Dominatrix Diaries

Client 2.1 Mr. Familiar

I recline in a crushed velvet chair, legs wide open because it's more comfortable that way, my polished black nails drumming the arm rest as my patience slowly dwindles away.

He is late. I hate when people are late.

If you schedule a time with me, don't waste it. Men always think time belongs to them. They don't understand that time is shared and borrowed and thrown away too easily.

The door creaks open and he's finally here.
My blood goes cold in my veins and I know my heart has stopped beating.

Elias fucking DeMarcus.

He is much more built than he used to be, his starched white button up is tight across his chest and he's clearly worked on his arms. His hair is combed more neatly than I've ever seen it, but his eyes have that familiar look. They are frosty blue pools, waiting to be filled with something other than loneliness.

His lips part as our eyes lock, and I know he remembers me too. Relief instantly washes over me, and I kick myself for it. Who cares if he remembers me or not? He means nothing to me anymore.

This is such an unfamiliar feeling for me. Usually in this room, I have complete confidence in myself and I know exactly what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it.

But now, I'm at a loss. I never thought I would see him again, and especially not here.

How dare he make me feel this way again. When I left him, I promised I would never let him or another man take my power again, yet here he is, stealing away my senses without even saying a word.

I break the silence first because I can't bare it any longer.

"What are you doing here?" My voice does not sound nearly as firm as I wanted it to be. Why does he have this effect on me? I hate it.

"I mean, shouldn't you be answering that? This is kind of your business if I'm not mistaken," his words are cool and unshaken like they always were when I was falling apart right in front of him. I hate him for being so calm.

No more. He's right, this is my damn job and I'm going to run the place like I always do. Who cares if it's him? It shouldn't make a difference, business is business.

"Okay, then take your clothes off," I command him. "Now." My voice has stabilized itself and I'm no longer that insecure girl, trembling before a man without a heart.

"You're bossy," he smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs slowly.

"That's because I am the boss," I glare daggers at him, not smiling back the way I used to when he would tease me.

He raises his eyebrow but obeys, taking his time to undo each button down his shirt, stepping out of his pants and tossing them to the side in a much more flattering way than Peter did.

Wow, he's definitely been working out a lot.

That is irrelevant though!

I snatch a black collar off my wall of devices and roughly clasp it around his neck. Without hesitation, I loop my finger between the collar and his neck, dragging him behind me until he is on his knees in front of my velvet throne.

"How bad of a boy have you been lately?" I mock him.

"Terrible," he smirks again and I slap him across the face. Hard.

He slowly turns his face back to look at me, a red hand print slowly forming on his left cheek.

"Don't move." I am in control now, he is at my mercy.

I grab handcuffs and ankle cuffs to really make sure that he has no escape. A blindfold will also be useful, but I hate that it will remind him of what we used to do. Because it reminds me too.

Keeping him on his knees, I cuff his hand and ankles behind his back before securing the blindfold around his eyes.

"I see you've added some new additions to the routine," he is mocking me now and the blood that had previously been frozen in my veins begins to boil.

"Shut the fuck up," the anger in my voice is worrying. Usually I command them calmly, but firmly. Never have I felt something when ordering them around though. I can't lose my temper now, I must keep this professional.

I backhand him across the opposite cheek and grin as his winces. That's right, feel the pain.

Rising from my chair, I trace my finger across his chest, not breaking contact with his skin until I am standing behind him. I curl my fingers around his collar and tug until he is gagging.

"Beg for me to stop, beg me," I am taking control again, and it is intoxicating.

He continues to choke, so I ease my grip just enough for him to plea for my mercy. When he doesn't, I tighten my hold again so he is gasping.

"You have to beg, or I won't stop," I warn him. "I can do this all day, Elias."

He thrashes his arms behind his back and I give him a momentary release.

"Please," he wheezes.

I tug harder on his collar. "What was that? I couldn't hear you," I'm smirking now, and I have the power.

"Stop, please stop," he is gasping for air and I'm loving every second of it.

I release him and shove him towards the floor as he struggles to pull the air back into his lungs.

Not done with him yet, I push him over so his face is pressed into the ground and place one heel on top of his bare back.

Oh no, his back. Why does he even want this? I don't understand, it goes against everything I thought I knew about him.

Elias has been silent for a while now, and it's scaring me. I flip him over to face me and rip off his blindfold. He looks terrified.

His whole body is trembling and his eyes aren't guarded anymore, they are shot through with desperation.

I can't do this. Fuck.

"Please stop," he repeats, even though I'm not doing anything to him anymore. "Please stop," he whimpers again, and I am removing the cuffs and helping him back into his shirt and taking care of him all over again.

This was not supposed to happen. I should not have serviced him, it was obviously a conflict of interest.

"I am going to ask you again Elias, what are you doing here?"