I had written a scene and posted it before where a Dom went after a submissive. I want to be fair so I wrote another for the Mistresses out there and there lovelies.
By Damian Bloodstone (email@example.com)
Copyright © 11/8/2014 All Right Reserved. This cannot be copied in whole or in part without the author’s sole express permission.
Gema watched him glance toward her again, watching her as he ate. She returned the glance as she talked business. He intrigued her. This made her smile.
Coming to a high-class restaurant in his low class clothes, it screamed pauper. Even the service he received, only the least, made him out of place. He placed no demands as anyone of higher status might. His single bowl of soup and rice chips for lunch probably cost his week’s pay.
She barely heard the man before her and blushed as she laughed when the doors to the kitchen blew off the napkin from the poor man’s table.
“I’m sorry—Philip,” she said forgetting his name. He turned to look in the direction she had been staring.
“He shouldn’t even be here,” Philip said. “Look at him. He’s that guy from the mail room. I should get him fired somehow.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Gema said. “He delivers my mail at times.”
“Then you like the mail boy,” Philip said throwing his napkin in his empty plate. “I thought we having lunch but it turns out you had other plans.”
“I just can’t understand why he’s even here.” Gema placed her hand on Philip’s and watched him calm. She glanced over again and watched the young man fumble with the rice chips as they shattered in his grasp. Philip pulled his hand away. “Go or stay, decide,” she said.
“So that’s it.” Philip stood and put on his overcoat.
“What’s his name?” Gema asked. She watched Philip turn to leave. “Stop.”
“I don’t know,” Philip replied. “I don’t care either.” He clopped away from the table as if a shunned brat.
Gema removed her phone and quickly deleted Philip from the list of clients. She didn’t need Philip’s drama. Her own playtime was more important. Besides, this younger man looked special. Taking the bill, she rose, walked over to the young man’s table. The young man had nearly finished his meager meal of egg drop soup and rice chips. The logo of the company showed he worked at the same place but no nametag, it disappointed her.
She stood at the table. The servers didn’t dare to do the things they had done before passing it. She stared down at him until he set down the spoon and looked up.
“One of the mail boys, aren’t you?” She picked the last rice chip from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. He retracted his hands from the table and glance at his at the now empty bowl.
“Stand,” Gema said. She smiled as he rose without question. He was a little shorter than her height. She adored this. Staring into his eyes, she didn’t see the normal side of most males she approached like this. Instead, she noticed actual fear. Had he recognized her? No, he couldn’t have.
He backed up a step, never glancing at her face.
“Look at me.” Gema watched him struggle to make eye contact. She smiled.
“What do want?”
“Kiss me.” Gema noticed his eyes go wide before he turned his head away. “Ahh, ahh.” She gently turned his face back to hers. “Kiss me.”
He looked at the people in the restaurant and then at her. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. When he began to turn away, her hand grabbed his wrist. He stopped.
“I said kiss me, not peck me like a mother or some friend.” Gema then realized that the fear wasn’t of her position but of her. “Do I—frighten you?”
She detected the tremble in his voice. “Kiss me then.” His lips touched hers and then pulled away as if they hurt to touch her.
“There,” he said. “Let me go now.”
“I ordered you to kiss me.” She glanced at the couple in at the next table as they stared. She smiled at them as they turned back to eating. She turned his face back to her. His tears startled her.
Gema placed her finger over his soft warm lips. “Be still.” She moved her finger tracing his lips to his jawline. Running it back, she watched his eyes lock with hers in fear. She kissed the tears away on his cheeks as she grabbed his nape. He exhaled in a shudder as she hovered over his lips, grazing them until hers tingled. His eyes closed. She moved, lips touched and opened slightly as she nibbled his. She ran her hand down his shirt sensing the softer chest of less muscle than most. The fabric of the soft work shirt showed he enjoyed delicate things. She slipped her hand inside between the buttons feeling bare skin. Fingers touched softly to his chest finding unerect nipples. She circled one as she kissed. The heat in him began as it hardened under her touch. Moving her hand down, she turned it as she caressed below his navel, slipped in his pants and felt the prize she sought. Soft, warm, firm and average, he came to full attention with her touch. She moved her hand on him, slowly and felt a little wetness. She pushed lower and cupped his sac, his nice orbs, like new toys, danced in her delicate fingers. More wetness on her wrist and inside forearm signaled his growing desires. Her tongue darted out, caressed his closed lips as she gently squeezed. His lips parted and her tongue slipped in to touch the tip of his before she pulled away both hand and lips. She denied him any more. A button popped off his shirt in her hasty retreat. She stared into his eyes studying his reaction. Releasing his wrist, he stood there as if awaiting her next command. She smiled and giggled at his innocence.
“You’ll do with training.” Gema observed his feet shuffle and his body tense at the words.
“Come, and get my coat,” she said. “I’m taking the afternoon off and you’re calling in sick.”
“I’ll get fired.” He followed her toward the coat check desk.
“Only on my command,” Gema said.