Judge Damian Winston-Barrow surveyed his courtroom through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he shifted on his seat, then leaned back with the tips of his fingers pressing on his bottom lip, making him look as if he were praying.
A tense silence descended, the self-important ticking of the large wall clock to my right the only sound. The defendant glanced at the jury, and the jury appeared to make a point of not looking back at him – good, a guilty verdict was on the cards. My work was done…almost.
I twirled my pen in my fingers and set my attention on the judge again. He was hot as hell, as sinful as any deviant when he got going, and right now he was also caged the way the men and women he sent to prison were – sort of.
He enjoyed the prison I put him in. It yanked his chain and stoked his lust. If only the people in this revered room knew what he really was. They thought of him as a big powerful man who ruled and was obeyed, yet when the time came, when we were alone, it was I who ruled and he who obeyed.
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, becoming impatient for the session to end. I had a free evening; heck, I had a free night. There was only one thing on my mind, and that was showing my sub how much his Mistress adored him and claiming some toe-curling orgasms along the way.
‘We’ll reconvene tomorrow at eleven a.m.’ Damian slammed his hammer down. The sound echoed around the vast room, bouncing off the wooden panelled walls.
He stood.
A stern-faced security guard to his right opened the door that would lead the judge to his private chambers.
I watched him walk, admiring how his robes flowed behind him, the way his broad shoulders shifted, and how his solid footsteps clicked on the floor. Beneath the regal-like black cloth, Damian usually had on neat suit trousers and a crisp cotton shirt; he said that was the most comfortable, he didn’t like getting too hot. Beneath that layer of clothing was the one thing I insisted he wore for an entire week before we had a liaison. It had taken him a while to get used to, but now it was like a second skin. All it took was a simple text from me and he had it in place – of course, I insisted upon a photograph as proof, where would the fun be if I didn’t?
As he went from sight, I put my hand into the pocket of my smart navy jacket. For what felt like the hundredth time today, I fingered the small silver key he’d sent me a week ago. It was the key to everything. The key to Damian, his desires, his freedom, his love and devotion to me, and soon it would be used to unlock all of those delicious things so I could have them to myself.
The hum of conversation around me grew, excited chatter about the way the trial was going. I gathered my papers and beat down a wave of anticipation. No one knew about my longing for Damian and the hold I had on him. They couldn’t. Ours was a secret relationship. We preferred it that way. It meant no complications in our work lives. No gossip, no press interest. That was something neither of us wanted.
‘Are you pleased, Tanya? With how today went?’
I turned to Geoff, my colleague and assistant. ‘Yes, did you see the jury when we shot down the alibi? Done deal.’
He smirked. ‘Yeah, what a prick thinking a drugged-up prostitute would stand in court as reliable.’
I shrugged. ‘If the tables were turned we’d have shown her good side and made the jury believe her, but…’
‘It’s not that way round and it should play out to our benefit.’ He grinned.
‘Exactly.’ I dropped my papers into my briefcase. ‘So let’s hope, when we arrive to wrap up in the morning, the jury will have already made their minds up. Dean Lead is a nasty bastard, and he needs to go away for a very long time.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ His attention shifted over my right shoulder.
I followed his line of sight.
Dean was being led away by two armed guards. He had hair so short his scalp was visible. A barbed-wire tattoo wended down his neck from behind his ear. And his shoulders were hunched, likely due to the cuffs that held his wrists secure.
He glanced my way, and a shiver snaked up my spine. He was definitely the sort of bloke a woman didn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
I turned and sent a quick prayer heavenward that the jury would come to the right decision so Damian could dole out a heavy sentence.
‘Fancy a drink down at the King Billy?’ Geoff asked.
‘Can I pass on that for tonight? I’ve got something I need to do.’
He half shrugged. ‘No worries, catch you in the morning.’
‘Yes, you will.’
He reached for his briefcase. ‘See you, then.’
He was absorbed by the crowd filing out of the courtroom. It had been a packed audience consisting of the victim’s family and friends and media. It was a high-profile case, and a lot was resting on Damian. Not least because he was one of the youngest judges in the country, and he always attracted attention.
Yes, a little light stress relief doled out by me would do him good.
Well, maybe not so light.
I waited another few minutes until the room was nearly empty and then made my way to the security guard standing by the door to chambers.
My high heels clicked on the floor as I approached, and he looked up at me.
‘Hey, Jenson,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a few things to go through with Judge Winston-Barrow.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded curtly and then opened the door.
I slipped past him; he was a big, beefy guy with hands the size of dinner plates. I was glad he was on our side.
The long windowless corridor was narrow and high-ceilinged, the floor covered in a wiry green carpet, and on the walls hung portraits of old judges who’d sat in court here.
Three doors led off it, rooms that were rarely used, so Damian told me, and, at the end, his office.
I stared at the entrance to his office and walked towards it. My hips seemed to roll a little more with each step. I felt sexy, powerful, turned-on just at the thought of what was going to happen.
I paused outside the polished mahogany door and unbuttoned my jacket. Through my silky blouse I adjusted the sexy black corset I’d worn all day, especially for this moment. It was tight, constrictive, and it had reminded me of what was to come. A bit like the restrictive device Damian was wearing. I could see why he didn’t complain about it. Well, he had at first, a bit, but not any more.
Knocking wasn’t for me, not now I was in role, so I turned the handle and stepped inside.
The windows were high and looked out at blank walls, which meant the light was dim. A few lamps with bottle-green shades sat around the room, spilling out an amber glow and stretching shadows on the wooden floor.
I flicked the lock on the door, and the dense sound shot a thrill through me. I’d sealed us in, blocked out the rest of the world. It was just me and my sub now.
‘Mistress.’
Damian’s voice when he said that word could nearly be my undoing. We’d had three weeks apart and now…no, I had to stay in control. He was relying on me to be the strong one. He was tired of ruling, of making the decisions.
I turned to face him.
He was seated behind his desk and still wearing his robes. His back was poker straight and his hands spread on the shiny wooden surface in front of him, fingers wide, starfish-shaped.
I’d bet my new iPhone his cock was straining against the cage.
Without speaking, I set my briefcase on a round table that sat by a low leather couch. I then removed my jacket, letting it slide from my shoulders and down my arms before laying it alongside the case.
I undid the buttons on my blouse, not taking my gaze from him.
He was breathing slow and deep judging by the rise and fall of his chest. His lips were a little shiny, as though he’d just licked them, and a small tendon in his cheek flexed in time with the pulse thudding in my ears.
When my blouse was undone, I tugged it from my tight pencil skirt and added it to the table at my side. I knew the corset would get him going. Made of the finest silk, the intricate stitching gave it a Parisian style, and I knew damn well it showed off my breasts and waist to perfection.
I glanced back at him. His eyes were a little wider than before, and he again shifted on the seat, the way he had in court.
Oh, yeah, he’s hard, and no doubt will have marks on his cock to prove it.
I undid the zipper at the back of my skirt and let it fall to my feet, revealing tiny black panties, also lace, and hold-up stockings. Teamed with my black heels, I knew the outfit would be ticking all the boxes for what heated his blood.
‘It’s been a while,’ I said, stepping away from the skirt.
‘Yes, Mistress. I’ve missed you.’ He turned his head to follow me as I moved around his desk.
‘Have you?’
‘Yes, a lot.’
‘Then you should make sure we’re not interrupted. We have lost time to make up.’
‘I already have. I spoke to security, told them I’d be working until late and I’m not to be disturbed under any circumstances.’ He spun his chair to face me.
His legs were spread wide, so I stepped between them.
‘Good boy.’ I hooked my finger beneath his chin and urged him to look up at me.
Damn those eyes. I could get lost in them, drown in them, have them the first thing I saw each morning and the last thing at night for the rest of my life.
I set my mouth over his and probed my tongue between his lips. It was a hard, fast kiss that I had complete control over.
He whimpered, a soft breathy sound that warmed my core.
‘You’re mine now,’ I said against his lips.
‘Yes, Mistress. I’m always yours.’
‘And I can do what I want with you?’ I straightened and placed my hands on my hips, pushed out my chest.
‘Anything. You can do anything. I’m here to please you.’ He nodded and curled his fingers over the arms of his chair. ‘I am here for you.’
His attention roamed my body; he was clearly enjoying the effect the corset had on my figure.
‘You have too much on,’ I said. ‘Stand.’
He did as instructed and loomed over me. Damn it, even when I was wearing my heels Damian made me feel tiny.
He wore a white cravat. I unhooked it from the nape of his neck and held it between us for a moment before tossing it to the table. It was a flippant gesture, one that told him he was no longer the one in power, his status had gone while we were together like this.
He pressed his lips together, and his nostrils flared.
What the hell is he thinking?
I wished I could get into his mind. Swim around in all those clever brain cells. Find out how he really felt about me.
‘Much as this is sexy,’ I said, sliding my hands over his robe and feeling the hard muscles of his chest beneath it, ‘it’s not suitable for what I have in mind.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Remove it.’
He fisted it between his shoulders and then dragged it over his head, the quiet swoosh of material loud in our secluded bubble of desire.
The robe hung in his hand for a moment, and then he gave a flick of his wrist and it landed on a straight-backed chair sitting against the wall.
Good, we were getting somewhere. I bit my bottom lip and stepped close, breathing in the warm air that radiated from him. Infused with faded cologne, it seeped into my lungs, and I imagined it coursing around my body, lining my arteries, veins and capillaries with Damian, with everything that he was to me.
‘Keep still,’ I said, reaching for his top button.
Slowly, so slowly, I set it free, and then started on the next one, and then the next.
He was breathing hard; his arms hung at his sides, but his fists were clenched, his shoulders rigid.
‘Relax,’ I said as I tugged the now-open shirt from his waistband. ‘It’s all going to be OK in a moment.’
‘I’m so hard, Mistress.’
‘I know.’ I cupped his groin, feeling the device there. As always, a shot of delight went through me that he’d obeyed, that he’d been in chastity since instructed seven days ago. I didn’t need to worry about what my sexy sub had been up to since then, because he couldn’t get up to anything. ‘And it’s uncomfortable now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ He went to lift his arm but appeared to think better of it and dropped it to his side again.
‘Not long now,’ I said, pulling his shirt from his arms and dropping it on the desk.
God, I loved his chest – wide and coated in dark hair that matched that on his head. His nipples were small and tight, his pecs square and defined.
Unable to resist, I leaned forward and took his left nipple in my mouth. I licked it, sucked it, and then gave a sharp nip.
‘Ahh…’ He shifted a little but didn’t move away.
I looked up at him and grinned as I stroked the pain away with the tips of my fingers.
His eyes were a little glazed now, as though the weight of the world was lifting from his shoulders and all he thought of was me and what I was doing to him.
The belt he wore had a thick silver buckle. I released it and then set to work on his fly.
He moaned, a rumbling sound that started in his chest and vibrated upwards. If the anticipatory prelude to sex had to be described as a noise, that guttural groan would be it.
I carefully pushed his suit trousers to his thighs, taking the time to stroke his buttocks and the sides of his hips.
‘Shoes,’ I said, nodding downwards.
He toed off his shoes and then bent and removed his socks. His trousers slipped further, and he kicked them aside.
‘Shall we let the beast loose?’ I asked.
‘Yes, Mistress.’ He nodded.
I smiled. What was the point in waiting any longer? We’d waited long enough.
I turned and sashayed to the table to retrieve the key from my jacket pocket. ‘Lose the boxers, sub,’ I threw over my shoulder.
After retrieving the key, I turned with it held high.
I caught my breath; the sight of Damian naked except for the glistening silver chastity around his penis was like a shove in the chest. It got me every time, the beauty of him, not just on the outside but on the inside too. How he was so eager to obey, please me, wear ‘that’ while at work.
He’s the one.
Through pursed lips, I blew out a breath and then set my shoulders back. I couldn’t let him see how much he affected my emotions. This was about sex – that’s what we’d agreed when we’d started this game over a year ago. Sex. Mistress. Sub. Pleasure. Pain.
Nothing more.
Or was it?
I walked over to him, key still held aloft. What would it be like to hand over sexual happiness to another? To be controlled, tied down, spanked, told when to come?
It wasn’t something I’d ever done. Not that I was the sort of woman to say never…but…
What would it be like if Damian had power over me? All that brawn and roped muscle, his hungry cock demanding whatever it wanted then taking it.
A shudder of desire shivered over my skin. I was getting wet, my nipples poking at the unforgiving tightness of my corset.
His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. I imagined the anticipation, the desperation surging through him.
I walked a little slower.
He must have sensed this.
‘Please,’ he said.
He reminded me of a begging defendant, someone pleading for mercy.
‘It’s OK.’ I stroked the cool metal, following the downward curve with the tip of my finger. ‘It’s time.’
Carefully, I held the tiny lock at the side, and then inserted the small key. One click and it was open.
He sighed, his breath shifting my hair. It was clearly a relief, right to the marrow of his bones, that he couldn’t contain.
I smiled and opened the chastity, revealing his cock. He could shower and pee with it on perfectly fine. Sleeping on his stomach might prove uncomfortable, and getting a hard-on downright painful. But it was possible to live with it quite easily.
His erection surged free. Long and thick, it pointed upwards, the slit wide and dark. He had one long vein running up the left-hand side that forked near the tip. I touched it, very gently, imagining I could feel his pulse.
‘I need you…Mistress,’ he said, his voice gravelly and far removed from the poised tone he used when addressing the court.
‘I know you do.’ I reached up and released my hair, allowing it to flow over my shoulders and down my back.
‘Do you know how much?’ he asked, his voice harsher than before, stronger, louder and more belligerent.
I widened my eyes and then gripped his cock, a good strong hold right at the base. ‘I think I can tell. And don’t forget to call me Mistress.’
‘Oh, fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Heaven help me…Mistress.’