CW: detailed BDSM talk, blowjob.
Her lips were slowly closing in around his head. He could feel the warmth of her breath against the engorged skin. Her eyes were closed.
Curls brushed against his groin as she finally made contact.
Kiss after kiss sent chills all over his body as she left a warm, soft trail from the base of his dick to the crown.
Lightly as a feather, moving in slow-motion, she electrified parts of his soul that he didn't know existed.
That was the first wet dream of his adult life. And, oh God, was it humiliating. Waking up panting as if he'd run a marathon, feeling cold wetness trickle down the side of his hip and onto the bedding.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It was a sort of embarrassment he'd buried deep within, not expecting to ever have it resurface. He couldn't quite point out what was so embarrassing about it but he felt like a horny teenager who'd just been caught by his mom as he tried doing his own laundry for the first time at the ripe age of 8.
And to admit it wasn't the only one he'd had in the 11 days it'd taken her to not say no to his proposal.
You would think that having an entire bar on your shoulders wouldn't give you too much time to fantasize about kissing the shoes of someone you aren't sure you'll ever see again, right? Well, no. Apparently not.
He had to force himself back to reality when he felt a strange sting on his knuckle, while he was scooping ice from the tray. He looked down to see blood on the ice cubes and on himself.
Taking out his phone to use the flashlight, he located a piece of clear glass.
"Tim, can you come here for a sec?" He called the only other bartender that's worked here in the last three days, trying to keep his raising panic at bay.
"Sup, boss?" It was mostly a habitual greeting.
Ent just lifted his finger to show it to the other man and then looked back down at the 50-cm-deep tray. "Do you have any idea why I found glass in there?"
"Oh, damn... I broke a glass while scooping ice last night." He looked like a scared puppy because he knew just how guilty he was.
"You were using a glass in there?" Ent tried to remember if he'd trained Tim himself or not.
"Couldn't find the metal one in the chaos, there were so many people here," he explained like he was already preparing to be scolded. "It was football night."
"Fucking hell, Tim..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "How many people could you have possibly served shards of glass?"
"I cleaned the tray, boss. Took all the ice out, cleaned it, and wiped it dry before I refilled it."
His head was thumping far more than necessary. Ent could feel the stress swallowing him whole. They'd made about 1400 euros last night, which puts it at about 200, maybe even 250 glasses. Granted, a lot of those were most likely beer pints, but that was information he could no longer grasp.
"Do you often scoop ice directly with the glass?" His temples were probably visibly pulsing as he asked.
"No. Maybe two or three times since I started working here," his voice was somehow quieter now. Everything was quieter now, except the sound of blood in Ent's ears.
Ent frantically looked around the bar full of unsuspecting clients, wondering how many of them have ruptured stomach linings or intestines because he hadn't taken the time to train his employees properly.
Wandering around the room, his eyes landed on the opening door, and watched Cassandra walk in with the same friend from last time. Hopefully, a friend.
Suddenly absolutely everything went quiet. It was like he'd muted the sound of the tv, but the sit-com was still going at full force behind the screen.
She locked eyes with him, smiling and greeting him with a nod as they walked toward the bar. Shit.
"We're only using the dispenser for ice tonight," he whispered to Tim. "The tray is off-limits."
With that, he tossed a towel on top of the ice demonstratively and looked at Tim, who nodded and went back to work.
"Hi," Cassandra said as she rested her elbow on the bar counter. "Do you have any tables available tonight?"
"I-," he looked around, not spotting any, "no, guess not. You can sit at the bar, though. Sorry."
"No, that's fine. We should've called ahead," she smiled politely. Why the fuck would she smile politely?! "Oh, this is Alex, by the way."
"Ent," he stretched his hand out to shake Alex'. "You can sit wherever you like," he said turning back to Cassandra.
"We'll sit at the back, so we're not in your face." Stay in my face, please. In fact, sit on my face. "Should we order from the other bartender?"
"No," he answered quickly, really not wanting to serve her glass shards. Or maybe rocks, who knows what else Tim could decide to scoop ice with directly. "I'll take them, you get preferential treatment."
"Okay, then." Jesus... The way she was watching him as Alex dictated their orders was sinful. It was the exact same look she gave him when he was jerking himself standing in front of her. He'd almost cum on the spot. "Two double vodka cranberries, please. And two bottles of still water."
"You can go sit down, I'll bring them over." He smiled at Alex, avoiding Cassandra's hot stare for the sake of the already-uncomfortable boner under his apron.
The whole time they stayed there, through multiple rounds of vodka cranberries, of all things, they did not look away from Ent for more than a few seconds.
It was clear they were discussing him.
Could it be possible Cassandra was telling Alex about their encounter at the gym?
Yet another jolt of heat shot straight to his dick at the thought. The humiliation tasted sweet.
Every time he glanced over, at least one of them was looking at him as they talked. A tiny knowing smile was spread across Cass' lips, which made him blush like a high-schooler.
About two hours later, both of them left the table and Cass walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools in front of the station where Ent had been working that night. He looked at her without saying anything but placed the two bottles of Prosecco he was holding on the counter.
"Charge me 50 euros for the bill, please," she said as she took her phone out of the pocket of her coat.
"Your bill's barely 25," he countered, holding the POS terminal but not putting anything in yet.
"I got preferential treatment, remember?" She looked up at him and held his gaze for a few seconds before speaking again. "How long until your shift is over so we can talk?"
She thinks I work here? I guess I haven't told her anything about it.
Could he show off? Show her he was capable enough to own his own business? It was weird, definitely.
A strange sensation coursed through his veins as he imagined her congratulating him, telling him how good of a job he did. He didn't need another overly affectionate but extremely incapable parent to tell him how surprised they are he was doing a good job.
"We can talk in my office," he said, at last, hoping it was just vague enough for her to feel too uncomfortable to praise him for something she wasn't sure he'd actually achieved himself.
After paying the outrageous 50 euros without skipping a beat, she followed him as he led the way behind the bar. He opted to hold the door in the back open for her, walking in after her and closing it.
She looked around, gathering information, and her eyes almost immediately froze on the camera in the top right corner. Fuck.
Memories of sitting in the dark, watching a definitely illegal videotape of her and Mark resurfaced and he cringed internally.
"Is that camera on?" She asked, trying to sound casual. She almost succeeded.
"Yeah, I got it installed last week." Great. Everything she knows about me so far is either a half-truth or flat-out a lie.
When she didn't say anything else, he asked for her coat, hanging it on the wooden rack in the corner, and gestured for her to sit on the couch in the meantime.
Suddenly very on edge, his mouth got the better of him as he walked over to sit next to her.
"So, what did you decide?" More blunt, please. That wasn't creepy enough. Next time just scream that you're only thinking about getting between her legs.
"I wanted to talk more about what you would expect if I were to say yes." She talked like she was leading a business meeting. Hot.
"I would be okay with whatever boundaries you want to set." I definitely don't sound desperate. No.
"When I said I don't do relationships, I meant it." She crossed one leg on top of the other. She was wearing one of those wide pants with pleats on the waist. They were dark purple, accompanied by a black satin dress shirt with the top three buttons unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to her elbow.
"Me too. Even if I did relationships, I don't do love."
"Great. So there would never be any expectation that feelings had to be reciprocated."
"No. I mean, yes- there wouldn't be any expectations for feelings."
"I'm also assuming you meant a domme/sub dynamic when you said own me?" She eyed him curiously.
"Yes," he agreed eagerly. "What type of domme are you?"
"Whatever's required," she chuckled. "Depends on the sub. I reward good boys and punish bad ones. Usually a pleasure domme, though."
"I should've been able to guess that from what you said the other night," he smiled back, finally relaxing into the cushions.
"Remind me?"
"You said you've had people crying in pain while begging for more." Oh, how much he would love that.
"Yeah, I normally don't give a sub anything he wants until he's begging for it." She turned her body to him and rested her head on her arm that was draped over the back of the couch. "You seem to be good at that."
"I am. I'm a slut for pain, too," he said to provoke her, his cheeks heating up a bit.
"Hm," she looked him up and down. "I figured as much. Do you expect a 27/7 dynamic or just when it comes to sex?"
"I-," he gulped. Would it be too much? "Ideally, permanent domination. I like servicing, chastity, bondage, orgasm control, or pain training... But I understand we are adults who have jobs and lives and that dynamic can become too much very quickly."
"We can always renegotiate," she continued his words.
"Yes," he agreed restlessly. She's probably saying yes to at least something. "But I'd like to be your sub 24/7. And I'd like to give you blanket consent."
"I'm not taking your blanket consent from the beginning." She nearly scolded him. "How can you give your trust away so easily? Are you sure you're stable enough for an arrangement like this? Mentally stable, I mean."
"Consent can always be revoked. I'm not worried."
"Is the safe word still Berlin?"
"Sure, if that's what you like."
"It's your safe word, too."
"I'm not gonna need it," he answered way too quickly, judging by the look she gave him.
"Are you even listening to yourself? How would you revoke consent without a safe word?" Don't be disappointed now. Don't run away.
"Yes, Berlin. Actually Berlin Berlin, twice, because we live here and it might be a point of conversation. Non-verbal can be two pats on the other's body or two knocks on a hard surface." Was that enough?
"Okay, complete domination with blanket consent," she repeated. "Is that it?"
"Yes," he nodded, finally allowing himself to look her up and down more closely.
"How submissive are you exactly?" She asked out of nowhere after having sat in silence for at least a minute.
"Very." There was evident pride in his answer.
"What are your hard limits?" She was back to eyeing him suspiciously.
"I don't have any." Another wrong answer, apparently.
"Cute," she looked at him dismissively. "Give me your laptop."
He walked around the room to the desk where he unplugged the machine and carried it over to her. In a few seconds, she handed it back.
"Rate all of the items on the list." Hot. "I swear to God, Ent, if you don't take this seriously, I'll make you regret it."
He gulped as he started reading, her aggressive voice sending blood directly to his cock.
Just as he was about to sit next to her again, she stopped him by firmly touching his thigh. After tossing a decorative pillow from the couch on the floor, she commanded: "On your knees."
"I don't need a fucking pillow," he scoffed, looking down at her.
"Kneel on the pillow and shut up," she looked at him threateningly.
Begrudgingly, he lowered himself to his knees on the black leather cushion and returned his attention to the page before him:
Blindfolds. Experience: 5 - A lot. Limits/Interest: 5 - Love it. Role: 4 - Receiver.
Bondage. Experience: 5 - A lot. Limits/Interest: 5 - Love it. Role: 4 - Receiver.
He continued, some items piquing his interest more than others.
Spanking. Experience: 5 - A lot. Limits/Interest: 5 - Love it. Role: 4 - Receiver.
Flogging. Whips. Canes. Belts. Crops. Paddles. Hair pulling. Face slapping. Experience: 5 - A lot. Limits/Interest: 5 - Love it. Role: 4 - Receiver.
Oral sex. Anal sex. Masturbation. Swallowing semen. Vibrators. Forced masturbation. Orgasm control. Phone sex. Experience: 5 - A lot. Limits/Interest: 5 - Love it. Role: 5 - Switch.
Group sex. Experience: 2 - No Experience/Interested. Limits/Interest:3 - Willing to Try. Role: 5 - Switch.
He could feel her eyes on him as he went through the categories. Sensation play. Breath play. Humiliation. Torture. Fetishes. Role-playing. Servicing. Exhibitionism. Bodily fluids. Other.
Aftercare. Tend to the wounds? He knew he couldn't leave it blank, she would make him regret it. "Tend to the wounds, Clean up together, Lie in bed together when he enters subspace."
He finally reached the bottom and looked up at her, waiting. He assumed he was still expected to shut up.
"Ent," she started with a sigh. "The pillow isn't because I don't think you can handle pain. It's because it's unhealthy for you to put your entire body weight on your knees for a long period of time. I'm sorry you didn't know that and I'm sorry you've never been treated with the dignity of being informed of it. I'll give you enough pain, don't worry. But I will not risk your health or well-being in the process."
He felt his heart physically heat up. It was a weird sensation of being babied, which he hated, but he also felt comforted. It didn't feel like empty compliments or promises. He somehow knew she was serious.
"You look good on your knees, it suits you," she said at last and he just nodded at looked at her, waiting for instructions. "Are you done?"
Another nod.
"You can speak."
"Yes, my Queen."
"I like the name, by the way, you did a good job picking it," she said as she was doing something on her phone again before handing it to him.
"Email your list to me, I'll send you mine when I get the chance later today."
"Done."
"Look at me," she commanded and he immediately looked up from the screen again. "I can see you come with brat tendencies even without reading your list. That's completely fine. But, I will not be forcefully overpowered, humiliated, or disrespected, in bed or otherwise, do you understand?"
"Yes," he spoke, suspecting there was more. She scooted closer to the edge of the couch and cupped his cheek again, her thumb slowly caressing his stubble.
"If you need a break or a change of dynamic, that's something we discuss. But if you don't submit to me willingly, I'm out of here. That's where I draw the line. I'm someone you worship, not someone you degrade or offend. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my Queen."
"Good." With that, she let go of his face and he closed his eyes at the loss of touch. It was weirdly disappointing to feel the cool air where her warm palm had just so caringly held him.
A/N: First reminder for this book (and n-th for people who've read my other books):
Practice safe kink: safe, sane, consensual, [and prediscussed].
Here are a couple of boundaries lists I personally like to use: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/19ockhkAVha6lPp4OvI_6vBOS26kzqd_ewhClzpG-6oU/edit#gid=0 and https://www.evilmonk.org/a/checklist.cfm?act=listcat