Midnight Caller Read online

  “Slap your pussy, butterfly.”

  She didn’t move. I was about to repeat myself when she spoke. “Um, Sir? I don’t think I know how.”

  Her trepidation amused me, but I needed to keep control of the scene. She would play by my rules.

  “I didn’t tell you to think, and I didn’t give you permission to speak. I simply told you to slap that wet pussy of yours. Now, take your hand and give it one hard slap, little girl. And because you spoke without permission, you will spread your pussy lips to do it. Take your left hand, and using your fingers, hold those lips wide. Then with your right hand, you will slap that clit hard. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded and began to follow my instructions. When her hand swung down and came into contact with her pussy, she let out a gargled cry of ecstasy. Her already swollen clit enlarged before my eyes.

  “Now take the dildo out and rub it over your clit, butterfly.”

  She did as she was told. Her entire body trembled when it touched her sensitive nub. I watched as she panted and moaned while she rubbed her clit.

  “Fuck that pussy hard. Slide that dildo in there, little slut.”

  She fucked herself wildly for less than two minutes before she was close again. Like before, I instructed her to stop. When I had her slap her pussy for the second time, she writhed about on her bed. Not giving her a chance to calm down, I told her to rub her clit with the dildo and then begin to fuck herself.

  We repeated the process over and over until each phase lasted less than thirty seconds. I noticed that her clit was now so engorged that when she fucked her pussy, the dildo often grazed the swollen nub.

  The thought of her obedience and the level at which she was trying to please me made me hard again. It wasn’t long before I was stroking my cock, only this time I would wait until she came.

  Several times, I thought she was going to lose control, so I would have her stop fucking herself and just rub her clit. After a while, when even that wasn’t calming her down, I knew she was ready.

  “Now, little girl, you will fuck yourself harder and faster than you have been, but you still will not come until I tell you to.”

  She followed my instructions. She fucked herself with more speed and force than I had ever seen. I saw her orgasm building, and although she repeatedly pushed it aside, it came back stronger each time. Her body began to shake, and I knew she couldn’t take much more.

  Her hand moved quickly, thrusting in and out of her dripping pussy. I had no idea how she kept hold of the dildo. It was covered in her juices. She brought herself close to orgasm several times and seemed to gain control of it. When I was doing this to her, assaulting her pussy with my fingers or a dildo, she wouldn’t have the luxury of slowing just slightly or adjusting the angle to stop an orgasm. No; when I was doing it, she would be screaming out orgasm after orgasm.

  Eventually, it became too much for her, and I could tell that she was going to come. There would be no way to stop it, so I gave her permission. Some Doms would have had her fail on purpose, to teach her her place, but I wanted to reward her.

  “Come for me, butterfly,” I whispered as I tightened my grip on my cock. I would come when she did. Her body amazed me. She literally screamed as she came, and that sound alone would have pushed me over the edge, but her body…the way she moved when the orgasm shot through her, the way her body convulsed was like smoke curling up toward the heavens. Then suddenly—she squirted.

  I came instantly, coating my bed sheets in come, much the way she had.

  “Did you enjoy your reward, butterfly?” I asked. “You may speak.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said in a breathless whisper.

  “Good. Now you will sleep, little one. I will call again tomorrow. Will you be ready to serve me again? Speak.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered.

  She hung up the phone and fell asleep almost instantly. I watched for an hour, at least, before I moved from my spot.

  I went over the night’s events. Most of it went as planned, but a few things, like me needing to come, were not as I wanted.

  Apparently, butterfly wasn’t the only one who needed training.

  I picked up my phone and dialed a familiar number.

  “Hello, Oliver.”

  “Master, I need to see you.”

  Chapter 6

  Gabriel

  I’d been expecting his call, yet hearing the word ‘Master’ seemed odd. I saw Oliver often, but when we got together, it was as equals. I hadn’t been his Master in over one hundred years.

  Oliver was my biological son. My wife, Caroline, gave birth to him in May 1814. It is fairly uncommon for a Bocaj to have offspring because of our extremely long life span. Even if we had a child once every century, we would have well over a dozen offspring in our lifetime. The main reason that Bocaj didn’t reproduce was the fact that during gestation, females needed twice as much food and ten times as much sun just to ensure a successful pregnancy. It was not uncommon for fetuses to die long before their birth.

  Caroline and I didn’t care about that. I would bring her food and protect her while she lay in the sun to ensure her good health and that of our unborn child. We even went to the Elders and got their blessing, our species trying to avoid the overpopulation that had occurred on Salocin millennia ago.

  I would have gone through the process over and over again to make my mate happy, but Oliver was our last child. He was born just seventy-three years after his sister, Sydney, making them very close in age for our kind.

  Oliver was happy as a youngling—laughing and playing—but as he grew up, he became more and more independent, preferring to spend time in solitude, as he didn’t have a mate.

  Eventually, after finding BDSM myself, I trained Oliver to be a Dom. Although the feeling of dominating someone is nothing like that of being mated, it did seem to give Oliver a purpose and at least some temporary happiness.

  Part of Oliver’s training had been to experience scenes as a submissive, which is when he began calling me ‘Master’ rather than ‘Father.’ When his training was complete, it seemed more natural for him to call me ‘Gabriel’ instead. He was fully developed by that time, and it would raise too many red flags for him to call me ‘Father’ because we looked the same age.

  It wasn’t uncommon for Dominants to go to other Dominants for advice about their submissives. Oliver rarely had a question, but I knew this submissive was different. Over the past few centuries, I’d been training my mind in the art of prophecy, and had seen this woman coming into Oliver’s life and making a lasting change. I believed that he had finally found his mate.

  Bocaj mated for life. The draw between two true mates was strong, often overpowering all of the other senses.

  The feeling—similar to two animals in heat, though much more intense—compelled the mated pair to give in to their animalistic nature. I believed that when Oliver first saw his mate, he would feel an immediate pull toward her, though I wasn’t sure if it would be as strong for him because she wasn’t Bocaj. I even questioned if he would feel it at all until tonight when he called me.

  The tricky thing with Oliver, though, was that if I came out and told him, he would not believe me and would likely run. He would have to discover his relationship with her on his own.

  The man that knelt before me now was conflicted, as was I. As his former Master, I should have been there to offer him advice on his submissive, but as I looked at him, I was reminded that he was more than a fellow Dom. With my dark hair and strong chin combined with his mother’s warm brown eyes and full lips, there was no denying he was my son. As any father would feel, I ached for his turmoil and wanted nothing more than to solve his problems for him. But this I couldn’t do. I couldn’t make these decisions for him.

  Tonight, I would answer only the questions he asked. I’d offer nothing more.

  Chapter 7

  Sir

  We met on the rooftop of his apartment ten minutes later. Instantly upon seeing
him, I dropped to my knees.

  “While I appreciate your show of respect, Oliver, you are no longer my submissive. I have trained you to be a Dom.”

  “Master, I don’t feel like a good Dom,” I replied.

  “Stand, Oliver. Address me as an equal.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Now, what has happened to get you so flustered after all these years? It has been over a century since you’ve knelt before me.”

  Gabriel had trained me in BDSM a few decades after I had reached maturity. Since he was my father, there was no sexual component to our relationship. Right from the beginning, he knew I was a Dominant, but thought that all Dominants should experience what it was like to be a submissive.

  From Gabriel, I learned the basics: inspection poses, how to address a Master or Mistress, the difference between calling someone Sir or Master, what it felt like to have instruments like whips and floggers used on you and eventually how to use them.

  Of course, over the past century or more, I had taken these techniques and guidelines and made them my own. I then adapted them to work with humans.

  “I heard that Gretchen is no longer your submissive.”

  “Ian is taking care of her needs now,” I answered in explanation.

  “Was she not serving you well? Is that what you would like help with?”

  “No, she was the perfect submissive. This is about someone new. Well, it’s not really about her, it’s more about me. Well…the way I react to her, so I guess it is about her. But more about me.”

  Gabriel chuckled, and I realized I’d been rambling. “Oliver, what specifically has you concerned?”

  “I’m not in control of myself when I’m around her, and I want to be with her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her, though.”

  Gabriel’s smile faded. “Hurt her? She is human, I assume.”

  I nodded.

  “You have had human submissives before. How is she different?”

  It was true; over the past century, I’d had dozens of submissives, both Bocaj and human. Yet with all of them, I’d always been in complete control. I couldn’t begin to explain how butterfly was different, but she was.

  “I don’t know, Gabriel. I can’t explain it. It’s just different. I don’t have the self-control that I should.”

  “Did you harm her?”

  “No!” I said loudly, surprising both of us. “Gabriel, I haven’t even met her, though I’m desperate to. Half of me, the animalistic side, wants to go over there right now and ravage her body—to hell with the consequences.” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m still in control.”

  “Good, Oliver. What you do with your submissives when you are in control is fine. But you must know your limits—what you can and can’t do with a human.”

  I knew what he meant. He meant that while I could enjoy her in many ways, it wasn’t possible for me to have sex with her. First, I was much too strong. It would be similar to a German Sheppard breeding with a Chihuahua—not very good for the Chihuahua. In addition, Bocaj not only secreted a toxin from our mouths through our retractable fangs, but we also secreted it from our genitals. If any of the toxins from either my mouth or my penis came into contact with my butterfly, it would result in immediate paralysis most likely followed by death.

  In the past, I’d kept my human submissives blindfolded. It was in both of our best interests that they didn’t see me. First, I wanted to know that they served me because of how well I dominated them, not simply because they were drawn to me due to my appearance. And second, it was for their safety. Because of some humans’ fear of the unknown, there were many Bocaj who would kill anyone who knew we existed. While we were far superior to the human race, we were not indestructible and could easily be eradicated with the use of modern warfare. While I never had true feelings for any of my submissives, I didn’t want to be the reason for any of their deaths.

  Actually, I thought that I was very good to my human submissives. I would have them serve me for one to two years. During that time, I would make sure that all of their needs were met, both sexually and financially, if that was relevant. I would touch them, spank them, humiliate them—whatever they desired. I would use my fingers or vibrators on them, but never my cock. As for my needs, I would either masturbate while I was in the room with them, or go and recall the scene later, while I was with one of my Bocaj submissives.

  When I decided to move on, I would find each woman a new Dom. Six of them had not only accepted their new Doms, but had married them, and one of the women became a Domme herself.

  “What is it that I can help you with?” Gabriel asked, drawing me from my thoughts.

  “I know how you feel about Caroline. I know how much you must want her. How do you stay in control?”

  There was a huge difference between Caroline and butterfly. Caroline wasn’t human. He really couldn’t hurt her, but he knew what I meant. How did he maintain control of the scene when the desire was so strong?

  “I simply imagine what could happen if I lost control. What would happen? How would she feel? Would her needs be met? Would mine? Would I hurt her? All of those things keep me in control.”

  I took in what he said and then nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck,” he called after me as I leapt from the rooftop.

  After talking to Gabriel, I went back to the apartment and watched my butterfly for the rest of the night. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to do with her, how I wanted to proceed. I knew that I would have to take it slowly because I wanted to maintain control, not only of myself as a Bocaj, but also as a Dom.

  I watched her sleep all night; she barely moved, clearly worn out from our evening. I couldn’t see the puddle that she’d created because the blanket was over it, but I was glad that she had slept in it and hadn’t changed the sheets. To me, it meant she treasured her reward, and I fantasized about her falling asleep wearing my come on her body.

  When she woke, she seemed disoriented for a moment and then looked to the spot on the sheets she had created the night before. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink as she looked at the outline of the now dry spot.

  I loved how sexy she had been while serving me last night, yet how modest she was in the light of day. I knew what a vixen she could be, yet as she dressed for work, she transformed into Bec, the professional.

  I watched her again on the monitors while she worked silently at her desk. When I saw that Candy was approaching, I headed out into the office so I could listen to their conversation. I was amused at how annoyed she seemed to be with Candy, who had been bragging about her newest boyfriend’s oral skills. Rebecca didn’t seem even remotely interested.

  After work, I was pleased to see that she went straight home and read a book before climbing into bed. She was fitting right into my plans, and I couldn’t wait for tonight, though I had something to take care of before calling my butterfly.

  I picked up the phone and scrolled through the numbers.

  “Hello,” I heard the familiar voice answer.

  “Hello, Gretchen, I need a favor.”

  Chapter 8

  butterfly

  When I woke, I still felt calm and relaxed. I wondered if it had all been a dream or a figment of my imagination, but when I saw the now dry spot that I had created the night before, I knew for sure that it had all happened. At least it was Friday and I could sleep in tomorrow.

  Work seemed to go more quickly than the day before, and I even laughed to myself when Candy bragged about going to another hot new club tonight with her hot new boyfriend who knew how to, as she put it, “dine at the Y.”

  By the time I got home and climbed into bed, I was wetter than the night before and on the verge of an orgasm. I wondered if he would call tonight. I didn’t have to wonder long.

  “Hello, butterfly,” he said when I picked up the phone a few minutes after climbing into bed. �
��How are you tonight? Speak.”

  “I am fine, Sir.”

  “Good job waiting for me to tell you to speak, but you will not address yourself as I. You will speak only of yourself as butterfly, or not at all. Do you understand? Speak.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said quickly.

  “Tell me that you understand, butterfly. Speak”

  “Yes, Sir, butterfly understands.”

  “Oh, good girl. You learn quickly. Let me see how my butterfly can be rewarded.”

  I smiled at his praise and my heart beat faster at his promise of a reward.

  “Last night my butterfly came hard and squirted. I don’t think she has ever squirted before. Am I correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Did butterfly enjoy squirting?”

  I nodded again, pretty sure he could see me. Besides, he hadn’t told me to speak. The truth is, I had enjoyed it, although I was a bit embarrassed.

  “My butterfly is a good little girl, coming like that for her Sir, but she needs to learn to control her orgasms much more if she is going to continue pleasing her Sir. If she can barely control them when she is pleasuring herself, what will she do when her Sir is fucking her little pussy with his cock?”

  The wetness between my legs increased as I heard his words. I wiggled trying to hide the wetness. He had noticed.

  “Stop moving, little girl,” he commanded.

  I froze for what felt like eternity.

  “Such a greedy little come slut, aren’t you?”

  I still sat there frozen. He hadn’t told me to speak, so I didn’t have to answer his question. I didn’t want to acknowledge his words even with a nod. I had never been called anything like a come slut in my life.

  “It’s okay, butterfly. I like it that you like to come for me, that your wetness flows freely from your body when you hear my voice. I like that you’re a little come slut.”

  It was as if he were speaking directly to my core. His words were like none I’d ever heard before, but they turned me on and were so erotic. I knew in my head that I should be offended. A stranger was calling me a slut, and instead of hanging up or arguing, I found myself more turned on than I ever had been in my life. The wetness that had been gathering in my curls was now actually dripping onto the bed. I had never dripped like that before.