Mistress's Good Boy (BWWM)

Chapter 3

I lift the glass up to my mouth taking a generous gulp of the sweet and bitter drink. When the cup is half empty I set the glass back onto the table and I message the deep tissue of my forehead. Nala watches every motion I make with this penetrating look. Her hand rests in the curve of her neck and chin.

"Come on Ama'Rose dontcha wanna dance?" She asks. I shake my head raising my hand signaling the bartender over. He purses his lips while drying a glass out.

"What can I get you?" He sets the glass down and leans on his forearms resting his weight onto the counter. Nala tugs at my arm but once she realizes I'm not budging the girl raises from her seat with her hand cocked on her hip. She turns fast on her heel and slinks her way towards the dance floor.

"When you wanna dance come find me!" She hollers over the music. I watch as her figure disappears into the wave of dancing bodies and then I turn back to the bartender.

"Old fashioned." He shoots me a small smile and disappears to the right side of the bar grabbing his whiskey and sugar cubes and a couple of different bottles. He returns in front of me dropping the sugar into the glass and then dripping in a few drops of Angostura bitters, he adds a bit of water and mashes the content together.

"So, is this your first time here?" He pours the whiskey into the glass then stirs the cocktail.

"Yeah, it is." Two large ice cubes are dropped into the cup and the man continues to stir. After about thirty seconds he pushes the glass in front of me and I grin lifting it up to taste. He tracks the movement of my hand following the curve of my wrist. Wiping the counter down with his rag he blinks down at the counter surface.

"High rank," He says nodding towards my band. I take another gulp and then set the glass back down, hiding my wrist in my lap. "What are you doing over here?" I cock my head in question while scratching the back of my head.

"You know white bands usually settle up in VIP," He tilts his head to the back of the club, where it's dark and ominous. I can see a few bodies and a lot of bare skin. Hot press of body to body. I clench my hands hard tearing my gaze away. "You can go on back there." I bite my quivering lip lifting the glass up to hide the shake. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm surprised no one showed you, usually the owner of this place likes to keep the pristine together like collectible diamonds. I also heard she has this pet submissive S ranked, and the reason she made this club was so that he could find a suitable master. She can't dominate him because she's only an A." He chuckles to himself.

"The owner's Sub comes here?" He nods scanning the back room again before pointing past the cluster of bodies.

"See that?" I squint my eyes forcing them to see past the darkness.

"That one with the silken feathered robe, and the wavy black hair. He's lithe, the perfect boy to dominate wouldn't you say?" I squint and after what seems like years I finally find him. Piled underneath large pillows, hair wildly framed around his face, a blush I can barely see on the tips of his cheeks and ears. Seductive and poise. He sends a violent shutter through my very core and I find myself gripping the glass tight.

"Who is that?"

"Ezra Wellington the only S ranked male submissive in America," The bartender answers. "All types of S rankers globally come to scene with him, but only a few get the chance. The boy is quite picky, but then again his mistress does like to spoil." I watch as the boy... as Ezra stretches along the cushions yawning wide and boredly. He rakes his eyes across the VIP occupants rolling them away to scan the other people on the dance floor, then the bar, and then me. When we make eye contact the room quiets and the warm lights of the dance floor fade. His eyes grow wide, and he staggers to his feet knocking cushions to the floor from the quick movement. His robe flutters around his rosy skin, draping across his bare arms.

"God," I'm the one who breaks eye contact, the connection. And I look up at the Bartender in shock. He raises his eyebrows humming to himself. "Is...is he still looking?" The man looks back over to the corner of the room and then laughs a big elated laugh that rocks his body.

"He's still lookin, now ain't that something," He removes my empty glass rinsing it out and washing the glass quickly. "Now that really is something. Seeing him take interest in someone like this. You must be a rank S." I shake my head trying to look at Ezra from my peripherals. I can no longer see the shape of his silhouette.

"I don't know what rank I am." The bartender places the glass in a cupboard while looking up only to look back down quickly.

"Incoming at 3 o'clock." He mutters walking away to tend to another customer. I straighten my back and turn to my right and there he is in all his glory. Robe long forgotten in the middle area between the VIP section and the bar, his hair in a somewhat attempt at decency. He slinks into the stool next to me and knocks his knee into mine.

"Hello." He breathes with amusement.

"Hi." Ezra keeps his eyes locked onto his hands refusing to meet my gaze again, but that doesn't stop him from saddling in closer. I watch as he traces the band around my wrist, his eyes lighting up in giddy.

"What's your type?" He finally catches my eyes while gnawing at the pinkness of his lips. His eyes are hazel with green speckles scattered around his irises. Beautiful.

"Dom." I reply. He leans in closer pupils dilated and goosebumps littering across his skin. He places a hand across my thigh while pressing his cheek against mine. Sighing he says, "What rank?" I shake my head causing his to bump against me I push him back and catch his eye.

"I don't know." The boy rubs the bottom of his chin, rolling his head down he presents his neck, pink and flushed. He muffles his small sounds and ever so soft asks, "Want to find out?" I bite my lip hard leaning over his outstretched neck.

"Do I?"

"Just grab my nape." If I had been any other Dom I would have been over the moon with such a presentation, but here I was confused and yet so utterly intrigued. Not even a day ago I hadn't known what type I was and now here I was experiencing submission from a rank S submissive.

I reach a hesitant hand towards his bared neck gently tracing the skin. Ezra gasps clenching my thigh tightly with a whine in the back of his throat. My fingers curl around the skin and clench. Not long after, he falls. Trembling to his knees bringing his hands up to rest behind his head, spreading his thighs. He assumes the collar position.

With a low dragged moan Ezra peers up towards me with blown wide pupils and ragged breathing. He nods once then twice as if convincing himself.

"You're the one. You're S ranked, highly compatible," He doesn't break the position, not for one second and an unknown feeling of pride rears its head. "I'm yours if you'll have me. Will you take me?" I stand from the stool backing away until my back plants firm to the bar's counter.

"You want to be my good boy?" And that is not what I wanted to say, not even close. But before I can fix the mistake, Ezra slides to his hands and knees crawling towards me with a sway in his hips and an undeniable look of lust in the depths of his eyes.

"Yes mistress, god yes." And it's like the single word flips a switch and everything around me drowns out to electric static. I look down at him and I feel an itch in my hands.

"Good boy."