Prompt: swing and a miss

TW: mention of canon abuse

Author's Note: I had a friend who was a part-time dom and used to tell me stories when we had quiet night shifts together. Yes, this breaks every rule. I admit it. I totally and 100% did it for the LoVe.

I've never broken the rules for anyone. In ten years as a professional dominatrix, I've maintained my distance. Never engaged in intercourse. Never given my real name. Never removed the mask.

But for him, I've broken them all.

The problem is, I got too close. He came to me on the advice of a therapist. Told to work out his sexual issues, safely. Dig deep into his kinks, his fantasies, his desires. The ones his abusive dad and his absent mom set deep inside him. It was so he would stop the endless cycle of women parading through his bedroom - there were too many emotions at play, too many hearts and lives ruined. So instead he chose to break one bad habit by using another.

But then we talked too much. During our first session, we talked about what he wanted to achieve, what he wanted to role-play, what I should stay away from. Spanking or hitting was out, and he revealed it was because of his father. Durrogatory language or shaming was out too because of mommy-dearest. His safe word was Neptune, his home, not too far away from L.A. We agreed that I would call him by his name - Logan - while he would call me Mistress Vee. He preferred blonds and so I wore the mask that allowed him to see my naturally long, blond hair.

Over the year, in the safety of my dungeon, we explored many things. He admitted to being attracted to men and women, but his father's shame kept him closeted and hungry for only one sex. We worked with the strap on and the vibrators, teaching him about the full pleasures of a prostate orgasm. It gave him the courage to flirt with another man he found attractive at a party one night, and he reported back to both me and his therapist that he'd never felt so free.

He worked out a lot, moulding himself into the man he thought his mother wanted him to be, and every time I would strip him, I would see how his body changed, slowly over time. His muscles becoming more defined, more pronounced, and I would take great pleasure in watching the red wax drip down and run through the crevices of his abs. His skin stretching slowly to show more flex each time I brought him close to orgasm. His stamina increasing as it took longer and longer to make him come. After he would leave, I would find myself needing a few minutes to myself to masturbate and get rid of my own sexual tension before my next client arrived.

Then, a month ago, I accidentally triggered him, and it unlocked something hidden so deep inside of him that he didn't even realize it was there. Cracked everything open and it was both terrifying and exhilarating to him. It was the only pure vulnerability I ever saw from a client and it shocked and scared me. And so I comforted him. Kissed his cheek. Allowed him to kiss me back. And the next thing I knew, we were on top of the satin sheets on the bed, my latex catsuit shed on the ground. When I handed him the condom, he took control, flipped the tables as he kissed down my body to my pussy. As he licked my wet core, he asked me for my real name, and I easily answered - "Veronica" - before coming hard in his mouth. But when his thick, hard cock slid inside me, it was his name that fell from my lips, over and over again.

From then, everything changed.

Tonight, I have him strung up in the middle of the room in a leather strap swing. His head slung back as I straddle his face, holding on to the ropes for dear life as I force him to eat me. After he's done, I'll reward him with a blow job of his own, helped along by the surprise of a new vibrating plug I bought, just for him. Slowly. I'll do it slowly, building over time, like he's doing to me right now, gently caressing my clit with his tongue, trying to draw out the pleasure.

But we can't linger here too long. We have a dinner reservation at seven.