GRISSOM VS. THE DOMINATRIX

CHAPTER TWO

Grissom was drawn to Heather, long after he had no crime to investigate at the Dominion, no excuse for seeing her. Like a moth to a flame. A sentient moth, that knew it was wrong, knew it was dangerous, but wanted her anyway. She was intoxication itself.

Every night he would determine to drive straight home. Usually he did. Sometimes he parked on her dark street and lurked there. Hid behind the tinted windows of his SUV. Watched the silent spooky Victorian house instead of relaxing in his well-lit home. Grissom parked his car in the shadows and watched. As soon as he turned off the engine he pushed his pants to his knees and grabbed his dick and pumped hard and fast. As the night turned to creamy white dawn with the promise of another hot desert day he sprayed his creamy white come on the steering wheel.

He imagined what was going on inside. He wondered how it would feel. How he would respond. He wondered what he would request. A single partner? More? Just Heather? Would it repel him? Would the pain turn him on? Would he want to be the dom or the submissive? Could he bottom?

One time he was able to regulate his strokes and climax less urgently. He was close when the door opened and Heather welcomed a client in. Just the glimpse of her, across the street, in the dark, just that, made his hips jerk and his hot come shoot out. It splattered on his clothes, his hands, the dashboard, the steering wheel. Shamefaced, he cleaned it up and resolved never to get ALS near his front seat. God! I feel like a pervert!

Why can't I go in? I told myself I need to get laid. I told myself I need this. I do need it. Why do I hesitate? What, precisely, am I so scared of?

So one night he stopped at a bar first. Got some liquid courage. It worked. This time, as soon as he parked he got right out, strode up the walk, and knocked firmly. The door opened within seconds. Lady Heather seemed to be expecting him. Waiting for him. She reached out and pulled him inside without a word. When they were seated at the elegant table, sipping tea, she finally spoke.

"Why are you here? For personal or professional reasons?"

"Both," Grissom said smoothly--though his mouth was parched and his heart pounding.

"Your profession or mine?"

"Yours." His eyes were smoldering.

"Good. I had hoped so." Her eyes were full of desire.

"Yes. I'm leaving my profession at the door."

"I'm glad. I thought you might be in need of my services--from the first time we met."

"I am, I think."

"We need to set some ground rules," Heather said.

"Go ahead."

"I'm going to take it slow. Let you feel comfortable at first. The next time..."

"Assuming there is a next time," Grissom said.

"Oh, I have no doubt. You will know it too, after our first session," Heather said smugly.

Grissom nodded, reserving judgement, but knowing deep inside she was right.

"You will be my submissive. Not my slave. I won't be too forceful or hurt you--yet," she purred. "I need to learn about you, what you desire. You need to explore your dark desires too."

"Yes," he agreed.

"And you can always say stop. You are in control."

"Okay."

"Come." Heather stood and took his hand and led him to her bedroom. There she stood by the closed door and watched him. Her demeanor shifted from the outrageous and flirtatious woman he knew to a presence that intimidated him. He wanted to do her bidding, though, and this was a new and exciting feeling. She was in charge in this room.

"Take your clothes off. Slowly," she ordered.

Grissom obeyed. Heather watched.

He stood before her, naked and erect. She lifted her skirt and stroked herself through her panties with an elegant finger. Grissom gripped his penis.

"No," she said harshly. "You don't get to touch yourself. Lie down. On your back. Do not move until I say so."

Grissom lay down.

Heather moved about the bed and tied his arms and legs securely to the bedposts.

"Don't make a sound," she ordered, moving to the foot of the bed, shedding her skirt and panties and stroking herself. Grissom saw her fingers disappear in her sex and emerge glistening. He listened to her moans of self-pleasure. He watched her masturbate and squirmed.

"I said, don't move!" Heather said angrily.

He froze. She spread her legs wider and, standing, fingerfucked herself and brought herself off. He watched in amazement as her fluid trickled down her thighs. God this is hot.

When she had climaxed again she knelt between his legs and moved over him without touching him, showing him her tight leather-bound cleavage. He yearned to bring his face up to those breasts but she discouraged him with a glare.

Heather fetched a silk scarf and trailed it up his body, up his legs, grazed it lightly across his erection, up his torso, around his nipples. Grissom groaned and thrust up his hips. Heather pushed his pelvis down firmly.

"Do that again and I will hurt you."

Grissom nodded, his eyes wide.

Heather teased him with the silk scarf again, brushing it lightly across his body, the hard aching body that felt every brush of silk with a frantic burst of pleasurable anticipation. He could feel and see the pre-cum leak from his cock. Grissom's muscles stood out, in his neck, his shoulders, his arms, his legs, from the effort to not try and free himself and just fuck her brains out.

Heather smiled. "Good. Good boy," she told him. She wrapped the scarf around the base of his penis and pulled it tight and tied it off. His dick turned dark red, then purple, and the veins stuck out obscenely.

Heather stood up and took the rest of her clothes off. Slowly. She knelt again on the bed between his quivering thighs and brushed his body with her nipples and body. Teasing him. Making him whimper. His hard cock throbbed painfully.

Suddenly she moved down and took him expertly in her mouth. Grissom yelled out. He wanted to come, so badly, he was so close, but the restraining fabric prevented it. Heather sucked and stroked him. She felt him tighten, every sinew, every muscle, and then whipped off the scarf. He burst. Grissom's semen shot into her mouth. Heather swallowed.

She sat back on her heels and watched his face.

"Did you like that?"

"Yes. Oh God yes."

"Do you want to continue?"

"Yes."

"I thought so," she said smoothly. Heather untied him and told him to roll on his stomach.

"Next lesson."

She moved away and he could hear drawers open and close. She knelt across the small of his back. He could feel her wet warm pussy against his skin. His dick swelled again, pressed against the mattress. Heather tied the same silk scarf around his eyes tightly. He could smell himself on it.

She got up and washed his ass, both cheeks, down the crack, letting the rough wet washcloth scrub his skin pink. All his senses were heightened without sight so the sensations washed over him with every stroke. He knew better than to move this time.

"You're learning," Heather told him, and he felt a queer sort of pride.

Something wet and cold caressed his rectum. He flinched, then muttered an apology. Heather slapped him on the ass and chuckled at his yelp. Her finger circled his hole, spreading lube, harder and harder. He felt something cold and stiff inserted inside and his breath caught.

"Relax. It won't hurt if you relax," Heather assured him.

So he tried to. The stiff rubbery thing slid in further. Then it slid out and was dipped in lube and forcefully reinserted. He tensed.

"It's a butt plug," Heather told him. "You may move."

Grissom's hips thrust into the blanket. He groaned and moved as she held the butt plug still. Cautiously he moved back against her hand and oh, God, it hit his prostate. He shamelessly ground his ass back against it, pushing it in as far as it would go. The pleasure was exquisite. Grissom pumped the plug in and out of him and she pushed it in hard, in rhythm.

She pulled it out and he moaned and begged her. Begged her to fuck him again.

"No," she purred. "I don't want to make you bleed. Get up. Hands and knees."

He did so. Heather slipped the butt plug in again and left it. His ass twitched and he tightened around it.

"Eventually," Heather told him, "I will be able to fuck you. Fuck you hard." Grissom bit his lip and nodded, his head bowed.

He heard a jar being opened. He smelled a different scent and heard her hands rubbing together. When they closed around his cock, there was an immediate spreading warmth and as she stroked him it felt hotter. Heather draped her body over his and jacked him off blindly, with both hands. When she told him to, he came all over the sheets, then collapsed on top of it.

"You may rest now. Shall I give you an hour? Or two? Or do you want to spend the night?" she asked.

Grissom groaned. "Wake me in two hours. I'll see then," he told her. "Assuming I can move, I'll go."

Heather chuckled. "I'm glad it was good for you. You are...very responsive."

"Umm," he mumbled into the pillow. She tossed a blanket across his body and he drifted off.

TBC