Chapter 4*: The Marine (FemDom)

I was grateful that it was Thursday and my regular Thursday client was waiting for me in the room. He stood to attention the moment I walked in the door. On Thursdays, I didn't need to wear the mask. I took it off once I entered the room.

On Thursdays, I didn't need to wear anything at all.

The rest of the girls were immeasurably jealous that this client had chosen me.

He was a real piece of work. He stood to attention the moment I stepped in and I drank him in hungrily.

He was wearing only his combat boots and a blindfold over his eyes. It was a soft material that I had purchased specifically for him. I would sometimes perfume it so he would have something to fill his senses. The lack of sight made him easier to handle.

His spine was rigid and his muscles tightened when I stood in front of him. He was a head taller and very much bigger. But in here, none of that mattered. I stepped carefully around him, allowing the plush carpet to swallow the sound of my high-heeled boots. I didn't need to dress up for him. The blindfold never came off.

The rest of the girls saw him as a prime piece of meat. The best. His dirty blond hair was in a crew cut, a slight cut over his jaw making him look even more masculine than he already was. There was a tattoo on his right bicep that made all the girls swoon. US Marine. He had started coming here a few months ago, working through the girls Madame Violet offered until he found me.

Then, he stopped asking for anyone else. They offered sex. I offered what he wanted. They would tremble if they knew what I did with him behind closed doors.

My Thursdays belonged to him. Madame Violet said if I kept having repeat customers who scheduled indefinitely, I wouldn't have any use for her left. She still took fifty percent of my cut shamelessly, however.

"Have you been good, Travis?"

His head tipped to one side, straining to find my position as I moved through the room. The sensory deprivation made him uncomfortable. His eyes were a part of who he was and what he did. He excelled in hand-to-hand combat and was a sniper. Without his sight, he was just a regular man.

In our first session, he tried to please me. He pinned me to the door and kissed me before I could introduce myself. Then, he threw me to the bed with his considerable strength and held my legs wide open. His tongue found my heat in an instant and he started to lick me. He was a god with his tongue. I could understand why the rest of the girls crushed on him.

I had to push down the instinct to fight back, reminding myself that this was just another overeager client. Most clients preferred blowjobs instead of offering cunnilingus, but I knew it worked for some people.

I let him do it, curling my hand in his hair and cumming on his face. Then, I pulled his head back and slapped him across the face with all my strength. His head snapped to the side and he stared at me, a handprint blushing red on his cheek.

"If I wanted someone to eat me out, I could've hired a whore," I said carelessly. He was still wearing his mask then. The sharp edges cut into my palm. I clutched my hand in a tight fist, willing the blood to clot. My heart was at my throat and I forced down the fear that threatened to overwhelm me and reduce me into a whimpering, sobbing heap of mess. I was better than that. Tears gathered in my eyes, but didn't fall. I channeled the fear into anger.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" I demanded.

His perfect blue eyes widened in shock beneath the mask and a smile flitted across his face. His answer sealed my Thursday slots. He said, "No, Mistress," and I knew exactly what he wanted.

I kicked him off the bed and he let me. He was twice my size and could have easily pulled me down with him. Instead, he let me push him around.

Even so, he had too much power in his hands. He was incredibly handsome, very well-built, and knew how to please a woman.

I decided to balance out the dynamics by taking off my dress and using it as a makeshift blindfold. It was too big and fell over his nose. He stayed absolutely still, letting me tie the material over his eyes without so much as a whimper of distress. Most people would panic at the lack of sight. His breathing calmed.

"I want you to take off your clothes," I said and wondered if he had even taken off his clothes for the other girls when he hesitated. I drew my hand back and slapped him on his cheek considerably less force. Blood smeared on his cheek from where my palm was cut by the mask. He felt the wetness on his skin and licked the corner of his mouth. His expression was unreadable.

I should be scared of this man. He was so much bigger, so much stronger. But I felt in control. It was a peculiar sensation, one that I wasn't used to feeling, but one that I could get used to.

"Now," I instructed levelly and his fingers trembled when he moved to undress. He took off his clothes with practiced precision, folding them carefully even without his sight as he pulled them from his body. The action alone soothed him. His inhales and exhales were less haggard, the skirt of my dress fluttering at his face almost comically. He was too naked and altogether too manly to look comical.

"Kneel," I said. I squirmed a little at the look on his face, stunned and aroused. I pressed my hand to the healed cut on his chin and smeared a little of my blood on it. The wound had clotted but there was still a phantom pain there. I asked where he got that from.

"Shrapnel," he said, his jaw tensing beneath my touch. "War," he said.

I placed a footrest in front of him and knelt on it, smiling softly when that allowed me to be face to face with him. Tentatively, I pressed my naked body against his.

He leaned forward with a gasp, eager for the contact, and I drew back, keeping a tiny distance between us, enough for him to feel the warmth of my body, but not allowing him to touch me. I drew my nail over the scar and he made a little pleased noise. My stomach clenched. He was hard, his cock stiff and throbbing, the head of his cock brushing gently against my belly.

"Marie," he gasped, shocked, turning so that his face was level with mine. Warmth flooded my veins at the sound of my name on his tongue. Still, I drew my hand back and slapped him again, because he knew better. "Mistress," he corrected.

"Good," I murmured and I felt his cock stiffen at the simple compliment. "If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?"

"Yes," he breathed, and shivered when I dragged my nails down his naked chest, clawing red lines into his flesh. He had scars all over his body. Leaning forward, I pressed my breasts against his chest and my fingers found the throbbing hardness between his legs. I grasped at it tightly, squeezing to hear the little gasps from his throat.

"Have you submitted before?"

He trembled a little and said, "No."

"But you want to," I murmured. My thumb brushed over the head of his cock and he shuddered against my neck. His tongue darted forward and he licked me there, lightly. I drew back and slapped him again. "Did I tell you to touch me?" I demanded. My palm stung briefly, I wondered how he managed to have so much muscle on his cheek that it hurt me to hit him.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," he choked.

"Would you do anything I tell you to?" I murmured.

"Yes," he said, exhaling sharply. "Yes."

"If I told you not to come?"

He exhaled sharply. "Marie," he breathed.

I let that one pass and kept my strokes rhythmic and smooth, spreading his precum with my thumb, tugging lightly at his foreskin on the down-stroke and twisting a little on my way up. He let his head fall against my neck, whining a little on each exhale. His entire body trembled. "If you jerked yourself off, or cum when I tell you not to, or do anything without my permission, I'd have to punish you, wouldn't I?"

He made a strangled noise from the back of his throat and he shivered. His weight pressed against my throat and I almost fell from the burden of his body against mine, but I held myself still.

"I'd take away your rights to orgasm. I wouldn't even let you touch yourself-" I felt him jerk and I released his throbbing erection right before he was going to come. I sat back as he fell onto his back, breathing heavily, cursing at the tension that was still boiling in his body. He laid in a crumpled heat, nothing like the mass of sheer muscles and unmoving soldier that had been here just moments earlier. I wondered how long he had wanted to let go.

"Mistress," he pleaded. I had a feeling he was glaring at me behind the blindfold. My dress fell over his face and every ragged inhale drew the soft cotton to his open mouth, gasping for breath. He didn't try to flip it away, breathing in my scent eagerly.

I crawled over to his body, carefully letting my skin touch the tip of his erection and relishing in the soft tremble of his body every time I did. Finally, I stopped, my legs straddling his face. I drew the makeshift blindfold from his mouth.

His hands slid up my thighs to cradle my ass, drawing me down to his mouth.

"Very good," I moaned. He lapped at me, licking at my wet folds with slow, steady movements and I ran my fingers through my hair, focusing on not falling on top of him.

He hummed as he arched closer, moving his head with the rhythm of my thrusts as he traced circled around my clit with his tongue. It felt so good to be in control, to have him under my mercy. Little jolts of pleasure raced through my nerves, coiling deep in my stomach. I braced my hands on the floor and panted, eyes half shut, rolling my hips hard against his face.

His...