Chiara (The Doms and Dommes of New York: Book 3)

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Chapter 7

A couple of minutes later, Steven appeared in the doorway and then dropped to his knees.

“Come here, boy,” I said, and he crawled to me before kissing my feet. “Stand up.” He did, and I couldn’t help but notice his cock was rigid in his vinyl briefs. That wouldn’t work for the cock ring, and I said, “Go get some ice, boy.”

He looked at me in confusion, but said, “Yes, Mistress,” and disappeared. Moments later, he was back with four ice cubes in a bowl. I took it from him and set it on the nightstand next to the other items. His eyes widened when he saw what I had laid out, and I smiled at him.

“Take off your briefs and then get on the bed, boy. On your back.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said softly and did as I said.

When his briefs dropped to the floor, it was my eyes that widened this time. He was easily nine inches long, and he was indeed hard as a rock. He was also very thick. I wanted him that way when I finally let him slide into my cunt, but now, I needed him flaccid, so, after he laid down on the bed, I attached his ankles and wrists to the cuffs and strapped him down tightly.

“Trust me, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he breathed, and I could see the lust in his eyes.

“This next part won’t be very pleasant, but I promise that later it will be so much better.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I picked up one of the ice cubes and ran it over the head of his cock. He cried out as soon as it came in contact, but I just grinned. “That cock ring won’t fit while you’re hard, boy. I’ve got to soften you up.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said as he gritted his teeth. It didn’t take long before he was soft, but even then, he was an admirable five inches or so. I grabbed the cock ring, wrapped the strap behind his ball sack and then fed his cock through the ring. I tightened the strap.

“All right, boy? Not too tight?”

“No, Mistress,” he answered, and I noticed his breathing had accelerated.

I unstrapped him and told him to flip onto his stomach. When he did, I strapped him down again. “Still trust me, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.” I picked up the smallest dildo, a tiny three inches long and maybe a half-inch wide, and the lube. “I said I was going to fuck you, boy, and I am. Just not that beautiful cock of yours just yet.” I slathered lube on the dildo and placed the tip on his asshole. He gasped but otherwise, there was no reaction from him. “Yes or no, boy?”

“Yes, please, Mistress,” he groaned. “Please fuck me.”

I smiled as I pressed the dildo against his rosebud until the head popped in. He cried out, but that was all. His safe word was ‘alligator,’ and as I pressed the formed silicone into him, I listened for it, but it never came. I got the whole three inches in him and then started fucking him with it.

“You may not cum until I tell you otherwise, boy. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” A moan came from him as I sped up the speed of the dildo.

“Are you an anal virgin, boy?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I laughed. “Not anymore.” I continued fucking him with the dildo for a few minutes longer, and then I pulled it out. He grunted, and he sounded disappointed. “Don’t worry, boy. I’m not done with you yet.

I continued fucking him with the dildos, slowly stretching him out until I managed to get the largest one in him. “Hold it tight, boy,” I said as I unstrapped him again.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Turn over.” When he did, I saw that he was again rock hard. “You like being fucked in the ass, I see,” I said with a smile as I strapped him down yet again.

“Oh, yes, Mistress,” he breathed, his eyes only half open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, boy. Really fuck you. You may cum, boy, but only after I do.” I straddled his thighs, and he groaned, his eyes slipping closed the rest of the way. “Keep that dildo in your ass, boy, or I’ll spank you when I’m done.”

“Yes, Mistress.” His eyes stayed closed, and when I raised myself up and slid down on his cock, he let out a sigh, and his hands fisted in their cuffs.

“Holy fuck, boy!” He smiled briefly, but when I lifted myself up and slid back down, the smile vanished as he cried out. “You like it soft or rough, boy?”

“Rough, Mistress,” he answered breathlessly, and since I was ready for a rough ride myself, I gave him one. As I rode his cock, he moaned and squirmed, and it didn’t take long for my third climax of the night to hit me. Before he could cum, I slid off him, shifted down to straddle his shins, and took his cock in my mouth and took it in as far as I could, which still left about two inches of him out.

“Oh, fuck, Mistress!” he shouted as his hips bucked upward. I cupped his balls with one hand and proceeded to blow him rapidly. Between the cock ring, the fucking, and my mouth, he lasted about two minutes longer, and then he screamed out as he shot his load. I swallowed it eagerly. When he finished twitching, I slid up him and kissed him deeply, letting him taste himself on my tongue. When I broke the kiss, he slowly opened his eyes. “Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.” I smiled down at him and then unstrapped him. He didn’t move after I did so except to bring his legs together and to put his hands behind his head. “May I ask you something, Mistress Chiara?”

I stood up by the bed. “Sure.”

“Would you stay here tonight, Mistress? I would really like you to.”

My eyebrows rose. “Getting bold again, boy?”

He got up onto his knees and dropped his head. “Yes, Mistress. Forgive me, please.”

I studied him for a long moment, and then I made a decision. “No. I won’t stay, but you may drive me home.”

He frowned, in disappointment, I hoped, and I walked out of the room to get dressed. I was lacing up my bustier when he came into the living room. He had on khakis and a button-down white shirt. I picked up my phone and held it out to him.

“If you want this relationship to continue, put your number and email in, boy.” He didn’t hesitate even a fraction of a second. He took my phone and put in his information. “I’ll email you a copy of my contract, boy, and you can make pertinent changes and send it back. When we come to an agreement, we’ll both sign.” I looked at him as he handed me my phone. “If that’s what you want, of course.”

He smiled at me. “I would like that very much, Mistress Chiara.”

“As would I, Steven.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I really like how that sounds, Mistress.”

I said nothing, he held my coat for me, and then he followed me out to his car. Forty-five minutes later, he pulled up outside my apartment building. I gave his arm a pat, smiled at him, and got out.

The next day, I emailed him a copy of my standard sub contract. Then I called the District Attorney’s office to see if he was going to be in court. If he was, I wanted to see him in action. I also wanted to see how he would treat me in public, in his domain. The secretary put me on hold while she checked his schedule, and when she got back to me, she told me he was at the United States District Court on Pearl Street. I hailed a cab outside my building and was soon on my way there. When we reached the courthouse, I made my way through the metal detectors and guards and asked at the information desk where I could find Mr. Katsaraos. The clerk behind the desk directed me to a courtroom on the fourth floor of the building, but she said, “You’d better hurry. I think the jury is already deliberating.” I hoped that wasn’t the case, but even if Steven was finished with the trial, I could see how he reacted to me being there.

I found the courtroom and slipped inside, sitting in the back row of benches. Steven was standing in front of the jury, his back toward the gallery, and he was presenting his closing statement. He was dressed in a midnight blue suit that fit his broad chest and narrow waist perfectly, and I thought he looked absolutely delicious. His deep, beautifully accented voice reverberated throughout the room.

“It is a fact, ladies and gentleman of the jury, that Mr. Harland sexually molested and strangled seven-year-old Stephanie Bird last April. It is a fact that her body was found in the woods surrounding Lake Taghkanic by hikers two days after she was reported missing by her parents. It is a fact that Mr. Harland’s DNA was found on and inside Stephanie’s body, and it is a fact that forensics conclusively proved that it was his teeth that left those bite marks on her body. It is a fact that Mr. Harland raped and killed that little girl, and the only correct verdict that you can return is guilty on all counts. Thank you.” As he turned to sit, he scanned the gallery, and his eyes landed on me. He gave me a small smile and then sat down. He crossed his foot over his knee and steepled his fingers. Only when he started tapping them together did I wonder if he wasn’t as confident about the verdict as he seemed.

The defense attorney got up next and tried his best to convince the jury that the prosecution had no case, that the police had contaminated the evidence, and that his client was an upstanding member of the community. I watched the jury, though, and I could see that not a single one of them believed him. When he finally sat down after more than forty minutes of talking, I saw one of the female jurists smile at Steven. He dropped his foot onto the floor and turned from her almost instantly. That made me feel good. Then the judge gave the jury its instructions for deliberating, the bailiff had everyone stand, and the judge and jury left the courtroom.

Steven stayed at his table, talking with a man I assumed was another prosecutor, and the people in the gallery began to file out one or two at a time. I stood but stayed where I was. After about ten minutes, Steven gathered up a bunch of papers, stuck them in his briefcase, and turned toward me. His eyes shone as he made his way down the aisle. When he reached me, he grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Without my stilettos, I now only reached to just past his shoulders.

“Miss Martinelli, it’s good to see you, but what are you doing here?”

I cocked my head. “How did you know my last name, Mr. Katsaraos?”

He shrugged. “I’m a lawyer. It wasn’t too hard to do a little research on you.”

My eyebrows rose. “You researched me? Why?”

“I have to be very careful who I associate with, especially considering where we met. I had to make sure you weren’t a criminal or some other undesirable who would ruin my career.” Then he leaned close and spoke softly. “I’m very happy to say that you are a law-abiding citizen of this city whom I would love to get to know better.”

The fact that he was speaking to me as an equal was strange, but I liked it. I had never had a sub that I interacted with outside of the bedroom or other private place, and I supposed I’d have to get used to this if we were going to be together.

“To answer your question, I wanted to watch you work,” I said, and he gestured for me to precede him out of the courtroom. I did, and he walked by my side. “I’ve never seen a murder trial before. What happens now?”

“Now the jury will deliberate and hopefully come to the correct verdict soon. That bastard deserves to rot in prison.” His voice became harsh, and his fist clenched around the handle of his briefcase. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed. “May I ask you something?”

“Yes.” It was odd not putting ‘boy’ after my responses to him, but again, I could get used to it if it meant being with him.

“It could be hours or days before we know the jury’s verdict, but would you consent to having lunch with me?” The elevator opened, and we stepped inside. It was blessedly empty.

I smiled up at him as the door closed. “I would consent to that, boy. You may choose the restaurant.”

His grin returned. “Thank you, Mistress. Would it be all right if we talked during lunch, Mistress?”

“That would be just fine, boy.”

That was as far as we got since the elevator stopped on the next floor and three people got on. By the time we reached the first floor, several more people had joined us, and I was pressed up against Steven at the back of the car with his cock resting between my ass cheeks. I could feel metal beneath his slacks, and I slowly rotated my hips as his free hand dropped down to my hip. He held me tightly but did nothing to stop me. I only ceased my motions when the door opened on the ground floor. I walked out of the elevator, and he followed.

When we got outside, he took my arm gently and guided me down the steps to the street. “Do you mind walking?” he asked me, his voice gruff.

“No. Trust me when I say I’m used to it.”

He didn’t say anything else until we were several yards away from the courthouse. Then he said, “Will you tell me about yourself?”

I took a deep breath and tried to decide how much to tell him about my life. I stayed silent for a few minutes, and then I said, “I was born in White Brook, West Virginia twenty-six years ago. I grew up there with my parents until my sixth birthday. That’s when my father beat my mother to death.” Steven caught his breath, but I ignored him. “It was only the last in a long line of beatings. I stayed with my best friend’s family for a few weeks, and then I entered the foster care system. When I was ten, I was put with my last family, and although they never officially adopted me, I stayed with them until I turned eighteen.”

Steven’s hand found mine, and he gripped it tightly. “Did he beat you, too?”

“Yes. The night he killed my mother, he gave me a concussion. Before that, he’d broken my arm twice and sent me to the hospital more times than I can remember.”

A growl came from the man beside me. “Why wasn’t he arrested?”

I spat out a bitter laugh. “Because he was the Chief of Police. Who the fuck was going to arrest him? Everyone in that shitty little town knew what was happening to me and to my mother, but no one did a fucking thing about it! Not until he killed her!” My hand tightened unconsciously on his, and he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. I stopped, too, and stared up at him as people streamed by us on both sides. A tear fell down my cheek. “She was only twenty-two years old, Steven, and he killed her! Because she didn’t have dinner ready when he got home!”

Steven reached out his free hand and wiped the tear away, and then he pulled me to his chest. “I am so sorry, Chiara,” he whispered as he laid his head on mine. The concern and compassion in his voice broke through every barrier within me, and I sobbed against him. He slowly walked me backward without releasing me until we reached a brick planter. Then he sat down on it, put his briefcase down at his feet, lifted me onto his lap, and held me to himself tightly. “Shh,” he said softly. “It’s okay, korítsi mou. I’m here.” That only made me cry more.

Finally, I calmed down, but I liked where I was, and I didn’t want him to put me down. “This is so fucked up, you know?” I said quietly.

He chuckled. “What is?”

I sat up and stared into his beautiful eyes. “I’m supposed to be the one in charge here, not you, and I’m falling apart in your arms.”

He smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I like you in my arms, korítsi mou. Besides, I told you that I can’t be seen as submissive in public. Whenever anyone can see, I will be assertive and confident and decisive. In private, however, I want you to dominate me. It’s the only place I can let go of what everyone expects of me and relax for a while.”

“What does that mean?”

“What? Dominate? You have to ask?”

I giggled. “No. Korítsi mou.”

He grinned. “It means ‘my girl.’ You’re not offended, are you?”

I nuzzled back into his chest, and his arms tightened around me again. “No, I like it.”

He kissed my head. “I’m glad.” We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he said quietly, “Are you ready for lunch, Mistress?”

I nodded, and he set me on my feet before standing and picking up his briefcase. He ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “You’re even beautiful when you cry, moró.” Then he shocked me by bending down and kissing me softly. He ran his tongue along my lips, but when I parted my lips, he stepped back. “I just needed to taste you again,” he said before taking my hand and walking down the street.

My head was spinning as I walked beside him. I’d lost control of this budding relationship, and I didn’t care one bit. Part of me wanted him to be the dominant one, and part of me wanted it to be me. I told him this as we walked, and he laughed.

“Then you’re in luck, moró mou, because if we’re going to be seen in public like this, then that’s how it will be. I will be in charge here, and you will be in charge in bed.”

I curled my arm around his and leaned against his shoulder as we walked. “You do realize that if you keep calling me things in Greek, you’ll have to teach me the language.”

That brought out another laugh from him. “Tha eínai chará mou, moró,” he said softly.

I slapped his arm. “That’s not fair, Steven. What did you say?”

“It will be my pleasure, baby.”

I sighed and clung to him, content to have him take control for now. Later, though, I’d take it right back.

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