The Last Good Knight: Parts 1-5

Nora caught her crop and let it slide down between her fingers until she caught it by the handle.

She leaned forward and put the end of the crop handle under Lance’s chin, forcing his mouth to meet her mouth. Their lips hovered only an inch apart.

“You know what, Lance? I think I like your eyes.”

Just to be sadistic, Nora stayed there for a few unnecessary seconds, letting Lance feel her breath against his lips before she moved forward, closed the gap between them and kissed him. The kiss started soft and careful but quickly turned passionate. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and bit his top lip. Even as the kiss deepened, grew hungrier, Lance stayed on his knees and kept his hands to himself. He wouldn’t touch her without permission. Someone had trained this man and trained him well.

With reluctance she pulled back from Lance. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved kissing a man. She had sex mostly with women lately, a nice break from the male clients she dealt with all day long. When was the last time she’d even kissed a man on the mouth? A month ago? Two? It would have been Kingsley, right? The last man she’d kissed? And he hadn’t had a session with her in weeks. Kissing Lance, she realized how much she missed the feel of soft stubble on her skin, missed the sense of power restrained. If she didn’t stop kissing him now, they’d end up making out all night instead of doing what she really wanted to do.

“Take your shirt off,” she ordered. Lance hesitated. “Shy?” she asked.

“Not really. But I have some scars. Fair warning.”

“I don’t mind scars. Show me, Sailor. That’s an order.”

He sat back on his heels and with one easy tug pulled his shirt up and off. Any other man would have simply tossed it on the floor, but he took the three extra seconds to fold it neatly before setting it at her feet like an offering. If she hadn’t known he was military before, that would have done it.

“I don’t see many scars.” She looked and saw only a few random healed cuts here and there.

“Wrong side,” he said.

Nora raised her eyebrow. She gripped him by the back of neck and pulled him forward. At the base of his spine she saw a thick mass of scar tissue.

“Damn. Bullet wound?” she asked.

“IED. Got hit with shrapnel. Looks ugly but it didn’t hit the spine.”

“Does it cause you any issues I need to know about?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her.

“The scar doesn’t bother you, Mistress?”

She shrugged. “One of my best clients is riddled with bullet wounds. I just need to know if it gives you any pain or other issues that would impede or change our play.”

“Just a little nerve damage in that area.”

“Understood. I won’t play anywhere near the scars then. Easy enough.”

“I’m glad you’re okay with the scars. I haven’t really been...it’s been a while.”

“You have a gorgeous body, Lance. I don’t say that to everyone. Just people with gorgeous bodies. I am a little shocked by one thing, however. Where are your tats? I can’t believe I have a seaman in here with no tattoos,” she teased as she caressed his bare chest with her fingertips.

“I don’t need ink to advertise my service, Mistress. I know what I am. The Navy knows what I am. You know what I am. No one else needs to know.”

She raised her eyebrow at him.

“Well, damn,” she said.

“Something wrong, Mistress?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

The caress turned into a scratch as she ran her fingernails over the sensitive skin of his upper chest. She dug in a little deeper and left four red trails in his flesh. As she scratched he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, offering more of himself to her touch.

“Stand up. Go to the cross. Face it.”

His years of military service had turned the man into an order-obeying machine. He came right to his feet, swiftly but without unnecessary or graceless expediency. He walked to the cross and stood facing it.

“So obedient...I need more of you boys in my life. I only have a couple military clients. One Air Force pilot. One Marine. Some kind of officer. Nice guy. Loves getting his balls flogged.”

“Sounds like the definition of being in the Marines to me.”

“I need a Coastie. I haven’t done nearly enough boat kink.”

“I have a friend in the Coast Guard. I’ll get you his number.”

“I’d rather have your number, Lance. Pick a number between one and one hundred. Take your time to decide. I need to pick a whip.”

Nora left him standing in front of the cross as she perused her single-tail collection.

“You’re not going to tell me what I’m picking, Mistress?”

“Nope.”

“Fifty.”

Nora smiled as she picked out one of her heavier single-tails.

“Smart. Split the difference. I might be having you pick out how many minutes we play in my bed tonight or I might be forcing you to choose how many lashes you get with this nasty bitch.” She let the whip flick the cross about six inches from Lance’s shoulder. She missed on purpose, hoping to see if he’d jump. He didn’t.

“Seemed the smart choice,” he said. “But I’ll change my answer if you want me to.”

“No...fifty is perfect.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out a stopwatch. “Fifty is how many minutes I’m going to make you wait until I let you inside me. Starting...now.” She programmed fifty minutes into her stopwatch and hung it on the wall by the cross.

Nora stood behind him and pressed her corset-covered breasts into his back.

“Do you wish you’d picked a different number? Maybe one?” she asked him as she wrapped the whip around his chest and pushed him back against her.

“One part of my body wishes I’d picked one. The rest of my body can live with fifty, Mistress. I’m a man with a good appreciation for foreplay.”

“Foreplay. Good way to think of it. Ready to play?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” She curled up her whip again and sat it on a table while she pulled out wrist cuffs. “Got a safe word?”

“I do. Semper Fi.”

“Semper Fi? Isn’t that the motto of the Marines?”

“It is. Why do you think I equate it with surrender?”

“You know, my father was a Marine,” Nora said, cuffing Lance’s left wrist to the cross. She had to get on a step stool to reach high enough.

Lance winced. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I have nothing but respect for the Corps. I’ve served with them, and they’re all brave and honorable men and women. It’s all good-natured rival—”

“I’m just fucking with you. My dad was a lowlife, two-bit crook who never made a legal cent in his life.”

“You’re the devil, Mistress.” Lance sounded impressed.

“I might have forgotten to mention that. Glad you noticed.” She cuffed his right wrist and picked up her whip again. Pausing, she took a moment to study his back. The scar tissue ended about six inches above his back belt loop. That tissue was tough, but she didn’t want to fuck with surgical scars. Dominatrixes hurt but they didn’t harm. She pictured landing the lashes from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and down to the second-to-last rib of his rib cage. With his arms bound high up on the cross, she could see all the taut muscle of his back and arms and count his ribs. The man had a beautiful back. All it wanted for was a few dozen welts.

“We use the red-yellow-green-light system down here.” She unfurled the whip and held it by the handle in her right hand with the tip in her left. “At any point, call out any of those colors as needed. You say green and I’ll give you more. You say yellow and I’ll pull back the pace. You say red and I drop the whip and we play with a new toy. Got it?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Also, if you want, you can say ‘Ouch.’ And that won’t stop anything at all.”

At that she let the whip fly. She struck the dead center of his back between the shoulder blades. He flinched then—everyone did—but he didn’t say “yellow” or “red.” He didn’t even say “Ouch.”

She let the whip fly again and dusted his broad back with red welts. Like a good pain-artist, she let the whip dance over his skin, not landing in the same place twice in a row. That way he would never know where the next blow would land, would never be able to brace himself. She counted in her head as she whipped him—ten, twenty, forty, sixty. By sixty she started hearing “Ouch.” By seventy it’d turned into “Fuck.” At seventy-five she hit a sensitive spot hard enough for a genuine cry of pure pain. But still she heard no red, no yellow.

“Green?” she asked as she gave him a minute to breathe. “I won’t think any less of you if you say yellow or red.”

“Still green...” His breathing had turned ragged. “I just need a minute, if it pleases you, Mistress.”

“It pleases me. Read me how many minutes we have left.”

Lance craned his neck to look at the stopwatch hanging next to the St. Andrew’s Cross.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Goodie. I stopped at seventy-five. Let’s make it an even hundred. Then we’ll play a new game. And maybe get rid of some more clothing. Yours.”

“Anything you desire, Mistress.”

She desired to give him twenty-five more lashes. Again the whip danced over his skin. She focused on his sides now and his shoulders. By the time she hit twenty his back had turned bright red. One welt even oozed a small amount of blood.

“Stay there,” she said as she put her whip in the pile of toys needing to be cleaned. “We have breakage.”

Lance peered back over his shoulder.

“Much blood?” he asked, seeming entirely untroubled at the idea she’d broken the skin.

“Not much.” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and cleaned the small wound with Betadine and ointment. “Okay, we have two Band-Aid options—Snoopy or Sesame Street?”

“Snoopy,” he said.

“Perfect.” She applied the Band-Aid, tossed her gloves, and dropped a quick kiss onto the center of his back. The beating had left his skin burning. She felt the heat against her lips.

“You’re good, Mistress.” Lance turned back to face the wall. “I’ve never been with a Domme who plays as hard as you.”

“I appreciate that. I trained under the best sadist in the world.”

“Interesting. What do you consider a good sadist, Mistress?”

Nora tapped her chin as she thought about the question.

“Talent is part of it. Takes a lot of talent to hurt someone without injuring them. A baseball bat can inflict pain, but it also breaks bones. How do you inflict real and serious pain but without causing harm? The sadist I learned from is amazing at that. He knows all the pain pressure points on the human body so he can cause you acute agony without leaving a single mark.”

“We learned a lot of those in training. Good for self-defense.”

“Good for kink,” she said. “But it’s more than talent. True, the man can kill a fly with the tip of a whip. But he can also break someone down in a way that...I don’t know.” She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know anyone who can put someone back together by breaking them apart like he can. You leave him with your body limping and your heart soaring.”

“Is that what you’re doing to me?”

“Are you limping yet?”

“No, Mistress. Soaring.”

Nora smiled at his back, smiled so he couldn’t see it. If he kept this up she would collar him before the night was over and that would be about the worst idea in the history of the Underground. She’d left a man who’d collared her and tied her down. The last thing she’d ever do was chain someone up in the very bonds she’d escaped.

“Time check?”

“Twenty-eight minutes, Mistress.”

“Oh, good. I’m getting horny.”

“That would make two of us.”

“Really? Prove it,” she said as she unlocked first his right then his left wrist from the cross.

She stood back and waited, her arms crossed over her chest.

Lance unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. As he stood in his boxer briefs, he smoothed and folded his pants. She took them from him as he stripped out of his underwear. Now Nora whistled. The man had the most magnificent thighs she’d ever seen. A hard ridge of muscle traveled straight from his knee to his hip. She’d bite that muscle tonight and see if she chipped a tooth.

“I could die on your quads,” she said. “Or between them. Seriously, can you crush coconuts with those thighs?”

“I’d say thank you but that’s the last part of my body I was hoping you would notice, Mistress.” He said the words with a rueful smile.

“Oh, I noticed that, too. Hard to miss it.” She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around his thick, hard inches.

Lance gave a labored breath as she stroked him. He probably wanted her to take a firm grip and stroke harder, so instead she merely grazed him with her fingertips, touching him as lightly as possible. His stomach muscles contracted.

“How good is your orgasm control?” She teased the tip with one finger and felt fluid on her skin, a drop or two. She massaged it back into the head.

“Decent. You order me not to come, and I won’t come. I can’t last much longer than a week or two, though, or it’ll happen in my sleep.”

“How old are you?” She stroked the underside of his cock with the back of her hand.

“Thirty-six, Mistress.”

“You’ve played with a Domme before?”

“My first real relationship was with a Domme.” Lance closed his eyes as she cupped his testicles.

“Really? How old were you when you were with her?”

Lance opened his eyes and smiled at her.

“Eighteen to twenty-two. College.”

“Not many college girls are tough enough to top men. Takes a few years to get to that point.” Nora wrapped her whole hand around him and tugged.

“This college girl was a beautiful, tall, dark-haired professor in her late thirties with a wicked mind and a wickeder flogging arm.”

“Fucking a professor? I love it.”

She stroked him harder to show her approval.

“She fucked me, Mistress. I might have been inside her, but it was always at her whim and command.”

“My kind of gal. Anyone since then?” She kept stroking him, testing his endurance, his ability to keep himself from coming.

“Here and there. Only professionals since then. No one in the past six years.”

“Why not?”

He sighed heavily.

“I got married. Bad idea.”

“Worst idea I’ve ever heard. Divorced?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She wasn’t kinky?”

“Just so you know, Mistress, talking about my marriage is the best orgasm control there is. If we talk about it, I can guarantee I won’t be coming anytime soon.”

Laughing, she took the hint. She could tell there was a lot more to that story, but she didn’t press him for it. He didn’t come down to her dungeon for a therapy session. Pain and sex were on the menu tonight. They’d save the getting to know each other bullshit for later.

“Since I do want you coming at some point tonight, I’ll ask you about your ex-wife another time when I’m feeling really sadistic. For now how about you follow me...” Without letting go of him, she took a step back and led him slowly and carefully to a leather-covered kneeling bench, not unlike the kind found at prayer shrines.

“I’ll follow anywhere you lead, especially if you have my cock in your hand.”

“Stay here. I’ll get the stopwatch. We don’t want to go into overtime on the pain and miss all the fucking.”

“No, Mistress, we absolutely do not.”

She heard a bit of a drawl in his words, a bit of the Old South under his clipped military tone.

“Where are you from?” She got the stopwatch off the wall and handed it to him.

“Military brat. I’m from everywhere. But Mom and Dad are from Mississippi. I went to school around Boston, but I guess I didn’t lose their accent.”

“Boston? Did you got to Harvard?”

“MIT. Did Naval ROTC there.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Nerd. Nerds get punished around here.”

“I’m also a geek.”

“Do you read?”

“All the time. Especially since recovering from the surgery. Big, thick non-fiction books.”

“An MIT graduate and a reader? Oh, you’re really going to get it. Bend over, bookworm.”

He did as ordered and Nora picked up the solid red riding crop, the one with the steel spine. She could wield it like a cane and strike him with the length of it. That would be too easy, though. The tip of the riding crop was a divided piece of leather, four inches long and forked like a snake tongue. She’d yet to find anything that stung quite as much as this particular crop did.

“You picked the number fifty earlier so we’ll let it do double-duty. You survive fifty hits of this bitch, and I might even let you come twice tonight.”

“You spoil me, Mistress.”

“Count for me.”

She brought the viper-tongued crop tip down onto the back of his thigh.

“One.”

“Hurts more than it looks like it would, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yes, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome. Keep counting.”

By twenty, Lance’s voice had started to break. By forty, Nora started to feel a little sorry for him. But they were only ten away. The fifty sounded choked like it took every ounce of energy and every scrap of masculine pride to get that number out.

“Good man...” she purred as she ran her hand over his burning skin. “Very good.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I want to please you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What’s our time now?”

“Five minutes.”

“Good. Bedroom. Now. Kneel facing the bed, hands on top of it, eyes closed.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Lance stood up and walked purposefully to the bedroom while Nora lingered in the dungeon gathering some bondage supplies.

When she entered the bedroom she found him doing everything as she’d instructed.

“You’re so well trained. You could turn pro, Sailor.” She sat on the bed next to his right hand.

“Attention to detail, Mistress. Something they drill into us.”

“Would you like to drill into me?”

“I’d cut off my right hand for the chance.”

“Oh, don’t do that. We’re going to need that hand. If I get in the right mood, we’re going to need all of it.”

She wrapped leather bondage cuffs around his wrists and buckled them. God damn, that man looked good in leather. The cuffs on his wrists accentuated the muscular forearms. Hitting on this guy was the smartest thing she’d done all night. Maybe she’d be smart again tomorrow...and the day after...

Once she had his wrists buckled, she flung one leg over his head and moved to straddle his hands.

“Am I wearing panties? I can’t remember if I put any on today.” She raised her hips so he could see straight up her skirt.

“No, Mistress. You aren’t.”

“Good. That’ll save us a step. Are you good at oral?”

“Isn’t that for you to decide?”

Nora cupped his chin and traced his lips with her thumb. She picked up a snap hook and, taking his hands in hers, pulled his arms down behind his back and cuffed them together at the wrist.

“Here’s your challenge,” she whispered in his ear. “If you can make me come using nothing but your mouth in ten minutes or less, then I’ll let you inside me next. Ready?”

“God, yes,” he whispered back.

She scooted her hips to the very edge of the bed, pulled her skirt up and spread her legs wider. She set the stopwatch again and said, “Go.”

Lance leaned in and stroked her folds with his tongue. He focused on her outer and inner lips, on her vulva, taking his sweet time with her. By the time his lips enfolded her clitoris, she was almost ready to beg for it. The man might be a sub, but he knew how to tease as well as any Dominant.

He continued teasing her as she’d teased him, keeping the pressure so light that it bordered on torture. But she didn’t bark any orders at him. After all, if he failed to make her come in time, it was his loss as well as hers.

After a few minutes of the tease, he licked her harder and put more pressure onto her clitoris. She let herself moan, let herself pant. They were lovers tonight, not Dominatrix and client. She could enjoy him as much as he enjoyed her.

And God, did she enjoy him. She enjoyed him so much that she came with a cry as her climax gripped her. As she lay panting on the bed, she heard the beeping of the stopwatch.

Slowly she sat back up on her elbows and looked down at him still sitting between her knees.

“Okay, I think we’ve established that you’re good at oral.”

“I’m glad you think so, Mistress.” With a posture of sincere reverence he kissed her thigh where her boot met bare skin.

“I didn’t think you were going to get me there in ten minutes. You took your sweet time of it.”

“You give me ten minutes with my face between your thighs, and I’ll take every second of it.”

She ran her hands down his arms and unsnapped his cuffs.

“Are you ready for your next order?” she asked.

“Ready.”

“Go to the head of the bed. Sit with your back against the headboard.”

He rose off the floor and crawled across the bed. While he waited in silence she took lube and condoms out of her drawer.

“Hands up,” she instructed as she knelt in front of him. She opened the wrapper and rolled the condom onto him. Whenever she fucked male submissives she always put the condom on herself. So much more fun to make him sit there and be treated like a sex slave with no control over his own body.

Once it was on, she covered him in a thin layer of lubricant. After all the pain she’d given him, she wanted nothing for him now but pleasure.

She put the lube away and dried her hands. He’d taken his sweet time making her come. She’d take her sweet time making him wait.

Finally she straddled his thighs and gripped the headboard. Facing him on her knees she brought her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss.

“If you fuck as well as you kiss, this is going to be a good night,” she said, smiling at him.

“I gave you an orgasm. It’s already a good night, Mistress.”

“Let’s go for a great night, then.” She lifted his arms and hooked his wrist cuffs through the headboard. He gripped the black steel bar with both hands.

Nora rose up and lowered herself down onto him, sinking onto his cock with a sigh of pure pleasure. She smiled as he released a ragged breath. She gripped the headboard, her hands bookending his, as he lifted his hips up and pushed into her.

“Is this position okay for you?” she asked, remembering the massive scar on his back.

“It’s perfect, Mistress. You’re doing most of the work anyway.”

“What positions don’t work for you?”

“Honestly, the only one that hurts is missionary.”

“Thank God for that. I only do missionary position with missionaries.”

He laughed and kissed her bare shoulder. She turned her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck and throat.

“You’re a sadist for cuffing my hands,” he said as he pressed his face to her hair. “I’m dying to touch you.”

“I might let you if you beg a little more.”

“Please let me touch you with my hands, Mistress. Please...”

“What do you want to touch?”

“All of you. Your arms, your breasts, your nipples, your thighs, your clit...every part of you I can reach. Please.”

“I’ll give you a choice. I can unhook your cuffs and let you touch me, but you won’t get to come for another hour. Or you can stay cuffed and you can fuck me until you come. Your decision.”

“I can come on my own later, Mistress. Touching you is a much higher priority.”

“I can’t argue with that logic, and even if I could, I wouldn’t bother trying.” She unhooked the cuffs and set Lance’s hands free. He wasted no time and immediately ran his hands over the swell of her breasts. With eager hands he set about unfastening her corset. She helped him pull it off and it ended up on the floor by the bed. She wasn’t going to waste a second folding the damn thing.

He cupped her now naked breasts and sucked deeply on her nipples. Then one hand wandered between her legs and pressed against her clitoris.