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copyright 2004, by Hannah

Disclaimer:    CSI and it's characters were created by Anthony E. Zuiker.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

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Gil Grissom was pensive on his way to the Dominion. He’d made an unexpected request of Lady Heather, and she had agreed to indulge him. The reality of what he’d suggested struck home as he’d prepared to join her this afternoon, and he was feeling a little apprehensive - and more than a little excited - at the prospect. He was struck by the thought that such an idea would never have occurred to him before Heather...

‘Some men don’t know what they want until I show them.’

... and he found himself marveling at the level of trust he was prepared to offer her. He honestly hadn’t believed himself capable of it, and was still half-expecting to change his mind at the last minute.

He emitted a brief snort and shook his head. Even Catherine would be shocked, he thought, by the chain of events her attempts at social engineering had set in motion. Not that she would ever hear about them.

She had insisted that he bring Heather to a team breakfast several weeks ago. He hadn’t been enthusiastic when she’d suggested it, preferring to keep his professional and personal lives separate. Cath had eventually persuaded him, arguing that his personal life had taken center stage when it had finally gotten out that he’d been involved with the dominatrix for just over a year.

“How you managed to keep it quiet for so long is beyond me,” she’d said, “but now that it’s the subject of rampant gossip around the lab, you’re going to have to do something to put it to rest... unless you’re determined to make your personal life the focus of a rising tide of speculation.” She paused at the frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not ashamed of her, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then introduce the woman to your team.” And when he’d still looked at her as though she’d suggested drowning a newborn, she prodded, “You’re obviously serious about her, Gil. It’s time to step up.”

He had finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. He had never been comfortable offering anything of himself beyond the most basic interaction, and allowing his team to observe him with Heather was daunting for him, but the morning had actually been less uncomfortable than he’d expected - except for Sara. She hadn’t even made an effort to be polite. She was sullen and catty with Heather from the outset, and it wasn’t long before the atmosphere between the two women turned decidedly chilly.

When the topic had inevitably turned to the dominatrix’s business, Sara had been predictably judgmental, with Heather countering that Sara was simply threatened by something she didn’t understand. The result being an invitation for Sara to observe the Dominion first hand, assuming she had the stomach for it.

Grissom smiled as he recalled the exchange. Heather was spectacular when her temper flared. Green eyes flashed and, in her voice, the most subtle shift in timbre gave each word a sharp sting, like the lash of a whip. Sara had received her first lesson without going anywhere near the dominion. After defiantly accepting Heather’s challenge, the younger woman had subsided into a brooding silence for the remainder of the meal.

“I’m impressed,” he’d told Heather later. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone shut Sara down so thoroughly before.”

She’d flashed him a smile.

“It seemed best to get it out of the way early.”

He couldn’t help grinning at that, but his expression quickly grew serious.

“Heather, if she actually presents herself at the Dominion, nothing you do or say is going to change her mind.”

“I know that. That wasn’t my purpose in inviting her.”

He’d raised an eyebrow, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. If he didn’t know better, he would swear that Heather was feeling territorial.

“Just remember that I have to work with her.”

“Don’t worry. I can make my point with something relatively tame... perhaps a shoe fetish.” A slightly evil smile had curled her lips at that, but she’d said nothing more.

It had been almost 3 weeks later that Sara showed up late for her shift. Grissom had called her into his office, concerned that her drinking problem might not be under control.

“I haven’t had a drink in over a month,” she spat with all the righteous indignation he had come to expect from her. “I actually went home to take a shower after I saw your girlfriend this afternoon.”

“Heather?”

“Don’t you mean Lady Heather?”

“I take it your field trip to the Dominion didn’t go well.”

“How can you stand that place?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve always found it... interesting.”

“Interesting.” She echoed, her entire body vibrating with annoyance. “I spent my afternoon watching some freak ‘worship’ your girlfriend’s feet. Have you ever seen anyone fellate an 8 inch stiletto?”

An eyebrow shot up and his head tilted a little to one side as the corners of his mouth quirked. He cleared his throat, working to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, it’s disgusting. I was half-expecting her to ram the damn thing up his ass eventually.”

The thought flashed into his head, unbidden. While he had no desire to worship at Heather’s feet, he suddenly found the notion of such complete surrender to the beautiful dominatrix almost irresistible. Grissom realized after a moment that he had allowed his attention to wander a bit too far. Sara obviously expected some response from him. He shook his head to clear the image that had captured his imagination and offered the only thing he could think of.

“I suspect he would have enjoyed it.”

That, apparently, was not the response she was looking for. She opened her mouth to speak, clamped it shut again without saying a word, then simply stood up and walked out of his office.

It would not have occurred to him to follow her under any circumstances, and then, particularly, he thought it best to remain at his desk until he had managed to get his sudden arousal under control.


= = = = = = = = = = = = =


Heather checked herself in the large antique mirror that took up the bulk of the wall at the foot of her bed. She was determined that the details of the evening be flawless. She had chosen an elaborate corset in a supple black leather with a complex system of laces and buckles and an extremely short skirt of the same material. The barest hint of black lace garters were visible at the hem. They held black fishnet stockings, complete with perfect seams running the length of her legs. Dangerously high stilettos completed the ensemble. Her long dark hair was swept back and secured with black lacquered chopsticks. Yes, she decided, this would do quite nicely. Gil would definitely approve.

She was well aware that flashes of the Dominatrix from her never failed to stir her lover’s arousal, but he had remained reluctant to submit to her control... until now.

Heather had known that Sara would be determined to prove that a visit to the Dominion wouldn’t distress her. She had also expected the belligerent young woman to offer up a judgmental diatribe at the first opportunity after her visit. What she hadn’t expected was the effect it had on Gil... no doubt Sara wouldn’t have predicted it either, or she wouldn’t have been so anxious to share. Pity it wouldn’t be possible to thank her properly. The thought produced an evil smile.

Perhaps she had made an error in not allowing Gil to watch her work. If the evening went well, she might have to rethink her position...

Their patterns had become well-defined over the past year. Heather had been content to allow her lover to assume the dominant role, challenging him from time to time but never asking for more than he could give. He appreciated and encouraged a significant amount of aggressiveness on her part and usually surrendered to it, but there was always a strong need on his part to reassert control in the aftermath. She knew how this evening with Gil would begin - had planned it carefully - but was unsure just how the night would end. She found that she liked the uncertainty.


= = = = = = = = = = = = =


When he arrived at the Dominion, he found himself unsure as to just how he should proceed. He was accustomed to making himself at home in Heather’s private rooms, but that might be a bit presumptuous tonight, given the nature of the evening. He decided it was best to consider himself a guest and wait for her direction. Hesitating for only a moment, he knocked softly at the door to her sitting room.

“Come.”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, stopping just over the threshold. The only illumination came from a small fire and several dozen candles scattered throughout the sitting room and bedroom.

Heather was standing near the fireplace, stunning in elaborate black leather. She regarded him for a long moment and then moved forward, carefully stepping around a pile of cushions scattered near the hearth. She brought herself close and rested a hand at his chest. Her eyes held his, her voice surprisingly soft when she spoke.

“Are you certain you want to do this?”

He met her questioning stare with a steady gaze.

“Yes... Lady Heather.”

She smiled her approval and nodded, stepping back from him, her voice hard when she spoke again.

“The rules are simple... You will not speak unless you are spoken to, and you will not act without permission. You will obey my commands without question. Say the word ‘warrant’ and everything stops.” Grissom arched an eyebrow at her choice for his safety word, but said nothing. “Are we clear?”

“Perfectly.”

Heather’s head tilted at a disapproving angle, and her eyes flashed annoyance. He lowered his own eyes and quickly corrected his mistake.

“Yes, Lady Heather.”

“That’s much better.” She reached out a hand, perfectly manicured fingers trailing along his jawline before coming to rest under his chin and tilting his head up so that his eyes met hers. “I trust that will be your last mistake this evening.” She held his eyes for another moment, then turned away from him. He watched her as she crossed the room and settled herself in a large wingback chair by the fire before once again turning her attention to him.

“Come here.”

He moved to the hearth, standing in the spot she indicated with an indifferent wave of her hand and lowering his eyes. She settled back and regarded him for several minutes without a word, and he forced himself to stand perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, without looking up at her. She finally broke the silence with a sharp command, and he realized he’d been holding his breath.

“Look at me.”

He raised his eyes to hers and saw a distinctly predatory glint there. The surge of arousal was not unexpected, but its intensity surprised him, and he found himself wondering, not for the first time today, if he understood completely what he had asked for.

“Strip.”

He did as he was told, feeling more than a little vulnerable - and an excitement beyond what he would have predicted - as her eyes moved over him. Her appraisal was both leisurely and thorough. The warmth from the fire was more than enough to keep him from any chill, but he shivered under her cool emerald gaze nonetheless. She arched an eyebrow at his erection, the barest hint of a smile passing quickly across her full lips, and slowly brought her eyes back to his.

“Are you excited, Mr. Grissom?”

“Yes, Lady Heather.”

She offered no acknowledgment nor did she question him further. She simply rose from her chair and brought herself close to him. He waited for her next question, but instead felt her hand close around his cock. Her grip was firm, her thumb moving slowly over the head. He was unable to stop the sharp intake of breath.

“Very nice,” she purred.

She released him, dropping her hand and allowing her nails to trail along the inside of his thigh as she moved behind him. She was close enough for him to feel her breath on his skin, but she did not touch him again. When she had made a complete circle around him, she took a step back.

“On your knees.”

He knelt, gaze fixed at her feet. He raised his eyes only when she demanded that he do so and then brought them directly to her face, barely controlling the urge to allow his gaze to roam slowly up the length of perfect leg in front of him. She recognized the effort.

“Very good.”

She gave him no time to savor her praise, bringing a foot up to the center of his chest and pushing away with her full strength. He went sprawling back into the cushions he had taken note of when he arrived, and before he fully registered what had happened, she was standing over him, one foot firmly planted on each side of his body. He stared up at her, still slightly disoriented at the speed with which he found himself on his back, and struggled to keep his eyes on her face.

“You want to look at me, don’t you?”

He shouldn’t be surprised that it was obvious to her, she knew very well how provocative her position over him was.

“Yes, Lady Heather.”

She offered him an indulgent smile.

“You may.”

He allowed his gaze to move down along her curves, lingering a moment over her hips before running the length of her shapely legs. From his position underneath her, he could see a considerable amount of bare thigh at the tops of her stockings. He was unaware that his tongue had slipped out to run over his lips.

She watched him as he studied her, smiling as his breathing quickened, content to let him take his time. Eventually he brought his eyes back to hers, though it was obvious he did so with some reluctance. She held his gaze and lowered herself to sit astride his chest. He felt her hand just beneath his jaw, tilting his face up.

“You’re mine.”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.” It was not the first time he had made such an admission, but his current circumstances seemed to magnify its significance.

She leaned over and brought her mouth to his, kissing him roughly and forcing her tongue between his lips. He was unable to resist the temptation to return her kiss, and though she hadn’t expressly given him permission to do so, she did not seem to mind. With her mouth still moving hungrily over his, she found his wrists. Her hands closed around them firmly, forcing them above his head and pinning them into the cushions. One final nip at his lips, and she pulled back, looking down at him with unmistakable lust. Thoughts of just how she might use him to satisfy it sent a shudder of anticipation through his body.

She slid herself down until her ass backed up against his painfully stiff cock, her hands coming to rest on his chest. Her eyes locked with his and he moaned as she shifted her position slightly. An evil smile curled her lips as she took his nipples between her fingers, pinching them and shifting her hips again. His eyes closed and a guttural groan escaped him.

“Look at me!” she ordered sharply.

He forced himself to meet her eyes, decidedly unnerved at the almost cruel amusement he saw there. She moved against him slowly and twisted his nipples painfully this time. It took all of his control to keep his gaze locked with hers. She released him abruptly and sat perfectly still for a moment, waiting while his breathing grew steady, then bent over him, bringing her mouth close to his ear.

“Listen to me very carefully,” she whispered. “You will not come tonight without my permission. Do you understand?” He nodded slowly but offered no immediate verbal response. A mistake. She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged his head back. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Heather.”

She regarded him for a moment before rising to her feet. Once again he found himself looking up at her, but this time she merely glanced down and stepped over him.

“Stand up.” He climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Come with me.” He followed her into the bedroom where she settled herself on an ornately-carved bench at the foot of her large bed. “There’s a brush on my dressing table... bring it to me.” He moved across the room to her dressing table. There was an antique vanity set with silver plated comb, brush, and hand mirror that he hadn’t noticed before... very elaborate. He selected the brush and move back to stand in front of her, offering it with his eyes lowered. Rather than take it from him, she readjusted herself on the bench, turning slightly to the side, and indicated the empty space behind her. “Sit.” When he was settled behind her, she reached up to remove the chopsticks holding her hair back, leaning back and shaking her hair out. “You have a brush in your hand, Mr. Grissom. Use it.” He arched an eyebrow but reached up to run the brush through the dark silk of her hair. He settled into a slow rhythm, and she allowed herself several minutes to enjoy the feeling of his hands in her hair before she spoke again.

“This isn’t quite what you expected, is it?” Her tone was almost conversational.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he replied honestly, continuing to brush her hair.

“Surely you had something specific in mind... restraint... punishment, perhaps?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I suppose I did.” She smiled at the obvious caution in his voice.

“Patience is an admirable quality, Mr. Grissom.”

He suspected that this was more than simply a test of his patience. He was... accomplished in the area of self-control, but he doubted he would have been able to comply with her directive that he not come without her express permission had she continued at his earlier level of arousal - not that it had been reduced to any great extent, only the urgency had abated. No doubt she knew it as well.

He found himself surprised by the intensity of his excitement. Arousal had never been difficult with Heather, and he’d long suspected that allowing himself to submit to her would enhance it considerably, but he hadn’t been prepared for the strength of his reaction at actually putting himself at her mercy. Was she as surprised as he was? He doubted it. Though with a moment to think, it did seem as though she had been almost calibrating up to now, gauging his reactions. Was she pleased, he wondered? No doubt he would find out soon enough.


= = = = = = = = = = = = =


Heather studied her lover in the mirror. He was focused on his task, the curve of his lips just hinting at a smile. She’d been the slightest bit concerned that he wasn’t fully prepared to submit to her, but she had underestimated him. He was the one man who seemed capable of truly surprising her. She allowed herself a moment to consider this, delighted by the possibilities it presented, before deciding to move forward with the evening.

Enough foreplay. Time to give the gentleman what he asked for...

“Enough.” Gil allowed the brush to complete it’s last stroke through the dark silk of her hair, then lowered it and his eyes to his lap. “Give me the brush, Mr. Grissom.” She did not reach for it, and he made no move to hand it over her shoulder. Instead he moved off the bench, positioning himself on his knees at her feet and holding the brush out to her on upraised palms. “Look at me.” He brought his eyes to hers, feeling his cock jerk at the harsh note of command in her voice. Rather than take the requested object from him, she reached out to stroke it’s smooth handle, allowing her fingers to brush along his palm as well. The metal handle was cool against his skin but her touch was fire. She continued to stroke the long, tapered handle, along with his palm, for several moments, her fingers finally closing around it.

He noted that she took hold of the brush much as she had his cock at the beginning of the evening, and felt a shiver of anticipation at what she had in mind for him. She saw the realization dawn in his eyes, and allowed herself a wicked smile that sent a sharp bolt of heat through his body.

“Clever boy,” she purred. “And obedient... in fact, I think we can dispense with the notion of restraints for the evening. I trust your self-control is sufficient to allow it?” She arched an expectant eyebrow, and he lowered his gaze, struggling to keep his voice steady when he offered his answer.

“If that would please you, Lady Heather.”

“It would.” She fell silent and he forced himself to keep his gaze focused at her feet. He could feel her eyes on him, considering. The silence stretched out until he was unsure if he could resist the urge to sneak a quick glance up at her. She waited until he thought that temptation would get the better of him, then rose abruptly, moving away from the bed and from his position at its foot. “Stand up, Mr. Grissom.” He obeyed instantly, coming to his feet but keeping his eyes on her stilettos... not an easy task when he heard the first slap of the brush against her open palm.

“Very obedient,” she murmured, almost to herself. “No real reason to consider punishment either.” She slapped the brush against her palm again, harder this time. “Pity.” At this, his head came up, an inquisitive eyebrow cocked in surprise. Her head tilted the slightest bit, irritation flashing in her eyes, but the ghost of a smile curled along her full lips. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to look at me, Mr. Grissom.” He quickly returned his gaze to the floor, working hard to suppress the smile that threatened at the corners of his own mouth. “Come here.” He started to look up again before moving forward, but stopped himself before he could bring his eyes any farther than her ankles, closing the distance between them with his head down. He stopped at a respectful distance, still working hard to suppress a smile. She regarded him for a moment, then brought herself closer and reached out a hand to grab him roughly under the jaw. She brought his face up so that she could look into his eyes.

“Are you amused, Mr. Grissom?”

She was every inch the dominatrix now, stern and cool... and utterly spectacular. Any amusement he might have felt disappeared in the hot flare of arousal coursing through him.

“No, Lady Heather.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

She tightened her grip on his jaw and brought her face so close to his he thought for an instant that she meant to kiss him.
                                                       
“You’re good, Mr. Grissom...” It was almost a growl. “... but I believe there are still a few lessons that you might benefit from.” She released her hold on him and stepped back, looking him over with a cold, appraising stare. Her eyebrows arched as she once again struck her open palm with the hairbrush, and again he felt his cock jerk at the slap of the cool metal against skin. She took a step forward. Another slap of the brush against her palm, and then he felt the firm bristles at its edge tracing a path down his chest and across his belly before changing direction and starting back up along the same course. When she spoke again, her voice was a silky whisper. It was pure seduction and completely unexpected. “I’m going to enjoy teaching you.” The beautiful dominatrix punctuated this declaration with yet another slap of the brush against her palm, and he found himself unsure if his legs would hold him. Thankfully her next words were a harsh command that allowed him something other than his mounting excitement to focus on.

“Face the wall and bend over, hands on the glass.” He turned to face the large, antique mirror mounted on the wall, placing his hands carefully against the glass as he bent forward. “Spread your legs.” He did so with a shudder of anticipation. He was facing forward with no attempt to lower his eyes, watching her reflection in the mirror as she moved behind him, still tapping the hairbrush on her palm. She caught his gaze in the glass and her expression grew stern again. “Did I tell you to look up, Mr. Grissom?” He lowered his eyes.

“No, Lady Heather.”

The slap of the hairbrush across his ass was not a surprise, but it took him off guard nonetheless. He felt his cock strain at the sting of her first strike and wondered again if he could manage not to come without her permission. He leaned into the mirror, muscles straining with each successive blow, and forced his head down. A delicious heat built in his buttocks as her strokes increased in strength and frequency, pleasure mingled with pain.

“Look at me,” she ordered sharply. He raised his head, eyes meeting hers in the glass, and felt the smooth handle of the brush slide into him. It was what he had requested of her, but still his blue eyes widened in surprise, and he felt a quick stab of fear at the gleam of... possession in her green ones. The fear flickered in his awareness for only an instant, replaced by the fierce rush of release. He managed to keep his body from following only with a supreme effort of will. She leaned forward with her next thrust, her free hand trailing fire along his flank.

“Would you like to come for me, Mr. Grissom?” He somehow managed to produce a strangled ‘Please’ which earned him an indulgent smile and another thrust, and then another. “You may.” Followed by a final, hard thrust and suddenly his head fell forward as the world exploded into unbearable bliss.

Heather moved to his side, fingers stroking through the curls of his sweat-soaked hair as his breathing slowly returned to normal. After several long moments, he raised his head, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. He straightened and turned to face her, arms coming around her waist and pulling her against him as he leaned back against the glass. She made no move to extricate herself, but looked up at him with the imperious arch of an eyebrow.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch me.”

He responded with a lazy smile, a hand trailing along her hip.

“I don’t recall asking.”

A smile quirked the corners of her mouth, and he moved a hand to her face, his own expression growing serious.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“It was my pleasure.”

A wicked grin spread along his lips.

“Not entirely.”                                        

He looked down, allowing his gaze to travel over the length of her body against his, and then brought his eyes back to hers. Abruptly he thrust a hand between her legs, pleased to find that the garter belt was her only undergarment. His lips were close enough to brush against hers with his whispered observation.

“You’re dripping wet, Lady Heather.”

“You excite me, Mr. Grissom.”

She felt his tongue trace the outline of her mouth as his fingers slid over her opening. The tongue slipped between her lips, moving with the rhythm of his fingers thrusting into her as he brought her deftly to orgasm. He smiled and moved his mouth to her ear.

“Anxious to come for me,” he growled. “You are a hot little bitch.”

Yes, Heather smiled. This evening was definitely getting interesting. But she wasn’t ready to give up control completely... not just yet. She fisted a hand in his hair, jerking his head back so that she could meet his eyes with an evil gleam in her own.
                                                               
“So are you.”

FIN



Author's Note: I have shamelessly borrowed Grissom's safety word from a fic called I Surrender by Soo.
I hope she doesn't mind. It was just too perfect - Soo is brilliant and I bow to her!



copyright 2004, by Hannah

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