At Her Command Read online

  At Her Command

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  AT HER COMMAND

  By Dana Drake

  Copyright 2014 by Dana Drake

  Smashwords Edition

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations embedded in reviews.

  Publisher’s note: This is a work of adult fiction. If you are underage or offended by depictions of sexual activity and sexual dominance and submission, discard this ebook. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places or events is coincidental.

  Cover Photo Credit: Erwin Usman, London, UK

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Your Honor, in Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co., Inc., the Court held that a color could meet the legal requirements for trademark registration under the Lanham Act, provided that it had acquired secondary meaning in the market.” Nathan Scott watched Chief Judge Parker Madison beaming from the bench, as attorney for the defense Bridget Kelly, made the most ridiculous argument he’d heard in twelve years of patent-trademark litigation. “Mr. Scott has failed to prove that the color of his client’s trademark has acquired a secondary meaning.”

  “Your Honor,” Nathan stood to address the Court. “Ms. Kelly’s has failed to show the relevance of Qualitex to the case at hand.” Judge Madison’s expression morphed from warm, imbecilic infatuation to cold indifference.

  “I believe it’s my job to determine relevance, counselor.” He glared at Nathan, turned back to Bridget Kelly, and regained his stupid smile. Nathan sat stone-faced at a slow boil. It was pointless to refute Bridget Kelly’s specious arguments. She might as well be singing Three Blind Mice. Judge Madison was going to rule for her client regardless of the law. It was the third time in a month that she’d kicked his ass in Federal Court, despite her clients not having a straw of evidence or the law on their side.

  Bridget Kelly was tall, five feet nine-inches, and at least six-two in her five-inch pumps. She made no bones about relishing looking down at Nathan and the other male attorneys with her ice water blue eyes. Female attorneys feared her. She wore her thick mane of black hair down on her shoulders, and dressed in dark suits that accented her curves. Judge Madison adjourned at three o’clock, it was Friday after all, and he had a weekend of golf planned. Nathan was reaching under the table for his briefcase when a pair of legs came into view. He followed them up to the black wool skirt, past the crisp white blouse to Bridget Kelly’s sparkling eyes. “Too pissed at me to let me buy you a drink?” Nathan sat up too quickly and saw stars. He didn’t have anywhere to go. He was divorced now, a single man for the last twenty-six days.

  “Uh, sure, I guess so.” He felt his face flush hot. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the one who made people squirm and blush, not the other way around. He stuffed his papers into his briefcase and stood, acutely aware that she was taller than him.

  “Mind if I drive?” she asked, as they boarded the elevator.

  “Of course not.” She led him to silver BMW 328, and unlocked the doors with her key fob. He started to walk around the car and get her door, but she was too fast. He squeezed the seatbelt as she rocketed out of the parking garage onto Jamieson Avenue. She drove to the Red Hat, a hole in the wall that lawyers on expense accounts would never set foot in, and parked in the side lot. “All the better,” Nathan thought. “I might be accused of collusion if I’m seen with her, the way things are going.”

  He ordered Dewar’s. She ordered Glinlivet. “I’m buying, Nathan. How about joining me?” He nodded, refusing to turn down eighteen-year-old Scotch. “Cheers.” She held up her tumbler. They tapped glasses. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while,” she said. “Well, ever since I heard you were available.” He looked into her ice water blue eyes and was frozen, unable to look away. Heat radiated from his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your divorce, twenty-six days ago.” He felt the color drain out of his face.

  “How did you know about my divorce?” Bridget sipped her cocktail and smacked her lips.

  “This is so good. I’ll order us another.”

  “How did you know about my divorce?” She stared at him.

  “I know a lot about you, Nathan. I know you grew up in Richmond, Mechanicsville, actually. You attended William and Mary and the University of Richmond Law School. You married Patty Ann Scott, nee Ortell after you graduated; you had no children together. You grew apart due to your long hours and her constant travel with her hotel chain.” Nathan stared, realized his mouth was open and slammed it shut, clicking his teeth. “I can go on if you want.”

  “What’s up with you, Bridget?” Nathan felt a stab under his sternum as he inhaled. “Are you some kind of stalker?” She wrinkled her chin.

  “I suppose-- but I’m not a malicious one.” The waitress brought the second round. “It’s just that I recognized something in you, the first time we met in the courtroom.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can I buy you dinner? We can talk.”

  “You won’t tell me otherwise?”

  “Uh... probably no.” She was enjoying playing him like a fish.

  “Alright then.” He followed her to her car.

  “Aren’t you going to get the door for me?” He rushed around the car before he could catch himself, his face blushing hot. He stared as she gracefully slid onto the leather seat and swiveled, drawing her long, shapely legs into the car.

  “What the hell am I doing?” he asked himself, as he walked around the car and got into the passenger seat. She drove north on the George Washington Parkway and crossed the Memorial Bridge into Washington, DC. He held his breath as she careened around the Lincoln Memorial and turned on 23rd Street; he pressed his right foot hard on the floor, as she whipped around Washington Circle and ran the light at Pennsylvania Avenue. She stopped in front of Felipe’s Restaurant and waited for Nathan to open her door. She took his hand as she stepped out of the car. He felt a jolt of electricity run up his arm to his chest, as she rose to her full height and looked down at him.

  “Bonsoir, Ms. Kelly, comment allez-vous?” the burley maitre d’ gushed as she air-kissed both his cheeks.

  “Bien merci, Paul,” Bridget said, with what Nathan suspected was a perfect French accent. “Comment ca va?”

  “Pas mal.” He rocked his open hand in a so-so motion, smiling broadly. “But now that you’re here, everything is better!” He led them to a table. Nathan slipped him a twenty, palmed in a handshake. The wine steward swooped down on the table like a vulture, as a young Hispanic man splashed ice water in their goblets.

  “Bring us a bottle of Chateau LaGrange, 2006, Henri.”

  “Of course, mademoiselle, excellent choice.” The sommelier bowed and backed away from the table.

  “You come here often?” Nathan asked. Bridget smiled and sipped her ice water.

  “Only when I make a kill in the courtroom.”

  “So that’s what I am, a victim?” She touched the back of his hand. He struggled to sit still as electricity shot through him.

  “More like a trophy than a victim.” The sommelier appeared before he could reply. They brought five courses, followed by a cheese course and dessert. He had just cut into his raspberry cheesecake when he felt her warm, slightly moist, bare foot against his leg. Nathan’s swollen penis pressed painfully against his
shorts at an obtuse angle.

  “What were you going to tell me? And what about the trophy business?” he asked in a shaky voice, as she caressed his leg with her bare toes. She smiled. Her clear blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

  “I have a hunting instinct.” She sipped her coffee, holding the demitasse cup with her fingertips. “You were my prey. I said were, not are. I’ve already ensnared you in my web.” Heat flashed over Nathan’s face.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes... yes it is,” he stammered, searching for words.

  “I’m taking you home with me tonight.” She squeezed his skin with her strong toes.

  “And if I say no?”

  “You won’t.”

  “You can’t do this. You can’t just...”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Listen,” Nathan said much too loud.” He blushed as the couple at the next tale turned. “I have a say in this.”

  “You do. You don’t have to come home with me,” Bridget said, just above a whisper. “But you will. You wouldn’t miss the opportunity for all the money in the world.”

  “What makes you so sure of yourself, Bridget?” She smiled and discreetly licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. She took his hand.

  “You’ve been searching for a dominant woman your entire life, one who would take complete control of you,” she said in a low, even tone, “a strong, beautiful woman, who would completely dominate you, in every facet of your life.” Nathan winced in pain as his cock throbbed, pinched inside his pants. He started to gasp and checked himself, taking in slow shallow breaths. “Your marriage fell apart because your wife didn’t give you the structure you needed.” She squeezed his hand. “I will.” The sharp pain stabbed Nathan beneath his sternum again as he stared into Bridget’s pale, blue eyes.

  *****

  He muscled the valet out of the way to hold her door, noticing the wry smile on her face illuminated by the dome light. He tried not to think about anything, as he slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. “We’re going to my home, in Dupont Circle. You’re going to spend the night with me, Nathan.” She looked straight ahead as she sped up New Hampshire Avenue and around Dupont Circle. “If I’m right, you’ll be spending a lot of nights with me, serving me, and doing my bidding.” She turned left on Swann Street and turned into the only private driveway on the block. She waited for him to open her door and walked up the wrought iron stair to the back door, as automatic security lights illuminated their path. She handed him her keys. “It’s this one.” He unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it open.

  She walked in ahead of him. He followed her like a puppy through the kitchen to a large living room. Nathan studied the furniture, Persian rugs, grand piano, and oil paintings. Bridget Kelly’s clients were paying her well. Nathan instinctively stood by the couch as she closed the blinds. The house smelled clean, of lavender and beeswax. She opened a liquor cabinet and handed Nathan an ice bucket. “There is a dispenser on the freezer door.” Nathan half-filled the insulated bucket. Bridget poured one tumbler. “Undress, Nathan. I’ll keep you naked when we’re alone.” She said it so matter-of-factly, that he stood there like a deaf mute, staring at her. She sipped her Scotch. “I have many virtues, Nathan.” The glint in her eyes sent a chill up his back. “Patience isn’t one of them.”

  “Why should I do what you say and get undressed?” he asked half-heartedly.”

  “Because I said so, Nathan; because that’s what I want.” She looked down at his swollen penis bulging in his pants. “By the look of your cock, you want it too.” Nathan drew in a deep breath. There wasn’t enough air in the room. “Take off your clothes, now.” There was no anger in her voice, only quiet determination. He stared at her as he removed his suit coat and laid it on a chair. He removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt quickly, with quiet, practiced movements. He started to sit to untie his shoes.

  “Stop,” she said in the same even tone. “You may not sit on the furniture without my permission.” Nathan swallowed the lump in his throat and bent to untie his shoes. He stepped out of them as Bridget sat back and crossed her long, shapely legs. He removed his trousers and stood for a moment, feeling ridiculous in boxer shorts and socks, with his stiff cock protruding like a tent pole. “Everything Nathan,” she whispered. He pulled off his socks, pushed his shorts off his hips, and stepped out of them.

  His face burned hot as he met her gaze. Her cool eyes sparkled with amusement as he stood there naked and fully erect, his pulse pounding in his ears like a tympani. She stood and approached him, slowly swishing her tumbler of Scotch in a lazy circle. He broke free from her gaze and looked at the floor, staring at her black, five-inch pumps, as she moved into his personal space. He felt her cool breath on his cheek.

  “Look at me darling,” she whispered. He forced himself to meet her ice water blue eyes. He flinched when she grasped his hard, throbbing cock with her cold fingers. She pressed her mouth to his, and forced her cool tongue into his mouth in a rough kiss. “This cock is mine. It belongs to me, not you,” she whispered. “Do you understand?” Her kiss took his breath away. He panted as the taste of lipstick and Scotch whiskey flooded his senses.

  “Y... yes.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Yes, mistress,” he parroted her words. She returned to the couch.

  “Come and kneel at my feet, Nathan.” His hard cock twitched up and down as he walked across the expensive Persian carpet. He dropped to his knees facing her. “Come closer.” He crawled to within eighteen inches. She crossed her legs. “Remove my shoe, Nathan.” He struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he grasped her slim ankle and removed the black Lanvin pump. He placed it on the floor beside him. “You may kiss my foot, Nathan.” His cock throbbed as he brought her perfectly shaped, moist, warm toes to his mouth. He stared at her exquisite pedicure. Her toes smelled of lavender soap, perspiration, and shoe leather. “Lick, them; suck them; worship them,” she said in a throaty whisper. Nathan closed his eyes as she pressed the bottom of her foot against his mouth and nose.

  Nathan instinctively reached for his cock as he took her big toe into his mouth. “You’re not permitted to touch your cock without my permission, Nathan,” she said firmly. “It’s my cock now, understand?”

  “Yes, yes, mistress,” he panted. A drop of precum dripped from his cock onto the waxed hardwood floor. “You’ve been a bad boy, Nathan.” She emptied her tumbler of Scotch. “You dripped on the floor. I want you to lick it up and promise not to drip any more.” Nathan willingly complied without hesitating, and licked the warm, salty droplets off the pristine hardwood floor. Bridget rose and slipped on her pump. “Follow me...” She started for the stairs, “on your hands and knees.” He watched her the way a dog watches his mistress, staring at her waspish figure, taken aback by her natural grace as she walked easy, her back straight, head held high.

  He paused only a second and crawled across the living room to the stairs, knees aching, ignoring the pain, and crawled up the fourteen steps to the second floor. His aching knees told him to pause, rest and catch his breath, but his throbbing cock and aching balls drove him to continue down the hall, past two bedrooms and a bathroom. He froze as he entered her bedroom on his hands and knees, and saw her. She had her back to him and gazed in the mirror, wearing only black lace panties, a black brassiere, and her black pumps. Her silk blouse and skirt lay on the floor beside her. She removed the bra, stepped out of her pumps, and slid the lace panties down her long legs. She stepped back into her pumps and caressed her breasts, still staring in the mirror. He stared at her tiny waist and ample bottom, her sleek legs, one knee bent forward in a relaxed attitude. Their eyes locked in their reflections in the mirror. A faint smile crossed her face, accenting her full lips and high cheekbones, as Nathan stared, heart pounding inside his chest.

  She turned her head and faced him. “Come here and worship my ass.” She spread her feet and leaned
into the dresser. Nathan crawled forward, eyes locked on her plump buttocks. He reached for her soft flesh. “No, touching, Nathan. Use your lips and tongue, only.” She turned suddenly. “Stay there,” she ordered. She opened a drawer and produced a pair of chrome-plated handcuffs. Nathan shuddered as she stepped behind him. He felt the heat from her body. The room moved as the sound of the metallic teeth clicking, screamed he was her prisoner. Bridget held his shoulders and steadied him for a moment, and went back to her place at the dresser.

  Bridget leaned forward, arched her back, and spread her ample buttocks, revealing her dusky, wrinkled anus. “Worship my asshole, Nathan,” she said in a throaty whisper. Nathan leaned in and closed his eyes as he breathed in her musky ass-scent. He extended his tongue and caressed her wrinkled flesh as it quivered under his pressure. He pressed his nose and lips between her plump buttocks as she squirmed and cooed. “Ahhh, yes, do that.” She shifted her weight from leg to leg, balancing on five-inch pumps, as he lapped between her cheeks like a hungry dog.

  Bridget pulled free and opened the dresser drawer. Nathan stared, knees burning, as she held up a leather collar and chain leash. Nathan trembled as she buckled the collar around his neck. She attached the chain leash and led Nathan, still handcuffed to her bed. The sound of her five-inch heels on the hardwood floor echoed in Nathan’s ears; the Persian rug muffled her footsteps near the bed. Bridget helped Nathan to his feet, holding him upright by his shoulders as blood rushed into his aching knees. She stepped out of her shoes and pulled him onto the bed by the leash. She positioned him between her legs and tugged his face down to meet her smooth-shaved vulva. Handcuffed, Nathan slithered between her legs like a snake, lowered his face, and breather in her musky scent. Bridget held his head and guided him as he pleasured her with his lips and tongue as she squirmed.