfully as they could.
Kendall’s pussy was quivering around his dick and she felt like his twin, his female half dedicated to the art of worshiping the feminine supreme.

  Sofia’s body tensed and a brief, broken cry escaped her; then she ejaculated over both of their faces, thrusting slippery and wet against their mouths in the throes of her orgasm. The euphoria of satisfying his goddess rocketed through Nate and he came with white-hot joy, his balls tingling as Kendall’s pussy squeezed around him in her own orgasm.

  Sofia caught her breath and climbed off the table, dismounting gracefully in her black boots. Her long, dark hair clung to her cheeks and she pushed it back with a shaky smile. She rumpled Nate’s hair.

  “Not bad,” she said. “Who knows? You might get a collar yet.”

  “Did you know?” he asked Patrick.

  It was Tuesday. They were in their neighborhood bar, but the crack of the balls on the pool table and the amber ceiling lights seemed muted, as in a dream. His mind was still riveted on last Friday night.

  “I heard rumors,” Patrick shrugged.

  Nate integrated that. “You could have told me,” he said finally.

  “And kill your boner? You never would have been happy with Kendall if you knew she was a switch. If you knew she was someone’s dog.” Patrick snickered.

  Nate drank his beer.

  “Look, did it work at least?” Patrick asked. “The ‘exorcism’?”

  “In part.” Nate looked out the window of the bar. “It was more of a transference, really.” He unconsciously touched his neck, imagining the metal collar around his throat.