Sunday Snog: Domestic Goddess

My snog today is from my D/s short story "Domestic Goddess", which has been published in various collections including Rough Caress. 

Elizabeth's a natural submissive, devoted to her Master. However, when he loses his job, he also seems to lose all interest in dominating her. Finally she decides that her only option is to turn the tables on him.

Don't forget to visit Victoria Blisse, read her delicious excerpt, and then follow the links to all of today's other sexy snogs.

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Gently, she reached for his arm, which was resting on his thigh. He didn't resist. In one swift motion, she fastened one cuff to his wrist.

"What the hell...?" he sputtered, finally startled out of his gloomy reverie. He didn't react quickly enough, though, to prevent her from capturing his other wrist in the leather bonds, so that his arms were linked behind the back of the chair.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?" His voice sounded irritated, but when she looked at his face, she saw uncertainty, fear, and definitely, the beginnings of arousal.

She swiveled his chair around to face her, lifted his chin with one finger and tried to stare him down. "You know exactly what I'm doing. I'm taking control, since you seem to have given up in that regard."

"Elizabeth..."

Before she even knew that she was going to do it, she slapped his face.

"Silence, slave. No complaints. No excuses. You need this, I know you do." A splotch of red bloomed in the shape of her palm.

He shut his mouth, but his eyes moved over her, finally registering her costume, and her exposed cunt below it. He licked his lips. She noticed a stirring in his crotch.

"I didn't say you could look at me, did I?"

He shook his head, obeying her command not to speak.

"Eyes down." He complied. She felt euphoria rising in her chest, bubbling through her veins. She could do this. In fact it felt easy, almost natural.

"And for the rest of the afternoon, at least, you will address me as 'Mistress'? Understood?"

Head bowed, he nodded.

"Let me hear you say it."

"Yes, Mistress." His voice was gruff, as if he had a difficult time forcing the words out. But the bulge in his trousers continued to grow.

"Now," she said, "it's about time you did something useful. All this silly computer stuff." Rolling his chair away from the desk, she pushed his monitor and keyboard back toward the wall and moved aside the piles of CDs and papers jumbled about on either side. Then she hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the surface, and spread her legs.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He used his feet to roll the chair back to face her. His eyes widened at the site of her ruddy pussy, drooling only inches away from him. Then he remembered, and lowered his gaze, before she could remind him.

Good. He was more pliant that she had expected.

She watched him for a moment, full of love and some other feeling, something with a nasty edge. His erection looked distinctly uncomfortable, trapped in his trousers. All the better.

She saw his nostrils flare as he took in her scent, noticed the pulse in his temple, beating fast. His breathing was quick and shallow. Clearly he was was beginning to wake up, to enjoy playing this game.

She felt suddenly giddy, drunk with her own powers. But she couldn't allow him to see this; she must still play the role of the harsh, angry mistress.

Splaying her thighs even wider, she put one booted foot on each arm of his chair. Her hungry, swollen cunt gaped at him. "Eat me," she commanded.

Eagerly anticipating her instructions, he began to lean towards her even before she finished speaking. She stopped him with the spike of her heel, pressing it against his still-inflamed cheek.

"And if you don't do a good job," she murmured, putting a little sugar in her voice to counteract the violent gesture, "you know that I'll make you very sorry."

"Yes, Mistress," he mumbled, his mouth already full of her flesh.

He applied himself to his task with commendable diligence. His tongue slithered snake-like among her folds, swimming in her juices. He sucked and licked, nibbled at her clit, plunged his nose as deep into her cleft as it would go.

With her arms behind to brace herself, she pressed her pelvis forward, forcing his face into her cunt, as if to smother him. Or perhaps drown him would be more appropriate. Between his saliva and her own secretions, there was quite a puddle growing on his desk.

He certainly didn't seem to mind.

With his arms fastened behind the chair, he was in a bit of an awkward position. He had to bend forward from the waist and lean over at what must have been an uncomfortable angle. She felt a brief pang of sympathy; she hated for him to suffer. But this was what he needed, what he wanted. Wasn't it? She hiked herself up further on the desk, away from him, so that he had to work even harder to keep his mouth on her sex.

"More," she said. "Harder."

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Want more? You can read the whole story on my website!