THE SOLDIER

“I don’t want you waiting in that lobby turning all the men on every time you cross and uncross your hot-as-fuck legs,” he told me. “And I don’t want you carrying your own bag in. Let the bellhop do it. You get your glass of champagne, get in the room and call me when you’re there. Hopefully I’ll be off the plane by then.”He picks up now. “Are you there?”

“I’m here, Master.”

“Strip.” It sounds like he’s in a car. Oh God, I hope he didn’t Uber here and a driver can overhear.

“Are-are you here?”

“I said strip, little slave. The only answer should be yes, Master.”

Excitement flutters in my stomach at his dommy tone. I don’t know why I love to be bossed around so much. Maybe I do need therapy, but at this moment, I don’t care. I’m desperate to be with Pavel again. To have him in charge of me, controlling me, making me submit.

Not that he ever has to make me. I’m not the kind of submissive who requires taming. I’m a service submissive, always trying to please.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.”

“Um, are you staying on the phone?”

“Yes. Put me on speaker while you take off your clothes.”

I obey, dropping the phone on the bed as I shimmy out of the body-hugging sweater dress I’d put on. “All of them?” I ask. I sound breathless.

“Are you wearing heels?”

“High heeled boots.”

He groans. “I’m biting my knuckle, little slave. But take them off. You can put it all back on when I’m done with you. I’ll need you to show me the sexy outfit you picked for me.”

“Yes, Master.” I unzip my boots and pull them off, then strip out of my red panties and bra. “I’m naked, sir.”

“Lie down on the bed, blossom.”

I crawl up on the bed. “Face up or face down, Master?”

“Face… which way do you lie when you touch yourself at home, little slave?”

“Face down.”

“Fuck. Me.”

I laugh a little. It’s not like Pavel to express his torture. He so seldom shows his cards. Could it be that he’s starting to warm up? To open up?

“I want you to lie face down, blossom. Use a pillow if you need it. And I want those fingers between your legs.”

“Yes, Master.” I slide a pillow under my chest and my fingers between my legs.

“Tell me what you feel.”

“I’m already wet, Master,” I confess. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer him, but he’s made so many demands of me during our phone sex that I’ve lost some of my inhibitions. I wouldn’t say I can dirty-talk now, but I can at least respond to his questions.

“Good girl. I need you to keep yourself wet for me but do not come.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You keep that phone on, so I can hear you. If you come before I get there, I will whip you with my belt and leave that pretty pussy empty while I fuck your ass, do you understand?”

I whimper because the threat almost makes me come.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, sir. Yes, I understand.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Um, I’m rubbing my clit with my middle finger, sir.”

I hear a low rumble of approval. Again, that’s new.

“Good. You get that pussy ready for me because I’m going to need to be inside you the second I get in that room.”

I whimper again.

“Do not come.”

“I won’t,” I say quickly. “I’ll be good, Master.”

“I missed you yesterday, little flower. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to take care of your needs.”

“I… I missed you, too.” It’s hard to talk with how turned on I am. Heat swirls in my pelvis, my swelling clit throbs. My slick folds are soaked and plump, greedy for my touch.

No, greedy for his touch.

“Please,” I murmur.

“No.” His voice is sharp. “Do not make yourself come.”

“I won’t. I need you,” I moan.

I hear the screech of brakes and then the slam of a door. “That pussy belongs to me, blossom. I will be very disappointed if you disobey me this time. I mean it.”

I let out a little cry and pull my hand out from underneath me. “I won’t!”

“Did you stop touching yourself?”

“How do you do that?” I ask, in wonder.

He lets out a soft chuckle. I hear the ding of an elevator. Thank God. He’s close.

“I told you to touch yourself, and that’s what I want you to do.”

I moan. “Yes, sir.” I slide my hand between my legs.

Another ding of the elevator, but this time I hear it both through the phone and down the hall.

“Open the door for me.” His command is even softer-a habit he has. The more intense things get, the softer he goes.

I leap from the bed and throw the door open.

His lips slam down on mine the moment he comes through it. It’s a punishing kiss, his tongue lashing between my lips. He slants his head one way, then the other, then back to the first direction.

He walks me backward to the bed, capturing my wrists in his hands. He lifts them over my head, bending to suck one nipple.

“Please!” I cry out. I’m already so desperate to come.

“No.” He sounds so firm it’s almost angry, but I know by the prodding of his thick erection against my belly that he’s in as much pain as I am right now.

He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

“P-please. Pavel!”

His lids droop. “Master.”

“Master!”

He kisses me again, still holding my wrists high above my head. “I love it when you beg, sweet flower. Take my cock out.” He frees my hands and goes to work on my nipples, squeezing and rolling them between his fingertips.