a packed audience consisting of the victim’s family and friends and media. It was a high-profile case, and a lot was resting on Damian. Not least because he was one of the youngest judges in the country, and he always attracted attention.
Yes, a little light stress relief doled out by me would do him good.
Well, maybe not so light.
I waited another few minutes until the room was nearly empty and then made my way to the security guard standing by the door to chambers.
My high heels clicked on the floor as I approached, and he looked up at me.
‘Hey, Jenson,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a few things to go through with Judge Winston-Barrow.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded curtly and then opened the door.
I slipped past him; he was a big, beefy guy with hands the size of dinner plates. I was glad he was on our side.
The long windowless corridor was narrow and high-ceilinged, the floor covered in a wiry green carpet, and on the walls hung portraits of old judges who’d sat in court here.
Three doors led off it, rooms that were rarely used, so Damian told me, and, at the end, his office.
I stared at the entrance to his office and walked towards it. My hips seemed to roll a little more with each step. I felt sexy, powerful, turned-on just at the thought of what was going to happen.
I paused outside the polished mahogany door and unbuttoned my jacket. Through my silky blouse I adjusted the sexy black corset I’d worn all day, especially for this moment. It was tight, constrictive, and it had reminded me of what was to come. A bit like the restrictive device Damian was wearing. I could see why he didn’t complain about it. Well, he had at first, a bit, but not any more.
Knocking wasn’t for me, not now I was in role, so I turned the handle and stepped inside.
The windows were high and looked out at blank walls, which meant the light was dim. A few lamps with bottle-green shades sat around the room, spilling out an amber glow and stretching shadows on the wooden floor.
I flicked the lock on the door, and the dense sound shot a thrill through me. I’d sealed us in, blocked out the rest of the world. It was just me and my sub now.
‘Mistress.’
Damian’s voice when he said that word could nearly be my undoing. We’d had three weeks apart and now…no, I had to stay in control. He was relying on me to be the strong one. He was tired of ruling, of making the decisions.
I turned to face him.
He was seated behind his desk and still wearing his robes. His back was poker straight and his hands spread on the shiny wooden surface in front of him, fingers wide, starfish-shaped.
I’d bet my new iPhone his cock was straining against the cage.
Without speaking, I set my briefcase on a round table that sat by a low leather couch. I then removed my jacket, letting it slide from my shoulders and down my arms before laying it alongside the case.
I undid the buttons on my blouse, not taking my gaze from him.
He was breathing slow and deep judging by the rise and fall of his chest. His lips were a little shiny, as though he’d just licked them, and a small tendon in his cheek flexed in time with the pulse thudding in my ears.
When my blouse was undone, I tugged it from my tight pencil skirt and added it to the table at my side. I knew the corset would get him going. Made of the finest silk, the intricate stitching gave it a Parisian style, and I knew damn well it showed off my breasts and waist to perfection.
I glanced back at him. His eyes were a little wider than before, and he again shifted on the seat, the way he had in court.
Oh, yeah, he’s hard, and no doubt will have marks on his cock to prove it.
I undid the zipper at the back of my skirt and let it fall to my feet, revealing tiny black panties, also lace, and hold-up stockings. Teamed with my black heels, I knew the outfit would be ticking all the boxes for what heated his blood.
‘It’s been a while,’ I said, stepping away from the skirt.
‘Yes, Mistress. I’ve missed you.’ He turned his head to follow me as I moved around his desk.
‘Have you?’
‘Yes, a lot.’
‘Then you should make sure we’re not interrupted. We have lost time to make up.’
‘I already have. I spoke to security, told them I’d be working until late and I’m not to be disturbed under any circumstances.’ He spun his chair to face me.
His legs were spread wide, so I stepped between them.
‘Good boy.’ I hooked my finger beneath his chin and urged him to look up at me.
Damn those eyes. I could get lost in them, drown in them, have them the first thing I saw each morning and the last thing at night for the rest of my life.
I set my mouth over his and probed my tongue between his lips. It was a hard, fast kiss that I had complete control over.
He whimpered, a soft breathy sound that warmed my core.
‘You’re mine now,’ I said against his lips.
‘Yes, Mistress. I’m always yours.’
‘And I can do what I want with you?’ I straightened and placed my hands on my hips, pushed out my chest.
‘Anything. You can do anything. I’m here to please you.’ He nodded and curled his fingers over the arms of his chair. ‘I am here for you.’
His attention roamed my body; he was clearly enjoying the effect the corset had on my figure.
‘You have too much on,’ I said. ‘Stand.’
He did as instructed and loomed over me. Damn it, even when I was wearing my heels Damian made me feel tiny.
He wore a white cravat. I unhooked it from the nape of his neck and held it between us for a moment before tossing it to the table. It was a flippant gesture, one that told him he was no longer the one in power, his status had gone while we were together like this.
He pressed his lips together, and his nostrils flared.
What the hell is he thinking?
I wished I could get into his mind. Swim around in all those clever brain cells. Find out how he really felt about me.
‘Much as this is sexy,’ I said, sliding my hands over his robe and feeling the hard muscles of his chest beneath it, ‘it’s not suitable for what I have in mind.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Remove it.’
He fisted it between his shoulders and then dragged it over his head, the quiet swoosh of material loud in our secluded bubble of desire.
The robe hung in his hand for a moment, and then he gave a flick of his wrist and it landed on a straight-backed chair sitting against the wall.
Good, we were getting somewhere. I bit my bottom lip and stepped close, breathing in the warm air that radiated from him. Infused with faded cologne, it seeped into my lungs, and I imagined it coursing around my body, lining my arteries, veins and capillaries with Damian, with everything that he was to me.
‘Keep still,’ I said, reaching for his top button.
Slowly, so slowly, I set it free, and then started on the next one, and then the next.
He was breathing hard; his arms hung at his sides, but his fists were clenched, his shoulders rigid.
‘Relax,’ I said as I tugged the now-open shirt from his waistband. ‘It’s all going to be OK in a moment.’
‘I’m so hard, Mistress.’