The Angel
Page 50
Holy crap, he thought as his eyes tried to take in the scene around him. He’d seen a lot of Griffin’s house by now. Every room matched Griffin—sleek and modern, minimalist, arty and sexy. But this room seemed as though it belonged in a medieval European castle. Plush oriental rugs covered the stone tile floors. Candles burned on every horizontal surface and a few logs simmered in a stone fireplace. In the middle of the room stood a bed, large and wrought iron, not unlike the one he’d lost his virginity in.
But where was Nora?
“Not bad for a dungeon, right?” came Nora’s voice behind him. Michael tensed, not knowing what to do. Was he allowed to talk? Move? He decided to stay frozen in place and not talk until Nora told him what to do. “Griffin’s dungeon at The 8th Circle is much more mod. I think he wanted a different vibe for his house up here. Like it? You’re allowed to answer.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s beautiful,” Michael said, hearing the quiver in his own voice.
He felt Nora’s presence behind him and took in a quick breath.
“So are you,” she said, blowing under his ear.
Nora stepped in front of him and Michael’s eyes went wide. Nora had grown…a lot. She met him almost eye to eye before stepping away and walking toward the center of the room. He glanced down and saw she wore thigh-high platform boots with killer stiletto heels. His eyes grazed her body from foot to face—red leather boots laced up the back, bare thighs, red leather skirt, red-and-black corset… Nora looked back over her bare shoulder and crooked her finger at him.
He could barely feel his feet as he walked toward her. Suddenly the room and its beauty faded into the background and all he could see was her…Nora and the swell of her br**sts over her striped corset…Nora and the heavy, dramatic eyeliner that made her look like Cleopatra…Nora and her hair that curled in wild waves down her back…Nora and the black fingerless gloves just like the ones she’d worn the night she took his virginity. He couldn’t wait to feel the soft supple leather against his skin again.
When he reached Nora she raised her hand to his neck and gently pulled his ponytail loose. Slowly, gently she ran her fingers through his hair.
“I read your checklist, Angel,” she said as he closed his eyes. If he’d been a cat, he would have started purring. “I found it very interesting. You want pain, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Michael breathed.
“Pain makes you feel better, doesn’t it?” Nora asked, her voice soft and hypnotic. “It’s like white noise…soothing, calming, blocks out the real pain, the bad thoughts, that other pain that you don’t want. Right?”
Michael’s eyes opened wide.
“Yeah. Exactly, ma’am. How did—”
“You aren’t my first masochist, Angel.”
Michael laughed a little. Griffin had told him Nora had hundreds of clients back when she was a dominatrix. Hundreds of clients who made her hundreds of thousands of dollars. Of course he wasn’t her first masochist. Just looking at her, feeling himself falling under her spell, he could easily understand how men would mortgage their souls just to be able to kiss the toe of her boot.
Nora’s fingers found that tight knot at the base of his neck, that place where he stored most of his tension. Michael tilted his head toward her, gave him better access to his stress.
“I think,” Nora began in a half whisper, “that I’ll beat you tonight. But I don’t think I’m going to punish you or be mean to you like I did with a lot of my clients. I think you’ve had enough people being mean to you in your life already.”
Michael’s eyes clenched tight as her words burrowed a hole into his heart. Ever since the night his parents had discovered what he was, Michael had suffered nothing but insults—freak, sicko, fag—from his father and abandonment by his mother. No one touched him anymore, no one hugged him, no one ever even wanted to talk to him except for Father S, and even he had to keep his distance because of the Church. But now the most erotic woman in the world was touching him, talking to him, making him feel like the center of the world.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in a voice he could barely hear.
Nora caressed his face with the back of her hand. Leaning in she pressed a little kiss to his lips before moving her mouth to his ear.
“Take your clothes off,” she ordered.
Michael reached behind his head and yanked at his T-shirt, pulling it off with one swift motion. He unbuttoned his black plaid skateboard shorts and pushed them and his boxers off, kicking them off his ankles into the corner of the room. The night he and Nora met, he’d fumbled so nervously with his watchband that she’d had to take over and unbuckle it for him. Now he felt no such jitters. The watch and wristband that he always wore in public were off and on the floor in seconds.
“Your swiftness to obey is touching,” Nora said, smiling at him. “But you have to slow down and let me enjoy watching you undress. Your priest makes me strip for him, you know.”
Michael felt a coil of need begin to twist in the pit of his stomach.
“I didn’t know, ma’am,” he said as Nora looked his naked body up and down.
“We’ll be having a lovely evening at the rectory. He’ll be reading in his armchair, I’ll be sitting at his feet writing, and out of nowhere he’ll snap his fingers and order me to take my clothes off.”
Michael said nothing.
But where was Nora?
“Not bad for a dungeon, right?” came Nora’s voice behind him. Michael tensed, not knowing what to do. Was he allowed to talk? Move? He decided to stay frozen in place and not talk until Nora told him what to do. “Griffin’s dungeon at The 8th Circle is much more mod. I think he wanted a different vibe for his house up here. Like it? You’re allowed to answer.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s beautiful,” Michael said, hearing the quiver in his own voice.
He felt Nora’s presence behind him and took in a quick breath.
“So are you,” she said, blowing under his ear.
Nora stepped in front of him and Michael’s eyes went wide. Nora had grown…a lot. She met him almost eye to eye before stepping away and walking toward the center of the room. He glanced down and saw she wore thigh-high platform boots with killer stiletto heels. His eyes grazed her body from foot to face—red leather boots laced up the back, bare thighs, red leather skirt, red-and-black corset… Nora looked back over her bare shoulder and crooked her finger at him.
He could barely feel his feet as he walked toward her. Suddenly the room and its beauty faded into the background and all he could see was her…Nora and the swell of her br**sts over her striped corset…Nora and the heavy, dramatic eyeliner that made her look like Cleopatra…Nora and her hair that curled in wild waves down her back…Nora and the black fingerless gloves just like the ones she’d worn the night she took his virginity. He couldn’t wait to feel the soft supple leather against his skin again.
When he reached Nora she raised her hand to his neck and gently pulled his ponytail loose. Slowly, gently she ran her fingers through his hair.
“I read your checklist, Angel,” she said as he closed his eyes. If he’d been a cat, he would have started purring. “I found it very interesting. You want pain, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Michael breathed.
“Pain makes you feel better, doesn’t it?” Nora asked, her voice soft and hypnotic. “It’s like white noise…soothing, calming, blocks out the real pain, the bad thoughts, that other pain that you don’t want. Right?”
Michael’s eyes opened wide.
“Yeah. Exactly, ma’am. How did—”
“You aren’t my first masochist, Angel.”
Michael laughed a little. Griffin had told him Nora had hundreds of clients back when she was a dominatrix. Hundreds of clients who made her hundreds of thousands of dollars. Of course he wasn’t her first masochist. Just looking at her, feeling himself falling under her spell, he could easily understand how men would mortgage their souls just to be able to kiss the toe of her boot.
Nora’s fingers found that tight knot at the base of his neck, that place where he stored most of his tension. Michael tilted his head toward her, gave him better access to his stress.
“I think,” Nora began in a half whisper, “that I’ll beat you tonight. But I don’t think I’m going to punish you or be mean to you like I did with a lot of my clients. I think you’ve had enough people being mean to you in your life already.”
Michael’s eyes clenched tight as her words burrowed a hole into his heart. Ever since the night his parents had discovered what he was, Michael had suffered nothing but insults—freak, sicko, fag—from his father and abandonment by his mother. No one touched him anymore, no one hugged him, no one ever even wanted to talk to him except for Father S, and even he had to keep his distance because of the Church. But now the most erotic woman in the world was touching him, talking to him, making him feel like the center of the world.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in a voice he could barely hear.
Nora caressed his face with the back of her hand. Leaning in she pressed a little kiss to his lips before moving her mouth to his ear.
“Take your clothes off,” she ordered.
Michael reached behind his head and yanked at his T-shirt, pulling it off with one swift motion. He unbuttoned his black plaid skateboard shorts and pushed them and his boxers off, kicking them off his ankles into the corner of the room. The night he and Nora met, he’d fumbled so nervously with his watchband that she’d had to take over and unbuckle it for him. Now he felt no such jitters. The watch and wristband that he always wore in public were off and on the floor in seconds.
“Your swiftness to obey is touching,” Nora said, smiling at him. “But you have to slow down and let me enjoy watching you undress. Your priest makes me strip for him, you know.”
Michael felt a coil of need begin to twist in the pit of his stomach.
“I didn’t know, ma’am,” he said as Nora looked his naked body up and down.
“We’ll be having a lovely evening at the rectory. He’ll be reading in his armchair, I’ll be sitting at his feet writing, and out of nowhere he’ll snap his fingers and order me to take my clothes off.”
Michael said nothing.
