“Why do you keep flinching when you sit down?”  Luke asked.

“I’m not.”  Amy said.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She made a sigh of exasperation as Luke nudged Jane.  “She flinches.  Am I right?”

Before Jane could answer, Luke’s cell phone rang.  He fished it from his pocket and glanced at the number.  “I gotta take this.  Be right back.”

He left the kitchen and Amy smiled at Jane.  “Thanks for having me over for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”  She studied the mess of pots and dishes scattered across the counter.  “Your brother is an incredible cook but messy.  So messy.”

“He really is.  I’ll help you clean up.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jane said.  “I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

She sipped at her wine.  “So, why are you flinching every time you sit down?”

Amy flushed bright red.  “I’m not.”

Jane just stared at her.  When Amy drank the rest of her wine in three large swallows, Jane filled her glass again before topping off her own.

Amy glanced at the doorway to the kitchen before lowering her voice.  “I – I went to Mark’s club last night.”

“By yourself?”  Jane said.

“Yeah.  I went because I wanted to find another Dom to, um, play with.”

“I thought you were going to try the club I told you about.”

“Well, I knew Mark wouldn’t be there.  He doesn’t work at the club on Thursday nights.  Only, his business partner Selene, texted him and told him I was there.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah, he came to the club right away.  He was pissed with me.”

Jane stood up and went to the doorway of the kitchen.  She wandered into the hallway and returned a few seconds alter.  “Luke’s in his office and from the sounds of it, he’s going to be there for awhile.  Tell me what happened.”

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Jane said ten minutes later, “I guess the question is – would you be fine with being his, uh, slave and not his girlfriend?”

Amy groaned.  “God, when you say the word slave, it makes me feel like a freak.”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t think you are.  You know that, right?”

“I know, it’s just… I shouldn’t like this master/slave thing.  Normal women don’t like it.”

“What’s normal?”  Jane challenged.  “What’s normal to one person could be completely strange to another.  My friend Candy likes to have her toes sucked on during sex.  I think that’s weirder than the master/slave thing.  You said your best friend is into the BDSM scene.  What does she think of this?”

“I haven’t told Valerie anything,” Amy said.  “I want to, I just – I would have to explain why I’d never told her about my crush on Mark.  It just seems like it’s too late to tell her, you know?  She’d be hurt that I didn’t tell her earlier.”

“All right.  Well, again, the question is – would you be happy just having him teach you how to be submissive?”

“I want to be in a relationship with him.  I love him, and I always will.  But his fear about losing Luke and our parents is heartbreaking and so real for him.  I can’t fully understand that fear, but I have to respect his feelings about it.”

She traced her finger over the rim of the wine glass.  “I’m going to say yes.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”  Jane said.  “You love him and the more you’re with him, the harder it will be when it ends.”

“I know.  But it’s the only way I can be with him, and who knows, maybe this will be enough for me.  Maybe having Mark keep this strictly as a Dom/sub thing, will help.  Maybe once we’re finished, I can move on with my life.”

“Do you really believe that?”  Jane asked.

“I have to.”

“What are you two whispering about?”  Luke wandered back into the kitchen.

“Girl stuff,” Amy said.  “Thanks for dinner.  It was really good.”

“You’re welcome.”  Luke sat next to Jane and put his arm around her.  “You going to family dinner on Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”  Luke rubbed Jane’s arm and pulled her a little closer. 

Amy finished her wine and stood.  “I’m gonna head home.  Thanks again for dinner.”

“Any time,” Jane said.

“Bye, Lukie.”  Amy poked Luke in the shoulder.

“Later, Ames.”

 

* * *

 

Mark’s car was parked on the street when she pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home on Sunday night.  Heat immediately wormed its way into her belly and she gripped the steering wheel.

Saturday night she’d texted Mark one word, “Yes”.  He hadn’t replied to her text but an hour later, she’d received an email from him.  Within the email was a written agreement for their master/slave relationship, a copy of his medical records and a request for her medical records as well as proof she was on birth control.

Her mouth had dropped open.  He wanted her to sign an agreement for their proposed master/slave relationship.  She had read through it three times.  There was a place for her to fill in her list of hard limits and soft limits and a spot for her signature at the bottom.

The written agreement had thrown her for a loop.  She supposed a small part of her hoped that she’d be so good in bed that Mark couldn’t help but ask for more – the relationship she wanted.  Seeing what he wanted from her in writing had killed that part of her.  She’d managed not to cry over it but hadn’t yet been able to sign the agreement, and not just because she wasn’t even sure what her hard and soft limits were.

She shut the car off and climbed out.  She couldn’t sit in her damn car all night.  The front door opened just as she reached for it and she smiled at her dad.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetie.  Come in out of the cold.”  He kissed her cheek, took her jacket, and sent her toward the kitchen.

Her brother, Jane and Mark were already sitting at the table.  She took the seat across from Mark as her mother smiled at her.  “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Mom.  Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine.  I love your outfit.  Did you design and sew the skirt yourself?” Her mother asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s so pretty.  You really should look at creating this kind of stuff for the business.”

“Our clients like work attire,” Luke said.

“I bet they would like the other stuff Amy makes too.”  Her mother gave her a supportive smile.

“Maybe,” Luke shrugged, “but right now we’re concentrating on expanding internationally with the business attire.  Maybe next year we’ll look at doing a casual wear line.”

Her father joined them, grabbing his seat at the head of the table.  Amy stole a quick glance at Mark.  He was staring at her and the heat in his gaze made her body buzz with need and anticipation.  She quickly looked away, afraid the lust on her face would be apparent to everyone if she didn’t stop staring at him.

“Dig in,” her mom said.

Her mother was an amazing cook.  The smell of the food should have been making her mouth water and her stomach growl.  Instead, all she could think about was Mark.  About the way it felt when he spanked her and fucked her and called her his little slave.  Her pussy clenched around nothing and she squirmed in her seat as she took the dish of green beans from her father.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”  Her mother said.

“What?”  Amy glanced up.  “Nothing - nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?  Your cheeks are flushed.  Are you coming down with the flu that’s been going around?  Mrs. Nemeth next door has a terrible case of it.  She’s been in bed since Thursday.”

“No, I don’t have the flu,” Amy said.  “It’s just warm in here.”

Luke leaned around Jane and studied Amy’s face.  “If you’re getting sick, go sit in the living room.  I don’t want your germs.”

“Shut up.  I’m not sick.”

Luke passed Jane the platter of roast beef.  “I’m sure that’s what Typhoid Mary said too.”

“Jane, dear, how are you doing?”  Clara asked.  “Have you started your accounting classes yet?”

“Not yet,” Jane replied.  “I start them in the spring.”

“Lovely,” Clara said.  “Are you enjoying working for Mark again.”

“I am,” Jane said.  She smiled at Mark.  “He’s a much nicer boss than my previous one.”

“Hey,” Luke said, “I’m just as nice as Mark.”

There was silence around the table.  Luke laughed.  “Someone agree with me for God’s sake.  Mom?”

“I’m sure you have many other excellent qualities as a boss, dearest,” Clara said.

Everyone laughed, and Amy stole another glance at Mark.  He was still staring at her with pure hunger and she licked her lips before pushing the potatoes around on her plate with her fork.

“Pass the butter, please, Amy.”

Her hand reached for the butter dish before Mark even finished speaking.  He was using his Dom voice and it had the same affect on her it always did.  Jane’s hand grazed hers as she reached for the butter and the smaller woman made a sound of apology.  Jane’s face was flushed, and she was staring at Mark with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

If she hadn’t been so damn horny, Amy would have laughed.  It was almost comforting to know she wasn’t the only one being affected by Mark and his damn Dom voice.  Her mother seemed entirely unaffected – Christ, how awkward would it be if she wasn’t - but Jane obviously wasn’t immune to it despite her love for Luke. 

She handed the butter to Mark, goose bumps popping up on her arm when his fingers brushed against hers.

“Thank you, Amy.”

Oh God.  That damn voice.

“You’re welcome.”

Could the others hear the lust in her voice?  Her family seemed oblivious, but Jane’s cheeks grew even more flushed. 

“Oh goodness, now Jane’s face is red,” Clara said.  Her voice was tinged with worry.  “Are you feeling all right?”

“I knew you were Typhoid Mary,” Luke said as he pressed his hand against Jane’s forehead.

“I’m not sick,” Jane said.  “It’s really warm in here.”

“Mark, dearest, open the window, would you?”  Clara said.

Mark stood and opened the window over the sink.  Amy stared at his ass before dragging her gaze away.  She held her fork with grim doggedness and poked at the roast beef on her plate.

She’d be lucky if she survived dinner.

 

* * *

 

Amy slipped into her childhood bedroom and shut the door.  Her parents had converted her room to her mother’s sewing room, but she still took comfort in being in here.  There was a long wooden table against the far wall and she crossed the room to it.   Neat squares of fabric were lined up on the far end of the table, right next to the sewing machine. 

She picked up one of the pieces and smiled a little.  Seeing the piles of fabric brought back so many childhood memories.  Playing on the floor of the sunroom with pieces of fabric as her mother sewed on her sewing machine and sang under her breath.  She had five quilts given to her by her mother and she cherished each of them. 

The door opened, and she didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.  Of course it was him.  She could tell herself that she had slipped out of the living room as the others watched TV so she could have a moment to herself, but it was a lie.

“Hello, Amy.”

Goosebumps poked to life on her skin.  “You have to stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”  He was directly behind her now and she closed her lips against the moan when his arm slid around her waist and gripped her hip.  His erection pressed against her ass.

“Using your damn Dom voice at the dinner table.  Looking at me that way.”

“What way am I looking at you?”  His other hand brushed her hair away from her neck.  His tongue licked the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat.

“Like you – oh god,” his hand cupped her breast and squeezed, “like you want to have sex with me.”

“I do want to have sex with you.”  He pulled her tight against him and she ground her ass against his cock.  “But you haven’t signed the agreement.”

“It surprised me,” she admitted.

“I just want to be clear about what this is.  It’s standard for a master/slave relationship.”

“Right,” she said. 

“Have you changed your mind?”  His fingers which had been pulling her nipple into a hard bud through her clothing, stilled.

“No.  I just – I wasn’t sure what to put down for hard and soft limits,” she said. 

“We can talk about it together, if you’d like.”

“I – yeah, I would like that.”

He kissed her throat and she relaxed against him, staring at the far wall where posters of Michael Jackson – her favourite singer when she was a teen – used to hang. 

“When did you start seeing me as more than Luke’s bratty little sister?” 

“It was in the summer.  A Tuesday.  Michael had been arrested for selling drugs the week before and I was still pissed and upset.  I went to your place and you were the only one home.  You knew I was upset but I refused to talk about it.  Your mom’s macaroni and cheese was my favourite food, and you decided to make it for me to cheer me up.  It tasted so bad.”

“I remember that day.  The pasta was gross.  I really can’t cook at all.”

His low laugh warmed her.  “We watched TV together on the couch and you didn’t push me to talk.  You just snuggled up to me and rubbed my back while we watched TV.  I looked at you and I just…”

“Just what?”

“Realized you were super hot and got an immediate boner.”

She laughed.  “That’s romantic.”

“What?  I had a hot girl rubbing my back.  What do you expect?”

He nuzzled her neck.  “I felt guilty as hell.”

“Why?”

“Because you were Luke’s baby sister.  Because you were only seventeen.”

“I turned eighteen like a week later.”

“When did you realize you were attracted to me?”  He asked.

“The summer I applied for design school.”

He didn’t reply, and she pressed her ass against his still-hard cock.  “Do you remember how often you slept over at our place?  Even when you were in your twenties?”

“Yeah.  Michael was living at home again and I was trying to avoid him.  He got mean when he was high.”

“I’m sorry.”  She rubbed his hand that was gripping her hip.

“It was a long time ago.  Finish what you were saying.”

There was just a hint of his Dom side in his voice, but she could feel wetness dampening her panties.

“When you slept over, I used to lie in my bed at night after everyone had gone to sleep and pretend that you snuck into my room.”

His fingers traced her collarbone before slipping under the neckline of her shirt and into her bra cup.  He pinched her nipple and she moaned, her back arching.

“Keep going, little slave.”

“Even as a teenager and a virgin I knew I – I liked things a little different,” she whispered.  “In my fantasy, you would climb into my bed and tell me that I was a bad girl and you were going to punish me.”

“How did I punish you?”  His hand switched to her other breast and toyed with her nipple.

“You said I had to have sex with you.  I would pretend that I didn’t want to.  I told you that I was a virgin and wanted to wait.  That I wasn’t attracted to you.”

The hand around her hip slid inside her skirt.  “Open your legs, little slave.”

She spread her legs and moaned when he cupped her pussy through her panties.

“What did I do then?”  His finger rubbed her clit through the wet material and she dug her nails into his arm.

“You pinned my arms above my head and used your other hand to pull my legs apart.  I would struggle but you were much stronger than me.  You’d slide your hand up my nightgown and touch my pussy.  Then you’d show me how wet I was for you.  You’d make me suck your fingers clean.  Then you’d strip off my nightgown and touch my breasts and my pussy until I was begging for you to fuck me.”

She arched her hips into his hand.  “I would masturbate to that fantasy every time you spent the night.”

She moaned in disappointment when he pulled his hand out from under her skirt.  His fingers weaved into her hair and he pulled her head back before biting her neck.  “You’ve been a bad girl, little slave.”

Every muscle in her body clenched in pleasure and she could barely form words.  “I – no, I haven’t.”

“You have.”  His other hand was still teasing her nipple and he gave it a hard pinch.  “You’ve taken much too long to sign the agreement, you didn’t send me your medical records and you haven’t given me an adequate explanation for failing to do so.”

“I,” she moaned when he pinched her nipple again, “I’m clean and I’m on birth control.”

“Good,” he said.  “Because I’m going to fuck you right here and I don’t want anything between my cock and my slave’s tight pussy.”

“Mark, we can’t.  Everyone’s just – oh, fuck, ouch!”

He had pulled her hair hard.  Even as pain tingled along her scalp, she could feel her pussy grow wetter.

“Try again, slave.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Better.”  He released her and stepped back.  She twisted her head to stare at him in confusion. 

“Mar – Sir, what are you doing?”

“Bend over the table.”  His hands were unbuttoning his jeans. 

Amy!  You can’t do this!  Your family is downstairs.  What if your mom decides to look for you?  You know the TV will only distract her for so –

“Bend over.  I won’t ask you again.”

She bent over the table immediately, placing her hands flat against the table as Mark tugged her skirt up over her hips.  She was wearing a thong and he rubbed his hand over her ass cheeks.  The light bruise had already faded, and the tenderness had disappeared.

“Are you wet for me, little slave?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Show me.”

She spread her legs wide.  He rubbed the wet fabric that covered her pussy and she moaned quietly and arched her back.

“Hold your panties to the side so your Master can fuck you.”

A hot blush rising in her cheeks, she pulled her panties to the side.  The head of Mark’s cock brushed against the back of her hand and then it was sliding into her wet pussy, stretching her walls, and making her want to cry out like a cat in heat.

She gripped the table with her free hand as he sheathed himself completely within her hot core.  His hands took her hips and lifted her until she was on her tiptoes. 

“Good.”  His voice was hoarse, and his hand smoothed along her ass for a moment.  “Listen very carefully to me, little slave.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You are not allowed to come.”

She froze and lifted her head to glare at him over her shoulder.  “What?  No, that’s not fair!”

“You’re being punished, remember?”

“Then just spank me for God’s sake.”

“No.  If you’re a good girl and don’t come, I will consider allowing you to come the next time we’re together.”

“The next time… no.  No fucking way am I waiting until the next time.”  She glared at him and tried to straighten.  “Let me up.  If you think I’m going to…oh god!”

Mark had pushed her back down to the table.  He held her there with one heavy hand in the middle of her back and made two deep, hard thrusts into her pussy. 

“Oh, oh fuck, that’s good,” she moaned. 

He slid in and out of her with long, smooth strokes.  Her anger forgotten, she met each of his strokes with eagerness.  When he stopped, she made a low cry of need.

“Please, Master!”

“No,” he said.  He pulled out until just the head of his cock was in her.  She whined in disappointment and tried to thrust back, but his hand kept her pinned to the table.  “You are not allowed to come.  Do you understand, slave?”

“Please, please let me come,” she whispered.

“No.”  His voice was stern, loving, cruel.  “Tell me you’ll be my good girl, or I’ll stop fucking you right now.”

Her pussy clenched around him at the thought.  She needed to be fucked.  She needed to come but if she couldn’t have that, she’d at least take the fucking.  She’d spent years dreaming about Mark fucking her in her bedroom.  She wanted it to be a reality.

“Will you be my good girl?”  He asked.

“Yes, Master.”  She wrapped her fingers tighter around the fabric of her panties.  The urge to rub her clit was nearly overwhelming in its intensity.  She ignored it and gripped the edge of the table with her other hand as Mark fucked her with a hard and deep rhythm.

She was unbelievably grateful when after only a few minutes, he stiffened behind her, pushed in deep and came with a low moan of pleasure.  Her pussy milked his cock eagerly even as it ached for relief.

He pulled out and helped her straighten up from the table.  She moved her panties back into place as he pulled her skirt down.  She stared mutely at him as he buttoned and zipped his jeans.

He smiled at her.  “Well done, little slave.”

She didn’t reply.  She was already trying to determine how quickly she could get the fuck out of here and go home.  She was planning on having a very long session with her goddamn vibrator.

Mark reached out and cupped her face, tipping her head up until she was staring at him.  “Your orgasms belong to me.  You are not allowed to have one unless I’m there.”

Her mouth dropped open.  “I – what?”

“No masturbating tonight, little slave.”

“Mark, no!  That’s not fair.  I can’t - ”

“Keep arguing with me and I won’t let you come the next three times I fuck you.”

She shut her mouth immediately.  He was telling the truth, she could see it in his face. 

“Good girl,” he said.  He pressed a fleeting kiss against her mouth.  “You go downstairs first.”

Her legs trembling, she slipped out of the room.