Submitting: A Mischief Erotica Collection. Justine Elyot
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stand it any longer and I surrender to an overwhelming orgasm that makes me scream and convulse. They continue to play with me for its entire duration, heightening every sensation. I never want it to end.
Lights sparkle behind my eyes and I collapse, lost on a raging sea of pleasure, at the mercy of a kind of bliss I have never experienced before.
I have no idea how long I lie there, racked with euphoria, but when I finally drift back to earth, both men are smiling down at me. My cheeks flood with heat and I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed by my wanton display.
My Master laughs. ‘Don’t be silly. It was beautiful. I’ve never seen you like that before.’
I smile in spite of my embarrassment. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to do anything that might break the spell. Most of all, I don’t want to have to get up, get dressed and leave this room. Ever. The tears I had withheld earlier suddenly start to flow.
My Master understands at once and gathers me in his arms, rocking me as he whispers soothing words in my ear. It feels good to cry, to purge the stress and frustration of reality here, where it’s safe. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, but it’s still the safest place in the whole world.
‘If you can handle this,’ he tells me, ‘you can handle anything.’
And I know he’s right. Life in the real world sometimes gets too hard. And sometimes it becomes unbearable. Visiting a place where all that’s expected of me is obedience makes it all go away for a little while. It also makes me stronger. When I do finally leave this room, dressed like a normal person again, one whose partner isn’t addressed as ‘Master’, I will be more resilient than the trembling girl who entered. I will be braver.
This time was different, though. This time was both a challenge and a treat. And not just for me. My Master said he had always wanted to watch me with another man, someone well known and respected. Someone he trusted.
‘Thank you,’ I murmur, at last finding the courage to look my punisher in the eye.
‘It was my pleasure,’ he says. There is a gleam in his eye, although none of the authority has gone from his voice. ‘But haven’t you forgotten something?’
My stomach flutters nervously. I look to my Master for guidance, but he moves away, into the shadows. After a moment I hear the musical clink of soft chains from there.
My punisher stands over me and holds out his hand and my Master places something in it. I shudder when I see the nipple clamps.
‘Back on your knees,’ he orders, and I obey without a second thought. ‘I gave you permission to come, but I did say you must do it twice. Didn’t I?’
I blush deeply. ‘Yes, Sir.’ Then I arch my back, presenting my breasts for him while my Master watches, looking pleased.
Tanya
Judge Damian Winston-Barrow surveyed his courtroom through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he shifted on his seat, then leaned back with the tips of his fingers pressing on his bottom lip, making him look as if he were praying.
A tense silence descended, the self-important ticking of the large wall clock to my right the only sound. The defendant glanced at the jury, and the jury appeared to make a point of not looking back at him – good, a guilty verdict was on the cards. My work was done…almost.
I twirled my pen in my fingers and set my attention on the judge again. He was hot as hell, as sinful as any deviant when he got going, and right now he was also caged the way the men and women he sent to prison were – sort of.
He enjoyed the prison I put him in. It yanked his chain and stoked his lust. If only the people in this revered room knew what he really was. They thought of him as a big powerful man who ruled and was obeyed, yet when the time came, when we were alone, it was I who ruled and he who obeyed.
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, becoming impatient for the session to end. I had a free evening; heck, I had a free night. There was only one thing on my mind, and that was showing my sub how much his Mistress adored him and claiming some toe-curling orgasms along the way.
‘We’ll reconvene tomorrow at eleven a.m.’ Damian slammed his hammer down. The sound echoed around the vast room, bouncing off the wooden panelled walls.
He stood.
A stern-faced security guard to his right opened the door that would lead the judge to his private chambers.
I watched him walk, admiring how his robes flowed behind him, the way his broad shoulders shifted, and how his solid footsteps clicked on the floor. Beneath the regal-like black cloth, Damian usually had on neat suit trousers and a crisp cotton shirt; he said that was the most comfortable, he didn’t like getting too hot. Beneath that layer of clothing was the one thing I insisted he wore for an entire week before we had a liaison. It had taken him a while to get used to, but now it was like a second skin. All it took was a simple text from me and he had it in place – of course, I insisted upon a photograph as proof, where would the fun be if I didn’t?
As he went from sight, I put my hand into the pocket of my smart navy jacket. For what felt like the hundredth time today, I fingered the small silver key he’d sent me a week ago. It was the key to everything. The key to Damian, his desires, his freedom, his love and devotion to me, and soon it would be used to unlock all of those delicious things so I could have them to myself.
The hum of conversation around me grew, excited chatter about the way the trial was going. I gathered my papers and beat down a wave of anticipation. No one knew about my longing for Damian and the hold I had on him. They couldn’t. Ours was a secret relationship. We preferred it that way. It meant no complications in our work lives. No gossip, no press interest. That was something neither of us wanted.
‘Are you pleased, Tanya? With how today went?’
I turned to Geoff, my colleague and assistant. ‘Yes, did you see the jury when we shot down the alibi? Done deal.’
He smirked. ‘Yeah, what a prick thinking a drugged-up prostitute would stand in court as reliable.’
I shrugged. ‘If the tables were turned we’d have shown her good side and made the jury believe her, but…’
‘It’s not that way round and it should play out to our benefit.’ He grinned.
‘Exactly.’ I dropped my papers into my briefcase. ‘So let’s hope, when we arrive to wrap up in the morning, the jury will have already made their minds up. Dean Lead is a nasty bastard, and he needs to go away for a very long time.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ His attention shifted over my right shoulder.
I followed his line of sight.
Dean was being led away by two armed guards. He had hair so short his scalp was visible. A barbed-wire tattoo wended down his neck from behind his ear. And his shoulders were hunched, likely due to the cuffs that held his wrists secure.
He glanced my way, and a shiver snaked up my spine. He was definitely the sort of bloke a woman didn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
I turned and sent a quick prayer heavenward that the jury would come to the right decision so Damian could dole out a heavy sentence.
‘Fancy a drink down at the King Billy?’ Geoff asked.
‘Can I pass on that for tonight? I’ve got something I need to do.’
He half shrugged. ‘No worries, catch you in the morning.’
‘Yes, you will.’
He reached