The Dominant Male

under her.
    Oh, fuck, it is deliberate, he’s playing me, and he could make me come any time he wanted , she realised in delicious panic.
    His hand slipped between her legs, and she realised she was opening her legs to let him.
    Quite deliberately he drew the knuckle of his thumb, wet from intimate contact, across her bum cheeks, as if to say, ‘I know you’re really enjoying this!’
    Then she found herself turning over to sit on his lap. Again she thought, how does he do that, remote control? No word, not even a gesture, I just do what he wants.
    His arm fitted around her waist, her arm around his shoulder. They kissed and to her, there was just the two of them. He was everything. He could have laid her over the seat there and then, greased her bum and buggered her stupid, with thirty people watching, and she’d not even be aware of them. She knew that he knew it too, and she went beet-red.
    ‘You’re a very naughty girl,’ he said, tapping her nose.
    ‘Yes Sir, whatever you say, Sir.’ May as well run up the white flag, he knew she was ready for surrender.
    The whistle blew.
    ‘Time for lunch,’ the Earl announced.
    Wendy found herself standing, with him smoothing the knickers under her skirt, for all the world like a mum straightening the clothes of a toddler. Then he waved to his man, who came over. He whispered in his valet’s ear, and then led her across to an even more suitable chair; with his arm casually around her waist, hand on her bum.
    The man went to the buffet, bringing back a plate for him, piled up with at least one of everything, and just a few delicacies for her.
    She glanced around. This was similar, different only in that it was even more public, she noted.
    He patted his lap; she was snuggled into it before she could think.
    He picked up one of the samosas and ate it neatly.
    ‘They’re delicious, try one,’ he said, and proffered one.
    She obediently opened her mouth, and he fed her.
    So it went on, item by item. He’s feeding me like his pet bitch , she thought. But she couldn’t resist, it just felt too good.
    His man came back with a glass of wine for him, and what looked like fizzy cola in a glass, with a straw.
    He sipped the wine, and then offered her the glass with the straw. She sipped through the straw; it was just cola, not even a hint of rum or gin.
    ‘I can’t let a saucy little girl like you have wine, you know,’ again he tapped her nose. ‘I’m making it my mission to turn you into a good girl!’
    She was furious inside, how dare he decide what she could have without asking. But it felt so right, she was just going to enjoy it whilst it lasted.
    He fed her more tid-bits, though eating more himself than he allowed her, permitting occasional sips through the straw, until the plate was empty. Then he took her plate, with just a few morsels on, and carefully heaped them into the centre of the plate with his fingers. He held it in front of her.
    ‘Eat it straight off the plate, Wendy, my girl!’
    She bent forward and complied, delicately. She knew that if he had bent down and put the plate on the floor, and then told her to eat off it, she’d have done it. She thought he knew that too. She knew he was his girl, for as long as he wanted her. She was in turmoil inside, nobody had ever made her feel this way, she felt it was all wrong, but it felt so right.
    His man collected the plates and took them back. He came back with a single bowl of fruit salad and a spoon. Timothy had her hold it with both hands in front of her mouth, and then fed her with a spoon, as one would feed a baby. She knew she shouldn’t let him, but was helpless to resist.
    These scenes hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed, at least by most of the other girls, judging by the looks she was getting: mostly she interpreted them variously as goodwill, sympathy, understanding, and for one or two perhaps jealousy.
    Next there were a couple of dancers, girls erotically taking their clothes off and getting very friendly indeed, with each other, and some of the men. She snuggled into his lap, and his hand slipped under her skirt, touching her in a very knowing way through the knickers.
    The Earl announced the second half of the afternoon: people were to play freestyle with each other.
    He turned her over, in the same effortless way, spanking her to bring her close, and relax, close and relax. He caught his man’s eye, and was brought a strap.
    He had her take the position: bent over, skirt up, knickers