I blinked rapidly, considering. I shook my head. "It's just," I said, softly, not wanting to argue but unable to imagine any more stimulation. "I'm so tender right now…"
"All the better to make you come again," he said. "Women are different from men, Katherine. You have a very minimal refractory period and can orgasm again almost immediately if you relax and let me take control. The way you agreed to…"
"What if I don't want to?"
"You gave control over your body to me. I want you to. I thought you understood that."
I sighed and closed my eyes, turning my head to the side.
He crawled up until he was directly over me, took my chin in his hand and held my eyes with his.
"What is it, Kate? Why are you resisting this?"
He shook his head. "It's not like another orgasm is a bad thing."
I shook my head in return. I didn't know why. It just seemed like the purpose of all this was for us to enjoy each other and I just didn’t feel I needed to come again. It was more of a challenge to him rather than wanting my happiness. Then I realized something: his ability to exert control over me made him happy. As his submissive, my happiness was supposed to come from pleasing him.
I did want to please him. I wanted him. I wanted to be his submissive – to wait for him with anticipation the way he described in his letters to his subs, to watch him use me, make me feel what he wanted to make me feel – intense pleasure. To be totally controlled. When I signed the contract, I agreed that my body, my response was his to control and enjoy. Making me come three times would please him. My willingness to let him try would please him.
"Slave," he said, his voice firm. "Are you mine?"
I inhaled deeply. "Yes," I said, finally yielding. "Master…"
In the end, it turned out that I could come more than three times. In all, five. He made me come five times without stopping, using his fingers, his tongue and his once-more erect cock, as if to prove a point and reinforce that I wasn't to resist him, no matter what, unless what was happening was a red-light matter. Coming five times was not one.
By the time he was finished with me, I was almost incoherent, my mind in a kind of strange drifting bliss, my groin pleasantly achy, my clit still throbbing from all the stimulation.
"I'm going to be sore tomorrow,'" I said, closing my eyes as he untied my hands.
"Good," he said, and rubbed my wrists where I'd pulled at the leather tie. Then, he lifted me up into a seated position in his lap and began massaging my shoulders. "I want you sore. I want you to remember that you came five times. That I'm the one to set limits for your body, not you. You're far too timid and fearful to do so. You're too inexperienced. You don't know yet what you're capable of sexually, Kate. Let me be the one to discover how far you can go. That's what a D/s relationship is all about."
"I'm so tired…" I said, my eyes closing. "I have to get home. I'll call a taxi…"
"Shh," he said, cradling me in his embrace. "You'll stay here tonight. You need to recover. Just lie with me."
"If I'm not at home and," I said, almost using Dawn's name before catching myself. "And that person comes by, they may become suspicious."
"Katherine," he said, his voice firm. "When you’re with me, I make the decisions. You're with me. I've decided you're staying the night."
I exhaled and just relaxed into his arms. "It's your neck, not mine…"
"It is." Then he laid me down on the bed and went to the bathroom, bringing back a warm washcloth that he used to wipe me off, starting at my face and then moving down over my body to my pussy, touching it gently to wipe away his come, the touch of the washcloth on my sensitive skin causing me to gasp just a bit.
He smiled, as if he enjoyed the thought I was uncomfortable.
"Does that please you?" I asked. "The thought I'm in pain?"
He stopped what he was doing and frowned. "Is it truly pain? Or is it just discomfort from a very thorough and enjoyable fucking?" He waited for a moment, watching me. "Answer me, Katherine. Is it because you were well-fucked? Remember the rules…"
I watched his face, trying to decide. "Yes, Master," I said finally, a tiny bit of annoyance in me despite how languid my body felt, my eyes closing.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Master," I said, too sleepy to open my eyes. "It's because I'm well-fucked."
"Good girl," he said and kissed me as if to reward me for good behavior.
"Can I ask why you call me a girl? I'm really not, you know. I'm almost twenty-five." I said while he continued to wipe me off. "A quarter century." I opened my eyes to see his response. He didn't stop what he was doing, but frowned again as if considering.