Page 97 of Masters of Control

Not a decision she had to make right now.

After dampening the washcloth with warm water in the bathroom, Camille returned to the front room where Freddy was patiently waiting. For a moment, she thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he turned to look at her, and eagerness lit up his expression. Yes, despite having had his own orgasm, he was clearly not done for the night. He wouldn’t be until he’d made sure she’d climaxed as well.

“On your feet,” she said, though not harshly, and held out the washcloth. “You can use this to clean yourself and the bench.”

He wasn’t quite as graceful getting to his feet as he had been before but still moved fairly fluidly. It felt odd to stand by and let him do the cleaning, even though she’d had similar moments with Jay. It had been so long since she’d had anyone to help her out, anyone to do even the smallest chore. She could see it gave him pleasure to follow her orders and was pretty sure he would have protested if she’d tried to do it for him.

Once both he and the bench were free of the shiny, sticky fluid, Camille turned around and peeked at him over her shoulder.

“I assume you know how to undo a corset?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress.” Freddy smiled at her. He didn’t have the same energy as earlier in the evening, but it still lit up his eyes from within. “I would be happy to help.”

Chapter Four

Freddy

Lacing and unlacing a corset was something Freddy could do in his sleep. Over the years, he’d helped numerous people in and out of their corsets, both platonically and non. He really hoped this particular instance would be non-platonic. It was completely up to Mistress Camille, of course, but Freddy was dying to show her how well he could please her.

How good he could make her feel.

Especially since she’d said it had been a long time.

The service sub in him was aching to give her everything she needed. He could see how much good the scene had already done her. She was more relaxed, her gaze more confident and flirtatious, her entire demeanor more self-assured. She’d needed this. Which, in turn, satisfied him.

Tugging on the laces, he freed them from the bow and began loosening the corset. She sighed with happiness, taking in the automatic deep breath everyone did when their laces were loosened. Freddy had worn a few corsets himself, designed specifically for his body type, so he had some inkling of how good it felt, though he suspected the sensation was doubled or even tripled for anyone with breasts.

“Oh, that feels good,” Mistress Camille said, slumping slightly within the stiff boning. “It’s been way too long since I’ve worn one of these.”

“How long, Mistress?” Freddy asked softly, pulling the laces to their loosest, hoping she would answer.

“Years.” There was something in her voice, but he couldn’t quite figure out the emotion. Then she was lifting her hands up in the air. “Pull it up over my head.”

“I would have never guessed,” he told her honestly as he obeyed, freeing her from the garment.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Giving her body a shake, she turned around. “Back down on your knees, boy, while I figure out what we’re doing next.”

Freddy dropped obediently to his knees, taking the time to admire her now mostly naked body. Her breasts were completely uncovered, the soft flesh imprinted with the boning design from the corset, as were the curves of her sides and stomach. The lacy black underwear she was wearing showed enough for him to know that she shaved some of her mound, but not all of it.

His fingers itched to soothe the imprints on her skin where the boning had left its mark—she’d be tingling and sensitive there—but she hadn’t asked him to, and since she’d admitted how long it had been since she’d scened, he wanted to let her take the lead completely.

“Hmm… I think this.”

Peeking, surprise flowed through him when she came to a stop in front of a bondage chair rather than the Queening Throne. It was meant for submissives, as was made clear by the number of restraint options attached to it. As he watched, Mistress Camille slipped off her underwear and turned around to sit on the chair.

It was slightly tilted back enough that when she put her legs on the rests, she was in the position a lot of Tops preferred for their bottoms, with her thighs spread wide open to show off the glossy arousal coating her pussy lips. Freddy’s cock stirred at the sight. He’d been right about her hair. Soft curls adorned the top of her mound, shaped into a neat triangle, but she clearly shaved everywhere else. Or waxed.

She pointed at the spot between her thighs.

“Come here, Freddy, and show me how well you can service me.”

Excitement fizzed through him. He didn’t mistake what she wanted. She might not have sat on the Queening Throne, but that didn’t change her intent. It was just a different position.

Though she hadn’t asked him to, he crawled to her, ignoring how hard the floor was on his knees. It was a short distance and the look in her eyes more than made up for any discomfort. If that had been a test, he felt sure he’d passed.

Coming up between her legs, he didn’t immediately dive into her pussy, despite how tempting it was. Brushing his cheek along her inner thigh, he took his time, letting his lips drop on the middle of her thigh for a brief kiss before turning his attention to the other leg. His tongue traced a small line along her flesh, and she sighed, leaning back against the comfortable padding of the chair while one of her hands dropped down on his head.

Twining her fingers through his hair, she didn’t pull him into her, letting him do as he pleased, but her grip reminded him she was still in charge. He moved closer and closer to her pussy, inhaling the delicate scent of her sex as he approached. Moaning, she gripped his hair a little harder, the tug a pleasant sensation that went straight to his dick. Satisfaction surged through him as he made his way to the outer lips of her pussy and finally let his tongue delve between them, tasting the ambrosia gathered there. It was pure heaven on his tongue.