Thanks for checking out Chapter 15 of my Dominatrix Series! You might want to start back at Chapter 1 if you’ve missed the beginning. Today, we find out if Mistress brings James home with her, and what happens next!
~Jayden
Chapter 14:
I don’t remember him taking the condom off before our shower, but he must have because it’s not there now. He washes his own hair but lets me wash his body like I often do when we have scenes. But now I’m in the shower with him. I’ve never gotten in the shower with a client before. Can I even call him that anymore? What the hell was I doing? I should never have let this get so far, but it’s like a runaway freight train.
We towel off in an awkward silence. I don’t bother with makeup, but I do pick up my hair brush.
“May I?” he asks.
“Brush my hair?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“If you want to,” I say, skeptical. He’s never shown any interest in that before.
He takes the hairbrush, and his hands are gentle as he smooths out the knots in my hair. By the time he’s done, I’m lulled into a sense of safety and comfort, and I’m just standing in the bathroom with him.
Now what? I wonder.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he says, handing the hairbrush back to me.
I put it away and wrap the towel tighter around myself, feeling very on display suddenly.
“Would you like me to leave, Mistress?” he asks.
The word “No” escapes my lips before I have a chance to process what he even asked me. But my instinct was right. I don’t want him to leave. I want to take him to bed with me. I want to hold him all night long. I want to feel the hairs on his chest tickle my cheek while we fall asleep. We have cuddled a fair number of times after particularly intense scenes. It’s a part of our aftercare routine. But I know this is going to feel different. I clear my throat and then add, “Do you want to leave, James?”
“No, Ma’am,” he says immediately.
“Good,” I say, clearing my throat again. “Why don’t we pull out the sofa bed?”
He nods and does it immediately, taking off the cushions and then deftly finding and pulling the handle to swing the bed out. He takes the sheets from me that I’ve just gotten out of the closet, and we make the bed in unison. I get the pillows out of the closet while he drapes the comforter from the back of the couch across the bed. “Mistress, can I do anything for you?”
I shake my head and say, “Get into the bed, pet.”
He does, sliding his naked body between the sheets.
I do the same and curl into him, feeling his chest hair tickle my face just the way I imagined it would. Our naked bodies press together, and I am instantly aroused again.
“Mistress,” he whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what, pet?” I whisper back.
“For letting me back in.”
I nod against his body. “I’m glad you came back, pet.”
He strokes my hair softly. I want to stay awake and talk to him more. I want to find out what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. I want to know if this changes everything for him, for me, for us. But I simply can’t. My eyes drift closed, and I fall asleep in his arms.
The sun filters in through the light curtains early the next morning. I stir restlessly and realize that I’m alone.
Why am I in the play space? Why didn’t I go home last night? And then the memories come flooding back. The scent and feel of James’ body against mine. The sex we shared. The intimate shower. And falling asleep in his arms.
I sit up, holding the sheet over my naked body. I am aroused by the memories, and I can smell my own arousal. I have half a mind to take a shower before James comes back. But did he leave, or is he here somewhere? I have no idea.
I look around for my robe and find it tossed aside. I slip it on and pad into the small kitchen the play space apartment has. James isn’t there, but something smells good. I switch on the oven light and can see cinnamon buns baking in the oven. I love cinnamon buns.
“Good morning!” James says, and I turn around to find him coming in the door. I don’t know where my phone is or why I didn’t notice the alarm. I guess I was too tired to realize, and now my phone is in the other room.
“Good morning, pet,” I say.
He hands me tea, and I take it, sipping it gratefully. It’s made exactly the way I like it. “Good morning, Mistress. I got you tea and made the cinnamon rolls I found in the fridge. I hope that’s okay.”
I smile at him and say, “Of course. I’m glad you did. They smell amazing.”
Then I glance at the clock on the stove and remember I have a meeting in half an hour.
“Oh shit,” I say. “I have to get ready. I have a meeting at 9:00 am.”
“Oh,” he says. “That’s okay.”
“How long until the cinnamon buns are done?” I ask.
“Five minutes,” he says, checking his watch.
“I’ll be right back.”
J R Vincente 