I Examine And Dominate My Ex-Boyfriend (6)
~ Chloe ~
“No, no, no,” Dean mumbles as his phone keeps buzzing. “That’s my wife. That’s definitely my wife.”
He’s pale and terrified. Typical Dean.
That woman definitely has him leashed.
“Just ignore it,” I say, taking my mouth off his cock.
“Ig—ignore? I can’t. I have to take her call. I always do.” His head jerks from side to side, like he’s trying to tear off the blindfold without using his hands.
“Stay still,” I snap, stepping closer.
My heels click against the floor; the room is too cold for bare skin, and his breath fogs faintly in the air.
“You will not take that call while you’re under me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, blindfolded and quivering. “But… I have to… she—”
I lean down so my lips hover near his ear. “No one else matters right now. Only me. Do you hear me?”
He nods and stills, but the panic hasn’t left his body.
Good. I need him trembling. It’s the only way I can breathe around what I’ve done.
The phone stops ringing and I close my hand around his cock again, tightening the rope binding his balls.
My plan worked… and yet it doesn’t feel like victory. If anything, I feel like I’ve messed up all over again.
The sight of Cole’s ring on my finger burns.
Am I making the right choice? Do I really want to spend the rest of my life with someone I don’t even love—just to get back at the man still desperate for my touch?
I can’t help but have these thoughts while I suck on his dick.
I missed this. Missed him.
Cole never gives me this kind of surrender. And I hate it.
Dean is still trembling, waiting for permission even to breathe. I can’t help the rush of power that floods me.
“Mistress, can I moan?” He asks.
I glance at him, noting the arch of his back, the way he trusts me completely. “Yes, you can—but don’t you dare draw attention.”
He nods, relief shuddering through him. “Thank you, Mistress.”
I suck him harder, squeezing the base as he arches into my mouth, breath breaking against his gagged moan.
I slap his balls and he jerks, a broken sound ripping out of him.
“Nnh—hngh—fuck!”
I tighten the rope around his balls just enough to steal his voice.
The sound of distant voices filters through the corridor. I’d cleared my schedule for today and made sure Dean was my only client.
Even so, I tense, praying no one decides to come closer.
“Quiet,” I whisper, loosening the rope around his balls just a notch.
He nods. “Yes, Mistress.”
This will probably be the last time we do this.
And he still thinks he’s impotent. I need to free him of the guilt and the panic… the fear he’s been carrying about being “broken.”
But not yet.
Not until I finish what he came here for.
I reach for the strap-on I brought out earlier and fasten it around my hips. The leather settles against me like it belongs there.
Then I step between his legs, raise and push them wider, my palms firm on the inside of his thighs.
I take the lube, warm it between my fingers, and begin to work it gently around him, giving his body time to accept what’s coming.
Then I slide the dildo inside him, watching the way his body tenses and then yields.
“Mistress…” he whispers, the sound breaking somewhere between a moan and a plea. He shifts his hips, guiding himself toward the toy desperately.
His voice. God.
I could live off the sound of him coming apart for me.
When he calls me Mistress, something deep inside me wakes up again.
It makes me feel weightless. Powerful. Worshipped.
I’m already soaked, arousal pulsing deep inside me.
Just watching his body take me… watching how badly he needs to, is almost enough to make me come.
This is the beauty of owning him. Of being the one he bends for.
I spank the side of his ass this time.
“Oww—chh…” he breathes
“Tell me,” I demand. “Who owns this asshole?”
“You, Mistress,” he pants.
“Good boy.”
He’s shaking. The blindfold, the rope, the way his breathing won’t stay even. He looks ruined, and I’ve only just begun.
I tighten my grip on his hips and press in deeper. His whole body bows like a string being pulled past its limit.
“There it is,” I murmur. “Right where you need me. Where she never touches. Right where she doesn’t even know you break.”
He whimpers… obviously not from pain but from relief.
And it hits me like heat. His body loosens. That’s when men are the weakest. That’s the part I take.
Each shift of my hips draws a sound from him he’s been trying to suffocate.
“Don’t hide it,” I say. “Let me hear what she never hears.”
He tries to make a sound but fails.
Perfect.
I take his dick in my hand and he gasps. “M-Mistress—”
“Quiet.”
He falls silent instantly.
I keep my hand on his dick, stroking him slow and steady as I keep thrusting into him.
I know every twitch, every tightening of his thighs, every broken sound that means he’s close.
I can feel him unraveling under me.
“Don’t you dare finish,” I say.
He cries out in frustration but he obeys.
I reach for the small, clear container I set aside earlier.
He can’t see it but he tenses anyway, like his body recognizes the ritual.
“You’re going to come for me,” I order.
I guide his dick toward the container, holding it just above the opening.
My hand works him the way only I know… the way that makes his entire spine bow and his voice break.
He’s right there trembling on the edge, bleeding need.
And that’s when I give him the knife.
“You were never the problem, Dean.”
His breath stalls.
I lean in.
“Your test results came out clean,” I say quietly. “Every single one of them.”
I let the silence stretch.
I wanted him to suffer because I did. To feel the humiliation I drowned in.
“But I manipulated them,” I continue, letting the words sink like a needle under skin. “The problem was never you, Dean… it was your wife. All this time.”
His whole body goes rigid like something inside him just broke open.
“No,” he whispers. “No, Chloe… why—”
“I wanted you to feel what I felt. I wanted you to doubt yourself. To ache. To break.” My voice stays soft. “I needed you to carry the same shame you left me with.”
He shakes his head, blindfold shaking with the effort. I press my fingertips along his stomach.
“Chloe—how could you,” he rasps.
“How could ‘I’?” I say, quiet and deadly. “Fuck you, Dean. You don’t get to put this on me. Take this to your wife. Ask her why she didn’t tell you. Ask her why she let you believe it was your fault.”
I continue stroking and thrusting.
His voice cracks. “Fuck—”
“Now, come for me.” I command.
He opens his mouth. Maybe to weep, maybe to break but that’s when his body gives in.
He comes hard, right into the container I’m holding beneath him.
The sound he makes is my undoing.
Not my fingers. Not his hands. Not even from his dick inside my pussy.
Just him.
Coming for me. Because I told him to.
The pleasure tears through me with no warning at all and I come the moment he does, gripping his waist.
When I steady myself, I milk the end of him until he’s shaking and whispering my name like a prayer.
When he’s finished, I dip two fingers into the warm sperm and bring them to his lips.
“Open.”
He does.
Of course he does.
He licks his own release from my hand, tears sliding beneath the edge of the blindfold.
I pour what’s left across his lower abdomen, his chest and throat, marking him.
“I hope you never forget this, Dean.” I say.
His voice comes out broken. “Chloe… don’t marry him. Please. Don’t. I can be better. I know now. I know what I am with you. Just… don’t go.”
His words catch me off guard and I just stare at him.
At everything I destroyed.
Everything I brought back. Everything that still wants to kneel for me.
And the terrifying part is that it feels like power.
Real power.
And right under it, the old wound opens again…
I could tell him yes. I could tell him no.
I could ruin both of us in a single sentence.
But I don’t answer him.
Not yet.