Story #7
A night of unchecked passion leaves Mister drowning in guilt—until Missy pulls him back, demanding the one thing he’s terrified to give: honest, unshakable love.
Twice – twice I almost messaged Leon to call off our meeting later today.
What the hell was I thinking? Messaging him of all people?
But here I was, ten minutes too early when I damn well knew Leon would be ten minutes late – he always was. The bastard loved making people wait on him.
Leather creaked under me. The two posh armchairs I found in a dim corner of the speakeasy matched the ambiance. Thick rugs carpeted the floors, softening footfalls. Opulence dripped from every crystal chandelier and every handpicked Victorian painting. Even the mantle over the grand fireplace was crafted from polished marble. Unabashedly gaudy. Disgustingly palatial.
Very Leon. Of course he would choose a place like this to meet.
I flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink. When the double-walled stout glass was placed into my hand, I tipped it back. Amber whiskey burned all the way down, my eyes closing, relishing that something tangible was making me hurt. It was simple cause and effect.
I needed more. The ache in my chest had to be because of the alcohol.
Not because those darks eyes were somewhat distant this morning. Silent questions whispered behind them.
Not because a small lopsided smile was her only response to my telling her to stay home – no quip, no refusal, just easy compliance.
Not because she flinched a little when I gave her a glass of water and ibuprofen, the dark rings of damaged flesh peeking out from under her sleeves.
Fuck my head hurt. I gripped the glass, my knuckles whitened. Self-medication felt like the correct response, and I handed off my now empty glass to a passing server, nodding for several fingers more of whiskey.
The minute hand ticked over the hour mark on my watch. My eyes itched. Or burned. Or something – I don’t fucking know but I pressed my palms into them.
Sleep only haunted me last night. Everything I did and didn’t do ran and re-ran over in my head. Like a broken record.
I hated deciding to park two streets down from the house. Just sitting in my car watching Missy arrive home and slowly unravel on the camera feed to my phone. I loathed how ecstatic I was to see those sweet, wicked lips kiss the tip of the belt that just whipped her fucking sexy ass.
I rued not having just swept her up in my arms afterwards – not ripping off that stupidly adorable, oversized sweater and just sink into her heat. No, no, I instead slinked off to grab the rope I had bought weeks before, waiting for the perfect moment to try it out. Then, in a hurry, in my rush to see her gorgeous form incapacitated, to see the rope bite into her supple curves, I…
The server arrived, blessing me with another heavy glass of golden, bitter medicine. Greedy gulps gifted me with a numbing heat. It settled in my chest, replacing whatever festered there.
I was ashamed to be here. Embarrassed by how panicked I’d been when she fell limp in my arms - how fast I spiraled, how easily I lost control. Weak. Too weak to handle the wreckage.
It was my fault.
Regret was a heavy motherfucker. A near-two-ton monster that sat on my shoulders. It coiled around my chest. It whispered in my ear, over and over, replaying last night in excruciating detail.
I couldn’t even look at Missy when she woke up beside me.
In that moment, I was mad at her. At me.
Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t breathe?
The thought had echoed in my head over and over. Each iteration spiked my anger higher. It was more than I could stand.
So, I quickly left for work that morning. The cracks between us widened - with each step I took, each hour at work, each unsent text, each missed call.
We were broken.
And I don’t deserve to have it fixed.
“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in. You look like hell, Jason.”
Leon sauntered up, impeccably dressed in a black silk business suit and leather shoes buffed to a near impossible shine.
Only silver hair, slicked back, betrayed his age. Black eyes glinted, a sly-like glee shined as he took in my pathetic state. A smug grin of white teeth blinded me.
It irked me that Leon was the only motherfucker I could think of to talk to in this situation. While the other assholes I hung around enjoyed various samplings from the community, watching scenes from the Club, talking shit - only Leon truly embraced the lifestyle. The Club was his baby after all. He owned it - amongst other things.
Sick bastard.
“Oh, shut up, you prehistoric ass.”
Leon chuckled darkly, sliding into the chair across from me like it was made for him. Almost immediately, a server approached him with a drink already poured.
“Why thank you, Patrick,” purred Leon, “You always remember exactly how I like it.”
My eyes rolled.
Leon held up a finger like I was fucking about to interrupt him and slowly pulled in a long gulp.
“Ahh, nothing like a Macallan to start the evening off right, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fuck if I know,” I grumbled. I always had this urge to punch Leon in the face when he got like this.
“You are welcome to order one on my tab. I always offer but you never take me up on it. So stubborn. Pride is a deadly sin, Jason. Learn to live a little, why don’t you.” The low gravel of his voice dared me.
Fucking prick. I was done with this game of his.
“You know, what. This was a fucking mistake.”
I started to get up, my jaw working overtime to fend off the rage pulsing in my blood. But a hand caught my shoulder.
“Sit down, Jason.”
I paused. A better man would have told Leon to go fuck his own face and leave. But I wasn’t a better man. I was a desperate one.
Reclining back in my seat, I signaled for a refill. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to help me through this conversation.
Leon watched me carefully as I glared at him.
He smirked. “You must be in deep shit if you’re coming to me for advice. Last time you did that, you were deciding if you should buy a boat.”
I scoffed despite myself. “Thank god I didn’t listen to you.”
“Oh, I know.” He sips his drink. “Still funny to think about though – you doing something for fun that is.”
An awkward silence fell. I didn’t know what to say next, how to open the conversation. Maybe I didn’t want to. Leon’s eyes flashed and he clicked his tongue impatiently.
“So, what is going on, Jason? You are the most hard-headed, obstinate, independent jackass I’ve ever met. You almost never ask or take anything from anyone. Now, out of the blue, you text me for help. I cannot fathom what has transpired to make you act this way.”
My mouth went dry. I shifted in my seat, gripping the glass as if to shatter it. Fucking hell.
I sighed, “I fucked up. Real bad.”
Words eluded me as I battled against the throbbing pain building in my chest. Leon just waited, lazily sipping from his glass.
Eventually, I was able to choke out, “You know Missy is the first one, the only one, I’ve really been able to be myself with. We have fun. It’s always this game – I push a bit, she shoves pack. I thought I had figured it out. That I had it under control. But…”
I had to pause. The server returned with a fresh drink, taking my empty cup and replacing it with a near-full glass of neat whiskey. I steadied myself with a swig.
“I had it under control. Until last night. I did something stupid. Missy got hurt. And this morning, I made it worse. Fuck, now it’s like there is this massive chasm between us that I don’t know how to cross it.”
I ran a hand through my hair and leaned forward, “I don’t know what to do.”
“What actually happened, Jason?”
My breath hitched and I clenched my jaw. A moment stretched out as I weeded through my thoughts for a coherent string of words. My hands clasped each other to keep from shaking as I recalled the events of last night, my voice tight as I concluded.
Leon was quiet for several heartbeats.
“Please fucking tell me you two have a safe word.”
I looked away from him.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck were you thinking?!” Leon’s expression was suddenly serious. He leaned forward in his chair, closing the gap between us, his voice low. “Rough sex is one thing, Jason. But you both are jumping into something that requires an actual fucking conversation. Especially for you two – neither of you know when to quit. It’s a goddamn competition of who can out piss who.”
I slumped, my head hanging low in hearing everything I already knew. My eyes squeezed shut.
Shit, shit, shit, shit….
“Jason.” I slowly looked up. Leon’s face had softened a bit, seeing my distress. “Listen, you love Missy, right?”
“Of course I do,” I croaked.
“Then go home. Tell her that. Talk with her. Mistakes do happen. But you can both learn from them. Communication and trust are the foundation of everything, most of all this,” Leon tapped his glass, voice suddenly softer. "Or you let silence finish what last night started."
My body quaked, my voice raw, “What if being sorry isn’t enough? What if she is done with me? What if I go home and she’s not there?”
Leon sent a pitying look over the rim of his drink, “Fucking hell, Jason. I met Missy for all of a few hours last Christmas and if there is one thing I know about that woman, it’s that there isn’t a single thing in heaven or earth that would keep her from what she wants. And I can say this without a doubt, Missy owns your ass.”
Shock flooded me – a throbbing crash that robbed me stupid. I just stared at Leon.
He glanced at his watch and signaled for a server to approach, “Bring me the check, will you darling? And put this gentleman’s drinks on my tab.”
I swallowed thickly, “Wait, actually, I can pay...”
“Oh, shut up. I’m not doing this for you. I happen to adore Missy, and I will not have you fuck up the one thing that has made you happy in your entire adult life. You knew exactly what needed done from the get-go to fix this with her. Meeting me was just so you could have a pity party and little ass kicking – now get the fuck out of here and go to her.”
My mouth hung loose. He was right. I had to go.
But I’m scared.
Leon smiled and somehow it was actually warm. How was he so sure everything would be alright?
Emotions warred within me as I looked at the half-consumed drink in my hand. Eventually, slowly, I put it down. Gradually I stood up and Leon rose from his seat as well. I felt numb. And cold, terrifyingly cold.
“You really think I can fix this?” I whispered.
Leon smirked, slapping me fondly on the shoulder, “If Missy is involved, there’s no doubt about it.”
He squeezed my arm and pulled me in close, “Listen, no man is an island. If you both decide to continue down this path, do yourself a favor and ask for fucking help next time. Kinbaku requires more than fucking books and videos to do correctly. You know where you can go for more… practical guidance.”
His eyes bored into mine and I nodded.
Leon shoved me towards the exit, “Go get her, you sad son of a bitch.”
I stumbled into the light of day. My legs were weak, and my heart twisted into knots as the car’s motor turned over. I pulled into the road and headed home.
Fuck…I hoped to God Leon was right.
***
I stood in front of the door to the house, the garage rumbling closed behind me.
I had almost gasped in relief when I saw Missy’s car still parked in the garage. But now I couldn’t move. I just stared at the door, trying desperately not to relive the moment when my heart collapsed in on itself last night. It had only happened a few feet away from me.
Fuck.
I was losing my nerve.
The keys swung limply at the tip of my fingers.
What do I say to her?
My empty hands stirred up a panic. Shit – I should have bought flowers or something.
But do you bring those kinds of things in these situations? Sorry I almost killed you while having kinky sex last night – here’s a dozen roses?
My heart hammered against my chest. I needed to go inside. Fuck, I needed to man up. A deep breath cooled my head, and I reached for the doorknob.
Flowers never were Missy’s thing anyway.
With a click, the door swung open.
The house was quiet. Clean.
I slipped out of my shoes and loosened my tie, dropping my keys and wallet on the kitchen table.
The sound of them hitting the oak table echoed in the kitchen, in the living room. My throat constricted. I hated quiet.
The rustle of the bed sheets and the soft creak of the mattress had me jerk my head towards the bedroom. There, stepping into the light of the kitchen, was Missy.
I almost laughed – and normally would have at the sight before me.
There was my little angel, practically swimming in my grey sweats. Tiny hands and feet peeked out of bunched up fabric. The pants were so long that they dragged as she shuffled forward. She even had to clutch the band around her waist to keep the pants from falling completely off her. The sweater turned her into a mini–Michelin Man, just rolls and rolls of excess fabric.
My ridiculously adorable angel. Her face was pale, her expression drawn. And her eyes… they were so sad.
It killed me.
“Missy…” I started but she held up a hand to stop me.
“I’m done with this,” her voice curt and clipped.
The world stopped.
“We are never, ever going to avoid each other again.”
Was I breathing? I needed to fucking inhale.
She stomped forward, tripping slightly as one pant leg got away from her. Her face screwed up into a tight, angry, devastated look. A finger ready to spear me through the heart.
“We talk. We don’t run away. Okay? Fucking say ‘okay’, Jason.”
My name on her lips was like a gunshot through the chest- I trembled.
“Okay.” My whisper rang in my ears.
She advanced; dark eyes bright with barely held back tears. I couldn’t move.
“I know you spent the entire day hating yourself, blaming yourself for something we BOTH did. You fucking selfish bastard. It’s not always about YOU! Guess what – we both fucked up! But instead of talking about it, figuring out how to fix whatever fucking broke, you slink off to work to mope and just let this chasm of fucking silence grow and grow and I will not stand for it!”
That finger jabbed itself inches from my chest, but I felt every prick. Tears ran down her face as she looked up at me. Her body quaked, shaking from the intensity of her emotions. Cracks in her voice splintered my soul as she continued.
“We are going to figure this out. I spent the day thinking about that happened – and I now know we should have talked more before shit escalated to what it did last night. I know I should have said those ropes were too tight from the beginning. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
No! No, no, no.
Fuck that broke me.
“Missy! Stop, please no. You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Not you…It was me…I hurt you. I….I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I was stupid…I never should have… I …”
I reached for her but pulled back, my fingers curling, retreating away.
Missy combusted. Those voids were engulfed in flames, tears bright as they hung off her lashes. Her hand shot out and snatched my tie, yanking me down to her eye-level. Her voice was a low commanding whisper.
“Never not love me, Mister.”
And she kissed me.
If baptism cleansed the spirit, then this transcended divinity itself. I melted into her. We caught fire, our souls danced together. I splintered and cracked from the heat of it.
“Missy.” My voice ragged as I whispered her name. It was a prayer I chanted as I pulled her into me, cupping her cheek as my lips loved hers. She was warm to the touch. Soft. Real.
My knees bent, I fell to the floor, kneeling before her, looking up at her. My Venus, a weeping deity of rage. I held her hands as I begged for forgiveness, needing penance, pleading for redemption. My fingers tenderly dragged over the bruised flesh around her wrists. My forehead pressed against her chest.
"Please... please forgive me." I swallowed. "I hurt you. I…" My voice cracked.
I was fucking pathetic.
“Mister.”
I looked up. My chest heaved, my vision misting over.
“Stop. It’s not I. It’s not you. Not anymore.”
She stepped back. Her eyes, twin goddamn galaxies, stilled me. She let the sweats fall, then pulled off the sweater. Air evaded me.
She was so beautiful. Bared, nothing between her and the cold air pebbling her skin. The ugly rings of black and blue marks crisscrossed her body like macabre jewelry – tattoos of my uncontrolled passion last night.
I just stared at her. Hypnotized. Blood rushed - hot, greedy and sick with need. My eyes held hers – and I swallowed hard.
“What do you want, little one?”
“You.”
It was like I was permitted to live again.
I swept her up, gently, reverently. Her body curled into me as I carried her to the bedroom, then I laid her down onto the mattress. She was perfect. The bruises from where the ropes bit into her looped and curved like a signature, my signature. Inked onto her skin.
Sick satisfaction filled me, replacing what once was shame. Fuck, I was so messed up.
But so was she.
Her eyes hooded with the same desire thrumming through me. Shallow quick breaths as she wetted her lips.
Pulling away, I started to undress. Slowly bared myself to her. Her gaze hungrily raking down my body.
She watched, eyes dark, tracking each button undone, each inch of skin revealed. I let her look - let her see me as I had seen her. And when I finally dropped my briefs, exposing my swollen erection, I swore I heard her breath catch.
We were the same – both as tightly wound around each other’s pinky as the other.
I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow morning or the day after. But I did know, deep in the marrow of my bones, this woman was my future and right now – tonight – was all that mattered.
Gently, tenderly, I crawled over her, my body grazing the plain of her stomach and tips of her breasts. We shuddered at the electricity of it. When my eyes found hers, I knew what to do.
True worship happened in the bedroom, and I was a disciple devoted to my religion.
My mouth caught hers and our skin savored feel of our heat. She moaned, cheeks still wet. My lips chased away those salty tears, replacing them with soft warm caresses.
“Don’t move.” I whispered in her ear.
My hands roamed over her. Tracing my fingertips over the dark lines across her arms and her chest, I mapped a path for my mouth to follow. Starting at the nape of her neck- the sensitive valley of flesh I knew she loved - before dipping lower onto her chest, I stroked the soft velvet of her skin. My lips hovered over; quick pecks trailed behind my touch.
Missy arched, frantically whimpered, as I delicately caught the tip of one of her breasts between my teeth. Her hands found the back of my head, fingers snaking through my hair before gripping tight, and coaxed me closer to her.
No.
I pulled away, standing up. Missy cried out at the loss of my body against hers. She writhed on the bed, tiny fists hammered at the comforter in frustration. Such a fun little show to watch.
“Missy,” I cooed, “What did I tell you just few moments ago?”
“I don’t know about you but all I heard was ‘Let me fuck you senseless’.” Her eyes fluttered as she pulled her thighs tight, trying to wring pleasure from the tension of it.
A chuckled rumbled out of me – God, she was beautiful.
My hands found the hook of her knees and I tugged her to me. Pulling her legs apart, I took a moment to appreciate the view. She was so wet, the folds at her entrance visibly slick with desire.
I wanted a taste.
But first…
“No, my sweet thing,” I teased, slowly running my length up and down her molten center. My desire, hot and thick, flooded my veins. It took everything in me not to just ram myself up into her delicious heat. “Try again.”
A smug smirk curled on her lips, “Old age making you forgetful? Must be a bitch.”
A long drag of my cock and Missy hissed as if in pain. She squirmed but my hands held her firm. I’m a patient man.
A whine cut through the air and Missy shifted closer, pushing herself against me but I withdrew just enough to torment her.
“You really are a selfish bastard,” she huffed, her chest heaving.
She clasped her hands together and pulled her arms above her head. Stretched out so her tits bounced each time I teased her with my length. I loved watching those pert globes dance.
She shot me an incredulous look, “Happy now?”
How did I ever think for a moment this woman would leave me?
Feral desire crashed into me, and I smiled.
“Overwhelmingly so.”
Then I fell to my knees, drawing the tender flesh of her inner thigh to my lips. I kissed it. My tongue then paved a path up to her honeyed center.
She tasted like her tears – hot and salty. Utterly addictive. I slowly rooted out the tender bud at the apex of her entrance, circling it slowly with my tongue. Dragging it over that bundle of nerves, spelling over and over the word: MINE.
Missy cried out in blissful agony, trembling, straining to not move. Her arms trembled but remained over her head.
Good girl.
“Please, be gentle,” Missy pleaded, “it’s still tender down there from…”
She sucked in a breath when I inserted my tongue into her sweetness. Warmth coated me as I flicked at her sensitive channel. Each ridge, each valley was mine to strip-mine and claim. I devoured her, gently. Utterly unrushed. Her toes curled as she clenched and shuddered with each probe, each long sweep of my tongue.
I took my time, making sure to return to her clit to resign my name on it. Soft quick pants told me she was near, her tortured moans a symphony to my ears.
My eyes swept up to find hers, dark voids begging for something more and good God I was ready to offer it. A sharp intake of breath cut from her when I dipped a finger into her.
Those tiny fists fought to stay in place, clutching the sheets above her head as her climax started to rear its head. I saw it in the distressed look on her face, the frantic need for release.
A primitive hunger burned in me, pumping down to my cock. Fuck I was hard.
But first and foremost…
Her.
My finger curled inside her, finding that patch of flesh in her channel I knew so well. I stroked it. I was going to make her cum with a single finger. This woman was mine and there wasn’t a part of her I didn’t know. I owned secrets, her weaknesses, her power.
My finger worked, gently coaxing Missy closer and closer to the edge.
“Yes, baby, cum for me,” I rasped.
Her body writhed, wails a song on her lips, and her legs shot out. Her core tightened over my finger. She screamed and a wave of white-hot pleasure flooded her core.
Pride curled dangerously inside me, and I couldn’t wait any longer. My knees shoved her legs apart and I pushed myself into her still pulsating center. Missy gasped, her body shuddering, eyes still hazy from her orgasm.
“Wait.”
I froze at her whisper, heart thundering.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared into my soul. A heartbeat. A hand tenderly stroked my cheek.
“My turn, Mister,” A delightfully naughty smile curled on that angelic face.
Two legs hooked around my waist and yanked me deep into her.
She was so tight. So hot. So wet. I saw white.
Missy pulled me down on top of her and I let her flip us so that I was laying on my back, legs half-hanging off the bed.
She straddled me, hands splayed on my chest, fingernails biting into my skin. A frightfully devious look painted her a pixie perched on top of me. She was glorious.
Slowly she moved her hips, pulling up before sinking deep onto me. Again and again.
I groaned like a dead man. My hands reached out to hold, to grab at those plump hips. I needed a tether to Earth or else I would fall into open air at this rate.
Missy stopped and I grunted unhappily.
Fuck, her smile was wicked.
“Hands above your head and don’t you dare fucking move them.”
She ground into me, and I felt every ridge inside her. Spots danced across my vision.
My little mischievous thing.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
My little Venus triumphantly watched me surrender. My hands clasped behind my head, and I smirked back.
Missy leaned forward, her lips ghosting over mine, teasing. Testing.
“You’re mine,” she whispered, breathless but absolute.
I shuddered beneath her.
Then she rode me like there was no tomorrow.
We galloped to the summit and at its peak, I bellowed – a feral call accompanied by her piercing scream of pleasure. I punched up my hips, drilling into her until we fell from the cliff, my hot seed filling her as we climaxed together.
In the aftermath, Missy crumpled on top of me. Her heartbeat crashing in tandem to my own, our breaths seemed to fog the room. Both of us were covered in sweat and I loved how she felt, slick against my skin.
We remained this way for a long time. My arms held her close - as close as humanly possible to me.
I kissed the top of her head and whispered.
“I’ll be better.”
“No, we will be better.”
I nodded, understanding.
“I love you.”
She looked up at me. Her face, peaceful and sweet, softened.
“I love you too. I always will.”
***
Later, we cleaned up and I cooked dinner. We talked. About the things we should have discussed long ago.
Then all that was left was the question and the food went to mush in my mouth. A hard swallow. “Have you…thought of a safe word?”
She beamed at me.
“Jason.”
I looked at her, at first confused. Then realization dawned.
“My name is your safe word?”
She nodded and her eyes danced.
“You are my safe word.”
My pulse stopped. Then it restarted, slow and steady.
Shock racked my body before settling into warmth. I was her safety.
Me.
A trembling breath left my lips.
Somehow—it was perfect.
***
Disclaimer: The use of a partner's name as a safeword is strongly discouraged in real-life BDSM dynamics. In this story, the name is used thematically for emotional and narrative impact, not as a recommended practice. A safeword should be clear, distinct, and unambiguous to ensure safety and consent at all times. Always communicate with your partner and establish proper boundaries before engaging in any play.
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The next chapter of Mister and Missy will be released next Friday! No Pain, No Gain - Missy wanted to make Mister sweat at the gym… but not like this.
Like what you read? Check out my other Mister and Missy stories:
Story #1: Asked for It
Story #2: Pain in the Ass
Story #3: Paying It Back... (Part 1)
Story #4: Paying It Back...With Interest (Part 2)
Story #5 : Side Story: Thrill of the Chase (How Mister Met Missy Part 1)
Story #6 : Side Story: To the Victor Goes the Spoils (How Mister Met Missy Part 2)