Baring Mia

By: Kallista Dane


Unlike the rest of the women at the gala, she wasn’t wearing jewelry. No long dangly earrings, no flashy jewels to distract the eye. Her classic simplicity appealed to him. Leaving one shoulder bare, the dress flowed over her curves, showing off a voluptuous body, one he later found out was normally hidden by no-nonsense business suits.

She’d been surrounded by a group of international businessmen when he pretended to wander by. She was the center of attention. But not just because of her looks. To his surprise, she was delivering her opinion on the controversial decision from the Federal Reserve to continue the unrestricted flow of capital into the economy despite fears of rising inflation.

Surely she knew who he was. Cabrera had made a show of introducing him when he arrived, then insisted they pose for pictures together. But unlike other women he met, she simply gave him a cool nod when he joined the small group and continued her tirade. Mia Thorne was aloof, opinionated, outspoken – and absolutely right about everything she was saying.

She was nowhere near as stunning as the woman on his arm that night. Even so, he couldn’t get Mia out of his mind, especially when he took the blonde home and tried to have a conversation with her. She got down on her knees instead and gave him an unasked-for and frankly mediocre blow job. He’d thanked her, rather coolly, handed her an envelope stuffed with the cash they’d agreed on plus a generous tip, and given a noncommittal response to her plea for him to call her. “Really,” she kept repeating. “Any time…day or night.” In fact, he hadn’t given her a second thought until just now.

What would it be like to have a woman who matched him in intellect, who aroused his mind as much as she did his cock? He’d fantasized about meeting such a woman for years, but never felt so much as a spark with anyone. Until that night last spring.

The next day he dispatched Taylor to make some discreet inquiries about her. Apparently she was already spoken for. Alejandro Cabrera was a self-proclaimed lady’s man. He fancied himself a modern-day Casanova. He’d bragged to Taylor that he was an experienced Dom and his intelligent and beautiful chief financial officer served as his personal slut after hours. She loved being his slave, his sex toy. The “perfect sub,” he’d called her.

Being Mia Thorne’s Dom sounded intriguing. Harmon had experimented with BDSM a few times and was aroused by the experiences, but he’d never found a woman he wanted for more than one night. After talking to Taylor, he decided to learn everything he could about the D/s lifestyle. If that’s what it would take to win this woman, he’d become an expert.

In his usual obsessive fashion, Harmon devoured erotic books, watched a mind-numbing array of X-rated movies. For the most part, the books were boring, wild sex scenes strung together with no hint of what was going on in the heads of any of the characters. The movies didn’t have much of a plot. With nothing to engage his mind, his cock barely stirred.

Harmon decided he needed more real-life experience. He hired a Domme from an ad on the web that promised discretion. A hefty redhead who looked much older in person than on her website showed up at the penthouse dressed like Catwoman. She ordered him to kneel and kiss her shoe then demanded he crawl over to the sofa and submit to a flogging. He sent her packing and crossed “switch” off his list of options to explore.

Harmon ruled out picking up some random woman in a bar or at one of the sex clubs in Fort Lauderdale to hone his skills. All he needed was one tabloid running the story of the billionaire pervert smacking some unwilling woman on the ass while she begged for mercy, especially a woman who might come prepared with hidden cameras and recording devices. Too many wanna-be tech wizards waited in the wings to usurp his place. He wasn’t about to risk losing everything he’d worked for in a messy lawsuit.

So he hired professional subs to perfect his skills. But there was no challenge in dominating them. He did everything he’d seen and heard about. He tied them up, whipped them, grabbed their hair and shoved them to their knees. They said all the right things, just like the women in the books and movies. They begged and moaned, licked and sucked on demand, squealed when he forced them to spread their legs and then pounded himself into one hole or another. He enjoyed the physical release. But where was that thrill, the intense rush of absolute power mixed with raw lust everyone raved about? So far, he hadn’t experienced it.

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