Read Girl for Free Online

do I. Speaking of your beautiful boy, I’d like to borrow him if you don’t need him and he’s not promised elsewhere.”
    “As long as you bring him back in one piece.”
    The mysterious Mistress clucks her tongue. “Come on, Damon. I would never return damaged goods to you. He can take quite a lot, that one. He needs it.”
    “He does, absolutely. And he’s yours for the weekend.”
    “I can offer you Selina the next time you visit me in exchange.”
    “No exchange necessary. He needs to be worked anyway, and as you can see I’ve a new one to work with.”
    “I’d like to see more of her, as well.”
    She is one of those women who are expert at sounding bored, but I have been a submissive long enough to read the small thrill under that tone of disinterest. Of disinterested interest. I think the Dommes almost have to do these things, playing in this sort of old boys’ club of male Dominants and Masters. The Mistresses have to be tougher. Hide their emotions. They are certainly more cruel than the men.
    “I thought you might,” the Master says.
    Suddenly, I am shoved roughly to my knees and the blindfold is whipped off. The bright light is glaring and I blink hard, my eyes watering. My heart is hammering, my pulse going at a thousand miles an hour, as if some sort of protection was taken away along with the blindfold, even though I hate the damn things.
    “Oh! You didn’t tell me her eyes were green,” Mistress Alexa says. “And such long, long lashes. Even a few freckles across her nose. Dusted in gold.”
    She walks in a circle around me, and when she’s circled back around to stand in front of me she bends down, her hand sliding around behind my neck, that firm grip all of the Masters and Mistresses know how to use. It’s that particular touch they subdue you with. Command you with. Such a simple thing, but it works like crazy. She squeezes harder, her hand sliding up into the base of my scalp, where her nails dig in a little as she leans closer, until her face is only inches from mine.
    She’s beautiful. Dark hair, almost black, and glittering ice-blue eyes. Her mouth is a cruel cupid’s bow of red lipstick. She’s dressed in red leather: skirt, corset, stiletto boots that come up over her knees. She wears a glass vial on a silver chain around her neck, and whatever is in it is red, as well. I only see it because it swings in my face for a moment before she absently tucks it into her cleavage.
    Mistress Alexa stares into my eyes, forcing my gaze to hers. And she begins to explore my body, my responses, by pinching me here and there: at my waist, just beneath my breast, at the side of my neck, the back of my arm. Evil little pinches that don’t last long, but one comes right after another and I’m overloading on pain again. But my body loves this—it’s addictive, being overloaded. As addictive as it is disturbing. I’m soaking wet, my pussy clenching at nothing, wanting to be filled. My clit hard and needy. It’s making me pant, the pain and the desire, and the panting makes me drool a little again—I can’t help it with the damn gag on.
    “Oh, poor, poor girl,” Mistress Alexa croons. “Drooling is just not pretty, my pet.” She uses her thumb to stroke the drool from one corner of my stretched lips. She does it again at the other corner, this time her thumb pressing hard into my flesh, her nail scraping as she pushes the moisture away. She does it over and over, and it’s really hurting, but I focus on her lovely blue eyes and manage to hold fairly still.
    Finally she straightens. “Her nipples are stiff, her pupils dilated,” she says, her eyes narrowing, her gaze wandering over my body. “She loves it all.”
    “Yes,” the Master says, moving around to stand in front of me, and all I can see is the back of his legs, clad in dark trousers. And if I dare—and I do for one brief moment—I can see what a fine, shapely ass he has.
    I want to lean in and rest my cheek on that