Mistress Mine

Mistress Mine

Samantha Cayto

A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series.

FBI agent and ex-military man Trey Boudreau likes to be in
control and issue orders. But the bedroom is not a battlefield. His secret
desire is to submit his body to a strong, older woman. He discovers a card that
promises him the right one to bring him to his knees.

Juliette Coyne is a Domme determined to overcome a past
experience that left her questioning her ability in the lifestyle. She is
challenged by Trey, a strong, younger man in need of a good lesson or two. Old
habits die hard, however, and the past continues to haunt them. Trey and
Juliette grapple with each other and themselves for control, trust and a future
together.

Chapter One

“If you don’t stop mooning over your ex, I’m going to resign
as your wingman.”

Trey Boudreau lifted his gaze from the beer bottle to glare
at his friend, Mike. “I’m not mooning over Gina, and who the hell says
‘mooning’ anymore?”

Mike rolled his dark brown eyes and shook his head. “I
figured you being from the south and all it was a fitting expression. And yes,
you are mooning over Gina. You haven’t stopped staring at your drink all night.
Either you’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to malted beverages or you’re
obsessing over your ex-wife. Either way, it makes being here pointless. Look,
if you’re not interested in hooking up with any of the fine, and I mean fine,
women in this club, we may as well head back to my place. No point in spending
seven bucks on a bottle of beer if you’re not going to snag some bodacious
booty at the same time.”

“Oh my God.” Trey put his head in his hands. This night was
a disaster. He should never have let Mike talk him into clubbing. They were too
old for this kind of meat market, and he wasn’t interested in “hooking up” with
any woman. He wanted to find what he thought he’d had with Gina, a woman to
spend the rest of his life with. He still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. How
did a ten-year-old marriage simply die? Sure, he had spent many of those years
deployed overseas, but unlike other marriages killed by war, his had ended well
after he’d taken a civilian job. He was still reeling from the aftershocks.

Mike’s big hand landed on Trey’s shoulder and gave it a
comforting squeeze. “Come on man, it’ll get better. Maybe you’re pushing it too
soon. I have to tell you, though, that I can’t say I’m sorry Gina shoved you
out the door.”

Startled by the admission, Trey raised his head to frown at
his friend. “I thought you liked Gina.”

Mike shrugged and tossed a couple of peanuts in his mouth.
“Sure, I liked her. She was a nice girl, just not your type.”

“Not my type?” Gina had been the perfect type for Trey,
sweet and caring, always eager to please him in some way. Biddable, his
grandmother once called her. Coming from Granny, it had sounded more like an
insult than a compliment. Then again, his Granny hadn’t been sleeping with
Gina. Trey had, and a more attentive lover a man couldn’t ask for. Gina had
been willing to do anything he wanted, pliant and accommodating and passive as
hell.

Shit, when he thought about it, and he had a lot lately, his
sex life with Gina had been boring. When he’d first been back from a
deployment, he couldn’t get enough of her, like a man fresh from the desert
downing lukewarm water. After a while, though, he’d start to crave Dr. Pepper,
or beer, or Christ, a shot of bourbon. Then he’d deploy again and the thirst
built up to a point where he forgot the tedium. Once he was home for good,
working for the FBI, he was with his wife every night or gone only for a few
days. Always the one to initiate lovemaking, he hadn’t been able to work up an
interest very often. Their sex life had petered out. He’d thought he was the
only one missing it. Gina hadn’t said anything or done anything about it.
Obviously he’d been wrong about how she had felt because she was the one to ask
for a divorce. She had demanded it, actually, the most assertive he’d ever seen
her.

Trey took a long pull of his beer, draining the bottle.
“Crap, you may be right. I know I let her down in the bedroom. I let us both
down.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “They say the first step toward
recovery is admitting you have a problem.”

“Fuck you,” he replied without any heat. Mike was a good
friend and Trey knew he’d been a lousy one these past few months. Standing up,
he added, “Let’s get out of here. This is a waste of time until I figure out
what I’m looking for in a woman.”

Mike joined him and tossed a few more bills on the table for
a tip. “As long as we’re talking about it, I may as well tell you what I think
you might be looking for.”

“Bring it on.” Trey doubted very much his friend had an
insight that he, himself, lacked in his own sex life.

“Remember Major Bradford?”

Trey’s stride hitched for a half-second before he replied.
“Yeah, I remember her. So?”

“So, tell me your dick didn’t get hard every time she came
into view.”

He waited until they were outside the club, the cool peace
of the Boston night a welcome relief to the noisy crush of the club. “Come on,
man, you’re talking about a superior officer.”

“Who is not here and we are no longer in the army. Be
honest. A woman like that, tall, strong, commanding and mature. She was hot in
a way all those young junior grades could never be.”

Trey stopped his body mid-squirm because honestly, he
remembered the major in the mess hall one day when a mortar hit. She had been
on her feet barking out orders before the dust had cleared. He’d had no problem
following her orders when she so obviously knew what she was doing. And, yeah,
the sight of her had aroused him each and every time their paths had crossed
after that incident. Thinking of her made him hard that very moment. Hence the
urge to squirm. He didn’t want to admit it to his friend, though. His reaction
didn’t seem right somehow.

“I like to be in charge,” he countered, striding down the
sidewalk.

Being a taller man, Mike had no trouble keeping up with him.
He also had no compunction about challenging Trey’s resistance. “Sure, you
liked being in charge of your squad, you like being in charge of an
investigation. We’re talking about the bedroom.”

“You think I don’t like being in charge when having sex?”
Even as he sputtered out his indignation, an image of a woman looming over him
while he lay spread-eagle on a bed popped into his mind. It wasn’t the Major,
either. The face was covered in shadows, a mystery woman. His dream woman? His
heart skipped a beat before picking up speed. He licked his suddenly dry lips.
“You don’t know what I want in a sex partner.”

“I didn’t say I knew for sure. All I’m saying is you had the
sweet, traditional young woman right? The sex got stale, the marriage ended.
Maybe you should try a different kind of woman, a different kind of sex life.
You can’t know unless you try.”

Trey slanted his eyes toward his friend. “You got someone in
mind?”

“Hell, no. I’m just flapping my gums here. I have no idea
who might be a good fit for you. I do know that club hopping is not going to
work. We’ve run this particular flag up the pole a bunch of times and no one is
saluting.”

Amen to that. Except his cock was locked and loaded at the
idea of a forceful, mature woman. Maybe he needed to unleash those deep, dark
fantasies that had been lurking in the back of his mind all his life. The way
Mike talked about it, giving up control in bed to a woman wasn’t a crazy idea
for a guy like him, an alpha male by anyone’s definition. He’d always believed
that guys who gave women the whip hand, so to speak, in bed were wimps. Trey
had never seen himself as anything other than strong and in control. But, if
Mike, another strong man, could speak so reverently about a dominant woman,
perhaps Trey had been wrong to deny himself. Maybe, too, it was time to seek
out a more mature woman, someone who knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about
going after it. The only problem was how would he find a woman like that? The
army might be full of them, but he wasn’t in the army. The FBI might have its
share, too, although working and fucking never mixed well when it involved the
same people.

Ah, best to put the whole thing aside for now. He didn’t
need to find a woman right away. It had been less than a year since Gina had
kicked him out. His right hand worked fine. He could take care of himself for a
while and when his right hand got tired, he had his left one to fall back on.
The internet contained all sorts of possibilities, too. Perhaps when he got
home, he could surf for what he hadn’t yet dared. Stifling a pretend yawn, he
said, “I’m too tired to figure it out tonight. Let’s see if we can grab a cab.”

Mike shook his head and followed Trey as he stepped off the
curb.

* * * * *

Trey groaned deep in the back of his throat, unconcerned
about being heard alone in his own apartment. It had taken hardly any effort at
all to find the images that had only fleetingly been allowed in his imagination
all these years. Here in the vastness of the internet he found women, tall in
their fuck-me heels, clad in black leather, holding crops and floggers, some
with strap-ons cinched around their waists, all forcing men to do their
bidding. The sight of the false phalluses made him queasy, though, so he stayed
with images of bondage and pain. Most of the women appeared to be a bit older
than he, and those were the images he focused on, too. There was something so right
about a man being dominated by an older woman. The men, naked and vulnerable,
were standing, kneeling, or lying down, some tied-up, some not, but to a man,
hard and willing. Their expressions told the story. While they grimaced in
pain, there was another look layered beneath the surface. Worship, rapture,
peace, it was all there to see and envy.

There were so many pictures and videos, he couldn’t stop
with just one. His mind reeled at the possibilities while his cock strained to
be free. With one hand on the mouse, he undid his pants and yanked his rod out
of its confines. The head was already slick with pre-cum. He couldn’t remember
the last time the strength of his arousal made his cock almost painful to
touch. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hard length and squeezed
against his glans, he felt ready to erupt. A couple of jerks and he’d be done.
He choked it back. Too soon. He wanted to savor the moment. God, it had been so
long since he’d experienced such intense pleasure. Playing idly with his
erection, he scrolled through the offerings of a particular site and clicked on
a free video. It welcomed him into a world of forbidden delights.

The woman appealed to him with her long, dark hair pulled
into a high ponytail. Large breasts spilled over a tightly cinched black
bustier. Her bare pubic mound peeped out from the bottom of her bustier, as did
her firm, round ass. Her legs were long and shapely, set off by her high-heeled
boots. With her bright red lips pursed, the Dominatrix sauntered around a
kneeling man. His arms were secured behind his back and a ball gag filled his
mouth. His eyes were down, submissive, waiting. Every few seconds, the woman
slapped the riding crop she held against her thigh. The sharp crack made the
man flinch, but his cock remained rigid, swaying in front of him, ready to
serve.

“God,” Trey whispered into the quiet, his gaze transfixed on
the screen.

With each ominous whack, his cock jumped, too. It was also
ready, ready to thrust, ready to burst. There was nowhere for it to go, though,
except past his teasing fingers. And, yet a guy could imagine what it would be
like to be inside the scene that played out in front of him. He tightened his
grip, pulled and tugged at the taut skin of his hot cock. More pre-cum spilled
over. It slicked his way while his fingers picked up speed. The woman slapped
the crop against her thigh faster. Trey panted as his climax built, crested
and, when the crop came down suddenly against the willing man’s ass, it
crashed.

He doubled over, deaf and blind with the intensity of the
orgasm. His body rocked as spurts of cum ejaculated over his hand. He grunted
and pounded his free hand against the table. Long seconds ticked by before he
caught his breath and leaned back in his chair. He let his hand drop against
his thigh and was only vaguely aware of the sounds of both pleasure and pain
coming through his computer.

Trey was spent and content in a way he hadn’t been in years,
maybe hadn’t been ever before. He knew now what he was looking for in a woman, and
the realization both relieved and disturbed him. He wanted a woman to command
him and to hurt him. Biddable women like Gina had been all wrong for him
because he was the one who was destined to be submissive, at least in bed.
Cracking his eyes open, he watched while the woman reddened the man’s ass. Not
even necessarily in bed. On the floor, tied to a rack…shit, anywhere as long as
a strong woman put him there. She needed to be older, too. With maturity came
authority, and he believed in authority.

There was only one problem, he realized with a groan. He had
no idea where to find this woman. No idea at all.

* * * * *

As Trey drained his second cup of coffee, the last of the
cobwebs cleared from his mind. It was already early afternoon on Sunday. He had
slept in longer then he was used to, exhausted from the marathon jerk-off
session that had lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. A sense of
guilt tried to creep into his head. He batted it away. It was not in his nature
to obsess and whine over the way things were as opposed to how he wished them
to be. Like it or not, he was a sexual submissive. It didn’t make him less of a
man and it didn’t make him weak. He had a bronze star that told him and the
world what kind of man he was. He was working his way up the ranks of the FBI,
too. He had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all himself. The one issue,
the big issue, was finding the right woman. The internet could help him hook
up. It made him uneasy, though. The internet was so impersonal, and potentially
dangerous as he knew all too well being in law enforcement. You never knew what
someone was really like until you met them face-to-face. Still, what choice did
he have?

Pushing himself up from the table, he set about cleaning his
apartment. Sunday was always cleaning day unless he was out on an assignment.
When they were married, Gina had done all the housework. Another thing for him
to feel guilty about. He was determined not to devolve into the stereotypical
bachelor with a constant mess under foot and mold growing in the bathroom. The
first thing he tackled was his clothes dropped on the floor where he had
disrobed after his first mind-blowing orgasm. He checked the pockets of his
pants as he walked to the corner that housed the washer and dryer. He pulled
out a card. Frowning, he studied the unexpected find.